#tw dark

thinkin bout being wrapped in königs arms. once you head to bed for the night, he wraps himself around you from behind. completely. it’s nearly impossible to get out of his grasp once he has you. man sleeps like the dead too. all those years with severe anxiety taught him to compartmentalize, making it easy to sleep uninterrupted at home.

there was this one time you wiggled your way down the bed, out of his grasp, and to the restroom. at this point you’re used to being held captive in your own bed, always expecting it to be hard to get in and out of bed. but what you weren’t expecting was the pouting german to be directly outside the bathroom door, staring directly down at you. you two had one of those 50-years-married spats after that… just to head back to bed like nothing happened.

it wasn’t uncommon for him to wake up before you, that’s just how he is. asleep by 9:30, awake by 5:30. give or take an hour or so. it also wasn’t uncommon for him to just lay in bed with you. there’s been a few really weird things he’s done.

like that time he fucked you stupid, cleaned you up, whispered sweet words and fantasies into your ear, waited for you to fall asleep, and took a bit of your pubic and armpit hair. he had started hiding your razor refills, meaning some length was there. he keeps them in small labeled jars in his gun locker, knowing you’ll never look. along with the pubic and armpit hair, he also has a jar with hair from a haircut you did a while back.

knowing he has odd tendencies, you really should’ve expected this. i mean he has asked you many times to wear his favorite pairs of panties more than one day so they become more “fragrant”.

while you were asleep, könig had carefully stuffed his nicely chubbed cock inside you. you weren’t really wet so he had to begrudgingly spit in his palm to slick himself. if he cared about you any less, he would’ve just went in dry. but he likes when you let him nurse on your tit while you study so he’ll be nice.

when you wake up, you obviously immediately your walls firmly holding his soft cock. you lay there with him at first, he’s never discussed this with you before, but you’re alright with it. each time you shift causes a little pulse to go through his cock, blood slowly filling and fattening his piece.

when you tell him you have to pee, you don’t realize your mistake at first. you just feel him pressing his nose into the base of your skull and inhaling while his hand slowly makes its way to the pudge of your belly. normal clingy moves. you sigh softly and decide to wait, it’s not that urgent.

as you wait for him to let you go, you feel him starting to press down on the area above your bladder. it keeps it very gentle for a long while, encouraging you. as you start to shift more, he continues to increase the firmness of the pressure.

when you finally whine about needing to get up now? he presses down, hard.

you squirm and whine in his arms, but he holds you exactly where and how he wants. his voice still has that early morning rasp that often tricks you into thinking maybe he has a single normal thought.

“go ahead, schatz…”

you whine that you can’t piss in the bed, let alone with his girthy cock rapidly claiming more and more of your insides. he just continues to hold you down on his dick while pressing more and more impatiently on your bladder. you know that he can out wait you, and with him pressing on your bladder? the wait wasn’t going to be much longer.

at this point, tears are welling up in your eyes. a bit pathetic isn’t it? squirming on a man’s cock when he won’t even call you his girlfriend? letting him make you piss the bed? the small grin on his face lets you know he certainly thinks you’re pathetic.

he genuinely gets enjoyment from this. he likes the way you start to bawl, humiliated as piss gushes between you. he likes the way his hips slap against your ass with the added liquid pooling between your closed thighs as he pounds you prone bone.

you wail loudly into the pillow when his palm lands on the back of your head and shoves. your bladder still emptying itself as he uses your piss soaked cunt to get himself off. he hasn’t really learned the difference between a pocket pussy and a real life, living pussy. he moves erratically, carelessly, deeply. your ass has already started to flush from how hard his hips slap against you.

when your bladder finally empties, it doesn’t take long for him to start desperately rutting against you, trying to force his spunk as deep as it can go. you let out choked cries while your jaw hangs helplessly. your tears have left their mark on your face and the pillow, your drool and maybe a little snot doing the same.

tip of the day!

he doesn't wait for an explanation. he stalks over, grabbing your wrist—not hard, but with a grip that’s completely inescapable—and drags you toward the bedroom. when the guy tries to step in, sohee just glances back, a flicker of something so genuinely dangerous in his gaze that the other guy retreats immediately. he shuts the bedroom door in your face, his back against it, blocking the only way out.

"you think you’re so brave, having someone else touch what's mine?" he asks, his voice chillingly calm as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. "you think you’re so free? you have no idea how much trouble you’re in."

he moves in, backing you against the dresser until the wood bites into your spine. he doesn't kiss you—he just presses his hand over your mouth, muffling your first sob before it can even leave your throat. his other hand goes straight to your waistband, ripping the button right off.

"you wanted a different touch?" he asks, his voice vibrating against your ear, hot and hateful. "fine. let's see how much you enjoy this. you’re going to spend the rest of the night wishing you never looked at anyone else."

he doesn't care about your tears, or the way you’re shaking, or the apologies you’re trying to choke out into his palm. he flips you over, forcing you down stomach front onto the mattress with a blunt, punishing shove. he doesn't bother with foreplay, doesn't bother with being gentle. he wants to reclaim you so thoroughly that you’ll feel his presence in your bones for days.

"every time you close your eyes, you’re going to think of this" he growls, his hips slamming into you, driving you into the mattress with enough force to make your breath hitch. "you’re going to remember that you belong to me, and you’re going to realize that no one else is ever going to take you from me again."

he’s obsessed, his movements fueled by that cold, sharp rage, using his weight to pin you down and his hands to hold you exactly where he wants you. he’s taking you back, stripping away the ghost of whoever touched you and replacing it with his own, heavy, suffocating weight. every thrust is a claim, every groan a reminder of his ownership.

his hand is at your throat, fingers wrapping around your windpipe. not enough to finish you, but just enough to make your pulse thrum frantically against his palm. he jerks your head down into the sheets, his palm flat against the back of your skull, holding you helpless.

"look at you" he hisses, his voice a jagged, hateful rasp right against your ear. "so eager for someone else’s hands, but look who’s got you now."

he doesn't let you breathe, squeezing your throat until your vision blurs and you’re clawing at the sheets, your breath hitching into thin, wheezing gasps. then he lets go just enough for you to drag in a desperate, ragged sob, only to repeat the cycle. he leans down, his teeth sinking into your shoulder with violent intent, biting deep until he tastes copper and salt, leaving a jagged, bruised crescent that will last for weeks.

"you like being handled like this?" he taunts, his hand moving to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin until he knows he’s leaving dark, purpling prints. "like a toy someone else tried to play with? you’re ruined, baby. you’re mine and you’re ruined."

he drives into you, hard and unforgiving, his rhythm a punishing, wet slog that makes you choke on a cry. he’s not looking for pleasure he’s looking for total, inescapable domination. he grabs a handful of your hair, pulling your head back so he can watch the pain and the want warring on your face.

"i’m going to fill you so deep" he growls, thrusting until you feel the blunt, heavy impact of him against your cervix, over and over, trying to bruise the very core of you. "i’m going to leave so much of me inside you that you’ll never be able to get me out. i want you carrying my kid, i want you so heavy with my mess that you can't even stand up straight."

he’s panting, his movements frantic, his hands bruising your waist as he holds you steady, anchoring you to the mattress. he slams into you again, a wet, sloppy sound filling the room, and he leans down, his lips ghosting over the bite mark on your shoulder.

"that’s it" he mumbles, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly soft, obsessed tone as he starts to cum. "i’m going to breed you until you’re nothing but mine. let them try to touch you again—i’ll just fill you up more until you can't even think about anyone else. you’re going to be so swollen with me, so full of my kids, that everyone will know exactly who owns you."

he’s so close he’s shaking, his breath hitting your skin in short, ragged bursts. he’s not done punishing you, not until he’s absolutely certain you’re drained of every bit of defiance you had left.

his hand that was pinning your hip slides down, his fingers finding your clit and pressing into it with a cruel, rhythmic intensity. he knows exactly where to hit to make you unravel, and he uses it to force you over the edge while he’s still buried inside you.

"that's it, don't fight it, just let me own you" he growls, his hips stuttering as he starts to spill, his cock pulsing and throbbing, pumping wave after wave of his heat deep into your womb.

your body betrays you, just like he wanted. you’re already spiraling, your pussy clenching around him, the friction of your climax making your vision go white. you’re sobbing, clawing at the mattress, your inner muscles locking down to drag even more of him inside, greedily swallowing every drop he’s pouring into you. he’s leaning over you, his eyes dark with that terrifying, possessive hunger, watching as you shiver and come apart, your body working overtime to trap him, to hold his semen deep where it needs to be.

"yeah, swallow it" he hisses, his voice thick and triumphant as he watches your walls pulse around his spent cock. "clench for me, keep it all in there. i told you, didn't i? i'm going to make sure you're carrying my kid."

he doesn't pull out, doesn't even budge. he stays there, fully embedded, his weight heavy and suffocating as he waits for you to stop trembling. he’s still rubbing his thumb against your clit, keeping you on that razor-thin edge, making sure your muscles stay tight, making sure that what he gave you stays exactly where he put it.

No one would dare to say it out loud, but everyone and their mother knew you were the spare twin compared to your slightly older brother Shoto. He was the pride and joy of the Todoroki family, unlike you. At first you believed it to be unfair. You were in the womb at the same time as him. Why didn't you get a ice and fire quirk?

Was it really because he was the first born? That couldn't be it.

Your white flames, while hotter than even your father's, did little to impress him.

You didn't turn any heads when you enter your father's personal floor of his agency's building. This task was easy. Stealing information and sending it to your older brother and his crew became a normal thing for you.

"See, I told you we should have her around." Dabi argued in your defense while caressing the side of your face. "She's a good girl who listens to her big brother, aren't you?" Some would call his tone degrading. You felt the tenderness in his hand though as it delicately angled your face upward so he could look into your mismatched eyes. One the hue of a storm in the sky, the other the color of a raging sea. That’s what Dabi always said before you closed your eyes to go to bed.

Shigaraki and the rest of the League were less thrilled about you being anywhere near them. While you weren't popular like your father or Shoto, many still knew your face. Having you around could be more of a risk than the League were willing to pay.

You just wanted to make him happy, to keep his eyes solely on you. If it involved betraying the other members of your family (including your twin brother Shoto) then so be it. You would let Dabi’s words consume you entirely, making you his mindless slave.

The rest of the League members could chalk it up to Dabi simply using sweet words to manipulate you. He didn’t care about anything. Especially his family. What made you different?

Now that was a secret that Dabi would not utter. His praise filled words were genuine when it came to you and Dabi would be damned if he had to give you up again because of Tomura. He'd make sure you'd make yourself indispensable to the League. They'd have to let you stay.

You were just as determined as Dabi was to keep your place. You hated to even pretend to be under allegiance to your father or any superhero for that matter. They'd always looked down on you for not being like Shoto. Never being enough for them or their world. But you were enough for Dabi.

Slipping the flashdrive up your sleeve, you leave just as you had arrived: unseen. Just in case the cameras hidden throughout the building were focused on you, you'd nonchalantly picked up some of your father's paperwork in appearance of tidying up his workspace like the good daughter you were.

It made you sick to your stomach thinking that not too long ago, all you'd ever wanted was Endeavor's attention and approval. Shoto suppressed his fire ability for years, associating it with his abusive father so you thought you had a shot. You spent hours upon hours practicing with your flames to make them hotter and hotter and finally to where they could melt anything and everything. Leaving not even ash behind.

When you hand Shigaraki the flashdrive, he grudgingly accepts it with a stiff nod. He didn't want to admit that you were providing them incredibly valuable information that all other villain groups lacked.

He ignores Dabi's smug grin as he slung his arm around your shoulder, giving the top of your head a peck. "Knew you could do it." His brings his hand up for his fingers to brush against your cheek.

You felt it again.

The world stopping and all breath departing from your lungs. You wanted Dabi to brand you with his palm, to use his blue flames and scorch your skin so you would always have a piece of him.

Then Dabi leans down, lips caressing the shell of your ear and in his husky tone he calls you "Good girl."

Blushing and highly aware of how Dabi simply towered over you, you shyly duck your head. "Ha. . . it was nothing."

Everyone learned to simply avert their attention when Dabi's affections for you walked on the razor's edge of what was appropriate.