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Delusional - Leon Kennedy

yandere!Leon Kennedy x afab!reader | 18+ mdni | oneshot

summary: the chief felt sympathy for you and let you have a job as a coffee girl, but along the way you start to do favours for your favourites in the department, only the label of the favourite brings unwanted attention from the new rookie.

warnings: DARK CONTENT, heavy smut 18+ mdni, dead dove do not eat, yandere, obsession, heavy smut fantasies, masturbation, stalking, watching porn, moments of misogynistic language, voyeurism (peeping tom), non-consensual picture taking, breaking in, thoughts of kidnapping, putting someone to sleep with chloroform, tit play, grinding, unprotected sex (p in v), non-con, and somno // please read the warnings carefully, and understand this fiction is made for 18+ only and if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable this fic is not for you; please remember this is just fiction where real people cannot get hurt, and no actions in this fic are condoned.

Stage one: noticing

Navigating the labyrinthine corridors of the job market proved to be an unexpected odyssey, a reality starkly different from the rose-tinted visions of post-college life. You harboured the naive notion that securing employment would be a mere formality, a recipe of time, persistence, and nothing more. However, the harsh truth unfolded before you, revealing a landscape that was desolate and unforgiving, where the promises within the market of ‘urgently hiring’ were nothing more than a lie that echoed hollowly against the deafening silence of unreturned emails and failed interviews where people couldn’t even be bothered to follow-up, just letting you wonder about your failure into obtaining your first real job.

In your frustration, you confided in your father, lamenting the arduousness of the job hunt, how this pursuit was draining you and how unfair it was. You told him it wasn’t what it was like when he first entered it, how he was given the chance to climb the ladder, and you weren’t even given the sight of it—it was just starting to feel tedious.

His empathy was palpable as he sought avenues to alleviate your plight. Despite his respectable standing within the professional sphere, his efforts to secure a foothold in your proved futile search were met with the obstinate resistance of corporate bureaucracy and entrenched biases; when he asked his boss for a simple job, perhaps in the mail room, he was only met with: “If I allow your daughter, I’ll have a whole mailroom of incompetent daughters.” This was met with your father feeling disheartened, unable to fabricate a response, and not wanting to go against his boss’ boundaries.

Yet, amidst the encroaching despair, a glimmer of hope emerged from connections through the benevolence of an old friend, the chief of the Raccoon City Police Department. Your father had met him back in high school, and despite the distance over the years, there was an inextricable bond where favours were allowed to continue being asked. A lifeline materialised in the form of a humble role at the department, as you were designated as a simple ‘coffee girl’ to make the coffee runs for his workers and help clean up the area; it all worked in the chief’s favour anyway, with him needed workers to stop being distracted and continue with their designated cases.

At first—when you started—everyone was curious as to who you were, wondering why the chief allowed a coffee girl when the department never had one; no one could think of any other department that allowed this; this practice was out of the ordinary as the usual practice was having someone nominated to take their turn and collect everyone’s order, but hey, they weren’t going to complain about having someone take care of them, people who were constantly nominated were even more thrilled about you working here.

Before starting, you had some thoughts before going to bed that maybe no one would be friendly or accepting of you, but this was all proven wrong; as the months continued, you were welcomed, becoming a favourite with how you remembered everyone’s usual order, but you also had your favourites. Everyone was kind to you, but you still had your favourites; being your favourite meant you would always sneak an extra sweet treat for them; the way someone knew to expect being a favourite was if you asked them what their favourite treat was. This started with Jill Valentine, then rippled to a man called Chris Redfield; some people even went out of their way to be marked as your favourite, but for a good while, it was only to them two until after a month or so, you found another to be labelled as your favourite; the newest recruit in the department who was the newest target to be picked on, the ‘rookie’ everyone liked to make jokes about, Leon S. Kennedy.

When you first met him, you noticed how reserved he was, how he stuttered in his speech and how shy his demeanour was; when he had a seat allocated for him, you wanted to be the first friendly face after a long time of being subjected to what the guys liked to call ‘harmless bullying’ a term they used to describe it as a state of teasing that ‘built character’, but all you could see was a group of guys that never grew up and stayed in the state that piqued in high school—you had encountered that all your life, and many others. You remembered tapping him on the shoulder and introducing yourself, waiting for him to fabricate his words to introduce himself to you; you told him you were the coffee girl around the department and gave him the times you would go out and get everyone what they wanted, giving him a piece of paper to put his order down. You remembered that shy, small smile as he wrote it down, thanking you for spending time with him.

That was the first stage of him noticing you.

Inescapably, he found himself ensnared by the genial ambience you provided, discerning the elegance of your smile and the picturesque framing of your countenance by your styled locks, reminiscent of an ethereal masterpiece. Yet, he refrained from delving deeper into such impressions, recognising that your amiable demeanour was intrinsic to your professional role. These cogitations united into a resolute acceptance as he seamlessly integrated himself into discussions concerning you, recognising such interactions he noticed were just the result of friendliness being a part of your job. With a nonchalant attitude of seeing the truth, he dimmed any personal inclinations, instead redirecting his focus to his duty as a law enforcement officer, immersing himself into the very reasons he chose this line of work when going through the academy.

As the weeks drew on, your reasonings of favouring started to manifest; the reasons resulted in a mix of his manners and sympathy for Leon. You heard how people talked about him in the breakroom or the reactions to being partnered with him. The titling of ‘rookie’ always left a bad taste in your mouth when you were watching full-grown men bullying him like they were back in the walls of the school—how pathetic it was, you thought to yourself, but you could tell it was doing a number on Leon’s mentality. You were never given slack for being new; at the very most, some people called you ‘cute’ but not in a complimentary way, more to describe your lack of experience within the chief’s sympathy towards you. Still, you were never subjected to what Leon was to. You decided to do something small, to make him feel better, asking him the next time you gave him his usual what his favourite treat was—you were aware how odd this was to him, you could tell with his facial expression, but you knew it would make sense the next day. You could tell the others knew what was happening when you noticed people waiting for that question, just looking at Leon and wondering why him. He quickly answered that he was simple and loved raspberry and white chocolate muffins; you greeted his answer with a quick nod and scurried away to put it in your notebook, ready to give it to him the next day.

When that day rolled along, you managed to collect everyone’s order and pick up the treats for Chris and Jill, later remembering the order you wanted to make for Leon; you looked at the glass dome surrounding the cakes and pointed to the one that you thought was perfect, hoping it would pick up his spirits, even if it were just a little bit. When it came to you walking back to the building and giving out everyone’s orders, you made sure Leon was left til last; you saw him look over to you with a tinge of sadness, perhaps thinking that he was forgotten, but after your little conversations with Chris and Jill you made your way over to Leon, being greeted with that shy smile that you couldn’t help but describe as cute.

“Hey, I’m sorry I took a while to get to you; please don’t think I was ignoring you,” you reassured him as you placed the coffee in front of him.

“It’s o-okay. I know you have loads of people to get to,” he wrapped his fingers around the warm cup, curiously watching as you remained a few moments longer around his desk and reached in your bag for something.

“Oh, don’t be silly, I couldn’t forget you.”

Couldn't forget me? Leon thought.

“Remember that question I asked you yesterday… Well, I hope this answers why I asked it,” you handed over his favourite treat, watching as his eyes widened with happiness, and a dust of blush appeared on his cheeks.

“T-Thank you so much… You didn’t have to go out of your way-”

“It’s my treat,” you said, grazing your hand on his, “Consider it a thank you for being so kind to me.”

He watched your lips curl and stretch into a warm and inviting smile—he couldn’t help but feel a connection from that smile.

That was when it all changed.

That was the day Leon felt connected to you, feeling a need to cling to the idea of you, thinking the more he clung to it, the more the fixation of connection would manifest into a physical connection, much more than just a graze on the hand, but physical intimacy—something he craved, and now only craved with you from now on. When you walked off, you didn’t notice how the blush intensified as he grazed his finger along the paper casing of the muffin you gave to him; one of the corners of Leon’s mouth turned up, his hand smoothed over the warm drink before lifting it to his lips, letting it glide down his throat, before clenching his jaw as he thought and looked to you across the room.

Your name would be on his mind for a long time now.

As he continued to watch you before going into the chief’s office, he made his way into the breakroom, ready to dispose of the paper casing surrounding your provided present; before putting it in the bin, he caught Chris' attention.

“Oh, I see someone else has joined the club,” he laughed lightly, adding to Leon's confusion.

“Club? I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know the coffee girl, yes?” Leon nodded, "She has her favourites, and you know you’re a favourite if she asks you what your favourite snack is and gives it to you; so far, you're the third person; you must have been very kind to her.”

Favourite. I am her favourite. He continued to think about being a favourite, a tinge of jealousy within his mind as he thought about being the ‘third’ favourite, but he was a favourite non the less, steps ahead of many of the guys in the department—and he loved that he was on your radar.

Stage two: obsession.

Leon always thought you looked pretty; he thought it was an objective fact that you were the most attractive girl in the precinct, but he never formed any true feelings about that. However, since that day, his behaviour and feelings towards you started to change; he couldn’t get the word 'favourite’ and the notion that he was your favourite out of his mind. He often thought that he wasn’t the only favourite, but he didn’t need to think of them; they weren’t a competition—the way Chris said it, it had a casual tone, not one of endearing description, granted whenever he heard you in the breakroom laughing with Chris, jealousy was often felt. However, he knew if Chris wanted you, he would have made a move already—but he was still one to watch. As more time drew, he constantly thought of you; no matter the time of day, you were fixed in his mind, a constant that would not change.

As the weeks drew on, he started to notice you more, noticing everything about you with just the simple act of watching; it wasn’t hard to collect this information, especially with how you were a creature of habit, a person who worked with continuous routine—a huge mistake from you. He knew the times you would go off for your coffee runs from the paper you gave him; he knew the order you would go around the room and how you left Leon for last and always had a longer conversation with him. He also noted when you would have your breaks and how long you would talk to Jill and Chris; he made sure to listen in to ensure Chris was never overstepping the boundary he placed ever since his obsession was created. He always felt a burning within his chest, a heavyweight hanging on his heart every time he heard you laugh from one of Chris’ jokes; he couldn’t help but curl his fists into a ball, feeling his head get warmer as the feeling of jealousy expanded further within him.

Calm down, Leon; he would have already asked her if he wanted her. He constantly told himself to calm down and stop thinking of how close you two were together, remembering that Jill was in the middle of you two. If he wanted to be closer, he would spend time with just you—that thought comforted him.

Your small conversations lasted a little longer when you gave him his coffee and muffin. It was Friday, and the easy conversation was on its way.

As you were about to turn around, you were greeted with an extended conversation with Leon, who asked, “Have you got anything plans for the weekend?” he fiddled with the paper casing as he tried to concentrate on the conversation you two were having.

You were taken aback at this imposed question, not shocked at the content, but curious about how he started to take interest: “Oh, nothing much; I’m thinking of just chilling at home and relaxing a bit; what about you?”

“Oh, I’m just working on some cases; see how much I can get done over the weekend.”

“Don’t overwork yourself; there’s a reason you have the time off.”

She cares about my well being, Leon thought, your kind nature only adding to his obsession growing.

“I’ll see you around; I need to do something for the chief,” you went off, leaving Leon in a pool of his thoughts that never stop being around you. You were kind to everyone, but it felt different to him; you cared for him more with how your words were strung together.

~~~~~

The weekend felt long; usually, Leon would enjoy the time off, using this time to be as lazy as possible and have a break from his other colleagues, but his weekends now consisted of longing and counting down the minutes until he went back to work until he could see you again and sneak a few minutes of conversation with you. He couldn’t help but think about what you were doing at your place; he wondered if you lived alone; he wished you lived alone as he fantasised about growing closer to you and spending time with you—if only he had the courage to initiate that.

Leon thought about where you lived; he knew it wouldn’t be too far from the police station, and he was even thinking of getting some information through a series of questions. But he could tell you were a smart girl and wouldn’t give that information out by mistake. You seemed overly cautious, but not too cautious, as you had a few mistakes let slip—like your continuous routine, which was easy to plan around.

But right now, all he could think was the idea of having you, not just in a romantic way where you could be his person for as long as he needed you, but thinking of an intimacy he so long desired.

He wasn’t exactly the rookie everyone described him as; he had a girlfriend before finishing the academy and joining the department. It wasn’t like he was oblivious to it all, but that ended a long time ago when the thought of her disappeared the moment she left his everyday life, and now you were the beautiful and endearing replacement that he couldn’t stop thinking about.

He was confined in the same four walls he had lived in for years. He felt the urge to pull his laptop and fix up a website everyone had at least wondered about, even if it was out of curiosity or plain desperation; he hadn’t touched this website in a while, but thinking about you wasn’t enough, his imagination needed stimulation, and watching porn was the only way he could settle that yearning that was bubbling inside of him for a long time now.

He slowly looked at the screen, looking at the most popular videos that were the most watched, but none of them was attracting him; he just wanted you, and everyone he looked at was just inferior to how he put the thought of you on a pedestal. So, he typed, looking through several pages, looking for girls that emulated your features, perhaps having similar hair colour or style, similar body type, and facial features; he kept scouring through the internet to find a video with someone that looked like you, of course, none of them even came close, leading him to have to settle. His mouse hovered over results that came close to what he needed before the window for settling decreased in chance with an overwhelming wave of uncontrollable desire wash over him, pressing against his pants as he continued to have you on his mind, the thought of you being the source of his mind and body running on adrenaline.

As soon as he watched, he jerked his hands away from the keyboard, pushing the laptop further down as he unbuttoned his trousers, palming the imprint of his clothed cock for a moment, watching as the girl in the video—an inferior doppelganger—undressed slowly for the camera, teasing her viewers with the perfect execution of timing and a smile that just enticed you further; of course, Leon wasn’t enticed by her, he was only watching for the similarity she had to you, but she was a good enough vessel for his imagination to run rampant.

He pulls out his cock, which is throbbing painfully, making him moan and whimper slightly as he wraps his calloused hand and lets it run along his prominent veins, smearing the dribbling of precum along his warm shaft, his cheeks flushing deep red as he continues to morph her face into the perfect imagination of you, imagining you opening your legs and biting your lip, running your fingers along your wet folds, imagining you begging and desperate eyes looking up to him to beg for his cock inside you—god he needed that more than ever right now. He was practically salivating, drooling as he watched the woman fit her fingers inside her wet cunt, continuously thinking about what you would look if he fit his cock inside your aching pussy; he just knew you would be a screamer. His cock continued to painfully throb as he pressed his fingers around his member, even harder with another squeeze, kicking his head back as he continued to think about how you would moan his name, thinking about what you would sound like; he imagined even further how much of a dirty girl you would be. She has an innocent facade, but I can bring it down, he continued to think as he was lost with an unbearable ache within his core, his heart racing as he leaned back and pumped his hand even harder, laying your name on his tongue.

His eyes closed, listening to the woman’s moans in placement for yours, fantasising about what you would look like naked, wet and squirming just for him and only him, his fantasies becoming vivid as he thought about watching your tits bounce with every thrust inside you wet core, pounding his hard cock inside you repeatedly, wanting to just fill you up to the brim with his cum.

That was it. That was the thought that sent him over the edge. The thought of making you his by pumping his hot seed inside you, fucking it further inside your cervix. His fingers were wrapped around his shaft tightly as he let out a whimper, a quiet ‘fuck’ with a release of your name like a blissful treat laced on his lips; his hips bucked as he refused to let that thought of you being his little cumslut be fixed in the lines of memories and fantasies—he needed to bridge the gap with you.

After reaching a sweet release, he looked at the woman in the video, hearing her talking and her high-pitched voice, looking at her with disgust. “Shut up… annoying bitch,” he hissed in a curse, closing down the tabs.

He couldn’t let this be in his imagination; Leon’s obsession would no longer live in his fantasies, and he needed to ask you out.

This was routine with Leon; he always found himself in the same pathways, no matter how much he denied that part of himself. He always noticed a girl, then went to know them a little more, continuously thinking and then… asking them out and letting everything he wanted manifest into a reality of physical connection. That’s all he needed to do. He planned the next time he would see you would be when he asked you on a date, perhaps dinner at his place. All he needed to do was wait for you to say yes and let it continue from there—you would be the most perfect, his favourite girl he laid his eyes on and continued the repetitive journey with, perhaps be the last one with him now finding perfection.

Stage three: rejection

In the dimly lit break room, Leon hesitated at the threshold, his heartbeat pounding against his ribs, his blood flow quickening through his veins with the tumult of his beating heart. Each breath felt laboured with anxiety, weighted with the burden of anticipation and trepidation. Adjusting his shirt—in a futile attempt to regain composure—Leon stepped himself for the task he provided himself the previous night: to summon the courage and ask you out, the enigmatic coffee girl he just couldn’t forget ever since he was exposed to your heart of gold.

As the door creaked open, Leon was exposed to you, immersed in preparing your coffee; you were in your world before you heard the click of the door close. Leon’s breath hitched in his throat, beads of sweat drawing along his brow as he tried to maintain calm and remain at the task at hand, subtly, well to what he thought was subtle, he rubbed his hands on his trousers from them heating up in fear, trying not to become distracted from what he had set out to do.

Summoning his courage, Leon cleared his throat, the sound echoing unnaturally in the space: “Morning… Hey… Um,” he paused for a moment, “The coffee girl making her coffee… heh,” he let out nervous laughter at a failed attempt at what he thought would come out as a joke… If you could call it that.

“Um, yeah… I get my breaks like you lot,” you let out a sympathetic, breathy laugh, but Leon could see through it, knowing it was a sympathy laugh. Nonetheless, he was still warm inside, knowing you were trying to make him comfortable; your smile continued to beacon a feeling of reassurance that made Leon’s heart flutter within its beats.

Embarking upon the precarious precipice of confession, Leon forged ahead, his words carefully fabricating into what he had rehearsed the night before: “So um, I’m glad to find you here… Alone… Since I- there’s something I want to ask you.. For a while now,” he rubbed the back of his neck as you raised an eyebrow out of interest.

“Oh, do you want to change your regular order? I’m happy to do that for you,” you naively reached for your notebook.

“No, no, that isn’t what I wanted to talk about,” he couldn’t help but find your naivety cute; how you were always ready to please was captivating to him; you continued to watch as he was trying to find the words. “So I’ve wanted to ask you this… For a while now…You’re a very kind and pretty girl, and I find… I find…I-I think about you often, wondering if you want to… Go out with me. You’re a really nice girl, and well, I’m a really nice guy; we already have that in common and, yeah, what do you think?”

A flicker of confusion danced along your features, your brow furrowing into gentle bewilderment as he kept blabbing on; you watched how he rubbed the back of his neck, how he couldn’t keep up eye contact longer than a few seconds, and how his foot kept grazing along the wooden floor as he kept gently kicking it back and forth. “Oh,” you said as you tried to figure out what to say, tapping the ceramic layer of your cup as you tried to piece it all together.

Oh… fucking oh, that’s all you got, Leon thought to himself.

“Look, I think you’re lovely, but I’m not ready to go on dates; it’s only nearly been a year after finishing college; I’m not ready to start dating again.”

Again? Who else has got their hands on her? Leon felt a sting of jealousy.

Rejection pierced Leon’s hopes, feeling like the jagged rocks of reality came crumbling down on him; with a nod of resignation, he acquiesced to the painful truth. “I-I understand,” his fists were bawling up and his teeth grinding, “I’m sorry I asked,” he walked off slowly, hoping that you would stop him and tell him you changed your mind.

But you didn’t.

You had a boyfriend in college. Nothing serious happened with him, but you were close to that man; you even thought you loved him at one point until he betrayed you with another woman. You weren’t ready to start going out on dates, especially in a new job where you barely knew anyone.

Just as you were planning to exit, your friends came through the door, noticing how shaken up you were.

“Are you okay? you look like you just saw a ghost,” Jill said with concern, coming over to you and placing her hand on your shoulder for reassurance.

“I-I had a weird encounter with… Leon.”

“The rookie? what’s the little weirdo up to now?” Chris asked while folding his arms, coming closer to you so you wouldn’t have to raise your voice.

“He… He asked me out.”

Both of them widened their eyes, looking at one another and gesturing you to sit down; while the topic of asking someone out was an innocent one, you looked shaken up by Leon’s advances.

“I was here making myself a coffee, and I think he was trying to make a joke. I don’t know; he wanted to ask me something. I thought maybe he wanted to change that coffee order because we all know it’s gross. Who orders that?” Chris cut you off your emerging tangent.

“Back to the topic, you said Leon asked you out?”

“He said he had been thinking about me for a while and was saying that we’re both nice. He asked, and I rejected him, but… I don’t know; I feel weird. Was I leading him on? What’s it that muffin I gave him? I didn’t want to give that idea.”

“Look, I’m not going to defend him, but-“

“Then don’t finish that sentence,” Jill cut Chris off, “Look… It was just a case of a man misreading friendless for attraction; it happens a lot; men are stupid,” Chris looked offended, “especially the one opposite me.”

You both laughed.

“I just… I just find that it’s delusional to start liking someone because they did their job. I gave him a muffin, nothing else,” you told them.

“Giving muffins isn’t in your job; you do that extra. I’m not blaming you, but he might not be that used to women, and before you come back talking, we’ve all thought it; look at the guy,” Both you and Jill agreed, “Also, I did tell him you give muffins to favourites, to people you find kind, he must have taken it as favourite equals attraction. You’ve turned him down anyway. Just forget it happened; I’m sure he’ll forget about it.”

But he didn’t.

He was nestled in the corner, a blind spot for people in the break room, and heard every word. The moment you uttered “delusional”, it pricked a spike right into his chest, feeling like you just couldn’t help yourself but injure him and twist the blade for a bit of enjoyment; he curled his lips into a line as he heard Chris insult him, wondering what it would be like to drive him away from you, to hurt him back like he verbally hurt him. A darkened fog casted over his mind of clarity, putting him back in that dark space he worked hard to get himself out of.

No, no, no, don’t think like that. You wouldn’t want to hurt Chris. You can’t be messy. It leaves tracks. Remember your ex… All you need to do is be persuasive. Leon’s internal monologue kept feeding his delusional nature.

~~~~~

The next day approached, and Leon patiently awaited your coffee run. He watched the reflection of the glass and continued to look at you, hobbling into the building with numerous coffee orders, all with post-it notes and that brown bag for your favourites. He waited patiently, keeping his back turned to not make him seem too desperate as he awaited.

Just as routine kept providing, you went around the room in exact order, starting from left to right, then sneaking a conversation with Chris and Jill, and then to him; Leon’s heart quickened in beat as he heard your deep breaths become clearer as you got closer to him, but to his surprise, all you did was plant his coffee and muffin in front of him—no greeting, no few sentenced conversation, not even the usual grace with care as you just basically threw his order in front of him like a waitress getting awful tips. There was a strange feeling within him, one of anger for ignoring him and one of sadness as you went straight to the chief’s office—you had never quickened your pace like that before.

Probably just in a rush, chief overworking you, he thought as he let the scalding hot coffee pass through his throat, not wincing or reacting to its temperature as he kept replaying your distance in his mind, over and over again. He looked at the muffin you gave him, which was still his favourite, and it looked to be the best quality from that coffee shop with its raised top and good ratio of white chocolate and raspberry. As he analysed every aspect, he concluded that you still cared to treat him.

She’s just teasing me. I can tell. She wants me to work for it. Of course, women don’t want to accept it, and it makes them look desperate; they love it when a man works for them; it’s only an act of chivalry that those women crave. Yes. Yes. If she didn’t care about you, she would have ignored you. She wants you. She does. Leon was trapped in his thoughts as he bit into the fluffy muffin, biting into a sour and sweet raspberry-rich quadrant that fueled his delusions even more. He watched the chief’s door intently, knowing that he just needed to be more persistent with you; the next time he saw you in the break room, you would say yes. Leon had it all planned in his mind.

~~~~~

You were overly cautious now. You knew Leon didn’t do anything wrong, per say, but it made you uncomfortable; something about his demeanour threw you off. It wasn’t even the fact you weren’t attracted to him; you felt an unnerving aura on him. Your eyes darted around you before you entered the break room, watching the coffee machine and tapping your fingers on the counter, blinking every time a second went past and wanting time to hurry up.

Come on, come on, come on, you kept saying like the machine would obey and go quicker.

You heard footsteps linger around the room.

Oh god, not now.

Of course, who else would it be? Leon peered through the corner, watching you, already glued to the door, with an unwelcoming gaze piercing him.

“Hey… Can I talk to you?” he was back in that shy demeanour again.

“If you must,” you coldly replied.

“I’m sorry if I came onto strong… I didn’t mean to creep you out; I’m just not used to this sort of thing,” your brow relaxed for a moment as you waited for a real apology, “but I do really like you and-“

“You don’t know me, Leon,” your arms were folded, knowing he would try his chances again.

“I mean… We can get to know each other… that’s kinda what dating is about, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes.

Look at her, acting rude and nonchalant. It’s all part of her act, Leon. You’re just wearing her down, he continued to tell himself.

“I’m going to say this once and only one more time, Leon,” you said, stepping closer to him. “I’m not interested. It has nothing to do with you. I’m not interested in dating anybody now; I’m just here to do my job for the remaining time. Please understand I’m not looking for anything at the moment. I’m flattered, but I don’t want this.”

When you exited, your fleeting touch upon his shoulder sent shockwaves of longing coursing through Leon’s veins. In that fleeting moment, he entertained the notion that you liked the long game. Perhaps, just perhaps, your gesture or touch harboured a silent encouragement to persevere.

Once you left and went out of sight, you left Leon with another bitter taste of rejection upon his lips. he designated himself to the harsh truth: some desires are destined to remain unrequited, lost in the labyrinth of unspoken longing and unfilled yearning. Yet, in the depths of his despair, a glimmer of resolve ignited within him—a need to persevere despite the spectre of rejection that loomed over your conversations. His heart had fervent whispers that hoped you would stop this chase and let it just happen.

Leon’s darkened thoughts continued, standing still as he let those thoughts unfold; he wanted to keep trying to keep wearing you down, but he needed to satisfy a hunger to get it all out, to get his yearning and built-up frustrations out before he continued his chivalrous courting—a description he kept providing to make him feel better, in all reality anyone would just call this creepy. Still, Leon thought he was just playing the game.

Stage four: stalking

His fingers kept tapping as he waited in his car, tapping on the steering wheel at night for you to come out of the building.

You rejected him. Two times. But the second wasn’t the last, to Leon’s thought process; he was willing to play the long game with you, to wear you down; it wouldn’t take that long. However, there was one problem with all these build-up frustrations within him. He just wanted a taste. Just to see what you look like, but you weren’t so willing at the moment; no, you were holding back, and this led to darker thoughts bubbling and festering inside his mind, thoughts he needed to let out before it became overwhelming. He just wanted something to keep him going, to stop relying on bitches who couldn’t compare to you, to take his pictures, perhaps to let his motivations keep running.

He wanted you. Just you. No other girl.

His car was parked at the back, watching your car and waiting for you to enter. He saw you give one final wave and a comforting smile to a group of his colleagues—a smile only he wanted to be directed at him. You didn’t notice how he stared at you. The darkened atmosphere made it difficult to see anything that far, and as you stepped in, Leon started his engine, ready to follow you at a distance and find out where you dwelled.

He followed the road, making sure not to get too close, watching you from the back window to make sure you weren’t looking back in suspicion; when you finally stopped at your destination, he made a loop around the corner to make it look like he was just taking a similar path and went on if you noticed his car. In all honesty, you did notice that car, but you couldn’t make out who was in there. but after he had driven past, your piqued anxiety levels went down, telling yourself that it was just some person taking a similar route, feeling silly for overthinking.

After Leon had done his little tangent driving, he found a place right in front of the building, watching as the window lit up.

That’s got to be hers.

You always had your curtains open to get some sunlight in during the day at work. Still, your innocent affairs managed to make Leon’s job easier as he watched you from the distance of his car—he was parked in the perfect spot, a place you couldn’t see when looking down from the top floor, but somewhere that gave a clear view of what you were doing by the window.

He watched as you unpacked everything, feeling emotional responses and inpatient anger when you strayed away from his sights.

Unknowingly, you started to undress, taking your blouse off and revealing your lacy bra; this was it; this was the moment Leon pulled his phone and pressed that button to take dozens and dozens of pictures of you, watching you stand in front of the window without a care in the world. Watching as your hand slithered to the back of your hooks, his eyes widening as he moved closer to the window of his car, ready to take pictures of your beautiful body, he felt his cock hardening against his trousers as he waited for you to expose yourself.

You winced as you unhooked your bra, feeling where the underwire pressed into your skin all day, exposing yourself to Leon as he zoomed his camera in to take pictures; he cursed at his phone for blurring and not taking better quality, wanting to see your bare chest. As he was practically salivating, your head darted to the window, recognising you had forgotten to draw the curtains, placing your blouse back under your arms before hurriedly covering Leon’s shot, looking around and thankful that no one was in the streets to see you—oh if only you knew.

“Fuck,” he let out a low curse as his cock started to no longer press against his tight trousers watching your windows be nothing but a dark-covered void now.

But he wasn’t all that disappointed. He managed to get some decent pictures to settle him for a bit longer.

~~~~~

He drove back to his apartment. To his glee, it wasn’t too far from his, perhaps a fifteen-minute drive from yours to his. He hurriedly fumbled with the keys of his place, kicking his shoes off and stripping naked in a matter of seconds as he lunged for his bed, wanting to indulge in those pictures before he lost his high.

He lay on the soft covers, naked, looking at each photo of your unknowing face, how blissfully ignorant you were; he couldn’t help but smirk as he zoomed into your face of shock when you realised the curtains were open.

“Such a tease. You wanted someone to notice you… You wanted me to notice you,” he whispered.

He kept swiping and zooming into your bare chest, circling his thumb around your exposed nipples, wondering what it would be like to suck on them, to pinch them until you squirmed with delight, to press his cock in between your tits; all these thoughts continued to make him harder. Before you covered yourself up, the last photo was perfect; your hair was messy, forwardly in front of Leon’s view as he kept zooming in to look. He imagined a scenario where you were a complete whore for him. Imagining you looking down and pressing your hardened nipples against the window, perhaps leaving a kiss mark on the window while looking at him with those beautiful eyes and leaving a lipstick mark on the glass; that was it, that was the imagined scenario that got him going. His phone was leaving indents on his fingers from his tight grip; he could feel his balls tighten as a dribble of precum started to ooze out the tip, his fingers tightening their grip around his large and thick shaft as he followed the flow of his thick veins, smearing the precum along the direction of his hand pumping along his length. He bit his lip as he whimpered out your name, his core tightening as he continued to look at your unknowing face. He started to think what your face would look like if he pushed his hard cock inside your wet cunt; he could just tell you were a screamer, and he wanted to hear that pretty mouth scream out his name. He imagined how you would feel as your tight hole would wrap against him.

He could barely breathe, and his breathing patterns became laboured, and his chest continued to rise and fall at a rapid pace, a groan released as he kept moaning your name. “Fuck I need you,” he moaned as his head was thrown back into the pillow, cum spurting all along his torso, slowly rubbing himself before letting go and being left to think about what his next course of action was.

Stage five: possession.

What was the point of asking you out again? Leon tricked himself into believing you set out a game for him to play, believing that you wanted him just to try a little harder for you; no matter how much distance you placed between him, he kept thinking you were just making the test harder—to him this was just another challenge he wasn’t going to put down. But this game, Leon forced himself to believe, was difficult; this game of yours would be over if he got fired; if he asked you out again, he knew you would go telling the chief, and every single person knew how much a soft spot the chief had for you. He hated how other people held that spot for you, hated how people noticed the good in you; that was something only he should notice; a burning rage within his chest flowered every time he thought about people experiencing the kindness only he wanted to experience and witness.

He wasn’t going to lose interest until he got you. Hence, he felt drawn to execute his plan for a little treat.

Leon needed to ease his frustrations and pent-up desires just to get a taste of you, to obtain further motivation to keep seeking you out, to keep wearing you down until you realised you were made for him.

For the past week, Leon kept going to your place but could only snap pictures with you fully clothed; how boring, he thought every time he pointed the camera to your window and waited for another good shot like that first night. Every time he left without seeing more of your bare chest, he still smirked behind the screen every time he saw your unknowing face, oblivious to how close he was to you—but he needed more.

To execute his plans, he needed to do some research. He planned to stop having the building be a physical obstacle against his needs, looking up your apartment complex and looking at the rooms ready to be rented out, focusing on the ones on the top floor—your floor—and looking at the floor plans. With just a few clicks on the internet and a few drives, the type of information you can get was amazing; we all know the saying, if there’s a will, there’s a way. He found those floor plans with the available pictures, seeing that all of them were similar, the only difference being the placement of the bedroom and bathrooms—the only thing in his way now was getting inside.

When your lights turned off, he was ready for his plan to continue; he marched up to the doors, running through the rain and making his way to the doors, waiting for someone, making a show of forgetting his keys—it came easy to him to lie and perform.

“Oh god, not again,” he started patting down his pockets, looking around until an older woman came along, giving him a gentle smile that signalled how his acting was believable.

“Have you forgotten the key to the front door?”

“Yeah… I always forget the key to this door; I moved in only a week ago; I need to get used to it.” In another email, making a whole other identity, Leon managed to send a few questions to the landlord, knowing that there were two keys given to the occupant, a front door key and an apartment key—as said, he did his research before coming to your place.

“Oh dear, here you go,” she let him in without a second thought. His innocent facade took her in as he thanked her: “Don’t worry about it, sweety. Forgetting is an easy thing. You have a great night.”

She waved him off as he pressed the elevator button, thinking to himself I will have a great night, clutching onto the straps of his backpack, waiting for the elevator to ascend to your floor; every time the number of the level changed, a jump in his chest was felt, excitement and anticipation running through his emotions as he thought how much closer he was getting to you, to be with you outside of work—finally.

It was almost too easy to find where you were; he knew what side you were on and only needed to count the windows he saw on the inside until he made his way to yours; it was just two windows away from the very edge of the end; he pressed his ear against the door, hearing no sounds of your consciousness still roaming around. As he made sure his coast was clear, he collected a lock pick from the smallest pocket in his bag; he was a cop, after all, he knew his way around and learned how people did this; they ought to be careful who they let in this field of work.

The silence within your place made the room feel empty; he was hit with your signature scent that sent a blush rushing to his cheeks, his heart beating at a constant quickened rhythm as he processed how close he was to you, how close he was to your private realm that he snuck into, everything about you could be learnt just within these walls—but he needed to stay at the task he provided himself. He made his way into your room, padding silently down the hall; he breathes in deeply as he reaches for your white-painted bedroom door, thankful it wouldn’t make a sound as you had left it a crack open.

She’s practically asking for it; Leon’s delusional monologue kept running rampant in his thoughts.

You were fast asleep, as planned, curled up in the countless pillows and blankets you had surrounding you; Leon couldn’t help but find you adorable how you were cuddled up, but he couldn’t let his admiration of you stop his tracks. His backpack hit the floor, making you jolt in movement, but only shifting your legs into a more comfortable position; you were out cold, giving Leon the perfect opportunity to continue with his plan. He retrieved a cloth, draining every last drop of chloroform on it, it dripping all over the floor; with a few searches, he knew it wasn’t going to be a quick breath in like the movies presented; he knew he had to press this on your nose and mouth for at least a few minutes, the fact you were a heavy sleeper made it very easy for this to happen. While you were away in dreamland, he gently pressed the wet rag on your nose and mouth, pressing just enough for you to inhale deeply but not enough to force you awake; you felt almost a tickle sensation on your nose, just thinking it was your fan pushing air on your face and causing an itch; oh how your naivety just made it ten times easier for Leon to indulge a little.

He watched your digital clock to wait for the appropriate amount of time to pass, listening to your breathing becoming shallower with every minute that past; just as the recommended time has been completed, he presses his ear to your chest, your heartbeat and breathing patterns being a murmur now; he couldn’t mess up now, he was in your room and ready to complete everything his fantasies were forcing him to do, he grabbed your face, his fingers pressing into the plush of your cheeks to give more evidence that you were asleep, but you would awake within due course.

It was time.

In a matter of seconds, he stripped off his shirt and jeans, throwing all the layers you put on yourself, his fingers tightening around the bands of your sleep clothes and peeling them off, exposing your naked and bare body right in front of him; his pupils dilated, his blush deepening, and his cock hardening as he processed how close he was to your naked form, your naked helpless form that was ready for the taking, ready for his taking.

As his eyes widen to encapture your whole form, he pressed a desperate kiss on your limp lips, pressing his hands on your chest, grabbing and squeezing them the more he placed wet and rough kisses on your soft lips; he couldn’t believe how you were just there, ready to fulfil everything he had been thinking of—this was the kick he needed, the little taste of motivation to keep going before you would be all over him, he kept thinking about the day you would help him get undressed and let him fuck deep inside you, but he had to settle for this time with you now before that happened. He released whimpers as he grinds his hips into yours, his hands underneath your thighs as he makes them go around his waist, kissing you like you were a hungry couple experiencing their first night together. He couldn’t help but be amused as he pinched your nipples, shocked as they sprung into hardened buds; lapping his tongue around them and letting them be covered in his saliva as he slid his tongue around them and placed gentle nibbles; there was just so much to do; and so little time; he wanted to feel and experience every inch of you, but time was limited, and this was just a taste for him before he wore you down.

He gulped as his fingers collected around his waistband, freeing his throbbing erection from his boxers, adjusting your panties to the side so he could slip his length inside you; his fingers started following the line of your folds, a spurt of precum forming around his tip as he watched your glistening cunt ready for him, pushing his hips closer to you and sliding his tip to push along your slit and hit your clit now and again, he felt his breath hitch as he stared at your wet pussy, biting his lip and letting out quiet and whispered whimpers as he pushed himself inside you, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he placed his hands on your hips before bucking his hips and watching your motionless frame bounce with every thrust he forced onto you.

“Fuck, you feel amazing, baby,” he cooed like you could hear and feel everything he was doing, pushing his hard cock further into your sopping wet cunt that dribbled all over him, making it easier to slide and feel your walls grasp around him, making it hard to last long and savour this blissfully moment, to him, with feeling his dick be placed in something he wanted to own and possess.

He focuses on grinding the head of his cock, pumping it further and letting it continuously hit and bruise your delicate cervix. As he watched your tits bounce, your closed eyes in a tranquil state, he pictured what it would be like to hear you moaning his name, to feel you roam your hands over his biceps and chest as you begged him to cum inside you. He bent down to the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet and addictive scent with a sigh; as much as he wanted to fill you with his seed, to fuck it further inside you and take ownership, he didn’t want to make such a mess; most importantly, he didn’t want to make a mess that could be tracked.

As he felt a deep gruntle moan erupt out of him, he pulled out and let it spurt all over your soft skin, watching how much of messy darling you looked underneath him.

He thought how easy it would be to drag your helpless body somewhere where you could realise your love with him, somewhere where Leon could fulfil every fantasy he wanted to on your gorgeous frame.

“You’re mine, sweetheart. Forever mine.”

Being delusional is a dangerous thing for the obsessive.

star divider is from @/inklore

please note the best way of supporting your writers is by liking and reblogging, i send so much love to everyone that took the time to read this and hope everyone has a lovely day/evening.

#dead dove do not eat #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x afab reader #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagine smut

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glimmeringtwilight · 14 hours

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Gilded Cage (Part Three)

ok. i'm not going to try to come up with a clever name for this one, this is just. part three. please send an ask or a DM if I missed any CW's! been a while.

Pairing(s): Dottore/Reader, Pantalone/Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

CW: NSFW, drugging (painkillers and other ment), rough sex, biting, threats of mutilation (mild. but it's Dottore), yandere themes, noncon/dubcon, AFAB reader, overstimulation, humiliation

Dottore has been on edge lately.

You can tell. You can see it in his jaw when he’s sedating you as you lie on the operating table, eyes burning and dark as he stares through you at something presumably only he can see. You can see it in the way his hand sometimes twitches slightly– which bodes terribly for you– as he makes a small incision into your thigh, or your stomach, or your arm.

Most of the time, you think he just cuts into you simply because he can. Because he likes to watch the blood welling from the wound, dripping down your skin. He’s been doing it a lot more lately, sometimes forgetting to sedate you, sometimes forgetting to give you something for the pain, sometimes cutting too deep.

It feels like there’s a storm brewing that you can’t see; curtains drawn so you can’t look out the window and see the magnitude, brace yourself for wind or rain.

His clones seem to be affected by it, too; usually it’s only ever the younger clones of his that lash out, but even the supposedly older ones are starting to show signs of agitation. You haven’t seen the same test subject twice in what feels like weeks. All of them seem to enter and leave the lab only once– something that should horrify you more than it does, whenever you watch them wheeling the covered bodies past.

It’s this way for weeks. Dottore stalks around his lab like a harbinger of death, practically oozing poison and malice despite the deceptively calm mask he dons.

You find out what it is that’s been agitating him when he opens the door to your cell one morning. Not a clone. Not the occasional trembling Fatuus. Him. His eyes burn into you. You can’t make out the emotion in them, but the complete coolness in his expression makes your stomach sink. You wonder, briefly, if he’s going to finally kill you– would that be a mercy, at this point? Killing you? Perhaps not. Knowing him, he’d draw it out. Make it hurt.

Still, despite the terror that curls its fingers around your throat, you follow him quietly out of the cell and into the lab, staring at the back of his head as you walk and wishing you could read minds so you could at least brace yourself for whatever this is.

The two of you enter the lab and you finally realize what it is that’s crawled under Dottore’s skin, sat at the desk in the corner as though he’s not terribly out of place in the sterile environment.

Pantalone sits comfortably in one of the chairs near the desk Dottore rarely seems to use, smiling as though he’s received a warm welcome and a parade. Dottore, meanwhile, looks palpably annoyed as he strides past the banker and takes a seat behind the desk, motioning for you to follow.

It’s… Intensely uncomfortable, to say the least. You rarely find yourself sitting at Dottore’s desk, considering the doctor usually prefers to be conducting experiments rather than sitting and compiling data; he usually delegates that to his clones, who bitch and moan about the boring task.

So sitting in a chair, next to the two men who’ve each held you captive at different points, as Dottore practically radiates anger… You don’t know what to do. You fold your hands in your lap, avoiding looking at either one, even as you can feel the two of them just… staring.

You feel like you’re under a microscope, worse than any other time before when you’d been laid out on the operating table under Dottore’s invasive prodding.

Pantalone speaks first, breaking the charged silence.

“I take it you don’t mind if I verify that this one’s real,” He says, rising from his chair and smiling at the way Dottore visibly bristles. “After all, I’m paying for this, aren’t I? I deserve that much.”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about you, and the demeaning way in which he’s referring to you as though you’re some object that might be counterfeit is both unnerving and irritating. You’re careful not to let it show on your face as Pantalone approaches you.

“What-” You start to ask, but you’re swiftly interrupted by gloved fingers prying open your mouth, prodding around in search of something that isn’t there. You feel them press down on your tongue, ghost over molars, then press against the back of your throat until you gag.

Somewhat satisfied, the banker pulls his fingers from your mouth and grips your chin firmly with a now-damp glove, turning your head this way and that and ignoring the obvious discomfort painted on your features as the action smears drool on your skin. What is he doing?

You shoot a glance towards Dottore, who is still just watching. He’s obviously pissed– you can see a vein popping in his forehead, belaying his anger on his otherwise blank face.

Pantalone lets go of your chin in favor of grabbing you by the arms, pulling you up from your chair and motioning for you to spin around in a circle. You do, though you’re still confused, unsure of what’s happening as the banker seems to be appraising you like a precious gem. It’s a different type of poking and prodding than Dottore’s usual tests and checkups, but it’s invasive nonetheless. It’s doubly unsettling that this is the first time you’ve seen the banker without his usual smarmy smile.

Hands find your shoulders and stop you again, and you bristle when they trace the curve of your spine, exposed thanks to the open back of the hospital gown. You feel them stop, tap something just to the left of one of your vertebrae, and Pantalone spins you back around to face him, clearly pleased.

You try not to flinch when he takes a lock of your hair in his hands– it’s gotten so long since you’d been brought back to the lab– and brings it closer to his face. His nose crinkles, palpable disgust on his features, and he mutters something about “that vile soap he makes you use”– likely referring to Dottore– before turning around to face the man in question.

“Are you done ogling?” Dottore asks, his tone clipped. You can’t see him around the banker, but you’re sure he still looks as pissed as before.

Pantalone tilts his head slightly, smiling, then glances over his shoulder at you. “Perhaps not yet, but I’m satisfied enough for now. You’ll get the funding for your little… project, and I expect to see this one at my doorstep every other month from now on.”

Every other month? You frown. Is this some sort of… custody arrangement that the two men worked out? You don’t know if you want to laugh or not at the absurdity of it all; like you’re the unfortunate child of two divorced bastards, except this is much, much worse.

“Fine,” Dottore grits out, in a tone that suggests it’s anything but. He gets up to shoo the banker out of his lab, but Pantalone merely tuts and makes his way back over to where you’re standing, confused, and rests one hand heavily on your shoulder.

“One month starting today, of course,” Pantalone continues, “It’s only fair, after all, when you’ve been hoarding my poor pet this whole time. I have to make up for lost time, after all.”

He delivers those words with a smile that only seems to irritate Dottore further, red eyes boring holes into him as Dottore visibly seems to be contemplating murder. Pantalone speaks up again before he does anything, however, offering a hollow consolation: “Of course, I’m not cruel. How about a farewell? A parting gift, to… tide you over while they’re gone?”

You don’t like the sound of that, and Dottore seems to pick up on the banker’s suggestion as you’re spun around once more and ushered towards the exam table you’ve become intimately familiar with for the last several months.

For this supposedly being Dottore’s “parting gift,” Pantalone is awfully remiss to keep his hands– and commentary– to himself.

“Ah, what a cute noise that was,” You hear him coo, a finger tapping your nose with just enough force to startle you so you flinch, “Don’t you think you’re being a bit rough though, Doctor?”

“Quiet.”

You jostle against the table, gripping the edge of it for support as hips snap into yours with bruising force. Dottore’s fingers are gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave bruises– that’s probably the point, honestly; he’s fucking you like he intends for you to feel it for the entire month you’ll be absent.

Pantalone’s comments aren’t helping things either; despite the banker’s comment about roughness, it only seems to have encouraged the doctor to go even harder.

Thankfully, you were given something for the pain, but not from Dottore. Pantalone had pressed a pill into your gasping mouth when Dottore had started, telling you that you were going to need it, and though swallowing was a struggle, you’re glad he did.

Dull pain and sharp pleasure mingle together, and you’ve long since lost track of the orgasms that have been dragged out of you. You’re starting to numb, honestly, overstimulation bleeding into pain, and you gasp into the table with every sharp thrust into you.

“Tsk– don’t pass out now,” Pantalone chides, fingers curling around your jaw and biting into your cheeks when your eyes threaten to flutter shut, and Dottore snarls something about cutting your spinal cord if you do; something you sincerely hope is an empty threat, given the black spots dancing in your vision. “You still have another thirty minutes to go.”

You don’t remember there being a timer set, much less a time limit, but you certainly know you can’t last that much longer. Your knees have already long since given out, and Dottore had to hoist you up further onto the table so he could continue, leaving your feet dangling a few inches above the ground.

You feel weight against your back, heat, smothering you as Dottore leans down to sink his teeth into your shoulder as he spills inside you once more, and you shudder through another weak orgasm in response, your eyes rolling back and your vision blacking out for several long moments.

Pantalone shakes you back awake before you can slip too far, and you sob as Dottore starts to move again. You already know that you won’t be able to walk for the next few days, if not for the next week.

Tears blur your vision, the world spinning around you as a gloved hand comes to rest against your head, petting you in what’s likely intended as a comforting gesture but only seems to frazzle you further, overwhelmed and overstimulated as you are.

It must be Pantalone, because Dottore lets out an irritated noise, sinking his teeth into your skin to leave a new mark as he resumes the harsh pace he’d set earlier. Another hand, this one not gloved, curls around your throat to dig two fingers into your racing pulse as he tries to engrave himself into your flesh through means slightly less violent than cutting you open.

You can barely keep track of who’s doing what– your vision is too blurred and you’re too far gone to fully piece together a coherent thought before it and the breath are knocked out of you by another snap of Dottore’s hips. One of them reaches down to rub circles into sensitive nerves, and you sob as another climax is ripped unwillingly out of you.

You black out for longer this time, shaken awake once more by Pantalone. He’s cooing something at you that you can’t make out, drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the sound of Dottore’s ragged breaths mixing in with your own.

It feels like you’re burning up, shivering weakly under Dottore’s crushing weight as the man seems to be pouring every ounce of frustration into his thrusts, and darkness encroaches on the corners of your vision with every movement.

Another shuddering orgasm. You twitch weakly through it, your body registering the sensation more than your mind does.

The world seems to tip, swaying like a vessel rocked by choppy waves before finally capsizing. Your vision goes, and you’re pulled into a sea of static.

It smells like lilacs.

It’s the first thing you notice when you slowly come to, a stark contrast to the smell of bleach and copper that you’ve become accustomed to. You’re also dressed in some proper clothes– or rather, ”proper,” compared to the usual paper-thin hospital gowns you’ve worn since being brought back to the lab.

Opening your eyes, you’re greeted with the familiar luxuries you remember seeing when you were last in Pantalone’s care, and the sight would nearly be a relief if consciousness didn’t bring with it the unbearable ache in every inch of your body. There’s a budding headache building behind your temples, stinging pains from various bites and bruises littering your skin like brands.

It aches most between your legs, but there’s an ache in your thighs and your stomach like you’d pulled every muscle within; you probably did, honestly, but you try to push back the memory invading your thoughts and you sit up in bed.

“You’re awake,” A silky voice drawls from behind you just as you sit up, and you turn around to see Pantalone sitting in an armchair in the corner, one leg folded over the other as he reads a book. He doesn’t look up as he addresses you; he just pats his knee, indicating he expects you to come to him. You’re not sure you can walk…

Climbing out of the soft bed hurts, various muscles protesting the movement, and you’re not surprised when your knees give out on you the second you rest your weight on your feet. Pantalone simpers at you from where he sits, amused, but he makes no move to help you stand up or walk. He just pats his thigh again, smiling at you.

“I can’t walk,” Even talking hurts, evidenced by the crackling of your voice when you speak.

“Then crawl.”

He says it so simply, as though you should have already known the answer. Your ears burn with humiliation. You don’t move.

“Don’t make me punish you on your first day back,” He says, setting his book down so he can properly address you. His tone is disappointed, but you don’t miss the way the bastard’s smile widens at the idea.

Pantalone’s punishments aren’t nearly as severe as Dottore’s are, at least in terms of pain. Rather than physical punishments, he seems to prefer humiliation. You’re tempted to try your luck, but… everything hurts. You don’t want him to decide you haven’t earned the privilege of clothes– or find something equally humiliating and degrading– on top of the pain you’re already in.

Crawling hurts. Every muscle protests the movement, yet again, but you force yourself to ignore the aches, to ignore the humiliation burning beneath your skin at being made to crawl over to him.

When you finally reach him you sit up unsteadily so you can climb into his lap, but you’re surprised when he stops you by pressing a gloved hand firmly against your head to keep you planted on your knees in front of him.

Instead of addressing your confusion, Pantalone merely smiles and takes hold of your wrist, raising your arm to inspect the scars and bruises littering your skin from the months spent under Dottore’s care. His face twists with disgust, shifting into faux sympathy when he addresses you again, “Poor thing. Look what he’s done to you…”

His free hand comes to rest on his knee as he straightens up, uncrossing his legs, and you hear a steady tap tap tap as he drums his index finger against his knee thoughtfully. “Aren’t you glad I’ve brought you back from that wretched place?”

It’s a leading question. You know he expects you to answer correctly, and you get the sense he’s leading into something; a demand. “...Yes.”

“I knew you would be.” He says, dropping your wrist and leaning back comfortably in the armchair. He looks down at you, clearly pleased with the position you’re in. He props one elbow against the arm of the chair, resting his head in his hand as he smiles down at you. “Why don’t you be a good pet and show me just how appreciative you are?”

The implication isn’t lost on you, but whatever hope you’d had that he might mean something else is dashed as he spreads his legs slightly further apart to make room for you between them, and you don’t miss the growing bulge in his dress pants.

Your hands are numb as you reach for his belt, and you barely flinch when his hand rests heavily against the back of your hand as you take him into your mouth.

One cage for another. You’re not even sure you’re relieved, because every part of you still aches from the reminders Dottore had left you with.

His hand presses against the back of your head, guiding you to take him further into your mouth, and you struggle to breathe around his length. You nearly gag as he pushes you down further, pushing back in resistance, and Pantalone clicks his tongue in disappointment but thankfully, lets up. Maybe he doesn’t want to ruin his pants.

“I’ll get you something for the scarring,” He murmurs, fingers curling in your hair as you bob your head up and down his length. “And those garish bruises.”

Whether it’s an insult towards you or Dottore, you’re not sure. You try not to focus on it, instead focusing on the task at hand. You lave your tongue along the base of his shaft, earning a small shiver and a heady sigh from him.

He’s silent for a few minutes as you continue to pleasure him, but you feel him boring holes into the top of your head. You don’t look up at him; you don’t want to. You’re trying to get this over with, and hoping that his silence means you’re doing well.

The hand on the top of your head leaves, and you flinch when you feel him trace his fingers over one of the scabbed over bites left by Dottore, nearly biting down in surprise. You swallow, suppress the urge, resuming your pace even as he traces the outline of every bite left littered along your neck, your collarbone, your shoulders.

Pantalone straightens up a little, pressing his hand against the back of your head again to force you to take more than you already can. This time, he doesn’t relent when you push back, just holding his hand still until you stop whimpering and you manage to swallow back the urge to gag.

“Hush.” He tells you in response to your muffled noises, groaning quietly at the way your throat vibrates around his cock.

You eventually relax, eventually get used to the feeling, and he lets you pull back slightly before he’s pressing down again, repeating until tears are spilling down your cheeks as you struggle not to reflexively bite down each time you gag slightly around his length.

“How would you feel about something… permanent?” He asks, and his fingers are tracing the bites again. You try to pull back to answer, but his other hand stops you and he rocks his hips lazily into your mouth. A rhetorical, then; he doesn’t care for your answer.

You try to blink back your tears as you resume the pace you’d set, sucking lightly on his cock as his hand curls into your hair. It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying as his hand keeps threatening to force you down farther than you can take, and you’re focusing on stamping down the swelling nausea.

“Something- hm-” He hums, and you can tell he’s getting close now, with the way his breathing is starting to deepen, his hand tightening its hold on your hair- “something tasteful. Not like those eyesores he leaves you. A collar is- fuck- too… too easy to remove.”

You don’t like where this is going, but humming your dissent only earns you a pleasured hiss and a rumble of praise spilling from his lips before he’s curling his fingers around the back of your neck.

It’s the only warning you get before he shoves your head down, holding you there as cum spills into your mouth and down your throat. It takes everything in you to relax your jaw, and you pull back gasping and sputtering the second he relents.

By the time your vision clears and you blink back the tears spilling from your eyes, he’s already tucked himself back into his pants and is just watching you struggle to catch your breath. He doesn’t even comment on the mess of cum and drool that spilled from your lips onto the floor.

It takes you a second to realize he’s not staring at you, but rather at the marks left on your skin.

After a minute of tense silence, he smiles again, patting his lap this time in invitation for you to sit, and you ignore the familiar sting of humiliation as you obey. Again, one of his hands curls around the nape of your neck, tracing some pattern into your skin.

“Right here,” He murmurs, though he doesn’t elaborate when your brows pinch together in confusion.

It takes you a second to realize he’s tracing invisible letters across your nape, then another few to realize it’s his name that he’s tracing into your skin.

Something tells you that Dottore isn't going to be pleased to see you again at the end of the month.

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salemlinnet · 3 days

Note

Hey! Just wanted to let you know your fic The Devil May Care lives in my head (and my work pc) rent free. Especially chapter 8 & onwards! Like, it’s so good, and thank you for that fic.

thank you so much, genuinely, i'm really excited that you like it. lol of course chapter 8 is when we get to the good stuff i'm gonna have to give that a hard same. thanks a bunch for reading, hopefully ch15 out between chs 4 and 5 of domesticated.

here it is watch the tags

#soapghost #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #phillip graves #dead dove do not eat #dark fic #the devil may care

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lilacxquartz · 1 day

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Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 6

Satoru Gojo × Fem!Reader × Suguru Geto

This is a dark/yandere fic that features upsetting themes and it is canon divergent. Updated every Wednesday.

About:

You moved to Tokyo over the summer to take a teaching job. As you get settled in, you find yourself entangled in a toxic dynamic.

Chapter Summary:

Isolating far from everyone else on the campus was a problem after all and you end up moving in with Shoko. Meanwhile, tensions slowly build as you reveal that you have to go somewhere in particular quite soon.

Previous Chapter.

6. Tangerines.

It didn’t take you too long to finally give into Suguru’s suggestion about moving into Shoko’s spare room. It was starting to eat away at you at how isolated you were from everyone else, after all. Luckily, Shoko was more than happy to have you move in and even cleared out the room the night prior to your arrival.

It took you a couple of trips back and forth to get everything there. You wanted to do this whole thing discreetly and to not bother a single soul, even though you knew that friends actually helped friends move.

Just before settling in her place completely however, you decided to stop by a nearby supermarket to pick up some essentials so that you wouldn’t have to take her food, even if it would have likely fine to share.

Still though, you wanted to be less of a bother, if you could help it, so you bought the essentials along with a cheap bottle of wine to split with her and about a kilo of tangerines that were on special offer. Some fruit could never hurt.

Upon returning the final time, you expected the apartment to be just as empty as the last few times you swung by, but this time Satoru was present instead, sat opposite Shoko as she nodded away at his rambling with an exhausted half-lidded look.

All life returned to her eyes when she saw you (and especially that bottle of wine poking out of the bag), prompting her to rise to her feet immediately, searching the cabinets for a pair of glasses.

“You’re such a sight for sore eyes.” She beamed as she twisted the metal cap off, grabbing a tangerine out of the bag before settling back into her seat.

You weren’t sure if she was talking about you or the booze though.

Satoru also then tried to get up to grab himself a glass but you stopped him from doing so, trying to not be a complete doormat even if he did sponsor your wardrobe. You’d get him something nicer when your paycheck comes through, something more meaningful.

“Ah-ah,” you quickly said, stopping him from reaching out for the bottle, “this is for me and her, but I will permit you to have a single tangerine,” filling out his hand with some fruit instead of a glass.

Satoru paused for a moment as he searched for a response, deciding to not be offended in the end after all.

“Alright [name], I’ll stay sober for you,” he smiled instead, something glittering in his icy eyes as his confidence returned, “you’re just looking out for my health, that’s why you’re not letting me have it, right?”

“Sure, let’s go with that.” You sarcastically replied, trying to further insert yourself into their dynamic. It was still difficult to let go of taking yourself so seriously, though.

“See, I knew it, you’re nice like that.” He continued to say as he watched you sit down opposite at the table.

Time then gradually passed by, the bottle of wine slowly but surely emptying itself as the three of you talked.

You found Satoru, although an endless stream of conversation, still quite easy to listen to because the flow would simply never run out. You didn’t have to talk much around him because he’d carry the conversations with ease no matter what.

Suguru arrived later on in the night with a six pack of beer in his hands, hoping to help you feel more relaxed around him but luckily you already were from the look of it.

He stared at you for a split second before taking a stiff step back as Shoko had already managed to infiltrate his personal space, nails slicing into the packaging and fishing out a can before his very eyes.

“That’s for leaving us alone with him all night.” Shoko teased.

Suguru rolled his eyes in response but surrendered to his fate as he sat next to Satoru, keeping quiet for a moment before cracking open a can of his own.

“So, what has he been talking about for so long that the two of you have been reduced to actual alcoholics?” He asked.

Satoru laughed in response, saying that he was unsure actually and that he didn’t feel as though he was being that bad, reaching for another tangerine as he did so. Shoko immediately however snatched it away, throwing it over to Suguru instead who then peeled the fruit and gave you half.

The four of you continued with the conversation otherwise from before as if all of those little distractions had never even happened. The highlight of the night seemed to revolve around family burdens and obligations as Satoru got deeper into hiding away from clan duties and how Suguru still felt exhausted from his own family reunion from just a few days ago.

Shoko mentioned a point too; something about what gruelling small talk with her own now retired family was like, unable to relate to them anymore.

You chimed in just as the conversation died down, feeling a wave of awkwardness rush through you in doing so, wondering if you should have left it as a fleeting thought instead but you didn’t.

Instead, you mentioned how it was your dad’s birthday coming up since it was getting close to the end of June and as a result, ended up unintentionally souring the mood at the mention of needing to go back to your hometown.

A collective silence brewed between the three as they all mulled this piece of information over.

Shoko was the first to break the silence.

“Are you sure that you should be going back there all alone?” She asked, immediately placing her hand over yours to show support.

“Yeah, you should at least let me go with you, [name],” Satoru chimed in, “I’d be getting out of clan duties, so it would be a win/win for me.”

It took a moment for you to shake off the unease you had caused but then quickly got back into it, forcing yourself to not dwell on it.

“Going to a small dead town is a win for you?” You asked as you tried to lighten the mood.

“Yes actually, they wouldn’t know where to find me and you wouldn’t have to face a place you hate completely alone.” He replied, offering you a legitimately valid reason.

“I mean… I guess so?” You considered it now with more thought, thinking that it could make things a little easier for you.

“Just think about it, yeah?” Satoru said again, leaning in as he flashed you a teasing smile. “The entire town would be in such awe with me that they’d forget all about you.”

“Oh, here we go.” Shoko said as she rolled her eyes.

Suguru in the meanwhile had stayed silent throughout this whole exchange, clenching at his jaw just a little as he stared bitterly at the can, his fingers tapping around it. He wore a small tight smile, but his eyes didn’t quite match his expression, looking intense instead.

Not that you had an opportunity to read too much into it though as your focus was elsewhere currently.

“I guess I could, but there’s a problem,” you considered yet again, “my parents wouldn’t accept me just showing up with a random guy.”

“So, tell him we’ve been together for a while now and you’re just showing me around where you grew up. They can’t deny you that.” Satoru suggested, seeming to think that this could work.

He knew strict families perfectly well, after all, this part of life wasn’t something new to him and if anything, he wanted you to exercise standing up to your parents as an adult and for you to face your past knowing that you didn’t have to be there alone to do so.

Besides, he would behave. At least around your family.

You considered it either way, warming up to the concept as already used to the idea of being a platonic plus one so this sort of concept wasn’t so strange to you a second time.

“Alright, why not?” You replied as you surrendered into the idea, not quite noticing at all how close Suguru was to crushing the can with his hand the more that he listened in.

***

The day to finally travel to your hometown finally rolled around as the month came to a close and for the most part, life up until then was pretty quiet.

Shoko for example stayed mostly in her room to do what she called ‘minimal studying’ to make it look like that she knew what she was actually talking about in her career, something you suspected was actual revision even if she claimed that it wasn’t.

You on the other hand had to work on and off at the campus itself, going over a prospective list of upcoming students who might do better in shadowing you.

Satoru had his unavoidable clan obligations to attend, reminding you through on and off texts that he was actually looking forward to escaping with you in the upcoming weekend.

Then there was Suguru who was deadly silent, completely cutting himself away from everyone else without a single reason behind his actions.

You tried asking Shoko about it, but she told you to not worry—that he’s like that, at least sometimes, but you couldn’t help but feel as though it was personally directed somehow, especially when he wasn’t even there to see you off for the weekend.

Satoru arrived relatively early otherwise, parking his car off to the side of the main street. The vehicle he sported was a little flashier than Suguru’s and he leaned against it as he waited for you to come down.

For the trip, you packed a small weekend back while he packed a whole suitcase, leaving you wondering with sheer fascination as to what exactly he needed for the course of just two nights.

Both you and Shoko studied the contents in the trunk, briefly glancing at each other and remaining quiet until you were the one to break the silence for once.

“Uh, Satoru…?” You asked.

“Yes, [name]?” Satoru replied.

You took a glance at him and then at the suitcase then back at him. You swallowed your initial words away, lacing your upcoming observation with even more confusion as you finally got around to it.

“W-we’re going away for… maybe 2 days maximum.”

“Correct.” He replied as he slowly nodded.

“Dare I ask what you’re bringing?”

“Just souvenirs, don’t worry,” he replied as he failed to reassure you, “a little token to keep the peace.”

It was then that you started to wonder if this was such a good idea to begin with but it was far too late to back out of this now. Satoru was a special breed of a person and you started to think that he might be too much for your parents, let alone your hometown, but upon further consideration—if his role was to keep the attention off of you—that much would work.

Shoko lightly tugged at your wrist to both give you a hug goodbye as well as to ask you a question.

“Hey, uh,” she asked as he reeled you in close, “is your town useful at all in any way? Do they have any locally made spirits? Wine? Anything like that?”

You hummed for a moment in consideration.

“Maybe… maybe plum wine? I’ll see if they still sell bottles to go.”

“That would be great.” She smiled.

Satoru then swung by to the driver’s side and motioned for you to enter along with him, making sure that you buckled in before starting the engine. He booted up a playlist of songs, saying that these were all tunes from his most nostalgic years so he was going to make this whole trip a positive one if he could help it.

The road trip in question was fine also, harbouring far less tension than how it was around Suguru, if at all. Satoru leaned more into being a passive driver, although he did manage to take a few wrong turns once he was deep out of the city which seemed to all be accidental rather than to actually mess with you.

Somehow his mood remained positive throughout such moments, no matter how strange the places ended up being. He joked on and off that he’d totally protect you if you had to camp out overnight in the car.

Such a comment did lead you to one small realisation that you hadn’t quite considered throughout all of this though.

While your parents might end up accepting the sudden appearance of your new supposed sudden (however fake) boyfriend, they wouldn’t accept him sleeping in your bedroom overnight.

“Hey, uh, Satarou…?” You spoke up, feeling nervous about the topic.

“Yeah?” He asked as he drove down the now quiet road, the playlist had ended quite a while ago so he was just enjoying a peaceful ride with you instead.

“So, my parents are strict-“

“—And so are mine,” he said as he cut you off, sensing that you were worried and wanting to soothe your mind right away if he could help it, “I know how to handle strict parents, don’t worry.”

You stayed quiet for a moment as you nodded and felt comfort in his response. You were aware from Shoko’s initial explanation, way back then on the rooftop, that Satoru had a limiting childhood so he was probably used to a lot worse when it came to a strict family.

Which meant even more to you that he wanted to tag along with you to something like this.

“I know, I know, it’s just,” you continued to say anyway, not wanting to keep anything hidden, “you most likely will be asked to sleep in the guest house in the garden,” your fingers fidgeted as you spoke, “I mean it’s just a glorified shed with windows, but it isn’t personal—they ask this from visiting relatives too.”

“Damn, not even the sofa?” He asked as his expression momentarily fell flat although it was subtle, bouncing back immediately to something carefree almost right away.

“Not even that.” You confirmed.

He tried to remain positive as he considered your response. Ideally in his mind, he was already prepared to take on the sofa, already accepting the idea that your room would be off limits but maybe not even that? He would manage just fine in the garden but the trip was already going into a completely different direction than he had originally planned.

He thought about it even more as he finished up the rest of drive in silence, realising that he should have made more of an effort on his end to reassure you once again but he was also at the same time starting to piece things together about you—or at least why you were so initially afraid to sleep the first night over at Shoko’s, protesting that you absolutely couldn’t in your drunken stupor.

Other things too, like why you seemed to hesitate so often despite knowing everyone comfortably well at this point and maybe even why you still trembled a little when addressing people by their first names.

While endearing, it was concerning beneath the surface.

“It’s fine,” he said as he finally piped up, offering you an assuring smile as he filled out the remaining silence, “seriously, it’s fine, it’s just for the weekend and my main role is moral support anyway, right?”

“R-right.” You replied as you felt yourself calm down.

Once you both had finally arrived at the correct street, you pointed him towards the right house and his car eased into a vacant spot in the driveway. He shook his body a little, fingers drumming against the steering wheel before finally taking a look towards your direction.

“Think I got a chance?” He smiled, hoping to take your mind off of things before they even began.

“Not at all.” You laughed a little. Admittedly it was nice to have someone that you knew in this town, so maybe even in spite of awkward family relations, this wouldn’t be so bad in the end.

He continued to fix up his demeanour as you knocked on the door and waited for your parents to come answer. His mood turned serious and his tone of voice adjusted to sounding much more polite as he would finally face the two people who made you into someone you didn’t want to be.

You went along with it either way, your mother simply sighing as she let you both inside, muttering something under her breath how your father won’t be happy about this.

All of the hope continued to then go straight out of the window as Satoru met with your father, the old man asking him a slew of questions demanding to know if he’s a delinquent due to his appearance, not quite accepting that both his hair and eyes were completely natural.

Walking inside also left you feeling a little stiff, a sudden reminder of your past that existed to haunt you.

As predicted, your folks didn’t allow him to follow you upstairs and didn’t even let him see what your old room looked like.

Upon being back down though, Satoru thawed back into life and decided to try and pass down the souvenirs he brought in from Tokyo as a sign of goodwill to which they begrudgingly accepted, setting the boxes away to the side as both of your parents didn’t even take a look inside.

Satoru couldn’t help but feel as though this was a strangely tough crowd as he continued to piece even more things together about the way you were. He was starting to get it, at least a little; you were the way you were because you had zero room to express yourself.

(And to him, this was unacceptable.)

So upon being shooed away off to the guest house come evening after dinner, he continued to take it all in stride knowing that this was all only temporary.

He had a plan up his sleeve now to make your visit back home less isolating, less painful and even less strict if he could help it.

You were more to him than just your parents’ daughter, after all.

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prxship · 1 day

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[ in light of the shit show that was antis attacking @proship-angelbunny, i’m doing my own version of this! ]

reblog game ;;

reblog with yourself & your f/o[s], and i’ll respond with a recipe and a song or two for a dinner date!

[ antis dni! proshippers plz interact ]

#( 𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 ;; text posts ｡ 🐾 )#shipcest imagine #comship #darkship #dead dove do not eat #proship #proshippers please interact #antis dni #proselfship #proselfshipper #self shipper

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yuujipaws · 1 month

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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒, fetishes & turn ons . . . 𝐎𝐇 𝐌𝐘 .ᐟ

ᯓ★ synopsis 概要 : shorts on what i think some of the jjk mens kinks would be.

ᯓ★ featuring 特集 : gojo, geto, toji, sukuna.

「 minors do not interact 」

ᯓ★ word count 語数 : 893

ᯓ★ content warnings 警告 : afab! reader. oral (f), overstimulation, p in v, begging, teasing, praise & degrading, cockwarming, slight somnophilia, daddy kink, nippleplay, consensual non con.

GOJO . . . enjoys overstimulation, especially when it comes to giving you head. your clit is already sensitive to the touch, so much so that he cannot place a finger on your bare clit without you gasping and squirming, shooting sensations pulsing from that area. he has to rub you over your clitoral hood, so that there’s at least a soft, cushiony barrier between your most sensitive parts, and his roughened thumb; but when it comes to his mouth, it’s just heavenly. the way he laps you up, tongue peeking into your hole as deep as it will go, pushing in a finger as his mouth works on your clit, sucking and swirling. after a bit, you start to get overwhelmed, the sensations coming from your abdomen making you squirm almost out of his grip. “mmhnnn.” satoru shakes his head slightly, wrapping strong arms around your already shaking thighs. “please, no more, i can’t take it.” you plead with him, just before his mouth releases your clit with a wet and sloppy ‘pop’ before telling you, “you’ll take as much as i want you to. you’re mine.” viciously sucking at you until you’ve came, again and again.

GETO . . . likes cockwarming. sometimes it was while he was on the game, noticing you walking around the house in damn near nothing, whistling to get your attention. he would pull his shorts down just enough, motioning for you to come sit on his lap. of course you had no issue with this, discarding your panties to go sit on his lap, with his cock buried deep inside of you. sometimes you would wiggle around and earn a harsh slap to your ass, or what he could reach of it. other times he was thrusting into you after losing, or even winning a match. you didn’t mind, as long as he was giving you attention. sometimes cockwarmimg geto was a little different, like when he is tired and needy, snuggling with you in bed. he can feel your ass pressed against him, and whether you were trying or not, you made him hard. sometimes he will pull off his shorts, sticking the tip against you and if you’re wet enough, it slides right in. you can hear him hum softly, settling in, feeling the warmth of your walls, he wraps his arms around you to sleep for the night. once he wakes in the morning, and realizes his cock is still hard and inside of you, he fucks you awake.

TOJI . . . has a daddy kink, ironically. it started off as just a joke, him calling himself big daddy, or telling you he was your daddy; and at first, you didn’t know how to feel about it, but weeks of thinking, and possibly some subliminal conditioning from your lovely, perverted boyfriend had changed your mind. “do it, slut.” he was hovered over you, tip of his cock pressed against your slick hole, teasing, but only enough to have you frustrated and almost begging. he wouldn’t put it in until— “say it.” he demanded of you, hand coming up to grip your soft cheeks, keeping your focus on him. you wanted to, but it felt so foreign on your tongue, saying it when you were alone just to get a taste of the word in your mouth. “daddy?” you finally let it slip, your voice light and airy, the word coming out almost as if it were a question. “that’s it, good. say it again, like you mean it.” less demanding this time, but he still wouldn’t put it in until he was satisfied, and he could tell it was bothering you. the way you wiggled your hips and tried your best to push yourself down onto his cock, but it was useless in that position, lying on your back you were helpless beneath him. “daddy please.” this time it sounded better, more natural as the words just fell off of your tongue, begging him to finally wreck you; to which he did, until you were a crying and cumming mess.

SUKUNA . . . likes cnc. he rather enjoys watching you squirm and cry beneath him, begging for him to stop. you’ve already established a safeword, and he always confirms it before going into a scene; knowing that if that word fell from your lips, he would stop immediately. “baby, what’s your safeword?” he asks you, and once you respond he begins to push himself onto you, feeling up your thighs, squishing soft skin and pushing his rough fingers between the warmth of them. “please..” you whimper, knowing it turns him on to hear you beg. he ignores you, his free hand pulling your tank top down to reveal your chest and already budding nipples. with his head dipping down to put one in his mouth, his other hand worked his way up your thighs and right against your panties. “please, stop!” you protest, gasping at the feeling of his teeth, nipping and sucking before releasing their grip, his fingers down below pushing past the fabric of lace, plunging themselves into your sweet dripping hole. “you know you want this, that’s why you don’t fight me.” the man snickered at your obedience, the way your hole clenched around his fingers when he spoke. “relax, enjoy this.” he hums, pumping his fingers in and out until you’re begging for him to let you cum.

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moechies · 2 months

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hhfrhrhrh stepdad nanami absolutely demolishing u in bed

“daddy.. daddy—“

“hm, princess? daddy’s here,”

he holds your face in between his fingers, a gentle tap to your cheeks when your eyes gaze off somewhere else.

he pistons into your cunt like a fucking machine, contradicting to his sweet words. you’re barely able to take a breath before he presses into the fat of your cunt yet again, forcing a weighed cry from your throat.

an offering of shade hovers over you as he leans above your body with his; blocking off all sight of what’s beyond him, the only thing visible in your vision is the handsome face of your dearest stepfather.

your cunt creams around his heavy base, pearlescent rings of cum that form lewd, wet noises as he fucks your cunt.

“creamin’ all over the place, hm. does it feel good sweetheart?”

and you're unable to provide a verbal answer, only a humiliating loud moan that leaves your lips; but he'll take it as a yes.

"d-daddy.. no more.. too.. much!"

"no princess, be good. you want daddy to give you your reward, right?"

your small hand tightens around his bicep.

"y-yes.. i wan— wan' daddy's reward.."

"there we go, that's my sweet girl."

nanami knows anything you say is out of the goodness of your heart, and not from a single thought provoked in your head; but he doesn't care.

because stepdaddy nanamin knows that you would never say no to him anyways.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #dead dove do not eat #yandere jujutsu kaisen #dark content #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanamin #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x reader smut #tw stepcest #tw.stepcest #tw.dark content #drabbles ⋆⑅˚₊#requests ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

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konigsblog · 15 hours

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idk if u got this ask or not but kidnapper!könig with a breeding kink....raping kidnapped!reader who's "only good for breeding" :(

tw; rape, kidnapping, forced impregnation. 🔞

the truth behind könig kidnapping you is his fear of loneliness. he struggles getting into a relationship, and the only option left in könig's depraved and corrupted mind was to take you for himself.

it's common for military men to want multiple children. due to könig's sex life—or lack thereof—his libido is through the roof now that he has a little partner for himself. every thought is plagued with the thought of sex, jerking off to the fantasies inside of his head. now, könig has his own special and unique little doll. it almost feels as if you were personalised to fit könig's needs and expectations, which is perfect for him.

you have been awakened several times in the past month to könig's depravity. whether that's könig's hands wandering between your thighs or up your shirt, or him brutally assaulting you. it's violating and humiliating, leaving you sobbing and screaming painfully through the ache between your thighs. eventually, you'll grow exhausted and will no longer be able to fight könig off of you. well, you wouldn't fight him off of you; that's a silly assumption, dear. you're too weak against him, half-asleep or not. he forces you to make intense eye contact through blurry vision, your eyes filled with tears.

each thrust causes you to scream out in pain. the impact of his tip against your cervix leaves you bleeding, your cunt clenching around him uncontrollably and instinctively. it was almost as if you were made for this—to take his meaty size. the entire time, all he's thinking about is impregnating you. he dreams of filling your slick and drooling cunt with his hot arousal, to load it into you and get you big with his babies.

oh, stop whinin’. he'll treat you much better once you're carrying his babies lives inside of you.

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siscon-stsg · 1 day

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(CW: incest, clingy big bro sugu, pussydrunk sugu, he's actually quite sweet in this one. nudes, risky sex cuz i mean gugu your fucking parents??? mentions of fingering, oral sex (f receiving), hickeys, body worship, tender sex, mentions of unprotected sex but no i actually put a condom in this one!! wows miracle!!)

not a rq i'm sorry i'm just such a slut for BIGBRO!SUGU idk why this man has such a chokehold on me but it's fucking real guys. ~BLOSSOM

BIGBRO!SUGU who has a free weekend each month from jujutsu high, and he usually spends it at home with his parents and you.

BIGBRO!SUGU who's super clingy and needy during that weekend. the nudes and videos and audios you send each other are just not enough lil sis, and when he can get his hands on the real thing, fuck he's just lost.

BIGBRO!SUGU who makes out with you for what feels like a whole day. always finding little moments to pull you in by the hips, press you against the wall or the counter or his desk or the bathroom door. his lips on yours and his tongue twirling and twisting until you whine.

BIGBRO!SUGU who fingers your pussy, eats you out, sucks on your tits, nips your neck and tummy and ass and thighs, marking you up all over. he's so greedy and mean! but because he loves you so much, lil sis, he can't have enough!

“stop lookin' at me like that,” he'd mutter, kissing down your quivering thigh after you came for a second time from his tongue alone. “makes me wanna stay glued to this pussy 'll day...”

BIGBRO!SUGU who worships your entire fucking body because you deserve it, dammit, and he just missed his lil sis too much.

BIGBRO!SUGU who hugs you tight in missionary, grinding his hips down gently on yours, simply enjoying the feeling of being connected.

BIGBRO!SUGU who purrs while sucking tiny lovebites between your breasts. who is so pussy-drunk already, so needy, so fuzzy in the head that he mumbles: “can i fuck my pussy raw?” and giggles as you smack him playfully.

BIGBRO!SUGU who fucks you as much as he can in those two days. who would spend the entire weekend balls deep if he could. he just loves you, okay? and he can't stop!

BIGBRO!SUGU who fucks you in his bedroom, in your bedroom, while showering, on the living room couch, in the kitchen, in the backyard. he'll give you a nice massage later for your soreness from all that dick, don't you worry.

BIGBRO!SUGU who even wakes up to fuck you- no, sorry, “make love to you” super early the same day he needs to take the first train back to tokyo. holding your hands down, fingers intertwined with his much bigger ones, kissing you sloppy and struggling to be as quiet as possible.

“jus' one more... one more before i go, baby, gimme one more. will miss this pussy so bad...”

#tw.incest #tw.dark content #big bro/little sis #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #geto smut #suguru smut #geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x y/n #big bro geto #tw incest #dd:dne #dead dove do not eat #tw. incest

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animentality · 8 months

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#twitter #heartstopper #lgbt #lgbtqia #antis #proship #censorship #dead dove do not eat

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diejager · 5 months

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Omfg pervy roommate König!!! And his poor little roommate is none the wiser to how he abuses her poor cunt every night. He does such a good job fucking his load into her that she confides in him as a friend that she’s pregnant and is super shocked!! But that’s okay, he’ll always be there for her. Now she’ll never be able to leave him. <3

Cw: forced pregnancy, NON-CON/CUB-CON, DARKFIC, pervy!önig, perverted behaviour, somnophilia, dacryphilia, breeding kink, possessive behaviour, pregnancy, drugging, tell me if I missed any.

You’re blissfully unaware of his advances, or his nightly excursions into, pumping his cum into your already filled womb and putting a baby into you. He liked how disoriented and confused you look the day after, waking up pantieless, your bedsheets crusty and dried cum sticking to your thighs. You always come to him for advice, wanting to know why you came all over yourself, leaving you covered in your own slick and cheeks burning with shame when you told him, oblivious of his gleeful eyes narrowed down at you with a hidden grin.

It goes on for a while, he feeds sleeping pills - the ones from his prescribed-bottle for his insomnia - breaking half a pill down to a fine powder and spike your bedtime drink, waiting for you to doze off, sleeping so deeply that even an earthquake wouldn’t wake you up, and he fucks you. He, sometimes, takes his time, thrusting slowly, enjoying the slow and romantic pace, feeling you wrapped around him. Other times, he goes feral, pounding and bruising you, hands manhandling you into the prettiest position to let him fuck you deeper, the head of his red, angry cock kissing your cervix brutally.

You don’t take pills or any contraceptives, letting your monthly cycle roll over and deal with the cramps with painkillers. So he’s not surprised when you come crying to him about being pregnant after going to see your doctor about your daily nausea and stomach pains. He expected you to be pregnant after so many nights of filling you up, pushing load after load of fertile cum - he takes supplements to make him more virile - into your young womb, what he didn’t put into account was the long time it took to finally knock you up, the months he spent waiting and biting the skin off his thumb until it bled to have you round and plump with his child.

You had the prettiest face when you cried, eyes puffy and lips pouty, it made his cock stir, throbbing in his pants. It drove him wild, seeing you cry and whine about not being ready to be a mother, still so young and oblivious to who the father was —you didn’t even remember the last time you fucked anyone. König spent the day comforting you, wiping your swollen eyes with high-quality cashmere tissues he bought just for you, whispering sweet lullabies to you until your tears stop - much to his chagrin - and cradled you in his lap, fingers thumbing the soft fat of your thighs, running soothing circles with his calloused thumb.

He’ll wait until the baby’s born to tell you he’s the father, he might not be patient enough to sit around and wait, but he is patient enough to know when he should and when he shouldn’t wait. He’ll care of you until you come to term. He has the money to buy you whatever you need, KorTac is the best paying PMC and he was a colonel in the past, racking up a large sum of money before he signed a contract. Your cravings, your needs, your wants and whatever else you ask, your roommate - your soon-to-be-husband - König will take care of everything.

What a nice roommate you have, no?

Taglist: @hiraya1802 @tess0288 @elichisstuff @emodanoriddler @kenz-ee @bunnyclaire @akenosimp167 @havoc973 @death8match @yourliebling @allicsirp00 @cross-axis @hereforhotbitches @delulu4ghost @monster-in-paradise @nordicvsp @madi0987 @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @223princess @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

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bratbby333 · 12 days

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i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it.

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again.

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be.

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her.

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area.

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit.

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love.

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to.

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces.

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine.

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get.

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away.

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you.

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you.

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf.

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month.

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening.

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well.

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease.

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text:

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours.

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text:

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks.

“What is it?” your coworker asked.

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face.

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries.

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now.

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony.

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head.

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner.

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest.

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks.

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you.

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?”

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life.

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting?

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room.

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.”

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue.

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.”

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you.

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy.

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote.

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him.

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand.

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him.

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment.

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage.

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.”

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening.

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex.

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch.

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most.

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you.

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours.

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

2K notes · View notes

smuthospital · 7 months

Text

⭐️Yandere Husband x reader⭐️

Premise: Your husband really wants kids, but you're not really all for the idea

Warning: Noncon, breeding, fem reader

Minors DNI

You prepared a cute little basket with bread, some homemade jam and a couple of sandwiches along with a delicious strawberry cake you baked just for today! You look up at the playground from where you're sitting, the breeze feeling just right. It's a beautiful day out. Kids playing, people walking their dogs, couples like yourself picnicking. You and your husband have been together for three years and married one. He's the sweetest man in the world and you couldn't feel luckier to be with him. Your mother introduced him to you. He was her close friend's son. His mother and yours just so happen to go to the same knitting class. Although his mother was of a higher class, your mother and his had a lot in common and hit it off right away. Your mother would have buried you six feet deep if you refused to see him, not that you would've. He's handsome, sweet and has a well-paying job. Of course, that's the side of him that he allows you to see.

He begged his mom to introduce you after he saw you sitting on your porch one day when he was picking his mother up from your house. You waved at him and smiled. His heart was about to pop out of his chest. Your beauty was nothing he'd ever even imagined before. Everything about you is perfect. Everything. He asked his mother about you as soon as he drove off. She was more than happy to tell him. She's quite fond of you and would choose you as a daughter-in-law over anyone else. She couldn't be happier that her beloved first son has shown interest in a jewel like you.

He couldn't help but fall even deeper in love when he got to meet with you. Your voice rings bells in his heart and your eyes speak to his soul. He knew from then on that you were made for each other. He would never admit it, but he's absolutely obsessed with you. He would prefer to say that he's in love with you. Dating was smooth. He quickly proposed as soon as an appropriate amount of time passed. It couldn't come soon enough to him. You're so sweet and understanding. So thoughtful and intelligent. You share interests and when you don't, you make the effort to try. So does he, of course. You're so perfect.

Once married, he was happy to go to work and come back to your loving embrace. He'd rather die than have you support yourself. Anything you want, anything you need is yours. You don't even have to ask, your husband is very observant. You might mention something in passing that he'll overhear. Something small, something you didn't even put a lot of focus into, but he'll remember. He'll remember and he'll get it for you as soon as possible. He'd do anything...and that means anything. If anyone made you cry, he'd comfort you...before beating them unconscious. Getting his hands dirty is a small price to pay for you. But dear god, if anyone dared to lay a finger on you... well...consider them gone. Consider them erased actually. Consider the fact that they won't be bothering anyone ever again. Consider people closely associated with them being severely injured.

He's a ray of sunshine. You love him and he loves you. He loves you very much. You've never had any serious arguments. The two of you got along so well that there weren't any disagreements, but there were, he'd just fold and let it go. The only problem is that now that you're married, he wants kids, but you're not ready. You've never been very good with kids. They make you anxious. The sticky fingers, their delicate little heads, the fact that they could become psychopaths if you don't raise them properly. Not to mention how expensive and time-consuming they are. You spend all that time and energy on them and get almost nothing in return. Don't even get you started on the effects it'll have on your body.

There's just too much that could go wrong and besides, you just font feel like you're mature enough to have a kid of your own when you still feel like one yourself. You're not ready to raise a human being. There's so much you want to do, want to explore and you can't do that with a baby. Your husband on the other hand is great with them. He's the eldest brother of six so he's used to taking care of kids. At birthday parties, you can find him carrying three kids at a time, one over his shoulders and two in his arms, even the older ones, which doesn't surprise you because he's built big and strong. Must've eaten his vegetables when he was a kid, you snicker, inwardly. Your husband pokes you every time he sees a cute video of a baby on his phone like a boy asking his parents for a puppy. "Just watch! Aren't they cute!? (Yyyy/nnnn)!" He sticks his phone in your face and makes you watch a bunch of videos. He has a severe case of baby fever.

You look over at your fiance. He's looking out at the swing set with a dreamy look on his face. A little boy is pushing his younger sister and they look like they're having a blast. You cringe, knowing your husband is gonna bring up the baby talk again when you get home. Just then, you feel a light tug on your dress and look over to see a little girl around the age of 4, wobbling on her feet, looking up at you. You at least try to be good with kids. "Hey, what are you doing?" You laugh nervously. You know you're in for it now. You can feel your husband's intense gaze on the back of your neck.

"...Mama said that if I'm good, I can have cake. I was good today, so can I have some,...please?" You look up to see a woman face palming and yelling at her daughter to come back and stop bothering the nice lady. You smile at her mother, letting her know it's okay. "Well you asked so very nicely, how can I say no?" You cut a small slice and plate it for her. You give her the plate, but she just looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. "I...I always let Mama feed me," she says as fiddles with her fingers nervously. So adorable. You look up at her mother, who seems to be busy dealing with one of her other kids and decide to give her a break. Although this is breaching your comfort zone, you just can't say no to that face.

You pick up a fork and begin feeding her. You just know your fiance has the most love-struck look on his face, if you were looking at him, you'd be able to see big hearts in his eyes. You peek over at him to see just that and roll your eyes. "Mm so yummy! Thank you miss!" She gets on her tippy toes and kisses you on the cheek. You must admit that was adorable, but your opinion remains firm. No kids. No way. You still have plenty more reasons not to have any so cuteness is not enough to sway you. The little girl waddles away back to her mom. You don't want to turn around. You sigh and look at your husband to see he is still swooning.

"Oh my god! That was beautiful. You be such a good mom!" He coos. You groan. "We talked about this so many times, honey. You know how I feel about kids," you pout, folding your arms. You could've sworn you saw his eyebrow twitch like he was upset. "You'd be great, I believe in you. I just know it," he beams. Oh, he's not mad. Must've been your imagination. You roll your eyes. He didn't listen to a word you said though. You love him so much, but he's a brick wall when it comes to things like this. He's been on your ass quite literally about kids ever since you got married. "I need more time," you say, looking away from his pouting face. He was a bit gloomy for the rest of your outing after that. Last night, you misplaced your birth control pack. You were worried about it, but you just brushed it off and decided to take two the next night when you do find them.

Soon, your picnic comes to an end and you head home. He's on you as soon as you shut the door, kissing you passionately. You return the gesture, hugging him close. "Don't take your birth control tonight," he whispers huskily in your ear. You stop and push his chest. He takes a step back and looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. "We literally just talked about this! Respect that I don't want any dumb kids!" You shout. You expect him to apologize, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness like he always does when he's in the wrong. Then he'd go and get you flowers, and cook for you, but this time, he looks down at you rage evident in his expression. He looks really pissed. You shrink in your spot. What?

"You're being ridiculous, (y/n)! It's time for you to grow up! You're old enough to be a responsible mother so stop acting like a child. I can support the both of you easily. You don't have to lift a fucking finger, just have my child already. I've been so fucking patient with you. My mother and yours have been asking us where their grandchild is. What the fuck do I tell them? I'm wondering too! I've been waiting for you to change your mind and be reasonable, but you're really getting on my nerves now," he grits his teeth as he finishes his sentence. Each sentence felt like a stab to your heart. He's never said such cruel words to you or even cruel words in general before. Your husband hasn't so much as insulted you. You never could've imagined your husband had this side to him.

He gripped your arm and began dragging you upstairs. "Hey! S-Stop! Stop it!" You cry, holding onto the stair rail. He looks back at you. That was the last fucking straw. You hear a loud clap and your head turned. Huh? Your cheek stings? Tears begin to well in your eyes as you hold your reddening cheek. He takes the time to pull you the rest of the way up and into the bedroom. He sets you on the bed and locks the door, taking his clothes off right there, his well-built figure casting a shadow over you. You begin sobbing in your place on the bed, covering your face with your hands. He walks over and gently hugs you, rubbing your back. You push at him, but he keeps you still pressed to his body. "Stop that," he whispers in your ear. His voice is commanding yet gentle, but you ignore him and continue fighting his hold. "That's it. I'm so tired of you acting like this. It's time you give me what I deserve, a family." He grips your dress and violently rips it off you, leaving you in your bra and panties. You've had sex before, but never like this. This is the first time your eyes held fear while looking at your husband.

He shoves you back onto the bed, climbing over you and trapping you beneath him, smiling. He traces a finger from your collar to the center of your bra, where it stills before ripping it off you. You know better than to scream so you whimper as he throws it to the side. He places a hand over your breast, squeezing it painfully. You grab his wrist, trying to pry it off. "You are gonna be a great mommy. Can't wait to watch these fill up with milk." His face takes on that dreamy look again. "Seeing you today in the park confirmed it. You're more than ready." You feel his cock rubbing your thigh. He yanks your panties down your legs, tossing them into the forgotten corner with his clothes and yours. With his other hand and rubs your pussy. You whine and struggle under him, but you know you're no match for him. He spreads your thighs open and lodges himself between them, his cock rubbing up and down your fold, taunting you. "I love you...so much," he says before slowly entering you. You are NOT having a fucking baby. You'll take your birth control and that'll be that. He smiles down at you, knowing what you're thinking and bucks his hips. He laughs like he knows something you don't, but the idea is completely lost on you.

He bottoms out, moaning as he does. He rubs the bulge in your stomach lovingly. "I want a big family, honey. Make me a daddy. Let me breed you," he says, rutting into you. Even though he's being so rough, it feels so damn good. He picks up your thighs and pressed them down beside your head, squishing your cervix with his cock. Your tongue rolls out your mouth as your eyes roll into the back of your skull. He kisses your neck and cheeks, giving you soft praise. "I knew you'd be good for me. Such a good little wife and soon to be mommy. You're gonna look so cute stuffed with our baby. God, I fucking love you," he chants as he rams into you again and again, your brain is far too clouded by the feeling of him spearing your guts to understand him.

You dig your nails into his back as continues bruising your poor cervix. You let out a choked whine. "It's ok, honey, you can cum. I'll allow it." As if on command, you do. He kisses your lips passionately, quickening his pace. Moans leave your mouth each time he pounds into you, the air and sound being forced from your lungs each time on impact.

His fists curled in the sheets, his eyes clenching. He slams his hips to yours, your body being forced farther before he grabs your hips and forces you back. He grunts as he cums deep inside you, your stomach filling to the brim with his seed. He sighs and kisses your cheek. You breathe heavily, waiting for him to get off, but he doesn't. He just starts going again like he didn't just fill your guts up.

"W-Whah?" You whine. "I need to make sure my seed takes, darling. We'll be doing this until I say we're done so don't complain now." You can tell by his tone that he's daring you to try something. You just clench your eyes and keep taking him. You're so bloated with cum. He's never been like this before, always stopping when you wanted to and treating you like porcelain. Now he's grabbing you and fucking into you like he's been holding back for years, which you now think he has. Your eyelids begin drooping after the sixth time he forced you to cum. You can't keep them open and he notices. "It's ok, take a nap. Warning, I'm not stopping. I guess I tired you out," he laughs.

You wake up to him hugging your back, spooning you. You look at your alarm clock. It's been hours and judging from the still-wet cum all over your thighs, he only stopped recently. You slowly and very carefully slip out of his hold and off the bed. You feel a soreness like never before in your stomach and almost fall to the floor. Oh god, your uterus. More cum slips out of you as you walk to your vanity. You open a couple of drawers where you think your birth control might be, but it's not there. Where could it be if not in your vanity!? You look around frantically, but you still can't find them! You begin looking everywhere. You check the bathroom cupboard, opening it slowly so it doesn't creak and wake up your crazy husband. It's not in there! You look down to see the crumpled package in the trash. You pick it up to see it empty. Every single slot, even the pink period pills. You begin tearing up as you see there are tiny white specs by the sink. No! He washed them away! How could he!? You clutch the sink as you stare at the empty package. You feel a presence creep up behind you. You look up in the mirror to see your husband right behind you, looking down at you with disdain.

"I knew you were going to take them after I told you not to so I got rid of them last night." He planned this!? "Let's go back to bed...Common," he says tiredly and grabs your arm, forcing you back into bed with him, your back to his chest. You feel his cock harden and you try to inch away, but he grabs your hips and rubs his cock up and down your folds before jamming it inside you until he bottoms out. You whimper with your hands over your mouth, knowing that if you annoyed him while he was tired, you'd get in real trouble. He lazily humps into you, rubbing your bulging tummy from behind you, his lips kissing your head. You pass out later from exhaustion.

You wake up to find him not in bed. You take the chance to get up and throw on a sweatshirt and sweats. You grab your wallet and sprint out of the room and down the stairs, ignoring the painful limp he gave you and the soreness in your poor tummy. Your wrist is caught mid-air..." Where the fuck do you think you're going, honey?" He asks, his sweet smile contrasting the bone-crushing grip he has your wrist in.

"O-Oh! Um...we...need-" He cuts you off in the middle of your lie, yanking your wrist and forcing you closer to him. "You were going to go kill our baby." You've never seen such darkness in his eyes. "Well, you can't. I won't allow it. The doors have new locks just for you, love. You're not going anywhere." He smiles down at you, that same handsome face you love, but now come to fear. You gulp as he leads you into the kitchen where he prepared a beautiful breakfast.

You soon accept what's to happen. Your husband is a loved man. Loved by all. His family, your family, his job, the community, everyone. Your husband is often described as charismatic, funny, helpful and friendly. If you told anyone of them what he's done to you, they'd call you a liar without hesitation or even better, take his side, agreeing that it's time you give him a child because it's your duty as his wife to do at least that for him. Be a little grateful for all he does. Providing for you and taking care of you. You'd rather keep your mouth shut. Nothing good can come of telling anyone. It only took a few days of brutal fucking till you woke up early in the morning feeling nauseous and ran to the bathroom, him hot on your tail, ready to hold your hair back as you emptied your stomach into the toilet. You sob as you hug your knees on the bathroom floor. He got on the floor with you, wiping your tears with his thumbs and holding your face. He smiles wide and hugs you tightly. "Yes! (Y/n)! I'm so proud of you! We're having a baby! I love you!"

Yandere husband with pregnant reader head cannons:

- You're allowed out of the house after a while of proving your obedience! Hooray! With the exception that he has to be there, of course. A man flirted with you a bit while you were shopping and your husband was within earshot. You still cringe when you remember the sound the man's nose made as your husband punched him. It took three security guards to get him off the guy.

- Your husband makes you eat so much! "Sit down and finish your food. You're eating for two, remember!? Or did you forget?"

- Paints the baby's room with non-toxic paint and will not let you help or hold anything. "No, it's too dangerous, (Y/n). Sit back down, I've got this, ok?"

- Spares no expense for you and the baby. Buys everything people recommend to him

- Watches youtube videos for things he needs to watch out for during your pregnancy

- Does pregnancy stretches with you and won't take no for an answer. "It's good for you and the baby so get to it! I'll do them with you so we look silly together!" You both still have a fun time.

- You once dropped a book on the floor and your husband burst through the wall to get to you, leaving a cartoon cutout of himself and all. "WHATHAPPENDAREYOUOK!?" He shouted all in one breath. You assured him that you were just fine and that you'd only dropped a book, but he still cradled you in his arms crying.

- Cooks all your meals and cuddles you every single night.

- You being pregnant does not mean he stops fucking you, no. He's just a lot more gentle with you.

- Has everything about your pregnancy and birth planned to the exact detail, even when you'll have the next one.

- He rubs his face against your tummy and kisses it, singing to the baby.

- Do you need to get up? "Here, take my arm...actually...I'll hold you!"

- He picks up the phone on the first ring...and you better too or he's racing home.

#non con #lemon #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere husband #dead dove do not eat

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mphountitled · 8 months

Text

𝘽𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 & 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩

: ̗̀➛ Mattheo Riddle x Fem!reader | Brief!Harry Potter x fem!reader

: ̗̀➛ Summary: Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder.

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: Alcoholism, Dark!fic, Ravenclaw!reader, Bullying, Unrequited Love, Shy!reader, Toxic Relationship, Jealousy, Narcissism, Weaponizing!Harry (sorry boo), Fluff, A bit of Angst, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), DubCon, Semi Public sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Dom/Sub, CNC, humping, Spitting, Degradation, Dacryphillia, Choking, Gagging, Subspace, Slapping, Sadism, Breeding Kink

5k words

A/N: Hell truly is empty. I apologise in advance.

You have made peace with the incomparable fact, long ago, that if the muggle God existed - if he is known to shepard Muggles and Wizards alike, then he was far too busy to attend to you. There is just too much going on all at once. The wizarding world is caught in its archaic intolerance of Half-Bloods. On the mortal side, you were informed from your private tutoring with Professor McGonagall that their smartphones are threatening devolution.

“It’s the closest thing they’ve got to a wand, Lovie, so we can’t really fault them on that, can we?” 6 years into your schooling at Hogwarts and you would continue to shadow Professor McGonagall, hoping you might one day soar to her heights of academic prestige in the wizarding world. You needed to be a Professor as much as a mortal needs to breathe….

You cannot let him, of all people, ruin things. Your reputation is a fragile, flammable thing - and he is freaking Kerosene.

It's difficult to pinpoint when it started or how your sensibilities rushed away from you so swiftly. One moment you’re planting your textbook on the face of a wooden desk - the sound reaching the rafters in the highest peak of the deserted classroom…

“A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration.” Mattheo read the title aloud with a tedious uninterested drawl. “Seems a bit presumptuous to shove this down my throat so early on. Shouldn't we be starting from the beginning?"

You ignored him promptly, using the silence to arrange your colour coordinated stationery on your desk beside Riddle's,

“I had no idea," You began, brushing off your blue lined robes and flattening the invisible creases on your skirt, "-That the person residing under my tutelage would be a first year."

Riddle stabbed the inside of his mouth with his tongue, while his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Your face remained passive as you continued, "You are a sixth year, correct?” You asked with a snide tilt of the head before planting yourself on the desk beside him.

“You are a big boy capable of understanding big boy books,” Unbeknownst to you, your words managed to stir something foreign within Mattheo but he conceals it with his usual veneer of arrogance as he swings his head lazily in your direction.

"May we begin?" You asked, with your back straightened - inches away from his hand now hanging on your chair.

"In a bit…" he says, "Just..." his voice trails off as his eyes scan over your visage, likely assessing it like an unseen tapestry. The truth is, Riddle did not know you prior to being forced under your tutelage. His droopy brown eyes appeared even more so as he broke the distance between you two and studied you closer. A tense silence grew pregnant in the ancient classroom, and your resolve was beginning to slip. Only one thought inflated a puddle of anxiety in your stomach:

Could this be your first kiss? Is this what first kisses looked like? Could this be your very first brush of intimacy overall?

Your brain failed to rationalise and compartmentalise his attraction, but your heart pushed your head closer.

"Call me a big boy again..." He had whispered… which evidently led you here.

Your lesson had ended with your hand covered in his release and a breathless smirk painted across his face. "This goes without saying," he breathed out with a satisfied smirk, "But tell anyone about this, and you're dead."

Ever since that day, your tutoring has been but a veneer of something much more sinister. When you were thrusted into the light of day, Mattheo overlooked you as did lots of his Slytherin friends. Besides the occasional threat and vague insult, you mean nothing to him.

When you two are alone, however, as you are right now, he would enchant you into servitude, lightly pushing your head down while he kissed you silly until your knees were planted on the hardwood floor.

Mattheo briefly opens his eyes to peer down at you. It is then when you notice the fresh bruise dotting the side of his face, and his pillowy lips split by a small incursion. He had very clearly gotten into another fight..

“Your mouth feels so fucking good when you're not using it to be a smart ass,” His words illicit a bubble of heat inside you.

Despite all this, you are clearly aware of the fact that you should not be enjoying this at all. Not one bit. For starters, you can feel the old wooden floors digging into the meat of your knees and the crisp winter chill is unkind to your scantily dressed state. Your shirt is unbuttoned because Mattheo was like a moth to a fucking flame when it came to your ample breasts and his hand is buried tightly in your kinky curls, forcing his cock even further down your throat. The very bones of Hogwarts seem to be in vehement protest of your blatant whorishness.

3 silver chains hang from his neck as he plants his other hand against the wall behind you, blocking your kneeling frame between both him and cold, hard stone. You crane your neck back, keeping a half lidded gaze on the jewelry that drives you feral with lust. You are content imagining that perhaps, when he is getting ready in the slytherin common rooms, he wears the silver for you. A fanciful thought but one that consistently has your intestines weaving themselves into knots.

That, paired with his striking, jet black blazer, which is discarded somewhere in the abandoned classroom, has you keening and fighting to take even more of him into your mouth. Perhaps you were peacocking a little - flatting your tongue so his cock slid seamlessly to the back of your throat while you fought to ignore the pain blossoming on your scalp. He had turned you from an inexperienced nun to something you're not quite ready to examine yet.

"You're finally putting this head of yours to good use…" Despite his feigned arrogance you're utterly delighted knowing that only you can bring Mattheo to such an utterly restless state. He does not really know what to do with himself.

Not when you took so much of him, so well.

You clench your toes.

Feeling himself get too close, Mattheo eases his cock fully out of your mouth, languidly stroking himself but still assuming a firm grip on your scalp. He is operating on that very specific plain of narcissism that was special to Mattheo. He is aware of your presence, physically, but his words are spoken into the open air, like you are an inanimate object. A glorified toy.

"Are all Ravenclaws as compliant as you are?”

You bring a crisp white sleeve up to your lips, wiping away the excess drool as you remain kneeled in front of him, knowing he has yet to finish.

"If you ever think of finding out," your voice is hoarse, "this will be the last time I offer you any free study sessions."

"Is money all you seek?" He attempts to feign composure, continuing to languidly stroke his cock. "How utterly greedy. I thought- fuck… - I thought you were far more philosophical than that"

You watch hungrily as Mattheo bites on his pillowy bottom lip. He is prolonging the release, taking his time as he usually did... "If you plan on edging yourself in my mouth instead of actually finishing the job, I do have other commitments to attend to-"

He ignores you... his brows furrowing and smoothening at odd intervals as he continues to touch himself while studying you.

"We may not be studying… but I still intend to pass Transfiguration, hope you're aware." He punctuates his sentence with an breathless laugh- it blossoms across his usually stoic visage, raising his buttercup cheekbones towards his smiling eyes.

As he talks, you examine his scars and feel the slow essence of admiration seep into the pit of your stomach. An arguably pathetic feat, given that your feelings will not ever be reciprocated.

Brewing inside you is the need to take care of him. You knew the rest of the student body viewed Mattheo as a glorified parasite. Something that is only capable of thinking within the capacity of its own means. Something that takes, and takes, and occasionally jokes around, and takes. But how could he know anything different? You suspected that his home life was built on the foundation of survival, on needing to be the loudest, and proudest, and worst of them all.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The sharpness of his words slice through your thoughts, bringing you back to yourself. Mattheo's gaze is placed firmly on something down below. Throughout his mindless tirade, your hand had taken to rubbing soft, comforting circles against the leg of his pants, quite literally on its own accord. Mattheo is bent over, head tilted as he watches you questioningly. Seconds stretch to a minute, and your stomach sinks as time passes.

Eventually, he dismisses you. He shakes his head. "Whatever," He says, tilting your head back and lining your mouth with the head of his cock once more. His visage darkens into a cruel sadistic grin. "Tell me you want me to come in your mouth."

Almost instinctively, you do as he orders and like clockwork, you swallow his cum, wondering if he knew how deeply and truly your words actually were. There was a moment, perhaps imagined, in which his fingers gripping your hair, melted to the side of your soft, supple cheek. It stays there for longer than necessary, leaving bits and pieces of your composure scattered in its wake.

Mattheo soon straightens his posture, stuffing his flaccid cock back into his pants before making himself as presentable to the student body as they know him to be (which admittedly is not a lot) And before he turns to walk away, he leaves you stranded on a glacier with his ice cold words cutting deep into your beating heart.

"Tell anyone about this-"

"And I'm dead," You interject, "I know."

And with that, you pull your ruffled collar over your lint-free school jersey and check your reflection to assess the damage Mattheo and his iron grip might have left. You needn't wait for an extension on the conversation because your job here was done, (pun so malevolently intended).

As far as Mattheo is concerned, you are an easy conduit to release his frustrations through because your unpopularity makes you so incredibly inconspicuous. You blend into any given crowd at any given moment, your name seldom reaching the heights of ridicule among his group because you are so unforgettable… There had been no reason to point out your flaws, not because you did not have any, but because you were simply invisible.

It is particularly strange to have any social interaction beyond the bounds of group projects and class discussions… so Harry Potter gifting you even a sliver of attention had been violently unorthodox. So unorthodox, in fact, you failed to look up from the weathered pages of your novel when his gentle voice wafted in your direction during a rare free period in Study of Ancient Runes. Your professor has been summoned quite promptly by the headmaster and has yet to return. The class has been in a state of havoc ever since.

"I don't know if you're aware of this but…" A deep shadow over the pages alerted you to his presence, "They both die at the end."

It was incredibly rare that Potter, who sat at the desk directly in front of you, ever felt the need to strike up conversation that was not purely academic. Gryffindors made use of Ravenclaws as often as Slytherins.

So naturally, you peer curiously up at him…

"Sorry?"

"Y-Your book. It's a muggle book, isn't it? I haven't seen anything with a cover like that around here. It's refreshing. Everything in the wizarding world is ancient and leatherbound." He mumbles as his index finger slides into the collar of his red quidditch jersey. He finds himself suddenly overcome by a wave of embarrassment even though there was nothing at all to be embarrassed about… he turns his chair slightly in your direction, his eyes darting to the door and the empty teacher's seat before meeting yours once more.

"'They Both Die At The End." He says, pointing towards the title.

"Oh…" You affirm, rocking your head back and forth, "You were making a joke?"

"No," Harry snickers before waving a large hand in dismissal, "Evidently, the only thing I 'made' was a complete and utter fool of myself."

You're not sure when it happens but you feel the lower half of your face melting into what you suspect is a smile. You can feel your shoulders relaxing and your novel lowering imperceptibly.

"Work on your delivery next time and maybe we'll be getting somewhere."

"Is that how it is!?" Harry asked, pleasantly surprised by your banter, "- I could've sworn I had a shred of dignity before the start of this conversation. Now I'm not quite sure where that went."

Mattheo's feet pass over the threshold as soon as the sound of your laughter rushes past him. It is almost charming in its familiarity but incredibly curious in its rarity. He can't recall ever seeing you with your head thrown back while the instinctive sound of amusement races through your throat. He does not know he's staring until Draco shoves past him, to get to their own seats in the front of the class.

His eyes remain on you as he makes his way to his desk, hoping, perhaps, that you would turn your head infinitesimally, in acknowledgment of his presence.

You do nothing of the sort, and it not only fills him with a weird sort of dissatisfaction but it bubbles into full blown vexation when he realises who is capturing your attention so viscerally.

Mattheo has never prided himself on his patience or tolerance.

Overthinking is something he consistently lives without.

Most of his actions were spurred from things he felt in the now, and he was really fucking uncomfortable with what was happening now.

His glances at the front of the class before finding you once more in the very back corner of the class. He notices that Harry is stationed in front of you but the seat beside you is completely deserted.

Did you not have friends?

And more importantly; how did he never notice until now?

What if…

Perhaps if he…

"You didn't let me know we were having a picnic," The sound of a chair scraping against the tiles had both you and Harry rallying into silence. Mattheo appears at your side, pushing the chair against yours so he, too, sits facing Potter - who suddenly appears incredibly uneasy. Gone is the comfortable atmosphere cooked by easy and amicable conversation. Mattheo injecting himself into your little bubble created a suddenly charged and suffocating atmosphere. You cannot keep your wide eyes off Mattheo as he lowers himself to his chair beside you with his legs spread as he slouches down, like he always does.

"Don't stop on my accord," He exclaims, completely oblivious to the fact that your professor might walk in at any minute. "What were we talking about?" Your heart wrestles in your chest as you see him turn to address you. His slouching puts him a level lower than you, but it does nothing to lessen his intimidation.

"Maybe I should ask, Potter?" Mattheo turns his attention to the front, "What were you lot talking about?" There is not a trace of friendliness present in Riddle's tone. In fact, it's the very opposite. Your nerves, swelling with anxiety, only escalate into full-on panic when you feel him place a large hand on your skirt under the table.

Harry's voice is low and his eyes are trained on the floor, "Books-"

"Books!" Mattheo cuts him off with sarcastic fervour, "How utterly fascinating!" The hyperbolic wonder in his tone is utterly rude and unbecoming, but you look down at your desk in blatant anger. Refusing to be a part of whatever this is.

"And tell me, Potter, how many books have you read so far?"

It is then that Riddle's once stationary hand begins the faintest trace of movement. He begins slow and tame, his callouses barely registering on the soft fabric until his fingers prod the lining of your skirt…

Your breath hitches in your throat.

Never had Mattheo ever displayed a desire to touch you. Not in the way he made you touch him. It was made explicitly clear that only he would benefit from your secret rendezvous' and so you were left to deal with your aching cunt alone, with the image of the face he made when he came, still burned into your mind. It had never been about you.

"A couple,'' says Harry, fighting to show this bully that he was unaffected by his intimidation. If only he knew that with every advance Mattheo's palm made, you were slipping farther and farther away.

"A couple books?" Asks Riddle for clarity. He remains lax and languid on the inside, but the nature of his wandering hand underneath the desk tells a new story.

He finally slips under your skirt.

His palm connects with the softness of your thighs and he seems utterly pleased by it. His hand is immediately restless to explore how far you would let him go. Which isn't very far.

Not at all.

If he thought he could suddenly touch you after myriad occasions of using you like a discarded toy… he had another thing coming.

The tips of Mattheo's fingers make gradually increasing strokes along your thigh until his fingers prod the stretch marks on your inner thigh. It is there when you stop him, clenching your legs together, blocking his hand from any further movement.

Mattheo's voice is strained as he says, "And you like reading, Potter?"

Sensing something brewing between the two of you - your withdrawn, hazy gaze, staring directly through the desk and Mattheo's overabundance in questions, has Harry reeling backwards.

"I asked you a question, Harry."

"I like reading."

"Good! That's really good!" Quite suddenly, Riddle tilts the ends of his half-moon nails into your thigh. His nails bite into your skin, forcing them to weaken and unclamp. Before you're even able to think, his palm is cupping your cunt through your panties- forcing an indecent yelp from your throat which you quickly (and very badly) disguise as a cough.

Mattheo is utterly pleased while he continues mindlessly stroking your cunt. Not for the purpose of any glorious stimulation. His hand is just there to show you (and perhaps maybe himself) that he has access to the most private part of you.

That thought alone has an unforeseen and sudden wave of lust coursing through his veins and surging straight to his hardened cock. He thinks of all the things he could have done to you but failed to do. He thinks about how, up until this point, he had ever been satisfied with using your mouth alone, not when he was denying himself the softness of your pussy all along.

He felt angry with himself, for being so fucking stupid, he is angry at Potter for seeing whatever it is he saw in you, way before he did and, possibly most harrowing of all is the fact that he is angry with you. And he can't help but be angry at you. How easily you whore yourself out to any and every man. If this thing with Potter had gone far enough, would you replace him? Had you even fucked Potter before?

You bite down on your lower lip as your head bows even further into your book. The words blend into one another, and all you can feel is a rise in temperature and Mattheo's suddenly restless fingers, pressing rudely against your clit - for the sole purpose of ripping an orgasm out of you right then and there, at the very back of an unsupervised classroom, with Harry Potter still very much a part of the conversation.

"You've got so many books to read in your lifetime," Says Mattheo. He sits up slowly, likely spurred on by the dampness seeping through your panties. "Don't cut your long life short by trying to entertain other people's girlfriends, yeah?" Gone are any traces of feigned friendliness. "Fucking Mudblood,"

Your skin feels like you are bathing in magma and you hope Potter could not see the slight tremor in your hand as you gripped the sides of your book with more force than necessary.

Mattheo's words… they have you shifting forward and widening your legs minutely. You crave for nothing more than to roll your hips in tandem with the circles he's pressing against your clit.

"Understood?"

Your orgasm is dangerously close, with the promise of sheer, disgusting shame and embarrassment if he continues. You feel Harry give you one final curious look, perhaps pleading for an interjection of denial at some point but you've taken to bouncing your knee under the table, hoping the vibrations might create enough friction to aid Mattheo's hands. He is keeping you trapped in a space of wanting. So much so, that this almost feels like a punishment.

Once Harry is turned back around and facing the front of the class, Mattheo lowers his lips to your ears. The damp smell of firewhiskey floods your nostril and you realise that he is completely drunk. In the second lesson of the day.

However, you're so completely stimulated, even the warmth of his breath as you fight the urge to hump into his hand like a lost little puppy until you make a mess all over his hand.

"You're such a fucking slut, you know that?" Your book drops to your desk - muffled by the sounds of the classroom cacophony. "You like being humiliated like this?" He asks, almost in complete awe. It takes everything in you not to moan outright.

"Fuck," You whisper to yourself, blinking your eyes shut, warding off the need but to no avail. His fingers are long and limber, and they have you nearly cumming right there, in front of your entire fucking class. Had it not been for your Professor's haphazard arrival into the class, and the swift removal of Mattheo's fingers from between your legs… you might truly have become the slut he labelled you as.

Instead of moving to his designated seat, Riddle raises his hand for the professor… the very same hand that has previously been in between your legs.

"Yes, Mr Riddle?" Asks the Professor, his voice as lacklustre as his appearance.

"May we be excused? We were excused by Professor Slughorn to assist him in-"

"Fine, fine," Says the professor with a wave of dismissal before turning his attention to the rest of the class. "The rest of you, open your textbooks to page 56."

Riddle's hand is clamped around your forearm, already leading you swiftly out the door in a long and wide stride. Had it been any other teacher at all, they might have recognized this for what it so clearly was.

"Here," you have barely made it fully into the boy's bathroom before Mattheo is stuffing his fingers down your throat, making you gag and yelp at the sudden intrusion. "Tell me how good you taste." He doesn't even bother to make sure you're truly left alone in the bathroom before pushing your front against the bathroom sink.

"Is that good?" His voice is as sweet as honey as he forces his fingers deeper down your throat, causing you to cough and gag around them.

Mattheo has half his sense to pull his wand from his back pocket, and without turning around, whispers "Colloportus," and the heavy doors snap shut.

You're supposed to be afraid because you've never seen him like this. Mattheo is always a ball of sarcastic energy between trysts, but it's usually an energy he can somewhat contain.

You don't know what to do with him, not when he's watching you choke on his fingers through the mirror, while his other hand fondles at your breasts and rips your bra down until your nipples are poking through your school shirt.

The figure in the mirror distorts as your eyes begin to water. Thick beads of tears grow pregnant at the ends of your eyes before rolling down the side of your face.

"My girl," Mattheo presses his face into your hair, breathing you in, pressing his body into your side. His hard cock in unmistakable through his school pants, "My messy little girl,"

You finally moan candidly while your fingers grip the countertops and your hips buck into nothingness. Your eyes plead with him in the mirror, hoping they relay how utterly useless with lust you have become. It would not take hard work to make you cum, you're sure one more flick against your material-clad nipples might send you over the edge.

"Fuck, why didn't I think of this sooner,"

This is all new, even for the two of you.

"Spread your legs." He commands, even though his feet are already kicking them apart.

"Come here," you break eye contact in the mirror to face the boy behind you. Mattheo removes his fingers sitting in your mouth, leaving a trail of sticky saliva in its wake before replacing it with a long and messy kiss- one that has his tongue forcing itself inside.

Mattheo weaponizes your distraction to reach around and slide your panties to the side with one hand while he rubs your soft nub with his other, spit-coated hand.

You break away from the kiss, neck craning back and mouth hanging open while your eyebrows dissolve into crescents. You cannot look away from him, as you hump his hand.

"You wanna cum?" You nod enthusiastically. "And what if I told you, you can't cum until I've fucked that little pussy of yours? Hm? What then?" His words have you mewling from the sheer pleasure they bring and your orgasm threatens to snap once more.

"Fuck," He hisses, feeling unable to remove his hand from your wet cunt but needing to, in order to undo his belt and pull his aching cock out. "Don't you dare fucking touch yourself," He says in a deadly quiet voice before bringing his hand up to your mouth. "Spit." You don't ever think of disobeying him, not when you're swimming so deeply in your subspace, not when he's the one to bring you here.

Mattheo collects every bit of saliva you offer him before coating his cock in the stuff.

Deciding not to waste anymore time, he does what his body is screaming for him to do: he bends you over the bathroom sink and pushes cock right through your slippery folds. It's tense and painful and your voice is hoarse from doing all that screaming but the sudden contact strokes a deeply sated part inside yourself. His curved and pretty cock rams your insides with reckless abandon, all while he delivers small slaps against your cheek. Riddle keeps a firm grip on your throat. His mouth is inches away from you while his hips rut into yours. His words are being delivered through clenched teeth.

"You think you're so fucking smart but you're just my little whore, arent you? A little whore thst fucks anything that gives her the slightest bit of attention?" It doesn't even register that Mattheo wrongfully suspects that there had been something between you and Harry but you keep your mouth shut. For all his indifference in the past, this is how you would make him pay.

"Oh~ fuck." His cock bruises your cervix, leaving him balls deep and feral inside you. "Fucking Potter?! You wanna give what's mine, to fucking Potter?!" His voice is utterly depraved and animalistic and it has your orgasm cresting.

He is panting, while he mumbles into your ear.

"What would Potter think? If he saw you like this? What would he think? Would he still want your slutty pussy knowing I've been inside it? Knowing that I've cum so deep inside you? Completely ruining you for anyone else, huh?"

"You…" The tears threaten to spill, "It's only ever been you, Mattheo -oh my god! I'm so fucking close!" You fight down tears as the lava begins to bubble at the pit of your stomach.

"S-Say it again. Tell me you want me!" He exclaims, "Tell me you fucking need me."

"Oh my God, Mattheo, I fucking need you." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts.

His voice wavers after your confession. His strokes became sloppy. His mind is flooded with the tightest of your cunt around his cock- how someone so smart could possibly ever say they need him. It has a flood of heat pooling at the base of his cock. "You're so fucking pretty… my pretty girl - my pretty whore," He nods to himself while his heavy cock finds purchase in a specific clump of sensitive tissue inside your cunt. It has you clamping your own mouth shut, your arms wavering while your back arches towards him, only allowing him better excess.

"I need you," You say once more, swallowing a ball of saliva as you nod towards him through the mirror, "I need you to cum inside me."

"Oh my fucking god," Mattheo's eyes soften in their desperstion, "M'gonna fucking breed pussy right here- fuck!" His grip on your throat grows tighter until you're wholeheartedly cut off from your air supply. You hump his cock until you feel it twitch inside you.

"Y-Youre making me cum, baby- fuck-" You feel his hot cum spurting inside your walls, triggering your own orgasm that has you gripping his cock like a vice.

"So… so pretty" His hips stutter against yours until you've completely drained him of his cum. A sharp tremor settles over your bones and you gasp in vague increments, waiting for the overwhelming state of euphoria to subside… but it never does.

The weight of what you had done comes crashing back down but you are unable to feel anything besides an immense wave of satisfaction at having your deepest need satiated.

"I think I nearly killed Potter today." His voice is a hoarse echo within the school bathrooms.

"There is no Harry Potter," You say, watching him through the mirror, "In my whole world, there is only ever you, Mattheo."

And a part of him believes you, but he refuses to affirm something as emotionally stifling as that. Instead, Mattheo's eyes flutter shut as his nose finds your hair once more. His cock is still buried inside you, and you hiss as he moves his hips slowly, almost insitinvely. He loves being so wholly enveloped by you. He loves feeling you everywhere.

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