#There's something about tender moments twisting into something violent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chxrryhansen · 3 months

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౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐑𝐘

Pairing; Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings; smut, dark themes, non con, breeding kink, oral- both receiving, degrading, size difference, unbalanced power dynamic, huge daddy kink, choking- to the point reader can’t breathe, dumbification, dacryphillia, spanking, steve is very dark in this, no aftercare!! i think thats it? Minors please DNI!!!!!

Summary; Steve Rogers, your boyfriend, the man everybody loved, his soul soft, standing against all evils. Until he got a taste of that sweet power. He became hungry. Now, you have no choice but to obey his rules. Can you bring him back to the light? Or is it too late? (it’s definitely too late)

here we have my first ever full fic! firstly i would like to give a huge thankyou to @dbnightingale24 for giving me the confidence and tips to write this! and another big thankyou to @evansbby and @hansensgirl for inspiring me in the first place for begin writing💘it’s around 3k words and i really put my all into this so please don’t forget to comment and reblog, i would love to hear all of your feedback!🫶🏻 much love, cherry.

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

Steve Rogers, the man everyone respected, the man everyone believed in, looked up too. The man you used to cherish, his sweet boyish nature drawing you in from the moment you met. His pearly blues that used to soften as they fell on you, his gentle touch as he caressed your hair, the tender, loving kisses he used to leave all over your body.

Until Fury resigned that was.

Steve was officially the new director of shield, to which nobody opposed, i mean, who would right? He was Captain America, the man out of time. He was perfcet for the role. Strong willed, commanding yet understanding, he had respect for those beneath him and most of all he was compassionate, something that was hard to find in a good leader. This didn't last for long, of course.

Steve shortly became power hungry, his morals became more sick and twisted as his methods became more sadistic. He was violent, cruel…volatile. There was no bringing back Steve Rogers. The problem was he dragged everybody else down with him, nobody dared to stand up to Steve, too frightened of the consequences.

Tony couldn't talk Steve down, he tried for a while, attempted to reach out to him, guide him back to the light...but nothing worked. Tony couldn't do it, nor could you, not even his best friend of over a decade could sway his newfound mindset. You all figured it was best to keep your heads down from now on and follow Steves orders, no matter how out of line they seemed.

Not that you had a choice anyway.

Bucky was short to follow in his footsteps as his second in command. Both cruel and unforgiving. Your friendship with Bucky was practically non-exhistant, you no longer had movie nights together, giggling with big buckets of popcorn.

A simple nod of his head as he passed you down the hall was about as much as you would get. Steve wouldn't allow it now anyway.

Steve's display of affection changed alongside him, the love he made was no longer passionate, or gentle. In fact, he didn’t make love at all anymore… what he made was simply rough, hard, fucking.

The marks he left behind were no longer loving hickeys while he whispered in your ear, moaning sweet nothings as he gently thrusted his hips into your own. His eyes, gleaming with nothing but pure devotion.

They were bruises... bruises from how hard his hips slammed into your ass from behind, his grip tight on your hair, pulling and tugging as your skin became flustered at the impact of his thrusts. You missed the man he was. You often thought about that life while his cock was busy destroying your cunt. He didn’t care about your pleasure anymore, you were nothing but a hole for him to fuck.

From a distance you could hear Steves heavy boots storming down the coridoor. The sound was instantly unsettling. Your body recognising the noise as a trigger for an oncoming threat, sending you into alert mode.

You stood from your office chair on shaky legs, your posture rigid as he turned the corner to enter. His 6'4, stoic figure coming into view, casting a shadow that filled the room. His broad shoulders spread wide, his presence making your tummy tighten with unease.

He said nothing as he stared down at you, your fingers tugging at your short pink skirt- which he had chosen out for you this morning, the same way he customised your figure every morning. Claiming your dumb, baby brain was incapable of choosing an outfit that proved elegance and professionalism. In reality it was the complete opposite.

He liked to dress you in short skirts, ones that left little to the imagination, your asscheeks peeking out most days and revealing blouses, your tits practically spilling out of your shirts. You were highly sought after by the males at the compound before he came and scooped you up a few years ago.

They knew you were his, i mean he was your boyfriend for several years, you were what the female agents used to coo at, naming you as "couple goals". Where Steve went, you went, and vice versa. You were always seen smiling and giggling together, tag teaming on missons and holding hands as you explored the compound.

But, as steves power grew so did his insecurity. His possesive nature grew strong, wanting, no, needing to show other men you belonged to him, and only him. And you always would, whether you liked it or not.

"Get on your knees."

"Wh-What?"

"Get on your knees. You know i don't like to repeat myself." he growls while pushing your office door closed with one arm from behind, not daring to take his eyes of you.

You gulped as he stepped forward, caging you inbetween his thick biceps as you lean against your desk. One thing he was always good at was making you feel small. Even before all of this. Of course it wasn't anywhere near as threatening as it was now. He used to joke about how tiny you were compared to him, how he could pick you up with one hand, it was cute how big and protective he was of you.

Now, he used it to his advantage. He knew you feared him. He knew that you knew, you would never be able to run from him. He would overpower you every damn time with his brute strength.

There was no running from Steve Rogers. His thick beard scraped against your sensitive skin sending shivers down your spine as he groaned into your neck, your scent driving him wild.

He whispered darkly in your ear "Final chance. Get on your knees. Now, or you won't like what'll happen if you refuse me again."

You inhaled sharply, goosebumps spreading across your body in pure fear, or ecstacy. It was hard to tell these days. Steve had conditioned you so well to his own liking that even your body reacted to him in ways you would never fully understand. Or so he says.

Slowly you inched down towards the floor with your knees bent. The cold, rough flooring instantly proving to be uncomfortable as you figited. But Steve didn't care about that, why would he? His thick hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him through hooded eyelids.

His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, he then pushes further, massaging your tongue as saliva begins to pool in your mouth. Removing his thumb slowly, he tugged on your bottom lip with pinched fingers. Before you even realised what was happening he shoves two fingers down your throat.

You sputter and gag around his thick digits, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth, dripping onto the hard floor. Your eyes squeezed shut in pain as tears began rolling down your flustered cheeks.

His other hand is quick to grip your hair, tugging harshly. "You fuckin' look at me while daddy gags you with his fingers. Actin' like you don't get off on this shit. You love it. Say 'thankyou daddy'." he mocks with a high pitched tone.

Desperately trying to get the words out, you mumble around his fingers, seeming incoherent. He laughs darkly at your poor attempt, shoving his fingers deeper down your throat, gagging you one last time before pulling out.

"You gonna' be a good whore n' suck my dick? Huh? You fuckin' slut." His hand reaches down, pulling your shirt to the side, making your tits spill out. You hear him let out a loud groan, his pants tightening at the sight of your bare chest. He pinches your hard nipple roughly, rolling it roughly inbetween his index finger and thumb as you cry out, tears continuing to stream down your cheeks.

He shushes your cries gently as he begins to massage the same spot he previously assaulted making you keen with pleasure.

He had a thing for associating pain with pleasure, confusing your silly little brain into thinking the hurt he put you through was a good thing since pleasure soon followed. That he was rewarding you.

"Unzip me. Cmon' you dumb baby, take daddys fat cock out."

Listening to your own heartbeat in your ears, your head pounding with adrenaline, your fingers itch towards his pants. Which was apparently too slow for his liking as his grip on your hair tightens, making you sqeeze your eyes shut briefly before opening them, not wanting to anger him further.

You hurridly unzip his pants, reaching into his boxers and pulling out his cock. It's angry head pointing towards you as he grips the base with his other hand, slowing pumping his shaft over your face.

He pushes his bulbous tip into your closed lips, smearing his hot precum all over them. When you refuse to open your mouth he growls, pinching your nostrils closed. Feeling the air begin to leave your lungs, you gasp for breath and he's quick to shove his dick down your throat.

Gagging at the intrusion you cry harder, your lips stretching to fit around his thick length. his hips thrusting into your face as he fucks your throat harshly.

"That's it, you whore. Take daddys dick all the way down your throat. You fuckin' remember this the next time you try to refuse me."

His hand which was previously tugging at your hair moves towards your throat, holding you in a tight grip.

"Fuck... i can feel my fuckin' cock in that tiny throat of yours. Love it when you cry f' me, just makes me want to fuck you even harder, sweet girl." he grunts loudly over the sound of your gagging. Steve swiftly pulls his dick out as you keel over, coughing and sputtering, your throat sore from his brutal assault.

Before you even have a chance to gain your breath, his thick hands grip your shoulders, pulling you upright, bending you over your desk. Your legs shaking as he positions you so your ass is sticking out.

Lowering himself to the ground, he grips the flesh of your ass, squeezing roughly as he lifts up your skirt, briskly pulling your panties to the side. He shoves his nose into your pussy, groaning in delight at your sweet scent.

"Fuck i could live inbetween these slutty legs, your cunt's always ready for daddy, huh? Trained you so well." Your sticky juices smeared across your legs, dripping with desire, his facial hair bristling against your thighs making you squirm.

He mercilessly pushes his tongue as deep as it can go into your hole. You whimper as he laps up your wetness, his tongue prodding at your insides. Your arousal soaking his beard while your pussy clenched around his tongue. He pulls away for a moment, “God, how do you taste so fuckin’ good.” he groans.

Reaching back to grip his hair in your small fists, you go to push his face back into your cunt, completely overwhelmed with pleasure. His hand grips your wrist tightly, pining your arm to the desk, a sure reminder of who's in charge, seeming as you had forgotten your place. “Stay fuckin’ still or i’ll stop. Don’t you ever pull that shit again.”

You moan lewdly as he moves to latch onto your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Groaning into your pussy as he fists his cock.

Your eyes begin to roll back as your orgasm itches closer. Steve, realising this, pulls away once again. Your juices stringing from your clit to his lips as you cry out, your orgasm beginning to fade.

"Stop with the fuckin' whining. Daddy's gonna' fuck you now. Tell daddy how much you want his cock...Cmon. No need to act all innocent now." he pressures at your hesitation.

"P-Please daddy wan' you to fuck me."

"You can do better than that." Steve husks, giving your ass a harsh smack from behind, knowing your skin will blister from his force.

Your lips quiver as you cry, "Please! N-Need your cock inside me so badly, wan' you to destroy me for anybody else. Wanna' feel you in my cervix daddy, Jus' wanna make you feel good. Love how full you make me feel. Please...I-I'll die if you don't fuck me. Pretty pretty ple-."

and before you can finish your sentence your cut off by your own scream, his cock dissapearing inbetween your folds as he bottoms out with a singular thrust. Your legs become slack as your body spasms at the intrustion, his hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as you squirm, instinctively trying to escape his hold.

"F-Fuck, Y-Your so big daddy. It hurts so bad, p-pull out!"

"Shut up." he groans as his thick hand covers your mouth from behind. “Gonna fuckin’ dog fuck you til you can’t think of anything but this fat fuckin’ cock you dirty little slut, you hear me?” he practically growls as he begins to fuck you.

The sound of clapping skin begins to fill the room, agents around the compound sure to hear the way his dick bruitalises your cunt.

"Such a filthy girl i have, always so desperate for daddy to fuck you, even when you try and deny it, i know this sweet pussy would never lie to me." He coos in your ear as you sob, your face wet with tears and saliva.

"My messy whore, see what happens when you don't listen to me? You see what a mess you become? Fuck. You look so pretty like this, this is how you should always be, filled to the brim with my fat dick.”

Steve had always loved fucking you braindead, watching as your eyes glaze over and your tongue begins to hang out of your mouth, drooling all over yourself. It made him feel powerful, like you were dependent on him. Which you were in a sense, always so needy and desperate for him to fuck you.

The impact of his animalistic thrusts turn your skin raw as he speeds up. His arm wrapping around your waist, pressing you close to him as he spreads his legs further apart, hitting a new angle inside your pussy. You let out a loud wanton moan as his balls slap against your clit.

“F-Fuck yes! H-Harder daddy.”

“Yeah? You like that? I know you do, it’s okay. Is my little girls brain goin’ fuzzy? Huh? Poor girl.” Steve mocked, amusement clear in his tone. "M' gonna' cum. Daddy please can i cum?" you whine, the knot in your stomach tightening, a warning that your orgasm was near.

"Yeah baby? You gonna' cum for me you dirty whore? Go ahead, cum all over my dick. Can feel you clenching around me, grippin' me like a fuckin' vice."

Your cream coats his length as you let out a muffled cry, biting your lip harshly as you cum.

"T-Thankyou daddy. Feels s-so good..." you babble, your thick cream creating a ring around the base of his cock. Your weight giving out once again as Steve holds you, smirking as he watches you come undone, giving you no escape from his relentless thrusts.

His thick shaft pummeling your insides as you scream with ecstacy, your pussy throbbing as he fucks you through your high.

"F-Fuck look at that... love watching your cream leak around my cock, taking this dick so good for me. Gonna' cum inside you...yeah? You want daddy to fill you up?" he groans as his own orgasm nears, talking himself through it.

"God, this cunt treats me like a fuckin' king. It's coming baby, daddys gonna cum, Oh fuck fuckkk." his hips twitch and his balls throb as his load begins to fill you, shooting out thick ropes of hot cum into your pussy. Moaning at the sensation of his warmth inside you.

“Take my fuckin’ cum. That’s it, good girl. Love watchin’ your pussy swallow my hot fuckin load, bet you love it too, hm? You slut.” he pants, exhausted from the brutal fucking he just gave you.

He snaps out of it almost instantly, pulling out without warning and tucking his softening cock back into his pants.

Giving your ass a harsh smack, he steps back. You turn to look at him, your eyes glazed over. He stares at the ground with no emotion as he combs his locks with his fingers, making himself seem presentable.

Hope fills you, your heart races as you lick your lips in anticipation, wondering if he will stay to comfort you and hold you the way he used to many months ago.

But he doesn't. You get nothing but a short glance as he turns to exit your office, slamming the door shut on his way out. You slump down against the floor, a complete mess.

Your soft cries turn to sobs, breathing rapidly, your hands gripping your hair as you raise your knees to your chest. It was almost as if he had you in a trance when he was burried inside your cunt, as soon as he was done it was like the fog in your brain had cleared.

People told you there was no bringing the old Steve back, that your sweet, caring boyfriend was gone. Replaced by a monster.

You didn't want to believe them... but maybe you should've.

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rainba · 14 days

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What's Rightfully Mine (Yan. Kairos! x GN! Reader)

A/N: OOuuuhh... I've read over this a billion times and I figure I may as well go ahead and upload it. ^^;;;;;;;;;;;; Matching artwork with the story...! Woohoo! (*´▽`*)

TWs: very graphic depictions of violence, disturbing yandere behaviors, mild gore, kidnapping, 18+ content....... Kairos being Kairos. Slight mention of virginity (but it's just Kairos' virginity) MDNI.

Wordcount: 2300~

((And thank you @x-v0id-x for reading over the fic for me before I posted it!!! ☆:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:☆ ))

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Kairos never meant for this to happen.

He swears up and down that he never wanted to do it– he promises that he never intended to hurt anybody.

But he did anyway.

However… Can you blame him–?

You are Kairos’ one and only, his soulmate, his beloved, the reason he breathes, the reason he wakes up every morning, the reason why he’s still alive– you’re his everything! Was he supposed to just let you run off into the arms of another man without even attempting to fight back...?!

The way you looked at that filth– that disgusting, foul, no-good other man… It made Kairos sick to his stomach.

What even was that guy’s name...?

(####)? (######)? (######).

Yes, that’s his name, Kairos is sure of it.

It repeats itself in Kairos’ mind over and over again, piercing his skull like a blade that twists and twists until he’s left screaming for mercy at the top of his lungs.

“G-get out of my head! Get out! Get out get out get out! Leave me alone!”

Countless nights end in him violently waking up from the same nightmare– a nightmare where you and (######) run off together while he helplessly watches. And in the nightmare, you smile so brightly, but you’re only smiling at that bastard. It’s like Kairos is invisible as he desperately crawls towards you. He’s sobbing and begging for you not to leave him, but it’s as if you can’t hear him.

However, (######) can.

(######) spits on him, jeers at him, then laughs as he carries you far, far away.

In Kairos’ nightmares, the other man stomps on his neck as he spits out callous remarks.

“Nobody could ever love you.” He sneers.

“You’re nothing but a disgusting freak.”

Kairos knows he’s heard these things before– but he can’t remember who once told him that.

He feels so powerless when imagines you with (######) as he sleeps, and he can’t stop himself from thinking about it when he’s awake– it’s a never-ending tragedy that haunts every second of every day. The bags under his eyes have grown horrifyingly darker. Kairos had to make this stop.

He was desperate.

Kairos didn’t have a choice as he broke into that man’s house, sneaking in through the first-floor window and trudging down the darkened halls.

Kairos didn’t have a choice as he crept into the shadowy bedroom with a silver blade placed firmly in his hands, his back pocket harboring a rag soaked in chloroform.

The two of you were sleeping together so peacefully– you and that disgusting bastard.

That man looked so carefree; his chest rising and falling at a perfectly even pace. His arms were wrapped so warmly around you, holding you close in a tender embrace. The blankets covered your lower halves, and the man’s face was buried in the back of your neck.

The scene was so peaceful. Way too peaceful…

With tear-stricken eyes, Kairos couldn’t help but wonder: “why can’t that be me?”

Why does this man get to live a happy and carefree life, but not him? Why does this man get to hold you tightly in his arms, and not him? Why… Why…

Why does Kairos never get what he wants?

This feeling– this god awful feeling that Kairos is constantly haunted by: envy.

Envy… The one emotion he’s all-too familiar with. He doesn’t want to feel this way anymore– for once in his life, he wants to have something, and not just yearn for it.

In this moment, he knows that the only way to obtain happiness…

Is simply to take it by force.

Kairos had to be fast– because if the man woke up before he could stun him, then he’d be quickly overpowered.

Before he focused on taking him out, Kairos tiptoed over to your side, his gaze softening for just a moment. He pulled out the rag from his back pocket and placed it gently under your nose, covering all your airways. He knew he had to wait a few minutes– he had to make sure that you won’t wake up any time soon. So, while he stood there, he lovingly petted your hair and left little kisses on your forehead. When he was certain that the chloroform settled in, his heart started to tighten in his chest.

Adrenaline struck him like lightning as he snuck around the side of the bed, his purple eyes locked in on his target. For the first time in his life, Kairos was no longer the victim.

Nervous sweat dribbled down the sides of his face as he held the blade up high, positioning the pointed end towards the man’s exposed throat. Kairos could have turned back– he could have easily put the knife away and let you both go free. But he loved you too badly. He needed you too badly.

This was it.

He jabbed the knife deep into the man’s neck, hoping that would prevent any screams.

And it worked.

(######) jolted awake in horror as his mind raced to figure out what was happening. He threw his hands onto the wound and tried so desperately to stop the bleeding, but it was futile. It was so, so futile. Gurgled sounds bounced off the walls as a bloody rampage ensued right beside you.

Seeing the red gushing out flipped a switch in Kairos’ mind. He doesn’t know why he lost control– he doesn’t know how it happened– but it did.

Kairos’ vision went black as he fully jumped on top of the bed, plunging the knife into (######)’s body over and over and over again.

Slash, slash, slash.

A horrifying symphony: the sound of flesh being sliced apart.

The man’s muffled cries were like music to Kairos’ ears.

He choked and he gagged, whimpered and wailed, but coherent words of pleas were unable to escape his mouth. Every time he tried to kick Kairos off, Kairos would stab him in his legs. Every time the man tried to push him off, Kairos would slash the palm of his hands. Kairos thought for sure that he’d be overpowered, but the adrenaline in his veins gave him strength that he never knew he had.

And there was blood.

Blood everywhere.

“M-mine, mine, mine… They’re mine...!” Kairos mumbled manically under his breath, his focus flipping back and forth between you and his victim. But– it wasn’t just Kairos that looked over at you. Your partner did as well.

His shimmering eyes stared at you longingly– so lovingly... Too lovingly.

It made Kairos’ blood boil.

Through gritted teeth, he spat out, “n-no, you don’t get to look at them...! Don’t look at them ever again!”

Then… Slash.

The silver knife plunged deep into his eyes– thick blood spewing out from the wound.

Kairos can barely remember what happened after that. All he knew was that, eventually, the man ceased to struggle.

His black hoodie was now soaked in blood- his quivering hands completely red. It dripped from his cheeks and onto the corpse beneath him– the entire world was spinning dizzyingly fast.

(######)’s body was painted in deep lacerations, and his face was disfigured to the point of him being unrecognizable. Something about it was so… So…

Exciting.

It was done now. It was over.

There was nobody in this world who could take you away from him.

And the thought of that made him smile.

Kairos laughed– he laughed so joyously, laughed so carefree.

Kairos’ mind was an incoherent mess. A horrible, horrible mess.

And he doesn’t know why it happened– he doesn’t know how it happened– in one moment, he was attacking that man, but in the next…

“M-mine… Mine… You’re f-finally mine!”

His pale hands were shaking as they savagely tore away your thin clothing. Kairos pushed your ex-lover’s corpse onto the floor as he kissed your lips with the intensity of a starved animal.

Your lips were so much softer than he imagined– so much sweeter, too. He couldn’t contain his excitement anymore– after all, this night marks the beginnings of a new and wonderful life!!

And now, he also just gave you his first kiss!

The silver light of the moon was glowing on his face, illuminating the dark red blood that stained his skin. He was a monster– a selfish freak that craved your love more than anything else.

There really was no rhyme or reason to anything Kairos was doing. At that moment, he just wanted to feel good; he needed to feel your warmth.

In one second, he was desperately humping your leg while holding your hips in place. In the next, he was kissing your stomach and fervently licking your chest. He knows that you can’t feel it, but that’s beside the point– he uses this time as practice, so that when you are awake, you’ll be feeling nothing but bliss! And besides… You just taste so good; he can’t help himself.

Kairos kisses and bites at your neck and collarbone, leaving behind a faint trail of needy marks. Without thinking, he pulls out his cock and begins to jerk himself off. He parts his mouth and rambles to himself.

“I’ll… I’ll m-make sure nobody finds you! Nobody!”

Kairos sticks out his tongue and licks over your left nipple; he does it a few more times before fully sucking on it. The lewd act sends a shiver down his spine.

It’s so hot, so naughty, and ultimately entirely new to him. He’s never been so turned on before.

“W-we’ll live happily together, alone in my apartment! And you’ll be s-so happy!”

He speaks as if you can hear him– and deep down, he almost wishes that you could. Kairos crawls up further onto the bed and digs his knees into your shoulders, the shadow of his cock looming over your perfect face. It’s so close to you– so, so close– god, he still wishes you were awake right now. But he knows you’d fight him off if you knew what was going on.

“I’ll f-feed you every day, and– And I’ll learn how to cook for you! I– I can watch videos online… I promise I’ll learn… J-just for you!”

He strokes himself even faster, soft wet sounds echoing off the bloodied walls. Kairos lifts the chloroform rag away from your mouth but keeps it over your nose. He presses his tip against your lips as he keeps going, his precum slowly dribbling down your chin.

“W-we can make love every single night...! I’ll… I’ll make you feel so, so good… I…” A shiver runs up and down his spine as a whiney moan escapes him.

“M-my virginity… It’s… It’s all yours...! Ahh…”

His eyes squeeze shut as a hot sting of pleasure surges through him.

“D-doesn’t that sound wonderful!? I’m all yours, my love!”

Kairos pushes his cock a little closer to your lips– but he does it a bit too aggressively, the tip of it scraping against your teeth. God, he would give anything for you to suck on it– even if only for a fraction of a second.

“Th-then we can have a family one day!! I’ll– I’ll get my job going, I… I’ll m-make more money! Lots of money! W-we can adopt… We can…”

With his one free hand, Kairos reaches down and begins to stroke your hair, leaving blood stains all throughout it.

“J-just us two, only u-us two… Nobody… Else!”

The pace of his hand quickens as his head starts to tilt backwards, his breathing growing out of control. His chest heaves as he erratically chases his high, yearning so badly to feel it hit him all at once.

He can’t help but imagine how wonderful the future will be– your all's future together. Then he imagines the way you’ll be all tied up in his bed, completely naked and vulnerable for him…

Just like you are now.

“F-fuck..!”

It’s all too much– Kairos’ cock twitches as he cums all over your face, some of it pouring into your mouth and on your cheeks. He squeezes as much of it out as he possibly can, craving to see you drenched in it. Throughout it all, you still sleep so peacefully… All thanks to the chloroform.

He can’t help but think that you look so cute when you’re knocked out and covered in his cum.

Ah… if only he could draw you in this state.

Even though he so badly wants to collapse by your side and cuddle you, he knows that he has to move. There is quite literally a dead body in the room and blood on his hands– he has to clean up.

And he also has to find a way to sneak your body to his broken-down car outside.

Very reluctantly, he kisses you on your forehead, smiling sweetly. “I’ll… I’ll be back, my love!”

After a while of stumbling, he finds himself entering the bathroom.

When he looks in the mirror, his eyes widen partially in horror. Kairos knew this side of himself existed deep within him… He knew there was a disgusting monster that laid dormant in his chest, but he had never before seen it come out so fiercely.

His pupils were small, his purple eyes hauntingly beautiful. And on top of that, he was grinning.

It was the first time he had genuinely smiled in weeks– maybe even months.

Kairos turned on the sink to wash off his face, but he only seemed to be making more of a mess. Blood streamed down the sides of the sink and pooled in the drain. Despite how macabre it all was, he just couldn’t stop smiling– because now he has everything he could ever want: you.

All to himself… Forever.

Until death do you part.

#teehee #silly kairos moment #yandere oc x reader #yandere #yancore #yandere male #yandere fic #male yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere x darling

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tookhimtomypenthouse · 5 months

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Caught in the Act

1.5k words

warnings: choking, biting, violent sex, degradation, anal, more cum eating, dom!felix, oliver being a little fucking weirdo

summary: Felix catches Oliver in the bathtub and has some complicated feelings about it…

minors dni!

Oliver rests his forehead against the damp porcelain of the tub, pausing as the last of the cloudy water circles down the drain. His heart hammers in his chest as closes his eyes and relaxes for a moment.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Oliver snaps his head up instantly, sending droplets of water flying from his wet hair. Felix gapes at him from the doorway of the bathroom, his silken pajama pants slung low around his waist. Felix strides towards the tub until he is nearly nose to nose with Oliver.

“Oliver, what the fuck are you doing!” Felix yells, sending Oliver cringing away as he hits his back on the tub’s edge.

“I, uh, um I was…” Oliver babbles, trying to summon a logical response.

“I heard you,” Felix points his finger accusingly in Oliver’s face, nearly shaking. “I heard…noises. Were you drinking it?” He scoffs as he says it, incredulity sneaking into his voice. He takes a step back and starts to pace around the small bathroom.

“No, I swear, it’s not- “

“I mean I knew you were obsessed, don’t get me wrong,” Felix starts, circling the bathtub. “But this is a new low, even for you.”

Oliver opens and closes his mouth helplessly. What could he even say. His stomach drops at the prospect of Felix hating him. Reviling him. The thought alone – no. He wouldn’t bear it. Couldn’t. His head drops into his unsteady hands. He can still taste the water in his mouth, feel it drip down his back. His water. He peeks through his fingers as he dares to look at Felix.

“You’re a freak,” Felix spits as he creeps nearer the tub. “A fucking degenerate.”

Oliver’s breath catches in his throat as he looks into Felix’s eyes. He lowers his hands as he sees something unfamiliar lingering under the surface. Something deeper than anger. Felix carefully lowers himself to eye-level with Oliver. His blown-out pupils bore into Oliver’s.

“So tell me,” Felix huffs as he grabs Oliver’s chin, “why shouldn’t I kick your arse out right here, right now?” Felix is close, so close that Oliver can smell the cognac and cigarettes on his warm breath. It takes everything in him not to melt into his touch, not to kiss his perfect lips right now.

“Because you want me just as bad,” Oliver breathes. “Why else did you come back into this bathroom if you knew what I was doing?” He shifts forward slightly, brushing his nose to Felix’s cheek.

Felix releases his face and stands up abruptly, turning his back to him. His chest rises and falls erratically, his pulse thrumming under his tanned skin. When he finally turns back to face Oliver, he moves faster than Oliver has ever seen. He kneels to the ground and grabs Oliver by the hair, jerking his head back.

“Why you? You’re a fucking nobody Oliver!” He’s so close Oliver can feel his lips move against his ear. “Why do I still want you so badly?” His grip on Oliver’s hair loosens, allowing Oliver to peek into his lust-filled eyes. Felix wastes no time, pulling Oliver into a bruising kiss. It feels more like a fight than a kiss, all punishing force, and flashing teeth. Oliver presses himself closer, leaning over the edge of the tub and holding him tight. Felix finds purchase on Oliver’s damp shirt, twisting his large hands into the wet fabric. Oliver trails sloppy kisses down Felix’s jaw, biting the tender spot where the bone gives way to soft flesh. He can feel Felix’s moan reverberate through his neck, spurring him on. He kisses and bites him relentlessly, as Felix grips his hair tightly.

Felix eventually pulls back, cheeks flushed and hair askew. He looks down at Oliver with half-lidded eyes. “What, are you just gonna sit in the tub the whole time? Get the fuck out and on the ground.”

Oliver stares back for a moment, before swinging a leg out of the tub and stepping out. He looks down at Felix, who only tilts his head towards an empty space on the floor. He walks over and sits on the ground, pulling his shirt over his head. Felix grabs his pants and yanks them down, pulling them straight off and throwing them off into the corner. Felix crawls over to Oliver and straddles him, pressing him flat to the ground.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Felix purrs, “this is what you wanted, right?” Felix wraps his hand around Olivers throat, pressing hard as a strangled gasp escapes. Oliver can only look with wide eyes as Felix yanks his pajama pants and boxers down to free his erect dick. He tightens his grip on Oliver as he leans in closer.

“Don’t be shy now,” his hot breath tickles Oliver’s face as he continues, “we’re just getting started.” Felix releases Oliver’s throat and reaches to pull down his underwear, but Oliver stops him.

“I can handle it,” he says, lifting his hips slightly and pulling his underwear down.

“On your stomach,” Felix orders lowly, leaning back on his heels to give him some room.

Oliver does as told, flipping to lie belly down on the cold tile of the floor. He rests his cheek on the ground, half-terrified and half-buzzing with anticipation. He feels Felix’s hand move down his back, stopping to knead his ass. Felix moves languidly, taking his time to squeeze the meat of his ass before landing a stinging smack on it. He delves deeper, trying his index finger around the tight ring of his asshole before forcing it in. Oliver inhales sharply, the intrusion burning before melting to pleasure. Felix adds another, pushing in his middle finger to stretch him out more. Oliver presses his face to the ground, a low moan slipping out.

Felix withdraws his fingers. He spits into his hand and strokes his length for a moment. Oliver lifts his hips and draws his knees in closer to him, bracing. Felix spreads Oliver’s ass and plunges into him in one go. Oliver shouts, feeling shooting pain as his hole struggles to accept Felix’s considerable size. Tears prick the corner of his eyes as Felix moans.

“Fuck,” he groans breathily, snapping his hips as the feeling overtakes him. “Didn’t know a dirty bastard like you would feel like this.”

Oliver feels pleasure through the radiating pain of it, exhaling as Felix hits something deep in him.

“I bet you like this, being fucked like an animal on the ground, right?” Felix’s words come out choppy and clipped as he thrusts violently, pounding Oliver’s pelvis into the hard ground. “Say it, say you like being fucked like an animal.”

Oliver can hardly speak, overwhelmed by the waves of torment and ecstasy washing over him. “I-I- love when you f-fuck me like an animal,” he splutters, struggling to even form a coherent thought.

Felix laughs as he speeds up to a relentless pace, the sound of flesh clapping echoing off the bathroom walls. He reaches down to Oliver’s throat and squeezes, hoping he leaves deep purple bruises for Venetia to gawk at during breakfast tomorrow. Let her see it and wonder. Let her see it and be jealous, he thinks, cock twitching at the thought. Felix throws his head back and moans loudly, not caring if he wakes the whole damn house up.

Oliver can feel the world around him fading slightly as black spots cloud his vision, heightening the pleasure burning deep in him. He feels Felix loosen up, gasping as air rushes back into his lungs. He lets out a hoarse and broken moan.

Felix releases his grip from Oliver’s throat and moves his hands up to press Oliver’s head onto the tile. His thrusts speed up and become erratic, slapping loudly as he knots his fingers in Oliver’s hair and pushes down hard, sending pain radiating through Oliver’s face.

“Fucking hell,” he moans through gritted teeth. He keeps pounding, eliciting guttural moans from Oliver below. Suddenly, he pulls out and leans back, releasing his grip on Oliver’s head.

“Look at me,” Felix orders, stroking his dick and raising himself up. “Might as well get it straight from the source, you fucking pervert,” he sneers as Oliver turns onto his back. Fucking his fist, Felix huffs in satisfaction. “Open wide,” he taunts as he nears his peak. “Fuck!” He cries out as hot ropes of cum spray onto Oliver’s face and into his open mouth.

Felix sits back to the side of Oliver, panting with exertion. “You better not waste a fucking drop,” he says as he watches him intently.

Oliver swallows the salty load in his mouth and uses his hand to move the rest in, mind well and truly fucked blank. He had not anticipated that his months of yearning would lead to anything, much less this. He can only sit back and do as he was told, all plans of revenge or comeuppance momentarily silenced.

Felix rises and gathers his pajamas pants and wipes off his dick, straightening up as he heads for the door. “Goodnight Oliver,” he pauses under the doorframe for a moment, looking back at Oliver on the ground, “and sleep tight.”

#saltburn #saltburn 2023 #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #one shot #felix catton #oliver quick #jacob elordi #barry keoghan #dom/sub

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sehtoast · 4 months

Text

Soothe Me (Homelander x Reader Powerswap!au)

18+ | gender neutral reader, light descriptions of gore, showering, he takes care of you | Fic Directory

He’d never admit it, but there’s a part of him that really likes when you come home like this. Something sick and twisted in his core, something rotten that quivers with excitement every time you walk through the door covered in viscera.

Maybe it’s because of the way his life is. He’s just some average, ordinary guy shackled by the restraints of a regular human life. Wake up, take Ryan to school, go to work, pick his son up, eat dinner, sleep, and then repeat until he’s dead. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate his simple life or that beloved son of his who he was so fucking proud of, but the mundane…

He’d be a liar if he said he never wished he was special.

You make him feel that way though. When you show up at his apartment drenched in gore, he feels so very special. He feels like the keeper of an especially violent creature that would maim anyone and anything but him. Something that, despite its sharp fangs and jagged claws, would only ever touch him with tenderness– with softness.

Even at times when your hand has gone around his throat, he’s always known you would never.

So when you show up like that again, is it any wonder that John practically bounces out of bed to greet you? Hands at your cheeks to thumb away chunks of whatever moron pressed their luck, fingers combing through your blood-slicked hair, a kiss pressed to a dried patch because he is only human and doesn’t quite want some stranger’s bodily fluids in his mouth.

He’s started wearing darker shirts because of you. It’s hard to explain to a child why there’s a red handprint that won’t wash out of his clothes, but it’s much less obvious this way. Your leather clad hands fall to his waist immediately and your grip flexes the tiniest bit to steady yourself.

You can feel his warmth. You can smell him more than the reek of iron and intestinal gunk splattered all over your body. He smells of… cooked chicken. Some kind of cheap cheese. A bitter salad dressing. The lingerings of milk on his breath. He must have just finished having dinner with his son.

You shut your eyes and focus. You can hear the boy in his room. Legos clattering, narrations of dialog. He still doesn’t know about you. John doesn’t know how to tell him in a way that’s not overwhelming.

You breathe a deep sigh as he frets over you. It’s the same every time. He’s scared you’re hurt, inspecting you as he brings you to the bathroom. You’re only half aware of what’s going on. The running of the shower, the hands tugging at your suit, his clothes hitting the floor.

You’ve had a terrible day and it’s all you can think of…

Somehow, though, he draws you away from all of that. Walks you into the shower and under the stream. He adjusts the temperature the moment he sees you flinch at the heat.

You still haven’t told him about all of… that. Your life before being Homelander. When you were a mere lab rat, a product in development, poked and prodded and tortured to see what made you tick– what could make you sell . He knows a little, but… you don’t quite have it in you to see him look at you with pity.

The hands that touch you in that cramped shower take you away from everything. You’re here, not there. You’re not fist deep in that stupid fucking assistant who found you arguing with your other half in the mirror. What’s left of that fool swirls down the drain. You’re not getting berated by Edgar or dragged into some stupid fucking publicity stunt. Ashley isn’t up your ass about your itinerary. You’re here.

He’s here.

Lips press to yours, gentle and sweet, and he whispers to you.

“S’okay. You’re home now.”

Home. It was such an odd concept. You’ve had many homes. Each of the cells in the lab, the penthouse, your cabin.

None of those have ever felt like home. Here, though..? You imagine it must be as close as you’ll ever truly have to a home.

You press him to the wall, his wrists trapped in your hands as you nuzzle into his neck. His pulse rings in your ears. It pulsates louder than the stream of the shower and his breaths that grow with anticipation and a touch of excitement.

You know he enjoys it. You meant to turn this into some kind of a hug, but… all you can do is just stay like that. Hidden against him, lost in the symphony of all that keeps him alive.

“Long day, sweetheart?” His breath gusts over the tip of your ear.

You release his wrists and wrap your arms around him, drifting away. You answer him in a nod and he hugs you closer. He has to be the one to do the squeezing. If you did it, you’d shatter him.

“Let me take care of you?” He asks for permission first. He knows you love his doting, the way he spoils you rotten, but sometimes…

Sometimes you’re not able to accept it. Like a stray dog, wounded and afraid, your mistrust and fear comes out on him. He has a small understanding of why you bite. Of how many hands have hurt you, how many times you’ve had this very thing promised to you only for it to be a carrot on a stick with which you’d be beaten for ever stepping out of line.

He knows you’ve been made to beg for that which others have by right of simply existing.

Love.

He won’t ever make you beg.

He tells you this as he lathers you with soap.

“I love you.”

He tells you again as he thumbs a cleanser onto your cheeks. Looks you right in the eye and declares it with a soft smile, twinkling eyes, and a kiss. Watches you become like butter in his hands, softening, melting. The coldness in your eyes dissipates into something sorrowful and pained– something yearning.

He knows that’s how you say it back. He hopes one day he’ll hear you say the words, but this is okay for now.

He washes you meticulously, carefully, until not even a whisper of pink tint remains in the suds. He dries you before himself. Stands there dripping and cold as he puts you back together, caring for himself only once you demand it.

He wouldn’t stop shivering. You practically had to say something.

How is it that he’d sacrifice his own comfort to take care of you? He’d give and give until you had to fucking force him to take. He confuses you. You’ve never met anyone like him.

He makes you feel insane.

“Give me that,” you grumble, taking the blow dryer from him to fan it over his hair. He’d already taken care of yours. You feel practically out of your mind at how badly you’ve wanted to do this. You run your fingers through his pretty blonde locks, ruffle them into place, fluff the front just right. He practically purrs at your touch.

He’s just as bad as you in that regard. There’s something about the way he preens in the mirror as he watches you, perks up and grins, adjusts his hair just slightly from where you’d styled it that makes you chuckle.

John can’t even begin to explain how happy he is to finally see you smile.

He brings you to bed. Normally you’d be initiating shenanigans, teasing and touching him every step of the way, but you’re tired in a way that not even sleep will fix. He’s told you before that it’s a mental fatigue– that you’re overloaded and need to make time for yourself. That even The Homelander needs to take a break sometimes.

He’s adamant about it tonight.

“You can stay here. Use some of your sick days.” He schemes. “You’ve gotta have some of those after all these years, right?”

When you don’t answer, his brows knit in confusion. He knows that means no, which makes no sense to him– but he doesn’t press you to explain.

“I want you to stay here.” He says firmly. He squeezes your hands between his as he stares into your eyes, engulfing you in that oceanic gaze that has a special way of getting you to do damn near anything.

You find yourself nodding. What did you care if you pissed off everyone at Vought? It’s not like it’d be the end of the world, and you’d much rather be with him anyway. You huff a laugh against his neck as you nuzzle close to him.

How many people have ever been able to sucker you into something the way he can? Well, there was one person, but… what’s done is done.

But, John?

He had a way about wearing you down with just a simple smile, honeyed words, pretty blue eyes, and a declaration of love. You really like the way his grin grows wider when you agree. You like the way he hugs you tight and kisses the top of your head in excitement.

There’s no one in the world like him. Nobody at all.

Your Johnny is so very special.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #antony starr #the boys #i'm running out of pics that rep human homelander well lol #the boys fanfiction

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snickerdoodlles · 19 days

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No wonder this show became a hit. They really asked "you know what's better than one guy forced to give up something that it would break him to lose?" and gave us a whole bunch in different color shirts and said "Enjoy! :D"

(x, x)

right!!!! one of my favorite things about kinnporsche is how the show's like "here's some sexy mafia guys" except it's a TRICK, all the boys are at their sexy best when they're loving and domestic and caring for each other and get traumatized any time they actually act mafia. this show has its messy moments and goodness knows how their world works sometimes, but the writers had the most correct priorities when it comes to the emotional beats of the story.

Khun: the emotional journey of a deeply traumatized guy where we only see him in the aftermath, desperately clawing his way back to some sense of normality. how absolutely tender ep3 was with Porsche taking him to a new space, gently holding Khun's hand and asking him to stay with him and trust that he'll keep him safe, and he does, and we see Khun grow into a fiercer protector who can chase after the people he cares about past his walls and defend his home when its security is compromised.

Kinn: he wasn't a cold mafia boss softened by love, he was always a bleeding heart who's kindness was mercilessly beaten out of him. he falls in love so fast and so hard and it's so good watching his past traumas rear their ugly heads but him letting go of his old ghosts and clawing his way past them anyways, because he so desperately wants love and wants to love. and like? what a baller move that is for his character? he's a mafia boss, and a merciless one at that, but he also wants to be soft and cute and a good brother and boyfriend and all his people safe while living in and facilitating his violent and blood soaked world. the wonderful contradiction you are Kinn <333

Kim: the boy who tries to sacrifice everything for his and their greater happiness except it just makes him all the more miserable because this show really said there is no glory in what you give up or destroy, only what you shelter and protect. he's a self-saboteur but you can't help but root for him all the more because of it. he's just so scared to care, of that being used to trap him or anyone else, yet he's falling face first into his own schemes because he loves so much and so deep.

and just. Porsche, carving himself to pieces trying not to lose anything. Chay, who will twist himself into knots trying to hold everything he sacrificed for. Vegas, who tries to drive everything away before it can abandon him and shattering when it goes. Pete, who repressed and ignored all his wants and discontent until it shattered him.

i just. i love these boys. i'm obsessed with these boys. kp had a lot of balls to juggle and a bananas premise to do it in, but they nailed all the big emotions so good, i'm still mashing potatoes over them two years later.

#kinnporsche #not to just. wail over the boys but #so many flavors of trauma and tragedy #i love it so dearly #the descent into darkness alone but with the little candle of hope they'll crawl back out together #[mashes more potatoes]

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constantcrisis19 · 9 months

Text

Bleeding Out - Part 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN S/O

Main Page

Warnings: Blood and injury, Needles, Violent thoughts, References to Ghost's backstory.

Ghost grit his teeth when you went limp against his back, his desperate grip on your thighs tightening in a way that would have been painful for you if you weren't currently conscious. He pushed into the medical tent like a man on a mission, ignoring the various moans and cries of suffering soldiers and shoving past anyone who didn’t get out of his way fast enough.

He gently lowered you down onto one of the open beds, your sweaty hair falling into your face as your head lolled to the side, Ghost reaching out in a brief moment of weakness to brush the limp lock of hair out of your face before turning his attention to the wound on your thigh.

The neck gaiter that he had tied in place over the injury was stained a deep red, the cloying scent of iron so thick that Ghost could practically taste it even through the thick fabric of his balaclava as he peeled the sticky soaked cloth away from the wound in order to get a look at the damage.

He felt grateful for his mask since he couldn’t help how his face twisted up into a snarl at the frankly obscene amount of blood that had oozed into your clothing, soaking your right side all the way down your pant leg to your boots, staining the material a deep crimson.

One of Ghost’s hands released his hold that he had on the cloth that he’d wrapped around your thigh in favor of grabbing the wrist of the person that had made the mistake of touching his arm, his grip so tight that he could feel the bones grind together under his fingers.

“Uh… sir? I’m here to help, what’s the situation?” A soft voice abruptly broke through the rush of blood ringing in Ghost’s ears and he was unceremoniously dragged from whatever haze he’d fallen into, causing him to violently snap back into focus.

He managed to pry his dark gaze away from your sallow figure, bringing his attention to the person who had been brave enough to approach him, the wide green eyes of a medic warily watching him as if he were a feral animal.

Ghost let go of the medic’s wrist as if the touch had burned him and he curled his fingers into a fist in order to hide the way that they wanted to tremble and, in an attempt to distract himself from the panic he could feel lingering on the edge of his awareness, he turned his attention back to the saturated fabric that was plastered to your leg.

“Deep laceration on upper left thigh from a bullet. They were conscious and verbal about two minutes ago before they began showing signs of hypovolemic shock and became unresponsive.” Ghost replied in rapid fire as he pressed down on the wound, continuing to apply steady pressure and trying to ignore how your unnatural lack of reaction to the painful contact made him want to hit something.

“Okay. Elevate their legs and keep applying direct pressure to the wound. We have a category one! I need a suture kit and an IV, stat!” The second half of the medic’s commands were directed to the rest of the staff that were bustling about the packed tent, more medics hurrying over with the necessary supplies, and it took every ounce of self control Ghost had to keep from taking a swing every time someone accidentally brushed up against him in their rush.

“Blood pressure is dropping, start them on two liters of LR.” The green eyed medic warned as someone set up an intravenous drip, pushing the needle into the tender skin of your right arm before taping the tube down to keep it in place.

More people joined the fray and Ghost viciously repressed the urge to bury one of his knives deep into the eye socket of the medic that bullied him out of the way since he knew that it wouldn’t do him any good in the long run, so he stepped away and allowed the other man to take over, the medic cutting your pant leg away from your thigh and pulling the unsalvageable neck gaiter away, letting it hit the floor with a wet sound before replacing it with a sterile pad of gauze.

Ghost just stood there and watched in complete silence as the medical team surrounding the cot all frantically tried to keep you alive, all their voices blurring together into a cacophony of indecipherable noise as the feeling of something wet dripping down his side distantly registered.

He looked down at himself and swallowed back bile at the sight that greeted him. The majority of Ghost's right side and thigh had been stained by your blood due to the fact that he’d carried you for so long, the thick red liquid marring his already filthy fatigues.

He numbly tracked a drop of crimson with his eyes as it slowly oozed down from his hip to his thigh before being soaked up by the fabric near his knee, the sensation of blood creeping down his leg making his skin crawl.

Ghost’s gaze snapped up from his soiled fatigues when someone came up next to him, his eyes darting over to the medic that had been brave enough to approach him, their hand hovering over his shoulder for a moment before thinking better of touching him and dropping their limb back to their side.

“We have the situation under control now, but we’re already running low on space so we need you to wait outside the tent, sir.” The medic spoke softly, the woman hovering in a way that spelled out her desire to usher him out of the medical tent, but he didn't move. Ghost’s feet were rooted to the spot, medics and patients alike all moving around his still figure as if he were a shark in the water.

“No.” Ghost declared bluntly as he turned his attention back to the crowd swarming the cot that you were laying on, noticing how the medic shot him a startled look out his peripheral vision, but he didn’t care. Let her judge him, let her question his intentions. Let her think what she wanted, but he wasn’t going to move until he got confirmation of either your recovery or your death.

And the poor soul who drew the short straw and was tasked to give Ghost the news better pray to whatever God that they believed in that it was the former.

“I’m sorry?” The medic asked, their incredulousness battling with their self-preservation in the face of Ghost’s blatant refusal to be separated from you. Ghost turned his head just enough to make eye contact with the medic standing next to him, the rest of his body eerily still in a way he knew other people found off-putting as he leveled the medic with his signature cold stare.

“I’m not leaving until they're either stable or dead.” Ghost declared, his tone leaving no room for argument, but the medic he was talking to was either an idiot or was unaware of Ghost’s reputation because she stubbornly persisted.

“But-” She began to say before Ghost unceremoniously cut her off.

“How’s their condition?" He asked, his voice low and rough. He could feel the cooling, sticky blood oozing between his gloved fingers as his hands clenched and released reflexively, his fingertips tingling as he wished for the familiar weight of his rifle.

“Uh, it's still too early to tell…” The medic began hesitantly before sighing, seeming to reluctantly accept the fact that Ghost wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon. "But we're doing everything in our power to help." She told Ghost with a worried frown, her concerned gaze like a physical weight, her unwelcome sympathy causing Ghost to glance away before he did something that would make Price give him that disappointed look in order to wipe that fucking annoying look off the young woman’s face. "Do you know them? Are the two of you close?"

The question caught him off guard and helped clear some of the red from his vision, Ghost’s dark eyes shifting back over to the cot he had deposited you on as if magnetized, his gaze visibly softening from his usual blank stare when he caught a glimpse of your familiar figure in a gap between the medics swarming you.

Ghost watched as personnel read off stats from the various machines that you were hooked up to, each announcement so bogged down with medical jargon that Ghost could only pick up on a few terms here and there as they worked to keep the area around the wound clean as it was meticulously stitched shut.

"...yes." He admitted quietly and, while Ghost wasn't exactly thrilled with telling some random medic about his attachment to you -in fact, he would rather go through several hours of torture over voluntarily being emotionally vulnerable- it was a necessary risk he had to take if he wanted to appeal to the women's sentimental side and gain more leniency when it came to being kept in the loop about you during your stay in medical. “Are they…? Will they pull through?”

The medic opened her mouth to reply but was unceremoniously cut off when the people that were crowding around your cot burst into a flurry of movement, the medics shouting to each other as they all scrambled for medical supplies. And while it may have looked chaotic, it was clear that there was in fact a method to the madness.

"We have a shortage of A+ and O- reserves. We’re going to need to perform a direct donor-to-patient transfusion if we have a chance of bringing them out of critical condition." A random voice that Ghost didn’t recognize called out just loud enough to carry over to where he was standing, and Ghost's blood ran cold.

"What blood type are you?" The medic next to him suddenly asked, sounding equal parts frantic and determined, her tone pulling his dull eyes away from the medics crowding around the cot that you were laying on to her. Her eyes were wide as she stared expectantly up at him, Ghost eyes widening as he caught onto what she was implying.

"I’m A+." Ghost replied immediately, already rolling up his sleeves to reveal his pale skin, his body moving before his mind even caught up with what he was doing, his feet taking him toward you and subsequently all the medical personnel that were currently treating you.

"We have a compatible donor!" The medic trailing behind Ghost yelled to be heard over the commotion as she followed him, easily keeping up with the rapid pace he’d set. It didn’t take long for him to be surrounded, Ghost ignoring how each unsolicited touch reminded him of the smell of petrichor and rot, the telltale squirming of maggots against his skin, and instead stubbornly kept his gaze locked onto your sallow face now that he was close enough to see you.

"We're doing an emergency transfusion." A male said as he rushed over to the pair, giving the female medic at Ghost’s side a needle and a tube while another medic simultaneously rolled up his left sleeve and wrapped a tourniquet around his bicep before tapping his inner elbow with two fingers in order to find a vein.

“Sir, have you had any unprotected sex in the last six months? Or have any blood-transmitted diseases we need to know about?" The male asked as he wiped down a patch of skin before pushing the hollow needle into Ghost's vein, almost as if he already knew that Ghost was clean and was just asking because it was protocol… so it seemed that his reputation proceeded him.

"No. None." He replied, holding eerily still and watching with keen eyes as medics prepped the major arteries in your arm, connecting you up to Ghost on the other side of the tubing.

Ghost felt an odd tugging sensation in his arms as the transfusion began, glancing away from you for the first time since he’d walked over and down at the tubing just in time to see blood so dark that it almost looked black being pulled out of his veins and down the tube, lazily making its way towards your own arm.

"Here, take a seat." The female medic from earlier said as she reached for his arm, Ghost jerking away from the threat of her touch and causing her to pull her hand away, the woman intelligently choosing to instead gesture to the unoccupied chair at your bedside that someone had dragged over. "Let us know if you start to get dizzy or feel nauseous, alright?" She asked as he obediently sat down, her kind eyes a stark contrast to the usual distant and clinical gazes he'd get from most medical personnel who worked for the military.

Ghost gave her a single, succinct nod in lieu of a verbal reply and turned his attention back to the blood that was traveling through the tubing, his free hand loosely wrapping around the arm of the plastic chair that he’d claimed.

“The blood is dark.” He said suddenly as she began to step away, halting her in her tracks before she once again turned to face him, what was originally meant to be a question coming out more like a statement because of the cold numbness that was spreading from his chest and Ghost fingers subconsciously tightened on the unforgiving arm of the chair, his grip now more of an attempt at grounding himself than anything else.

When Ghost managed to pry his gaze away from you, he noted that the medic looked surprised, the shock only lasting a few seconds before she seemed to some conclusion or another and her features softened into sympathy and understanding. She clasped her hands in front of her and gave him a soft, reassuring smile as she patiently explained the phenomenon to him.

"Oh. It's perfectly safe. What you're most likely used to seeing is the bright red blood, yes?" She asked and Ghost was begrudgingly impressed with her ability to maintain steady eye contact with him when there were even some higher ups that he’d had the displeasure of meeting who couldn’t say the same.

He didn’t look away as he nodded, confirming what she’d already suspected and she shot him another gentle smile before continuing. "It's just a chemical reaction with the oxygen in the air that makes it that color but, while it's in your veins, it's actually much darker."

Ghost is the one to break eye contact first, unable to keep looking at her kindhearted expression without wanting to scream at the woman that he doesn’t want her compassion, that she shouldn't waste such a useless emotion on someone like him, who didn't want or need it.

He nodded to make sure that she knew that he’d been paying attention and turned his attention back to you, his hands clenching as he resisted the urge to reach out and take your limp wrist into his own, to measure each sluggish beat of your heart from the source despite the slow beep of the machine next to him.

“Give it to me straight. I want to know if they’ll live.” Ghost said suddenly into the silence that had descended over the two of them and the medic took a deep breath, her lips thinning into a thin line.

"Well, due to your help, they’re odds have just gone up exponentially. They'll probably need a few transfusions though, and you'll need breaks between every one in order to eat, drink and replenish your strength. It's not going to be pleasant for you, but it's doable." She stated softly, her hands unclasping as she paused for a moment in order to seemingly think something over before voicing her thoughts. "Though, you're free to stop giving blood anytime you'd like, I'm just saying there's a better chance that they'll pull through if you do multiple sessions."

“I’ll give whatever it takes.” He admitted quietly, his tone determined and reverent in equal measure as he gave in to the impulse to reach out and lightly brush his calloused fingers over the thin, sensitive skin of your wrist, sliding up your arm to the joint of your elbow where the tubing was taped down before just resting there.

He could never tell the medic the truth about how far he was willing to go for you no matter how nice she seemed because the level of devotion he held for you was something that would scare off any normal person.

He would most likely be stripped of his rank, discharged, and locked up in a padded room with white walls before being drugged up to his eyeballs if he ever confessed to how deep his obsession with you runs.

He would do anything to make sure that you would stay with him. He would destroy cities, tear down governments, kill anyone who got in his way without a second's hesitation.

He would go to the ends of the world to bring you back, so giving you his blood, that he’d already spilled several pints of over the years -enough for him to be dead ten times over- for a violent cause that wasn’t even his, was nothing compared to the atrocities that he’d be willing to commit for you.

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demon-slayer-chaos · 6 months

Note

uhm

akaza yandere?

but like

obsessive yandere?

like?

really obsessive yandere?

ruh roh?

oopsies?

*doesn't have to be pure minded either 🧍🏻‍♀️*

"A Demons Love" Yandere!Akaza x reader.

Hehehe I finally got off my ass and wrote this after it sitting in my drafts for literally a whole year.

Triggers: Yandere Themes, obsession, kidnapping, Akaza low key is out of character ITS MY FIRST TIME WRITING HIM LEAVE ME ALONE 😭. I DON'T CONDONE ANY OF THESE ACTIONS THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.

Characters in this: Akaza

Requested: Yes

🔓 Requests are closed as of now🔓

Link to rules

Masterlist coming soon...

🏮- Oh dear, poor you. Dealing with an upper moon? How unfortunate.

🏮- Akaza's obsession started when he saw you taking a lonely night walk near your house. He wasn't out to kill anyone, he originally intended to just enjoy the moons light and the gentle nighttime breeze. Then he saw you.

🏮- He saw your figure and got interested, he started watching you out of curiosity. He knew that most humans wouldn't take a random walk at night, people weren't stupid, they knew demons existed. So it was an uncommon sight.

🏮- Before long, he felt a deep longing for a connection he has never experienced before. He knew he had a past love, but nobody had struct him as hard as you did. Seeing your beautiful hair seemed to always be shining in the moonlight, the way your eyes stood out, something about you hoping first sight made the upper moon fall hard.

🏮- His desire for closeness and attachment leads him down a dark path.

🏮- Despite his twisted feelings, Akaza maintains a facade of respect and courtesy towards you. He believes that treating you with kindness will make you reciprocate his affections.

🏮- His nightly watches soon became small talk between the two of you, which soon became conversations, eventually the two of you befriended each other. You weren't scared of him, and he wasn't going to harm you.

🏮- The two of you took regular walk, and you found out more about each other. Akaza always remembered these conversations, especially with little details.

🏮- One night you talk about your favorite flowers, the next morning you have them at your door step. One night you mention your favorite food? It's in your kitchen that morning, freshly made. Have a book you've been eyeing recently at a shop? You have it now. All because of him

🏮-This friendship comes at a cost however, Akaza becomes possessive and jealous, unable to bear the thought of anyone else having even the slightest influence on you. Only he should be able to see that gorgeous smile, or hear that beautiful laugh!

🏮- This possessiveness may manifest in subtle ways, such as monitoring your activities or keeping tabs on your relationships.

🏮- He struggles with his internal conflict between his violent tendencies and his desire to keep you safe. His actions might range from intense outbursts of rage to tender moments of care and protection. But he'd never show that side to you.

He waited so patiently every night to see you, what was taking so long?

The moonlight bathed the quiet courtyard, casting eerie shadows upon the stone walls. Akaza's eyes scanned around in the dark, waiting for you. Searching like a hunter finding it's prey, except there was no malicious intentions with him. He simply wanted to go on his nightly walk with you once more, it was a habit he squeezed into his schedule after god knows how long. He had a plead and beg for Muzan to allow a bit of free time for him to enjoy with you. Normally if you didn't feel good or an emergency happened he wouldn't be upset about missing such a small activity, if anything he'd still find you and watch over you. But tonight nothing changed, except your presence was absent.

He waited patiently for you in the dark, he was slowly getting more and more upset. Were you skipping out on the walk? He didn't know, until his eyes fixated upon you, his object of obsession, as you went about your evening routine. He saw your figure with a few others walking down the same path the two of you take every night.

Your gentle laughter echoed through the night air as you conversed with a group of friends. Akaza's heart skipped a beat, a twinge of jealousy piercing his chest. How dare they bask in your light, sharing the joy that should be his alone? He felt his nails digging into his palms as he watched, seeing that you went out with friends. Normally he'd know about such an event and wouldn't care too much, but it was clearly last minute.

As the night deepened, the group dispersed, leaving you alone in the tranquil courtyard. Akaza seized the opportunity, emerging from the shadows with a smile carefully painted across his face. His voice, though soft and gentle, carried a subtle undercurrent of possession.

"Ah, my dearest," he murmured, stepping forward, his eyes ablaze with fervent adoration. "How fortunate I am to witness your radiance under the moon's embrace."

You turned to face him, surprise flickering across your features. The unfamiliar intensity in his gaze momentarily gave you pause, but you dismissed it as a trick of the moonlight. "Akaza, you startled me," you said, offering a small smile.

"Forgive me, my love," he replied, his voice tinged with a blend of remorse and delight. "I couldn't resist the urge to be near you, to inhale the sweet fragrance of your existence." Akaza's words dripped with an unnerving possessiveness, yet his demeanor remained oddly respectful. He stepped closer, his presence enveloping you, suffocating yet comforting. A predatory glimmer danced in his eyes, his obsession transparent. He then gently, yet tightly grabbed your wrist, pulling you into his chest.

"Your laughter, your every breath—it belongs to me," he whispered, his voice dripping with longing and madness. "No one else can understand your worth, your essence, as deeply as I do."

As the fear trickled down your spine, you took a step back, a cautious glimmer in your eyes. "Akaza, you're scaring me," you spoke softly, attempting to reason with the man who stood before you, his desire veering dangerously into obsession.

A twisted smile curved Akaza's lips as he raised a hand, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. "Oh, my dear, do not fear. I am merely taking what rightfully belongs to me," he declared, his voice laced with a chilling conviction. Before you could react, a sudden surge of strength coursed through his body, his hand swiftly closing around your wrist. Panic flooded your senses as you realized you were unable to break free from his grasp, his supernatural strength overpowering your every attempt.

As you struggled, your heart pounded against your ribcage, the realization of your predicament sinking in. Akaza, the one you once considered a friend, had crossed the threshold of obsession, becoming a captor of your very being. With a smooth, calculated motion, Akaza pulled you closer, his grip unyielding. "My love, I cannot bear the thought of you being apart from me any longer."

A twisted, feverish gleam filled Akaza's eyes as he whispered, his voice a chilling mix of possessiveness and delusion. "In my arms, you shall remain forever, my precious treasure. No one else shall have you. No one else deserves you."

Terror surged through your veins as you realized the depth of Akaza's obsession, his determination to keep you confined to his twisted world. You fought against his hold, desperate for freedom, but his grip only tightened, his fingers digging into your skin. With a sharp, predatory grin, Akaza hoisted you over his shoulder effortlessly, your struggles rendered futile against his supernatural strength. He carried you away, his steps quick and purposeful, leaving the moonlit courtyard and venturing into the depths of the night.

Your voice trembled as you pleaded with him, your words laced with desperation. "Akaza, please... Let me go. This isn't love. This is captivity."

Akaza's laughter echoed through the empty streets, a chilling melody that sent shivers down your spine. "Love, my dearest, is a fickle thing. It can be gentle, yes, but it can also be possessive and consuming. I am consumed by my love for you, and I shall protect you from the world that seeks to take you away."

As he carried you further into the shadows, your heart sank. You were trapped, at the mercy of a demon's warped affection. The world outside grew distant, and the future appeared bleak. In the depths of Akaza's twisted love, you could only hope for a sliver of light to guide you back to freedom.

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thepenultimateword · 1 year

Note

idea for a Vigilante with healing powers. they're a very caring person, gentle but not naive. they refuse to work for the hero agency bc they'd have no say in who they'd be allowed to help. instead, they decide who to heal, hero or villain (and they can only heal so much before they pass out). Villain wakes up after Vigilante heals them and catches feelings...

Umm I LOVE this. Also, did you ever see when I joked about how so many of my story either begin with waking up or end with falling asleep? It's a serious problem for me, so this is perfect.

It turned out that the sensation of one's bones being knit back together was not a subtle one. Nor pleasant.

Villain was practically ripped from the dark, numb folds of unconsciousness. Violent, white splotches flashed across their vision and hot agony danced with heavy steps across their abdomen.

A scream tore their throat raw.

"Shshsh, that's the worst bit over." Warm callused fingertips slid soothingly up and down their ribcage. "It's allll downhill from here. And you've done just beautifully so far.”

Villain blinked hard in the direction of the voice, but everything remained a monochromatic blur, slippery shadows and pale white light obscuring both face and room. An involuntary whimper escaped past their lips, a pathetic primal reaction to the pain and confusion. They'd always thought themself so strong. A predator. A shark in an ocean of pathetic sardines. But they were just any other big fish swimming in a small pond.

The next thing they knew the skin above their hips felt tight. It was a similar sensation to having one's hands covered in drying clay. They slapped their hand in that direction, unsure whether the sensation was something they should be trying to stop, but instead, they found someone else's hand. Their fingers intertwined with Villain's before they could even think about pulling away.

"Just a few more seconds." The voice came again, a little more out of breath. "Let the skin set."

Villain whimpered. "W-What's--" They swallowed as their voice croaked. "--what's happening?"

"I found you in the street. You didn't look in great shape so...so I... Excuse me a second, ok?"

The stranger's hand withdrew, leaving Villain feeling strangely cold. An unseen door squealed and slammed shut again. Villain's stomach squirmed. They didn't know what was going on, or who this person was, but their presence made them less anxious. They wanted them back.

Very, very slowly, Villain propped themselves up on their elbow, attempting a second time to see their surroundings. It took several moments for their vision to clear, revealing a simple, grey basement. A hanging lightbulb dangled overhead Villain's spot on a frayed, lopsided couch.

Where was this? The last thing they remembered was...was...

Their hand shot to their stomach, but where there was once a gaping wound was soft, tender skin. Their fingers trailed up to their ribs; earlier they'd hurt so bad they couldn't stand, but now there was only a little lingering soreness.

What happened? They remembered fighting with Hero, slammed up against the wall with superpowered strength, ribs shattering, breath catching, then something sharp twisting in their gut. From there everything went blank. By all accounts, they should be dead. They shouldn't look several weeks into the healing process.

The door squealed again, and a stooped figure dressed in a dark coat and leggings shuffled through.

Villain fell back clumsily against the couch, wincing at the dull pain in their chest. "Y-you're that hero!"

"Vigilante," they corrected. "Are you feeling well enough to sit up?"

"I...uh..." Villain pushed themselves upright again. "Y-yeah. Er…what happened? Exactly?"

And why was this hero or vigilante or whatever helping them?

"I found you in one of the alleys I was patrolling. Figured you probably couldn’t go to a regular doctor, so…” They spread their arms to the room. “Welcome to your hospital.”

“Probably not a great move to bring villains into personal, private spaces.”

Vigilante shrugged, bracing themselves on the couch arm. “I’ve brought lots of people here. You dear, are just my most famous patient. A lot of people don’t like you.”

Right. Everyone was an enemy. So why were they any different? What were they getting out of this? Shouldn’t they have helped Hero finish them off?

"Vigilante?” they said carefully. “What's the difference between that and a regular hero?”

"I'm not licensed with the agency. Or with anyone.”

Villain blinked. “Isn’t that really illegal?”

“Says the villain,” the vigilante scoffed, seating themselves on the edge of the couch cushion.

That was different.

“That’s why I’m a villain. If the agency wants to push everyone with powers around, I’m going to destroy them. No matter how many times I get stabbed. But you’re…” They brushed over their closed wound again. “What, a healer?”

“What gave me away?”

“You don’t have to do any of their dirty work; you could just step in and clean up the aftermath. Then you’re protected by the state, no one busting down your door or watching you to be sure you’re not ‘abusing your powers.’ You don’t have to deal with any of this crap. Seems like an easy out.”

“Just because I’m not actively taking the agency down doesn’t mean I agree with what they do. Besides…I already looked into that option. Too much red tape.”

They stared off across the room as they spoke. Villain hadn’t noticed right away but they looked pretty pale and their eyes were ringed with dark circles.

“Yeah?”

The vigilante shrugged their slender shoulders. “If I’m going to heal people I’m going to choose who it is. I’m not going to limit myself to heroes or villains or whoever else. With the agency I can only use my powers under their clearance. So no. I’ll break the law to help whoever I want.”

They looked so intense in that moment Villain couldn’t help the warmth that raised in their cheeks. “Like…me?”

The vigilante turned and grinned. “Like you.”

Villain’s hands slapped to their cheeks, stupidly attempting to hide of the evidence of their blush. The vigilante grinned even wider.

“Emotional outbursts based off gratitude aren’t uncommon. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Villain ducked their head. “‘M not emotional….”

“Of course. How are the injuries? Feeling be—“

The vigilante suddenly slumped forward, clutching their head.

Villain raised up on their knees. “Hey, are you ok?”

“Just my head. Healing…urgh…takes a toll. And if it’s really bad well…”

“Like…broken ribs and life-threatening stab wounds?”

The vigilante chuckled humorlessly through a groan. “That would do it. But don’t worry, it’ll pass. I just…agh…need to sleep it off. Get some energy back.”

“You do look ready to drop.”

Another empty chuckle. “Well I couldn’t leave you all alone down here, now could I?”

“Well,” Villain looked around the room for their shirt. “I should get going anyway. I owe your for the patch job though.”

The vigilante lifted their head out of their hands. “You should probably rest a little longer, healing would’ve tired you out a little too.”

Their legs did feel a little like jelly. And everything was still sore too. The last thing they wanted to do was get up and stumble their way home from wherever this was. It would be so much nicer to just lay back down and drift off here.

“Oh, well…then I’ll hang out a little longer… You can like…rest your eyes if you want. I won’t do anything.”

“I wasn’t worried,” the vigilante smiled.

“Oh, good. It’s just the villain reputation, I thought I should reassure you that being questionable ethically doesn’t not extend to…”

They trailed off. The vigilante was already dozed off in their seat.

“Nevermind,” Villain choked quietly.

They watched the do-gooder’s peaceful face for a several moments, watching as already tired body slackened even further and tipped against them.

Villain flushed deeper and tried to ignore the weight as they forced themselves to lean their head back against the couch. The vigilante didn’t stir.

They were really too nice. And definitely not careful enough. They should know better than to let their guard down in this line of work, especially if they’d been doing this for a while.

If vigilante was against the agency too…then maybe villain could add protecting them to their agenda.

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills

#hero x villain #vigilante x villain #healing powers #healer #heroes and villains #heroes and villains community #creative writing #writing snippet #villain #fiction #hero x villain community

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likeadevils · 6 days

Note

what songs from TTPD and TA are now yours? Which ones have spoken to you the most?

songs that are genuinely MINE

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus: i cried myself to sleep listening to this song on repeat on release night and for the life of me i cant tell you why. i think it’s a great example of her being older really deepening her writing— just that old scarred over longing of a possible life, a possible love, too far away to reach but close enough to brush past. also, the double edged sword of “if you want to break my cold, cold heart, just say’ i loved you the way that you were’”— you loved me before i’d twisted myself into the shape i am now in order to keep my current partner, but also, you loved me the way i was, not the way i am now

i look in peoples windows: i wrote a poem with the line “im afflicted by the not knowing” in it!! inspired by the outside!! and by spending so much of my childhood reading by moonlight and spying on my neighbors through their windows!!! it was called where midnight lives!!! what the fuck!!!

robin: another song i sobbed hysterically to. i was a strange little violent child obsessed with dinosaurs it feels like a lullaby someone made specifically about 3 year old me.

songs that i’m obsessed with:

but daddy i love him: the bridge is just so fun to scream along to. everytime ive been in a car since the album came out ive played this at least two times just cause

fresh out the slammer: it’s just. the first verse??? the way the song stutters apart for the last verse??? this song takes the blurry muse conceit of the album and uses it to its fullest. also just the diminishing returns from “but its gonna be alright, i did my time”

i can do it with a broken heart: my first listen favorite

the smallest man who ever lived: the bridge????? the bridge???? the bridge???? a few of the negative reviews specifically mentioned this song as boring and for a millisecond i was so angry i could’ve exploded

the black dog: this is like, the platonic ideal of a taylor swift song to me. just that old quiet tragedy she can build out of little moments of hoping your ex will remember you when they hear your favorite song or not having known your last kiss was your last kiss or your ex still sharing their location with you. like, it’s just her at her best, but with the maturity to sing “and you jump up, but she’s too young to know this song”

i hate it here: people have talked about seeing reputation in the anthology but i think you can also see so much debut and it makes me feel so tender. also i genuinely don’t understand why people don’t like “if chose the 1830s but without all the racists” like?? it’s supposed to be a bit clunky?? the songs about the limits of escapism?? the line enhances both of those themes?? also “i’m there most of the year” is such a funny devastating relatable lyric to say about a daydream

thank you aimee: it’s not every day a song inspires you to send this message about something a child did to you (fuck you madeline!!! fuck you jessie!!!)

the bolter: avoidant attachment representation!!! i love that it takes the stuff she hated about herself in the archer and just accepts and loves them and appreciates what they’ve given her. i especially love it because bolt can mean like, crossbow bolts, so it’s a flip on the archer. also “bolt” is one of my favorite words i love all the different meanings

“the only thing that’s left is the manuscript, one less souvenir from my trip to your shores, now and then i re-read the manuscript, but the story isnt mine anymore” also just had me sobbing. there’s just. wtf!!!!!!

#asks*

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smurphyse · 1 year

Text

Don't Fight, Doll | Dark!Bucky Barnes

Smurph’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 6 of Lesser of Two Evils

Warnings: domestic violence, sexual violence, cunnilingus, doggy style, choking, phone calls during sex, mental manipulation, conditioning, dubious consent, humiliation

Summary: James gets the all-clear from Dr. Strange... and he takes what he wants

Note: This is a dubcon/noncon fic! Heavy violent content and smut will be prevalent. Read at your own risk and mind the warnings at the beginning of each chapter.

Bucky woke slowly, feeling pretty good about his plan to use the girl against Loki.

She was plastered to his side, snoring softly as the sun rose over the buildings and poured into the wide windows. Her hair was a mess, the soft pool of drool she left on his chest cooling between their body heat.

She was beautiful like that, and Bucky watched with awe at how relaxed she seemed when yesterday she grimaced in her sleep.

She was feeling more comfortable with Bucky. She just needed some tender care. In time she'd belong to him completely, and he'd use her to drive Loki over the edge.

It really was a shame… she could be so much more than a pawn in their game.

Brushing back a few errant strands of hair from her cheeks, Bucky smoothed his fingers through her messy mane. It took so much prompting to get her to let go even a little bit, and he had been able to tell she was still holding back. It had been glorious to watch and feel.. Unfortunately, Loki put a lot of time into training her and breaking her down to nothing but a slave.

At least here she'd have more, he told himself. All she needed to do was be ready for when he wanted her and the rest of the time she could do as she pleased.

His phone rang shrilly on the nightstand, and Bucky flinched when she stirred, twisting under the covers to snatch it.

"What?" he snapped, but he smiled softly when she rubbed her eyes sweetly and slowly blinked up at him.

"Her tests are all negative," Strange's voice came through, and Bucky's cock stiffened underneath her thigh. She frowned and peeked under the blankets, her eyes going wide when she spotted it. "She's good to go, but remember what I said, Barnes."

"I'll keep it in mind," Bucky muttered, hanging up on him and tossing the phone back on the nightstand.

He turned back to her, an excited grin peeling its way across his face. She watched him nervously and cocked her head, "Everything okay?"

Bucky rolled her onto her back, delighting in the small huff of surprise as he pressed his body to hers. He poked her nose with his before pressing his lips to hers, slow and languid, and it took a few moments for her to relax into it.

She kissed him back like she had last night, not as desperate but finally melting into his warmth. Bucky groaned, all he wanted was to consume her, eat her alive and leave nothing left for anyone else.

"James?" she murmured between them, cupping his jaw even as he made his way down her neck.

He rolled his teeth along the sensitive skin of her neck, and she let out a little gasp, her back arching and a blush creeping its way up her throat. "Hmmm?"

"Did you sleep okay?"

Bucky pulled himself painfully away from her sweet taste to cock one brow at her, "Did I sleep okay?"

She nodded shyly, red stinging her cheeks, "Yeah, did you?"

"I did…" he said slowly, unsure of why she wanted to know. "Did you?"

Pulling her lip between her teeth, she nodded again, and much to Bucky's surprise she reached out to press the pads of her fingers to his cheek. They were cold, shaking and nervous as she brushed her hand along his skin.

"I'm…hungry, James," she murmured slowly. "Is that okay?"

Bucky chuckled at her nerves, but a soft pride ripped through him at her gentle ask when yesterday she didn't want to be a bother.

"Of course, doll," he told her, and she gave him a relieved smile. "But we have something to do first."

Now she frowned, “What do we have to do?”

Bucky flashed her a devilish grin, and her eyes turned wary, doing what she could to pull away from him and into the mattress. There was nowhere for her to go, he had her right where he wanted her.

“Work up an appetite.”

------------------------------

You were staring into the eyes of the beast as he loomed above you like a predator over prey.

James' gaze turned dark, a dangerous shadow casting over those ice blues and fading them to an ocean storm. His muscles rippled beneath his skin, coiled and ready to pounce on your vulnerable frame.

He seemed ready for you to run so he could chase you down, but you'd learned long ago that fighting only made it worse.

With a shaky hand, you reached up and pushed your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp as he had to you the night before. James watched you with a squint as you moved through his thick locks, but when your nails grazed a spot behind his ear his eyes fluttered closed.

"Mmm," James groaned, "You're trying to distract me, but you made a choice, doll."

"I'm scared," you whispered shakily. "What if you don't like it?"

James peeled open his eyes, "Why wouldn't I?"

Tears welled as you began to panic, your jaw trembling in fear, "I haven't… had to please anyone like this in a long time. I don't know, I don't know how to…

"You'll send me back when I can't give you what you want," you murmured pitifully as you began to cry, bringing your hands up to hide your pathetic face. "And he'll kill me after what you've done!"

James let out a sigh of what you assumed was annoyance, pushing your hands away. Intertwining your fingers, he pressed your arms into the mattress on either side of your head and kissed you.

You would have almost called it sweet as you kissed him back, but you knew what was coming. His body settled on yours, careful to keep the bulk of his weight from crushing you underneath him. Your tears cooled on your cheeks as you tried to relax, focusing on the warmth of his lips against yours.

When his tongue slipped inside, hot and probing with gentle insistence, you let out a soft moan like you knew he wanted. His hands slid from yours, fingertips trailing lightly down your arms and leaving tingling shocks in their wake. James smoothed his palms down your sides and brushed them over your breasts as he pulled back.

"You don't need to worry about that," he murmured, pressing kisses across your cheek and making his way to your neck. "Just let daddy play."

He sucked a light bruise on your throat, teeth nipping and soothing with a swipe of his tongue. Your head swam with his heat, his attention, when for so long you'd been dismissed.

"Daddy?" you asked again as you had last night, vision blurring as he continued his exploration. Loki hadn't wanted you to make a single noise for so long, and James seemed to revel in them. But you'd never called anyone that…it seemed so taboo.

James nodded against your neck as he kneaded your breasts beneath his strong hands, "That's right doll. Like this, that's what you're gonna call me."

He pulled up your shirt, tugging gently until you sat up so he could pull it off and toss it from the bed. You vaguely registered the soft thwump as it hit the ground as James put a heavy palm on your chest and pushed you back into the mattress then shed his own clothes. He was back on you in a second, spreading your thighs and planting himself firmly between them.

His palms kneaded the soft flesh, squeezing lightly as he inspected you. You wanted to close your legs and hide from him, but James’ strong hips and muscular thighs kept you where he wanted.

"I've been wondering if this pussy tastes as good as your tongue…your skin," he groaned quietly, mostly to himself as he lowered himself onto the bed.

His warm breath fanned across your cunt as he licked his bottom lip, pupils blown and dark. You got up on your elbows shakily to watch him.

"What do I taste like?" you asked in a small voice, and he tore his gaze from you to meet yours.

"Like honey and sage," he smirked, flashing a wink that made you blush.

"Oh, oh!" you yelped as James took advantage of your embarrassment to lean in and lick a thick stripe along your seam and toss your thighs over his shoulders.

Your hands flew to his forehead to push him away, already overstimulated and nervous as hell, but James gripped your wrists in his large hands and held them tightly on the mattress. His tongue delved deeper as you wriggled uselessly, helpless and trapped.

Your thighs shook as he probed your hole, his hot wet tongue pushing inside with ease. You let out a little hum as you trembled…it felt good, and you weren't allowed to feel good.

"James…" you whimpered as he stretched you slowly, groaning and slurping devilishly loudly between your legs.

He ignored you, dragging his tongue up to press against your clit firmly. You whined and clenched your legs around his head wanting to keep him close but knowing all too well you shouldn't. Just like Loki he wanted to lull you into a false sense of security and then punish you for it.

He laved the bundle of nerves over and over, your brain going foggy and hazy with each swipe, hips twitching and little gasps bursting forth. Your belly coiled faster than you could've thought from his rough handling and moaning, the warmth of him and his scent soaking you in the feeling of him.

"James, James!" you cried out as tears began to well. You didn't want to cum, but it was rocketing through you like a freight train, clawing its way through your body without your permission after so long without such a thing.

He held your wrists tight enough to bruise even when your nails dug into his skin. James grunted as they held his flesh, finally releasing you and guiding your hands into his hair and encouraging you to grab on. You held onto him for dear life, your betraying body shaking in pent up desperation.

Just like last night, James moved his hand between your legs as he ate you out. Two large fingers pressed against your entrance before pushing in, and your head hit the pillows as your walls stretched blissfully painful.

He pumped you slowly to accommodate them, his tongue flicking wildly and driving you mad. You shuddered when you realized he was right, pain and pleasure could be one and the same.

Your cheeks flushed hotly, your blood ripping through your veins as you stopped trying to fight it and leaned into his desires instead. Your wildly beating heart flooded you with adrenaline and ecstacy, a string of wanton moans escaping as your hips rocked down on his fingers as he'd shown you last night.

Your carnal body took control, mindlessly rolling to fit more more more of his thick digits inside, and when he pressed a third finger in a desperate voice burst from your cursed lips.

"Oh, fuck. James!" you whined into the room that was empty save for both of you and your groans of pleasure. He slowed and cocked a brow at you, and you were so needy you couldn't help but staring him right in the eyes and begging.

"Daddy, please," you pleaded. It was a voice you hadn't heard in years, one full of longing and excitement and pathetic want. You had to give in. It was what James wanted you to do.

A dark growl reverberated through your filled cunt as he went back to work in a fervor, slurping and sucking and fucking you on his hand. Your juices soaked the insides of your thighs and his stubbly cheeks as you submitted to him completely.

"Oh, oh fuck," you gasped as your body shook with your impending orgasm. It tore through you like a wildfire as your whole body clenched, legs and cunt clamping down on every part of James you could touch.

"Thank you, thank you, thank-!" you cried as your back arched, a violent shudder echoing down your spine and straight through your dripping pussy, your eyes shutting in agonized pleasure.

James worked you through it until you stilled, going limp like a doll into the mattress. Grinning, he pulled away and slipped his fingers from your used hole and climbed over you.

"Taste, doll," he whispered as he brought his fingers to your lips, and you opened your mouth without thought.

Somehow your brain went even foggier as you licked yourself from him. He was right, you did taste like honey and sage, and your eyes nearly crossed from it.

"See, doll, doesn't have to be bad," he goaded, and you nodded with his fingers in your mouth, drooling around them dumbly. "You taste so good, you did so good for me."

You couldn't help but preen at his praise, eyes pricking with tears. It had been so long since you'd had so many good things said about you, especially like this.

You whined when he pulled his fingers from your mouth, tongue sticking out to catch each drop of yourself from them. James palmed your thighs and rushed forward to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, tongue pushing against yours to lick every part of you he could. Your hands tangled into his hair again as you kissed him back passionately, thankful and so grateful for his gift of pleasure to you.

It was pathetic, but you didn't seem to care at that moment.

You gasped into him as he ground his dick against your soaked pussy, hot and throbbing. Your anxiety started to take over again at his thick length, but when you tried to pull away he held you firm.

"Now now," he tutted, pulling back to shake his head at you. "Don't fight, doll. You know you want it."

You gulped at the dangerous shadow cast over his face, and he nuzzled his nose against yours to whisper darkly, "You chose this."

James reached between you and lined his dick up with your wet cunt, watching you with those blazing eyes as he dragged it up and down your slit. You trembled beneath his fiery gaze, tears welling in your eyes but he simply smiled at you.

"Calm down, take it like a good girl," he murmured, pushing inside just the slightest bit, but you flinched and began to cry.

"It's too big," you cried shakily and pressed your palms against his broad hard chest, "it won't fit!"

"I'll make it fit," James hushed you, smoothing his palms up your legs and waist. He gave your nipples a small brush when he reached your breasts, but quickly brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. His thumbs smoothed along your cheekbones as he gave you a gentle kiss, but you couldn't return it, not when what you feared was so close.

His hips pushed forward despite your tears and shaking, the stretch burning through your pussy. A choked sob burst from you but James ignored it, kissing you again instead.

The blunt head of his cock breached you, your body giving way to his thickness painfully. You looked to him tearfully, not like you could look anywhere else with his weight covering you, "James…"

"Fuck, so tight." Another roll of his hips, another burning inch splitting you open, "Not my name, doll."

Your chest heaved as James pumped his hips again, leaning his forehead against yours. His hot breath ghosted along your lips and cheeks, his coiled muscles bulging under his skin.

"I can't take it…" you whimpered, clinging to him and shivering with the pain and fear. "Daddy, please, I can't!"

James let out an excited grunt, his hips lurching forward and making you cry out. Your vision whited out as you struggled to relax around his girth, and his voice strained, "You can take it, doll."

James groaned and you struggled beneath him as he bottomed out, your ears blazing with heat and shame as his girth held you open unwillingly. You wriggled beneath him, trying to get used to the feeling, but it felt like you were pushed to your limit, too full and his cock was so heavy.

It weighed you down to the bed, and James buried his face in your neck as he ground the head into your cervix. You let out a choking gasp at the pushing sensation, trapped beneath him with your hands stuck between you. You couldn't do anything but whine and heave as you stared anxiously at the ceiling.

He pulled out almost all the way before slowly pushing back inside, groaning against your skin while you gritted your teeth, "That's right, little girl, just let it happen… you can't stop this."

Caught beneath a monster, held painfully open by his weapon of choice, you realized he was right. You chose this, you couldn't stop this.

You were nothing but a toy for him.

Your body went limp like a rag doll as James started to fuck you. Each roll of his hips stretched you further, pushed you to numbness as your mind tried to escape. Each thrust forced breath from your chest, took more from you and your grasp on reality as he took what he wanted.

You knew this was coming, and you scolded yourself for holding out hope that you could avoid it. It felt like you were being torn open, and after his lavish attention you didn't want to complain.

James' grunts echoed at the edges of your consciousness, gliding through you with ease. You vaguely registered that he was speaking, but you tried to focus on staring at the ceiling as he raped you.

Hard fingers gripping your jaw pulled you back into reality, James' bright eyes boring into yours. He slid his hand down to your throat and squeezed, but you did nothing to stop him. You'd lose that fight a million times over in the state you were in. You weren't strong anymore.

"You're not paying attention, doll," he growled, his cock throbbing hotly inside you. His cheeks were dusted red and patchy, sweat cooling between you.

"I'm letting daddy play," you rasped under his palm.

James chuckled darkly and forced you to kiss him, holding you in place as his lips crashed into yours. You couldn't even struggle beneath him, his weight was so heavy, his grip strong and unrelenting.

"You're not getting out of this," he hissed as he pulled back to lean his forehead against yours. "You're gonna feel every second of it whether you want to or not."

He held you tightly as he began to thrust again, slower and angling his hips to hit that spot inside that made your legs twitch. He forced you to watch him, to keep your eyes on his. A tear trickled down your cheek, and he grinned.

"If you didn't like it, you wouldn't be this wet," he murmured, and your eyes went wide.

Before you could reply, James moved. He pushed one leg up, palming the back of your thigh to open you up, the other planted firmly on your throat as he got up on his knees.

"You want to be fucked," he told you as he held you down and gave a sharp thrust. "This sweet little cunt wouldn't keep pulling me back in, wouldn't clench like this if you didn't want daddy's cock."

You shook your head as best you could, "I don't want it! I hate you!"

James leaned in and kissed you hard, pressing your leg back further as he pummeled your pussy. You gripped his wrist and held on for dear life with each snap, each hard thrust of his thick length.

His fingertips squeezed as he fucked you harder, strangling you tight and snarling in your face, "Daddy’s taking care of you, doll, say thank you."

You whined and shook your head harder, struggling and digging your nails into his skin. James throttled you, shaking you as your cunt clamped down around him. Your head swam with the heat between your thighs and his blazing skin against yours, but you couldn't escape it or him.

"Say it!" he shouted, and you burst into tears.

James dropped your thigh as you sobbed, letting it fall to the mattress as he brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked it as his prosthetic hand choked you.

You cried out when he pressed the pad against your clit, swirling it relentlessly. Your thighs twitched as a heat coiled in your belly, tears streaming down your cheeks as he fucked you into oblivion. Your slick dripped between your asscheeks as a sinful squelching noise filled the room along with your tears, and suddenly your back arched violently as you came hard.

He pounded into you as you shook around him, eyes rolling back in your skull as liquid heat shot through your core. When it began to wane and you sobbed, James dropped down and kissed your cheeks softly as he slowed, but he never stopped.

"There, there, so good," he murmured like a lover, his thumb still swiping the sensitive bundle of nerves even as you cried. "C'mon, lemme hear you, doll."

Your head was foggy, overwhelmed and terrified, and you couldn't seem to help it as you whispered shakily, "Than-, thank you, daddy…"

"Hmmm, good girl," James hummed, groaning as he rolled his hips into you. "Just do what daddy asks and you'll be rewarded."

He released your throat and tangled his hands in your hair, holding himself up on his elbows. His lips pressed against yours, softly this time, tongue licking in and pulling your hazy mind under.

He rocked you into the bed gently now, kissing you like he loved you and lavishing you with softness. Your jaw wobbled but you kissed him back, reveling in his heat and comfort instead of his brutality.

Your arms found themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his chest was flush against yours. Your nipples stood hard and at attention, brushing along his skin and sending a fire through you.

You just wanted safety, and when you gave James what he wanted he gave it to you in return. You gave in… letting only this moment matter, clinging to his burly frame and letting your body do what he said it wanted.

Your hips rolled in time to meet his, moans escaping your lips between languid kisses and echoing back with James' own. His grunts and groans reverberated between your chests, sweaty skin sliding against one another as he fucked you.

Your eyes fluttered shut as shame and excitement swirled together in your fucked up damaged brain, body coiling up in preparation for another moment of ecstacy.

"There you go, I feel you," he murmured, kissing his way down to your bruised throat. His breath fanned across your skin, dancing along the goosebumps and igniting your fire. "Daddy’s so proud, little girl…"

His pace picked up, and even though his thrusts were hard and shook your soul inside your body, it didn't seem to hurt this time. When James made his way down your chest, tongue flicking across your nipple and making your pathetic cunt squeeze his cock, you gasped in pleasure.

"Yeah, lemme hear you," he grunted, his hands smoothing down your sides before he took your tit into his mouth.

The heat of his tongue against your aching bud made you moan wantonly, your fingers twirling into his thick hair and keeping him there, right there. Your toes curled tightly, your body building up a shaking symphony of moans and mind bending electricity.

When the cool thumb of his prosthetic hand pressed against your clit, a string of curses burst from you, your pussy soaking his cock as wetness and desire pooled out of you.

"Daddy, please, please," you begged, and he pulled off your tit and smirked.

"A little more, doll, and you can cum," he said sweetly, but the devilish grin on his cheeks betrayed it. "Just for me, you can cum."

Your brain held no function except to do as he wanted, and you began to babble for more of it, "Please, daddy, please. Wanna cum, wanna be a good girl!"

He nodded and pulled your other nipple between his teeth, swiping his tongue over it and working you over. His hips pistoned painfully hard, but the burning only became pleasure in your fucked up mind.

"Wanna be good, wanna be your good little toy!" you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks as you shamefully let this man play with you. "I wanna cum on your cock, wanna take it…please, daddy!"

It was so wrong, but you didn't care. Fire ripped through your veins as your pathetic cunt locked down on his throbbing dick, liquid heat shooting through you. Your body curled up as you came, clinging to his hair for dear life and soaking his cock with your slick.

The tingling in your nipple and clit only forced it out of you like lightning, your cheeks flushing hotly as your tears and vision blurred. His pounding into you only spurred it on, your sore pussy taking whatever he gave.

You collapsed onto the mattress, your chest heaving, and James finally pulled off your tit with a soft pop. His lips glistened with spit as he grinned at you.

"Mmm, exactly what I wanted to hear," he groaned, grinding his dick into your tired hole. You winced and twitched with the feeling, but surprisingly you didn't want him to stop.

You were still struggling to focus when James pulled out suddenly and reached over to the nightstand. With you watching sluggishly, legs spread wide, he grabbed his phone and tossed it on the bed next to you.

Then you were being flipped onto your belly and James took one hand, slapped a pair of metal handcuffs over one wrist.

"Wai-," you began, tugging at it, but he just grabbed your other wrist and pushed you flat into the bed as he locked them to the headboard.

"I need to do this doll," he said simply as he hoisted you onto your knees, fingers digging into your hip, "and I can't have you fighting me."

Putting one hand on the back of your neck and shoving your face into the mattress, James picked up his phone and dialed a number. It rang twice before it was picked up, and your heart dropped into your stomach as the voice came through.

"What?" Loki snapped irritably, and you went stock still. A deer in the headlights.

"Got something of yours, Odinson," James growled cruelly, his thumb rubbing circles behind your ear as you were laid out like a lamb for slaughter beneath him. "Was wondering if you wanted it back."

You heard Loki shift through the speakerphone, sitting up like he did when he heard something he didn't like, "What did you do, Barnes?"

Without warning, James tossed the phone on the bed next to your head and shoved his cock back into your sore and stretched out cunt. You let out a sharp cry as it burned through you, thick and harder than ever inside.

"Pet?" Loki's voice spoke again, softer than it had been in almost a year. You sobbed at the sound of that voice… you'd missed it and the gentle man he'd been so long ago.

"Loki…" you wailed, clutching the pillows hard enough to tear, James' hand on your hip to keep you where he wanted you.

He grinded into you, blunt head pushing against your cervix in this position painfully. He let out a soft groan and said menacingly, "How could you let this pussy get away from you, Odinson?"

"Barnes, if you hurt her-," Loki began, but James laughed cruelly.

"You'll what?" he snarled, "Kill me? You've been trying to do that for years."

"There aren't words for what I'll do to you-," he started again, but James thrust hard into you from behind, and you yelped in pain as it shocked through you. "Pet, listen to me. I'll find you, I swear. I'll-."

"He can't stop this, pet. You know that," James growled. He started to fuck you again, thick throbbing length pounding into you as you were chained helpless on your knees.

You sobbed, wailing into the pillows with each thrust, Loki's voice speaking desperately to you through the speaker, "Just hold on for me, pet. I'll find you, I'll bring you home."

"Does she clench around you like his, Odinson?" James asked, barking a laugh as he beat your pussy raw with each resounding slap of his hips. "So tight… I don't think I can let this go."

"Barnes! I swear I will hunt you down…"

James smacked your ass hard, and you couldn't help but cry out, "Please, stop!"

You tried to crawl away but he held your head down into the bed with a firm hand, "Now now, what did I say? Don't fight me, doll."

"Listen to me, pet," Loki begged, trying to keep your attention on him, but you didn't want to focus on either of them. You wished you were dead. "I'll bring you home safe with me. I swear, I'll find you and bring you home!"

Your eyes blurred and your ears rang as you tuned them out, your sobs fading to whimpers of pain and stress. You focused on something glinting on the nightstand as you were lurched forward with each thrust. Their voices faded to nothing as you realized what it was.

A set of dog tags.

James' name was emblazoned on them, familiar to you and transporting you back in time for a split second before you came back to the present with a shattering cry.

James buried himself as deep as he could, fingers tangling into your hair as he yanked you up onto your cuffed hands. Your back arched as he let out a guttural groan and emptied himself inside you.

Hot sticky cum flooded your cunt, filling you with James' spend as Loki's voice snarled through the phone. "I'll gut you like a fucking fish, Barnes, I'll rip you to pieces…"

James let you go and flopped onto the bed next to you, his cum globbing its way down your thighs as your body trembled, but you kept your eyes on those dog tags even as he snagged the phone and said nonchalantly into the receiver.

"Gotta go, Lo," he chuckled, and his hand came down sharply on your backside. You yelped and flinched, but you couldn't pull your gaze away from the chain on the nightstand.

He ended the call through Loki's screaming, tossing the phone aside. His knuckle rubbed up the inside of one of your thighs, gathering up his spend and smearing it along your skin.

"You did good, doll," he murmured lightly, like he hadn't just scarred you forever. "I'm proud of you."

You said nothing, collapsing onto your belly on the bed. Even when James uncuffed you and settled against the headboard, you stayed silent. He patted your ass a few times as if expecting a response, but you were numb.

You were empty.

Just a toy.

Notes: I make no apologies... What do you think of Loki's reaction??

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i0veless · 1 year

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TOXIC ATTRACTION :: KYLIAN MABPPE

𖥻 SUMMARY ー [ a toxic kiss can be so hard to give u ] 𖥻 PAIRING ー [ kylain mabppe x fem! gf! actor! reader ] 𖥻 GENRE ー [ angst, fluff, suggestive content, smut? ] 𖥻 WORD COUNT ー [ 2.3k ] 𖥻 WARNINGS ー [ description of extremely toxic relationships, mention of codependency and addiction to unhealthy relationships, mentions of aggressive sex with hints of no aftercare, mentions of bites and bruises, unhealthy cycles, extreme manipulation, brief mention of an eating disorder, emotional and physical abuse, gaslighting, mentions of being trapped, insecurities, crying lots of fucking crying, excessive drinking, cheating - let me know if I missed anything ] 𖥻 AUTHORS NOTE ー [ requested by anon "I literally heart ur stories omg, if you can, would you make one about mbappe having an absolutely toxic ex gf and he’d usually go run back to her, but this time he has his new girl, and he’s not about to leave her for his ex, so he shuts her down idk" okay I never meant for this to line up with valentines but looks like the universe wants me to be a toxic little bitch so here you go some angst to feed your lovely dovey souls. READ THE WARNING...as there is a lot of really dark and triggering content - also, if you are in a relationship like this, I can say from personal experience it is not worth staying in it so plz leave for you own safety and health. Be safe and enjoy!! ]

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Toxic. That was one way to describe both Y/N and Kylian's previous relationships. They weren't the same, but they weren't that different either. Both were sick and twisted in nature with the sincere and tender love they had promised their partners quickly spoiling into a shackle that had them bonded by the neck - making it hard to breathe.

Kylian's chain came in the form of codependency. At one point, he could not see himself breathing without Monica. The dysfunctional dependency applied to both of them, as they took advantage of each other when they were most vulnerable - taking and taking from each other until they had nothing else to give. However, they took completely different things from each other, something that they thought no one else could give them.

Monica was addicted to attention, maintaining appearances and flashy events with all eyes on her. She was obsessed with being the belle of the ball and having her "perfect" love story - an ideal devotion. Monica could finally live out her deepest and darkest dreams and desires. Basking in the glory of dating a top athlete and having him by her side reminded the mere mortals that she had something they could never have. But his attention was never enough. It never was. And that was her downfall.

She treated Kylian like an article of clothing. Something that she could take on and off as she pleased. Only bothering with him when it suited her, not bothering to put on the facade unless a camera was rolling - painting herself as an angel unless she needed to be otherwise. She knew it was cruel, but she didn't care. She loved the power too much, wanting to hold on to it as long as possible. But her control was short-lived.

While Kylian, on the other hand, was addicted to physical affection. The sex. It was by no means "making love". It was aggressive, fast, and harsh, and it only ever happened when things went wrong if he didn't perform well in a match, got into an argument with a teammate, or the press slandered him once again. All his aggression and frustration turned into a bruise and bit marks on Monica's skin, he knew it was unhealthy, but he couldn't stop himself. When they broke up for the nth time, the moment anything went wrong, Mbappe felt the burning desire to run back to her.

And usually, he did, and she would be waiting for him with open arms (and legs). Ready to satisfy his violent urges while leaching what she needed from him - resting the vicious cycle of hatred and greed. It's not like he intended to be violent, but he had gotten so used to the pain he forgot what it felt like to have something soft and sincere in his heart that wasn't clouded by the need for physical intimacy. That was until he met Y/N L/N.

A broken record is what most would call her. The actor's relationship with Luca had been built on glass and sand. Transparent and fragile. They could see the problems. But they refused to fix them, and even the most gentle breezes would break the carefully constructed balance and leave an unfixable mess. Luca was a jealous man. He ripped out her wings, leaving her unable to escape from him. Luca kept her heart in his hands, handled it carelessly, and still expected her to stay. Not like he would give Y/N the option of leaving, and if she ever thought about it, he would instil fear to make her.

Luca saw her as an emotional punching bag breaking her down with his words. To build her back up and knock her down again. In his eyes, she was a chew toy to play with for entertainment. He loved the power she gave him, how his words meant so much to her, and how she tried desperately to perfect him and make him happy. But the only time he was ever happy was when she was in pain. He was sadistic because he thought he would never lose her. But he did.

Y/N was insecure. And Luca capitalised on that; his harsh words and verbal beat down left her self-esteem in tatters, and she was emotionally unable to cope. Starving herself became a regular occurrence, wearing revealing clothes so that she would be everything that he liked. The actor would never be enough, was all she thought. She didn't deserve Luca - she needed to earn him. She needed to be better. She needed to do better. Be everything he wanted and more. Y/N believed all the harsh words and unhealthy standers he made, taking them as if they were from the bible. In her eyes, he could do no wrong.

When he got angry, she tried to justify it in her head, blaming herself when, deep down, she knew that there was nothing she could do to fix it. Taking all the blame till the point of self-destruction, and when her soul had finally shattered like splints of glass, she drowned herself in alcohol in a small bar in Paris. The same bar where the universe decided that two broken souls would heal each other.

When the two met, they were still miserably taken and had no intention of spending their despair in the presence of others. But somehow, the two ended up talking, downing harsh spirits and spilling their woes and worries to a stranger. Ironically, they were both appalled about how the other allowed themselves to be treated that way, yet they refused to take their own advice. But alcohol made them reckless, and by some miracle made their way to a hotel for the night.

Nothing happened between them, even though the two slept in only their underwear. The two only silently cried in each other embrace as the moon and the stars watched. By morning Kylian was gone leaving nothing but a note with his number written on it. Over the following weeks, the two began exchanging texts for hours at a time, and they seemed happier, and their partners noticed - and did not like it. They slowly watched their iron grip slip from their captives as they found comfort in each other, and it all reached a boiling point one night.

It was late. And Kylian was doing anything but sleeping. Lying on his sofa as he stared blankly at the ceiling, he had a lot on his mind. Monica cheated - again. Neymar told him it would happen, Hakimi, Ramos and Messi too. But he didn't listen. Mbappe thought she would stay as long as the player gave her the spotlight. But he couldn't have been more wrong. He was a tool for her, so, of course, he would be used and discarded. It was in the girl's nature. So when he found Monica unceremoniously naked in their bed, with someone other than him, safe to say he was pissed.

Kicking them out while they were half naked, Monica's screams of protest and attempted explanation did nothing but bring him headache and heartburn. She had sent him text after text and called none stop, so he turned off his phone altogether. Now nothing was in between him and the suffocating silence as his thoughts gnawed away at his hyperalert sanity. It almost made him believe that the ring of the door was fake, that it was his mind's way of playing a nasty practical joke. To make him think that someone cared for him (even though they did) and leave him more disappointed than before and still just as alone.

But the repetition of said doorbell ringing made him open the door. To see someone in an equally sad state as him, Y/N had lost all shame as she stood outside Kylians apartment in a damp t-shirt and some tiny shorts. Her cheeks, stained with tears and mascara, she looked like shit, but that wasn't what caught Mbappe's attention. But more, the ugly yellow hues of bruises that were scattered across her arms and neck.

The two didn't say anything. I mean, what was there to say? It was clear that both of them were at their breaking point, so he just let the girl in without any questions. As Y/N slowly walked into the warm embrace of the apartment, she seated herself on the edge of the sofa - as if she was getting ready to run at any moment. "What happened?" Kylian knew what had happened. He just wanted her to say it out loud, to admit to him that there was a problem, that she needed help. His rage simmered to new heights when he heard "nothing" leave her mouth.

"Nothing", the player hissed as he stood in front of the actress, "that is not fucking nothing", gesturing to the dozens of bruises scattered across her skin as they now morphed into darker purple colour and looked equally as painful as a knife wound. "It was an accident…" that was a lie, they both knew. But the only difference this time is that neither of them believed it. "Was it, though?" the footballer asked as he sat beside her.

"No", Y/N quietly admitted. Her acknowledgement that she wasn't in the wrong lifted Kylian's spirits and gave him hope. She would leave Luca and find someone else who loved her the way she deserved to be loved, but he knew that she wasn't going to leave just because she knew it wasn't her fault (it never was), but the small step was still in the right direction.

Making her strip off her wet clothes and wear some of the old ones that were too small for him - wrapping the fragile girl in a soft blanket and making her a cup of hot chocolate. She was physically okay before he tried to pry information about the situation from her. "What happened" he finally asked the dreaded question, feeling as if the air in her lungs had been sucked out. Y/N struggled to reply.

"I forgot I had a kiss scene in top gun: mavrick. We-we were watching it, and he flipped, and Luca he-" the actress's whole body began to shake in fear as she recalled the incident, her body curling into the sofa as she felt tears once again streak down her face. Acting out of impulse, Kylian pulled the girl into his arms and held her as she wept away all her misery and pain. Rubbing soothing circles on her back and repeating 'it's okay' like it was a new mantra - but it wasn't okay, far from it.

"I don't want to do this anymore." Y/N cried, unsure if she was saying it to Kylian or the universe for putting her in this cruel situation. "You don't have to", the PSG player mumbled, trying to provide some comfort. "I know, but I don't think I can stop." the actress said, crying harder than before. "He's all I've ever known." before Kylian could answer, his landline phone began to ring again, but he didn't need to look to see who it was. It was Monica back for round two.

"Aren't you going to pick up?" she sniffled, looking at him with big teary eyes, "No" he quickly snapped, not wanting to argue on the phone with his ex while she was here. "Why not?" she questioned, curious as to what had happened to his sad excuse of a girlfriend. "we broke up." he said bluntly, "Oh, I'm so sorry…it was because of me, wasn't it." Mbappe didn't know if he wanted to respond to that question.

The truth was, yes. Kylian Mbappé Lottin did break up with Monica Del because of her. Y/N L/N made him realise that no amount of sexual pleasure she gave would ever soothe his raging fire. Not when she calmed his fire with her existence and found himself falling deeply in love with the wounded girl in his arms.

Taking his silence as a definite yes, Y/N spoke without thinking, "Guess Luca was right. I do ruin everything." Safe to say, Kylian was stunned. "Hey, hey, hey, don't fucking say that, angel. You know that's not true." she cried again. "Yes, it is Kylian, you know it is" as much as she didn't like Monica knowing that she was the reason they broke up somehow made her feel even worse than before.

"I was going to leave her anyway, baby" at this point, his white shirt was now partially sheer with her tears. "I know, but I still feel bad." the star tried to calm herself "Kylian, am I a bad person?"

"Listen, Y/N. I may not have known you for long or know all about your struggles. But from what I have seen, you are the kindest and most caring person in the world, even to people who don't deserve it. You are beautiful inside and out and perfect the way you are. And Luca is a bastard who missed out on the chance of a lifetime to love someone like you, and I wish you could see that too."

A single tear spilt from her eyes as if she hadn't cried enough. As Kylian gently wiped the droplet with the pad of his thumb, "I just feel so broken." no amount of kind words could deny that they both were. But they were trying to heal, and the universe had done a sort of service and put them together to help them realise that they needed change. In some ways, you could call them soulmates.

"I guess we are both broken tonight, broken together. But I guess that's just a side effect of toxic attraction." with that, two lips found each other in a kiss, but not the type they were used to. It wasn't harsh or aggressive, no. It was soft and gentle, just like love was supposed to be, as they held on to each other like they would fade away at any moment. They melted into each other's embrace, enjoying their other broken half. Forheads now pressed together, and with noses connecting, Kylian looked at the time - it was midnight. "Happy valentines day, mi amore."

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married-to-google-translater · 2 years

Note

Hi,idk if your request still open but can you do twisted wonderland yan diasomnia where reader(can be girl or boy) will go back to their world *a few days later or so* and they put the sleeping cursed on them to prevent it happening,and when they wake up they loked up in tower^sorry if I'm wrong,English is not my language^

And Hello 👋 I like most of your post/writing.

Reader is genre neutrall. And hello 👋this is for Malleus and Sebek

Yandere Sebek Zigvolt

Well, Sebek wouldn't take this well.

How dare you?

How dare you make him fall in love with you and then just coldly dump him.

You are a really cold-hearted human.

Actually, you only see Sebek as a loud crocodile who seems to hate you.

But Sebek refuses to understand it.

He has to do something.

Sebek will probably ask Lilia for help first.

He does not want to waste Malleus precious time.

But if nothing else helps, he has to ask Malleus for help.

Sebek thinks this is also your fault.

You must have cursed him.

Yes, not magic, people often curse others.

There is no contradiction here.

*sarcasm*.

Sebek is waiting by your side for you to wake up.

Tsundere crocodile tender moment.

He doesn't understand his own feelings.

Sebek is definitely not ready to give up on you.

This is your fault so you have to live with the consequences.

With him.

Yandere Malleus Draconia

Oh noh.

Malleus would certainly not take this well.

he would have a nervous breakdown just thinking about it.

The day he heard you were coming back was the worst day of his life.

You should have realized something was wrong.

Malleus' "goodbye" hug was way too long and tight.

Actually, he doesn't want to let you go.

Getting out is a big fight.

Malleus watches you go through the portal.

And something inside him breaks.

A really violent thunderstorm rages on the NRC campus after this.

But if Crowley managed to bring you back, Malleus manages to retrieve you.

He will figure out a way in a couple of days.

Or so you think.

Really, you're just dreaming about this.

Did you really think Malleus would even consider letting you back?

Ahahaha never.

Actually, he puts you under a sleep curse during a hug.

Malleus the dragon's tail wags happily as he carries you to your "new home".

Sleep continues in such a way that you miss the Malleus.

And when Malleus returns to you, you happily rush to him and happily go with him.

Malleus insists that this dream is the truth.

Because it's a nicer truth than the fact that he kidnapped you.

Malleus may also curse others to dream that you returned to your own world.

Otherwise, they may try to steal you back.

And that's not a good thing.

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scrunchables · 1 year

Text

light me up

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x gender neutral!Reader

Mentions of reader smoking

SFW content

You and Nicholas share a silent night, exchanging only glances and a cigarette kiss.

With half-lidded eyes, you watched every inhale and exhale he took, watching as the smoke curled up into the air, into your nose and your clothes, before it was carried off by the cold desert wind.

Beneath the curtain of smoke and red-tinted shades, you could see his eyes trained on you in turn, watching your fingers curl around your jacket and thumbing the well-worn zipper.

How many nights was it now that you were both sat out during night watch, sitting next to each other and sharing nothing except unbroken stares and the occasional drink?

So many times you had contemplated saying something. Anything. A joke to crack the silence, a tease to humour something, reminiscing about the day's events-

-and every time you would open your mouth, the words would die in your throat, and you would simply look away to avoid the weight of his gaze on you.

You idiot, you would always curse yourself, what the hell's your problem?

Nicholas wasn't a difficult man to talk with but with every word he'd say, every time his gaze would pass yours, you felt something twist in your gut and you'd clam up in his presence.

You wondered if he noticed the hold he had on you with something as mundane as a single look.

You figured he would. You'd learned that Nicholas was more perceptive than his chain-smoking and foul mouth let on, senses honed to an uncanny degree for reasons that you would never know. Not that you'd ever get the chance.

The wind blew again, but this time it changed direction, and before you knew it, cigarette smoke landed squarely in your face. You coughed wretchedly, taken by surprise, waving away the lingering smoke and cursing the stink of tobacco.

From your side came an amused chuckle, and you scowled at Nicholas as you batted at his arm and settled into your jacket. "Just so you know, I'm blaming you for that one," you grumbled as the smoke cleared.

His half-cocked smile stretched even wider. "Hey, 's not that bad once you get used to it."

Your eyes lingered on the way his eyebrows raised with his smile and the moons illuminated his shapely nose and the cords of muscle in his neck, thinking that you wouldn't mind it if it was for him. So instead you shook your head, looked away into the yawning desert sands, and waved him off. "Mm, I'll pass."

A few moments passed before you felt something shoved into your fingers and you jerked, looking back to find a fresh cigarette in your outstretched fingers. You looked up to see Nicholas leaning in, still with that half-cocked smile.

Your gaze flickered down to the little stick of white and brown as your heart jumped into your mouth, uncomprehending of what had just happened. But before you could allow yourself to spiral into your thoughts, you simply lifted it to your lips and looked up to meet his gaze.

"So, uh, you gonna hand me your lighter...?" you quietly whispered.

Nicholas let out a soft heh and leaned in closer. Calloused fingers gently tipped up your chin and he leaned in even more, ever so slowly that it felt like the world had stopped still.

The tip of his cigarette met yours, pressing together until a second soft ember lit up both your faces.

There, in the light of two lit cigarettes, you saw that he had taken his glasses off, saw the rough patches of stubble that lined his chin, saw the way his smoke-grey eyes locked onto yours, and saw just how very close he was to you.

Seconds stretched into eternity as you both leaned into each other, cigarettes pressing as tender as kisses, and eternity ended in a second as your lungs violently rejected the tobacco and you jerked away in a fit of violent coughing.

Your cheeks burned ember-hot in embarrassment at the ruined moment, but the way you heard him laugh in a gentler tone made everything seem okay all of a sudden, and so you leaned into his side as you silently shared smoke well into the night.

#trigun x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #trigun stampede #i've had a rough week i can have some self insert as a treat #no i dont know how smoking works <3

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zealouswerewolfcollector · 1 month

Text

Purification

Character study results are in. Initial thesis confirmed: Thingol is a monsterfucker.

Uh, yeah. I've de-anoned on Ao3. Might as well post this on tumblr.

Maedhros/Thingol, 1160 words, E

Warnings: some blood

On Ao3

Several thoughts pass through Elu Thingol's mind when he throws his head back on the throne. At first he is awed as always before the beauty of Menegroth, taking in its high ceilings that shimmer as the sky above Cuiviénen did in the early days of the Quendi. Then he decides that the throne could use some padding for the neck and back exactly for situations such as this. And lastly, it occurs to him that Maedhros Fëanorion's cock feels quite different from Melian's.

"Do I bore you, Your Grace?" the Fëanorion asks, fixing Elu with his bright gaze - Finwë's gaze, his scarred lips twisted in a smile, which would seem innocent enough if Elu couldn't see through him.

Before Elu can spit back something acerbic, Maedhros changes the angle of his thrusts, and Elu's retort is stuck in his throat, buried under a moan that finds its way out as Elu twists and hits his head against his throne again.

Pain sparks behind his eyes. The star-studded ceiling blurs, its crisp beauty marred by the sheen of Elu's lust. His cock twitches, clear beads dropping on his skin like the Falathrim-gifted pearls that are scattered now on the ground.

"I thought not," Maedhros says, self-satisfied.

Elu yanks at his hair to wipe that smug smirk off his face. It's not as pleasurable when the hair is so unnaturally short. Maedhros grins, showing sharp, gleaming canines - fangs dripping with the venom of his smile. After Elu's tender treatment, Maedhros's hair curls in all directions like snakes crawling out of a cracked egg.

He is an interesting type of beast, Maedhros Fëanorion. Wild. Untamed by years of captivity yet changed by them, reforged, made something other than an elf.

He doesn't fuck like an elf either. It is not about the blood his sharp teeth draw from Elu's neck, nor about the way his short nails split his skin open. It is not even about the rough scars on his cock that Elu feels scraping against his insides in pain-pleasure that grips him at his core and shakes him like a beast with its prey between its jaws.

No, it is something within Maedhros that makes him different. Something rotten, something born of decay.

Olwë's grandchildren spoke of him in whispers reserved for secrets better hidden and forgotten about. He burns, they said. Elu cautioned them against trusting their cousin, told them of thralls who escaped from Angband but were never freed. They assured him that Maedhros was not enthralled but changed. Like a fell Maia, they said of him, and something stirred within Elu.

"Always so curious," Melian said, indulgent. "Invite your beast to us and let him satisfy your curiosity."

Maedhros doesn't fuck like Melian. After lying with her, Elu is purified. No matter how gentle or how violent they are in bed, a part of her essence still permeates his fëa, and for a moment, he contains the vastness of Eä within himself, he connects with it in a way not reservrd for the Quendi. He is made different. He is made greater.

The white flames in Maedhros's gaze aren't purifying. They will engulf everything on their way and turn them into dark ashes. And when nothing else remains, they will set Maedhros himself ablaze. Elu drowns in the liquid smoke of his gaze, struggles for breath in the fiery dome of his arms.

"Is she watching?" Maedhros asks. "Your queen."

"Would it please you?" Elu asks in his turn. "Someone as great and pure as she is to watch you at your most depraved."

"It matters not to me. She is not the one I have taken an interest in. But I believe it would please you."

Maedhros's claw leaves bright red stripes on Elu's pale thigh as he pushes his knees farther up until they hit the back of the throne, until Elu is bent in half, long legs dangling over the armrests.

Elu's cock jumps. Something like a sob makes its way out of his throat. He can see Maedhros's hardness moving, sliding out of him smoothly, then disappearing inside him with violence with which wild beasts rut. He shudders as the cloying, sick pleasure builds and builds in his gut.

"You will have to forgive me, Your Grace," Maedhros says, "seeing as I have one hand only, you must attend to your pleasure yourself. Or perhaps the King wishes to have his release without a helping hand."

At worst, it is banter, but Elu hears the sneering behind the words. Mocking, always mocking, hiding his barbs under a polite veneer. Such is the way of Maedhros Fëanorion. Much he has learned from the Deciever.

He knew what Elu wanted from the moment their eyes met. Elu didn't have to tell him to stay after the feast. Maedhros waited until every last person had left the hall and approached the throne with slow but steady steps.

He bowed slightly, but the smile that pulled at the scars on his unlovely face didn't change. Elu beckoned him to come closer. Maedhros rose until he was face to face with Elu on his high throne.

"At your service, Your Grace," he said.

Elu raised a hand and slid his fingers across the hideous scar that split Maedhros's face in half. He didn't bother to stop his lips from curling in disgust.

In response, Maedhros stroked the lines of pearls adorning Eru's throat and pulled them carelessly together with Elu's robe. The delicate cloth tore, and the pearls clattered in a mournful song.

Maedhros didn't stop smiling.

"What shall it be, Your Grace?" he asks, still smiling.

Elu digs his heels into the Fëanorion's uneven shoulders and sees with satisfaction how he winces in pain. He has hung from the Thangorodrim for so long that his body is alien to the Quendi now. A grotesque thing, not an orc, not an elf, nor something in-between.

Elu pushes Maedhros closer, deeper inside himself. They both gasp at the same time. Maedhros moves - faster, faster, faster. No elf can move like that. No elf can feel like this. Elu is close, so close. The sounds spilling from his lips are incomprehensible, but Maedhros understands.

He raises his only hand and slashes Elu across the face, knife-sharp - a deep gash to match Maedhros's scar.

Elu screams and comes, white pearls replacing the Falathrim ones on his neck.

Blood drips from the cut. It will not scar like Maedhros's because Elu is not like him. His slowly licks a drop of blood, his tongue painting his lips scarlet. Maedhros fills him.

He steps back a moment later, looks at Elu sprawled on his throne, reaches out and adjusts the crown that was askew. Then he curtly bows and leaves the hall.

Elu closes his eyes, lets the blood drip and mix with his release.

In a moment, he will seek out Melian, so that she purifies him. But for now, he stays.

#silmarillion #thingol #maedhros #maedhros/thingol #silm fic #zwc fic

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melanie-ohara · 6 months

Text

It's a Long Way to Peridea

Part IV - Capture

(Side note: this one was written specially for the @wolfwrenweek 2023 event! It's a day late, oopsy)

Read it on AO3 here!

Sabine had no idea if Shin was about to kiss her or punch her, so she readied herself for either. Shin had hit her in the face enough times already, she could take another. What she wasn't expecting was a slap. Even gloved, the crack of Shin's palm against her cheek was loud in the small cell and her head whipped to the side. She felt the sharp sting bloom into a warm, tingling flower of heat and brought her fingers up instinctively to touch the spot. A slap felt so… gentle coming from Shin that she almost laughed, but bit her tongue to stop herself.

"Ow," she said, a little too late to be believable.

Shin didn't say anything, and instead grabbed Sabine by the head and dragged her into something that was half headbutt, half violent kiss. Their teeth crashed into each other and Sabine felt her lip split where Shin had bit her earlier but she didn't care, too focused on trying to turn Shin's assault on her into something resembling an actual kiss. She tasted Shin's lips and the tang of her own blood as her free hand - Shin had trapped the other against her face when she grabbed her - and dug her fingers into her hair, getting a tight hold of a handful at the roots before pulling enough to drag Shin's head back a little. She heard a growl of frustration as Shin tried to get her mouth back on her but Sabine was in charge now.

"Like this," she said, and was a little surprised by the need she heard in her own voice. She loosened her grip on the wild thing a little and leaned in to claim her lips before Shin could slam her face into her again. The kiss was still aggressive and hungry, but with Sabine leading she felt less like a prey animal in the mouth of a feral wolf. Shin melted into her. Her hands slipped down from the sides of her head to her shoulders, and Sabine took the opportunity to move her newly freed hand to Shin's waist. She found purchase against her belt, and hooked her thumb into it like she was trying to wrench it away.

Shin's teeth found her lower lip again, and for a moment Sabine was afraid she was going to pull away again - especially when one of her hands left her shoulder and she felt a certainty she knew to always trust that it was going to her lightsaber. She couldn't pull away though - and not just because Shin had captured her lips. Sabine needed her so badly she was ready to risk Shin running her through for the second time, a thought which almost made her laugh. Shin unhooked her hilt from her belt and tossed it away across the room. Sabine heard it clatter against the floor and grinned against Shin's lips.

She felt Shin reluctantly let her go, and couldn't resist a taunt. "You trust me now, then?" she said. Their foreheads were pressed together. Sabine was comfortable with her eyes shut, relishing the heat of Shin's body against her and the soft scent of her skin, but she was sure that Shin's eyes were open and boring into her.

"No," she said. Sabine felt gloved fingers questing, unsure, into the gap of her open jacket and touching her abdomen. "But I want more."

"So do I," Sabine encouraged. Her own hand slid along Shin's belt to the buckle and started tugging at it. She'd imagined doing it many times, but in her imagination she was a lot more deft - in reality, the complicated twisting buckle was beyond her. Shin snarled and shoved her down onto the metal bunk, hard enough to hurt. Sabine gasped in shock, but Shin quickly grabbed her chin and tilted her head up into another kiss. She was learning quickly, Sabine thought, as she felt a surprising, almost careful, tenderness underneath Shin's usual aggression. She was so distracted by it that she hardly noticed Shin's hands tugging at her jacket, trying to yank it down her arms. Sabine wriggled her shoulders to help her, and soon she felt cool air on her upper arms as the first piece of her underarmour slid down her back.

She turned her attention to Shin's belt. It was awkward to reach with Shin leaning her back into the wall to kiss her hard, but she could use both hands now and soon it slipped off her waist and fell to the ground.

Sabine pulled her head away fast enough to knock her head into the wall behind her. "You're wearing too much," she complained. Shin ignored her, too busy pulling the shoulders of Sabine's tanktop down her arms - from her fascinated expression, she had noticed Sabine had nothing on underneath it and wanted her stripped as soon as possible. Sabine was not about to let her have her way so easily. Her hands came up between Shin's and pushed them off her body. Shin glared at her with the same malice she saw from the other side of locked lightsaber blades and Sabine savoured it for as long as she dared before grabbing one of Shin's wrists.

"I want your skin on mine," she said as she ripped the strap of her vambrace open and tossed the metal plate aside. There were many things Sabine was good at, but stripping armour was a speciality. She got rid of the other bracer while Shin used her teeth to pull off her glove, and then she felt herself shoved back into the wall again. Her head clanged off the metal as Shin's teeth crashed against her own. She didn't care though, because Shin had yanked her tanktop down to her waist and roughly grabbed her tits. She dug her fingers in hard enough to hurt, and Sabine hoped she'd have finger-shaped bruises in her skin later to remember this tussle.

Sabine groaned into Shin's kiss. She was too surprised by her suddenly taking control to do anything other than take it and enjoy it for a long moment, but she had started this and she wasn't going to let Shin have all the fun. It was her turn to sink her teeth into the soft, yielding flesh of Shin's lip until she forced her to break away and used the opportunity to shove her back a step or two.

There it was again: the spark of something furious in Shin's eyes. Sabine had seen it every time Shin had taken a swing at her, and every one of those glares was stuck in her mind like thorns. Seeing it now, while her lips bruised and the cold air and need tensed her nipples, made her want Shin more than ever.

"Clothes. Now," she demanded.

Shin, despite clearly running entirely on instinct, nodded. Sabine would be happy for her to stay clothed and brutalise her with hard groping fingers and a thigh wrapped in rough, battle-worn cloth another time, but she needed her naked at least the first time. She watched, all but salivating, as Shin tore at her own clothes like they were hurting her. Armour clanged and robes rustled and soon - almost faster than Sabine could get out of her Beskar - Shin was down to her plain black underclothes. Sabine stared openly at her lithe, athletic body. She had fallen behind with her own fitness regime and some of her muscle definition had softened, but Shin's body was honed and chiseled and deadly as Sabine's blasters.

"You - gar cuyir mesh'la," she blurted, quickly slipping into Mando'a so Shin wouldn't understand when she called her beautiful. Fortunately most endearments sounded like insults to an unfamiliar ear.

Hearing Sabine's voice broke Shin's concentration on her clothes and she surged forwards to press her body as close to hers as she could. Sabine was ready for Shin's unhinged headbutt of a kiss this time and leaned into her as they clashed together. Without clothes in the way, the heat of her skin radiated off her like flying too close to a star and Sabine was suddenly acutely aware of how many clothes she was still wearing herself. Shin was too, it seemed, because she was urgently tugging at Sabine's waistband.

"It'd be easier to get them off from your knees," Sabine whispered against Shin's lips. To her shock, Shin immediately followed her orders and kneeled in front of her. Sabine couldn't help a satisfied smirk crossing her lips, but - probably fortunately for her - Shin was too busy undoing her trousers and yanking them down her thighs to care. She brought her briefs down at the same time, and Sabine was finally, finally, fully exposed. Shin paused, and looked up at her, and this time the light in her eyes was different. Instead of the passionate aggression or the fierce curiosity, or even the flash of fear when Sabine managed to unbalance her, she saw softness. She looked into her eyes like she wanted permission. Or instruction. Slowly, she ran the edge of a thumb against the skin over Sabine's pussy, where a light brush of stubble was just starting to grow back in.

Sabine looked into Shin's suddenly soft, asking eyes and nodded. Gently, she placed her hands on the back of her head and guided her forwards. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she felt the blush of hot breath against her wetness and smiled. She heard Shin flick her tongue out to moisten her lips and opened one eye to watch as she brought her bitter rival's face to bear against her core. Shin's tongue flitted experimentally across her pussy lips and the pleasure of finally feeling what she'd first imagined in her hospital bed back on Lothal thrummed through Sabine's body like electricity.

Or, she thought, like a lightsaber blade.

#wolfwren #wolfwrenweek2023 #day 1: devouring heavenly bodies #there's certainly some devouring going on #writing #fanfic #sabine x shin #shin hati #sabine wren #shinbine #lesbian #sapphic star wars #ahsoka #star wars #star wars lesbians

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