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darkbluekies · 5 months

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God i want a dark!dr.kry fic soo bad. I read your most recent silas fic and I thought it was so good i ATE IT UP

Things you shouldn't see

Doctor!yandere x reader Summary: you've finally realized what type of man Dr Kry is, and what he is capable of doing. Warnings: murder, bruises, yandere, poison etc. Word count: 2.3k

Your crying hurts him, it really does, but he can’t be soft. Not now. You had tried to escape again. If he hadn’t come back in time to catch you in the door, God knows what could have happened to you.

“Please, please don’t”, you sob as he cuffs your wrists to the bed’s railing with belt-looking leather. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Spare your voice, Y/N”, he tells you sharply. “Begging and pleading won’t work — you're not a child. You put yourself in this situation, didn’t you? How about we take some adult consequences?” He fixes the last buckle. “Too tight?”

You don't answer, you only cry. Dr Kry grabs your chin softly to direct your attention back to him.

“Y/N, listen to me”, he says sternly. “Are the restraints too tight? Yes or no? Don’t lie.”

“No”, you sob.

“Good. You know why I’m doing this, right? I don’t think it’s funny.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop with the bullshit, Y/N. I caught you in the damn door, Y/N.” He sighs frustratedly and runs a hand through his blonde hair. “I can’t let this slip. You almost escaped from me once, remember? I’m not letting that happen again. I’m going to go get you dinner and you are going to get yourself together until I’m back, okay?”

You nod slightly. When he's exited the room, you break out into sobs again. Have to get them out of your system before he returns. You hate him. Hate him so much.

He's back ten minutes later with two cardboard boxes filled with food. He looks somewhat pleased that you're not crying anymore. He stands by his desk.

“You don't understand that I want what's best for you”, Dr Kry says while opening the plastic lids. “If you did, you wouldn't try to do stupid stuff like this.”

“Turn it off”, you say through gritted teeth.

He glances at the air purifier, already knowing what you’re talking about.

“No, I will not”, he says simply.

“You're killing me!”

Dr Kry scoffs and dumps your foodbox on your legs.

“If I wanted you dead, Y/N, you'd already be in the mortuary”, he says and rolls over to you on his stool. “But as you can tell by your current status in your room, I don't.”

He picks up the fork and holds a bite of potato to your lips. You refuse to open your mouth.

“Are we doing this?” he asks with raised eyebrows. “Do I need to be mean?”

“Please don’t”, you whisper, scared.

“You don’t want me to be mean?”

You shake your head quickly.

“Good, me neither”, Dr Kry says. “Glad that we can agree on something. Open your mouth now.”

You open your mouth enough for him to put in the fork in your mouth. Dr Kry notices how you fight back the tears and sighs in defeat.

“If you really want to cry, then do it”, he says quietly.

It’s a trick. He actually doesn’t want you to cry, and you know that. But the tear that runs down your cheek can’t be brought back. You flinch when his hand brushes against your cheek to wipe it softly. He holds another fork of potato and meat to your mouth. You grimace slightly.

“Just eat and you’ll get to sleep”, Dr Kry promises you.

“Turn it off”, you whisper. “Please.”

Dr Kry sighs and walks over to the air purifier, turning it off. The soft buzzing finally, finally stopped. Dr Kry can tell that you relax in your restraints.

“Thank you”, you whisper without looking at him.

“I’ll have to turn it on again”, he says.

“Why?”

“Because it keeps you where I want you. It’s much easier than keeping you cuffed to the bed like this.”

You tug at the restraints, as if you suddenly remember that you’re wearing them. Dr Kry’s hand shoots out over your right wrist.

“Stop”, he says. “Don’t do that. I don’t like to see bruises on you. Just let it be. Give in, alright?”

You glance down at his large hand and grow cold. Could he break your wrist? Could he actually hurt you if he really wanted to? Without tools, without medicine and drugs?

“Open your mouth”, Dr Kry and removes his hand to give you the fork full of food.

This time, you open your mouth without fuss. He smiles, pleased.

“Have I fucked up for myself now?” you mumble without looking at him.

“Just a tad bit”, Dr Kry smiles and wipes some sauce of your lips with his thumb. “But it's nothing that we can't restore.”

She had seen it, and although she tried to convince herself that she was overthinking, she couldn't bring herself to admit that everything was okay with Dr Kry’s patient — or Dr Kry for that matter. There has always been something with him that has rubbed her the wrong way. He's always been polite and helpful, but she thinks that it's a facade. There is something he's hiding, she can tell that there's a certain darkness in his eyes. And the fact that they never see, hear or get any reports about his patient — despite being here for so long — worries her.

One day, she decides to sneak inside. You’re lying in the hospital bed, sleeping soundly. But other than that, the room is empty. The woman notices how your wrists are … cuffed to the side of the bed. She sneaks over to you and carefully shakes your shoulder. You open your eyes slowly, and then dart them open. In pure fear, you start to tug at the restraints.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” the woman shrieks. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“Who are you?!” you gasp. “Where’s Dr Kry?!”

“I don’t know, please be quiet, I’m not going to hurt you.”

You eventually start to calm down.

“Why are you cuffed to the bed?” the woman asks carefully, feeling a shiver run down her spine. “What has he done to you?”

“Please help me”, you beg.

“I saw that you tried to leave the room before … and that he snatched you back.”

“I-I will.”

“Please help me, I’m begging you, he’s killing me!” you nod at the air purifier. “He’s poisoned it! You have to help me!”

She is just about to unbuckle the leather strands keeping you to the bed when the door opens. You meet eyes with Dr Kry and feel how your entire body goes numb.

Shit.

His eyes glare at the woman as he slowly closes the door behind him, locking it shut.

“Can I help you?” he asks coldly. “What are you doing with my patient?”

The woman spins around and stutters in fear.

“Who allowed you to come in here?” Dr Kry asks, sounding suspicious — and extremely angry, although he tries to hide it. “Speak up!”

“I-I …”, the woman stutters.

Dr Kry walks closer. You’ve never seen his body language this … territorial before. It’s almost animalistic.

“What have they told you?�� he asks the woman.

“Nothing!” the woman shrieks.

With one quick glance at you, he scoffs with a small, cold smile on his face.

“I wouldn’t believe anything they say, ma’am”, he says amusedly, although you’re sure that he’s angry like a bee. “They’re sick, they’re not thinking clearly. Seems like we have to talk after this.”

“Don’t be angry at them”, the woman says, finally collecting herself. “You are the one abusing your position. You should be the one who’s getting yelled at!”

“Oh, I’m not mad at my patient. How could I? If they don’t know what’s good for themselves, how could I ever expect them to know when to speak …” He gave you a warning look, “... and when to shut up?” He looked back at the woman. “They’re sick, after all.”

“Why are you keeping them prisoner?”

Dr Kry puts his hands into his pockets, shrugging. “I’m not keeping anyone prisoner. Did they tell you that?”

“You’ve poisoned the air purifier.”

“Why would I ever do that?” he laughs. “That’s absurd! You don’t think I have other things to do? A real job?” He takes a step closer. He’s almost reaching her by now. “Listen, my patient has been reading a lot of fantasy stories while being emitted here, and they must have spun their head out of control. Being in a hospital for as long as they have, all alone, must mess with ones head a bit. Don’t worry about it.”

He has slammed it over the nurse’s head, striking her to the floor. You fight against the restraints, but they’re as stuck as stone. Dr Kry continues to hit the poor nurse with the metal pipe, causing blood to splatter over the walls — and you. You can’t breathe when the red liquid lands on your face, too horrified to even move. The screams from the woman turns into moans of pain, then sobs, then silence. Dr Kry huffs and gets up from the ground, letting go of the metal pipe that clinks against the floor. His white coat and blue overalls are drenched in blood, and his face is covered in red. You’re shivering in your bed and meet his eyes with wide open eyes.

Dr Kry walks over to his desk. You can tell how he picks up a metal pipe used for the IV-stand you use every now and then.

“No!” you scream, but it’s too late.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t want you to see that”, he pants lowly.

Sobs start to exit your body. Dr Kry hurries over to you, sinking down on his knees by the bed, almost lying his upper body into yours.

“I’m sorry, little one”, he whispers and cups your cheeks.

“Don’t touch me!” you try to scream while doing your best to turn your head away, but his strong grip is forcing you to stay still, forces you to look at him.

“I didn’t want you to see that”, he repeats. “Why did she have to come and but into our business, hm? Oh, please don’t blame yourself for her death. It’s not your fault.”

He notices how you’re trying to rip your head away from him.

“I know that you’re afraid”, he says. “It was not your fault, okay? I don’t blame you, I could never blame you, you know that.” He wipes your tears. “Please, don’t cry. I’m not going to do it again.”

You’re unsure if you’ve ever sobbed this harshly before in your life. The cries ripple through your body, forcing your chest to lift with every sob. It hurts, like an unwelcomed workout. Dr Kry holds your face against his chest, hushing as he hugs your head close to him. You can feel how fast his heart is beating, and it makes you nauseous.

“Let’s get you cleaned up”, Dr Kry says and unbuckles you.

You hesitate getting out of bed, glancing careful down at the dead body bleeding out on the floor. Dr Kry hurries to pick you up in his arms and walk into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him and places you down in the tub. Carefully, he removes your hospital gown and turns on the shower. You refuse to look his way.

“Listen, Y/N”, he says and sinks down outside the tub. “There are things you shouldn’t see … and this was one of them. I don’t want you to think of me as a monster. I’m a realist, okay?”

“Is that what you’re going to do to me if I try to leave again?” you cry.

“No! Don’t even say such nonsense. That’s absurd. How could you ever think that?”

You find it ironic that he grows offended. He starts to wash off the blood from your face with the gentle stream of the shower.

He takes one of your wrists in hand and lets his thumb run over the deep mark from the leather.

“I told you not to fight against it”, he whispers with a sigh. “We’ll have to put bandage on that.”

Dr Kry continues to wash the blood off of you and his own hands. You follow the red water down the drain.

He puts the shower head back on the hanger and tells you to wait there until he comes back. You hug your knees close to your chest and watch how he disappears out of the bathroom. You can hear how he starts to clean up the body outside the closed door. This is what happens to the people who believe you. Those that trust Dr Kry’s words about you being too sick to function, and start to hallucinate, are no help … but those that are never get far enough.

You shiver from cold air hitting your wet, naked body and bring your knees even closer to you. There’s a new form of silence in the room, a silence that eats you up from the inside … and yet, silence had never been this loud before. You would be able to hear a needle drop to the floor on the other side of the hospital.

It had taken wells to gather the courage to try to run away again, and it had been shattered in the moment of two seconds. Your hope had been sparked again when you saw the nurse, and knew that she was one of the few that actually believed you.

You turn your face down into your knees and cry in realization that you’ll never get to leave the hospital as long as Dr Kry is around. In time, the poisoned air purifier will have killed you … but you’re unsure that you’ll get to leave the hospital even then.

I’m going to die.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere fics #yandere oc x reader #yandere stories #yandere female #female yandere

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marxo-fm · 10 months

Text

Sessions

Part One. Part ii and Sessions playlist is out now.

Summary: You’re König’s therapist, and he is utterly and dangerously obsessed with you. He will do anything and everything to make you his.

Warnings: Adult themes and language, plot with smut, smut smut smut, thigh riding (omg this is crazy) stalkerish!König, toxic!König, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, König is filthy…FILTHY, praising.

Words: 4.2K

A/N: I’ve played COD before but just a little so I have no clue about it all (LMAO) but anyways my fyp is invaded with König and Ghost, not complaining, so I decided to write a little something. I heard he’s unstable (?) and there’s a bunch of fics where he has a therapist so I was like…lemme write something like this. I will give credits to writers who’ve inspired me once I find their accounts because I lost them smh. So don’t thank me for this, thank them. Also thanks to Brittany Broski, my rightful leader, for talking about König on the Broski Report Podcast. Made me want to write him some more tbh. ALSO THE GIF??? So scary in the hottest way.

It’s been awhile since König’s last therapy session with you, and it’s been driving him crazier by the minute. He realized now, just how much he wants you, how much he desperately needs you.

——

Weeks turned into days, then hours, minutes, and then seconds. Every tick of the clock had König going mental. The thought of not spending those seconds with you drove him mad and drove him with such urgency to have you by him. To be inside of you, at that.

Fists clenched then unclenched, König couldn't stand it any longer. Desperation ran in his veins like a predator watching their prey. He wanted nothing else but to see what you were up to, and visiting your home, was just the solution to his thoughts and needs.

(…)

It's been a few weeks since your appointment with König, and you're growing concerned. You look at the empty chair in your office, that's been sitting lonely for quite a few weeks. He hasn't called or informed you on why he's been absent, and you're sure he never will

In all honesty, you have no clue why you're so upset about it. Upset about a client who's been absent for weeks too much to count. Maybe it's because you can't help him anymore, well—not anymore, he's still your client. But the mere fact that he's not there to tell you about his problems and stories, or how his day was, bothered you.

Sure, he has things to do. So much more important than meeting up with your therapist right? Surely not, you want to help König to the best of your ability—but he made it so difficult.

You get a phone call that snaps you out of your haze, you pick it up. Only to hear a client of yours on the phone bringing their appointment up, which is today. "Yes! Today at six, correct." You assured, sitting down promptly on your office chair. You're glad you have clients today, something that'll keep you busy.

(…)

König is sitting outside in his car in the rain. The pattering of the rain took over his rather obsessive thoughts. Not only was he in the car alone, but he was right outside your home.

He peeks through your window, seeing only a dim light through the blinds of your house. His chest rose as he took a deep breath, chuckling to himself about how insane this all is. Going all out for your therapist? Never would he have thought to be doing such thing, but he can't help his desires.

He sighs, he gets the urge to exit his car and step foot inside your house and it made him feel dizzy. The thought of just stepping foot inside your property and seeing the items, the furniture—and so forth—that belonged to you. Something you've chosen out and purchased for yourself, with love. Now that, drove him on edge.

He finally exits his car, slamming it shut behind him. The rain drops hit his huge frame and he takes bigger steps to the front of your house. Eager to see the place you call home. The place you eat, sleep, and breathe in. It's all insane, he thought, but he's König. Insanity doesn't faze him.

"Fucking hell, the fuck am I doing?" He chuckled to himself as he somehow manipulated his way into your house. His wet boots are off and placed on the rug that says, "welcome" which is funny in this situation.

He looks around the well kept home, the dimly lit kitchen and living room, as well as the deliciously scented candle that's lit in the living room. Smells like you, coconut and bliss. He takes it in, like the maniac he is.

There was nothing really intriguing to the eye in your home, it's simple and basic, but still very homey. You had your favorite comics on the tv table and the tv was obviously shut off, books were stacked against the bookshelf and a few magazines were on the tables. You love to read, guess that's new information for König to keep to himself.

His big frame hovers over your iPad, without hesitation, he opened it. There wasn't a passcode, just a simple press of the home button and he was in, it wasn't like you had anything to hide and König found amusement in that. König chuckled, there was simply nothing on the iPad besides dates on your calendars that showed you have appointments throughout the month.

"Busy little one, aren't you, Mein Schatz?" He breathed through his mask, though he took it off for the time being, there was no reason to hide himself through a mask when home alone.

He misses you, and it's getting more painful not having you there with him, in your home. He's wondering what you're up to now, and how much time he has left before that lock of your front door turns.

It's a bad idea, he's already seen everything he wanted to see, and now it's time to leave.

Quickly, he puts his wet boots back on and turns the door knob slowly. He looks back at your place and then smiles, this surely won't be the last time he's inside. And he'll make sure it'll be the both of you inside the home at the same time.

(…)

"Anything else you'd like to share, Ghost?" You question Ghost, his eyes telling you so much he hasn't said yet, and you doubt he'll tell you more. You wish he'd say more though, but you're actually proud of today’s session. He shared more than the other sessions, that's always a huge milestone.

"No." He said sternly, his British accent thick and his voice gravely. "Okay great. I'll see you next week then?" He cleared his throat and walks to the door, "busy."

"So when are you able to?" You wonder, "I'll call when I can." He opens the door from your office and leaves. You sigh, at least you tried to the best of your abilities. You close your notebook shut, putting the notebook back into your drawer as you finally set the pen down after.

So, where we're you again? Ah, it's time to go home. Finally.

Well—not just yet. As you're getting your things ready to leave, you hear your office phone ring. Your brows furrowed in confusion as to who's calling this late, all sessions are...closed.

"Hello?" You question, hearing heavy breathing over the phone—you shudder. "Schatz, it's me." The German accent rolled off the man's tongue over the phone, your heart dropped in response. König.

"K-König?" You stuttered, in disbelief at the sudden call. "Mhm, I'm calling to apologize for not coming to our sessions but if I'm being honest...I want to have a session soon this week." He explained over the phone, your brows scrunched.

You're free this week, no sessions left, well one session now. It surprised you that König chose to call you so late over an appointment, but it didn't bother you, just—stunned you. "Of course, when would you like-" König interrupts you suddenly, "tomorrow." He breathed, his voice lower than usual. Laced with huskiness and exhaustion, and need.

Tomorrow? You can't turn that down, because you know that if you do, he won't come to another session for a long time—you feared. You clear your voice over the line, heart beating faster by the second and you're not sure as to why. Must be the sudden urge to come to a session, or maybe because he wants it soon. It's not like you're busy tomorrow or anything, but the mere fact that you'll see König after God knows how long made you nervous.

Something must be wrong, you're sure of it.

"Sure! Tomorrow at two, promise me you'll be there?" He never breaks promises, not with you he doesn't. He agrees over the phone, and the date is officially set. Grabbing your pen you just placed down, you take your König's personal journal and write the date down for tomorrow.

(…)

He was trying to stay composed but it's getting hard. His desires have become more stronger by the minute, and he wanted nothing more than to have you by him.

He ended the call, smirking under the mask after finally hearing your soft voice over the phone. You invaded his mind like a virus he's unable to get rid of, but in all honesty he doesn't want to get rid of it. He would stare at pictures of you all day, and the thought that bothers him the most—the one that boils his blood—is knowing that you have sessions with other men that's not him. Most of them he despises, the other ones he's not really worried about, since well—they're his friends.

It's almost sickening how much he wants you, how much he deeply needs you. Now, König sits on his bed. Mask off and so is his shirt. Revealing nothing but his well crafted muscles and his mind going hundreds of miles per hour of just you.

And to fix that "issue" he takes his rough right hand and puts it underneath his sweats, and then under the hem of his boxers. Finally, he grabs his thick cock tightly and leans his head back. Nothing but images of you holding his dick for him instead, and that just about does it for him. Quickly, he starts to slowly stroke up and down, groans fill the silent room. His strong hand grips the sheets of his bed, the delicate fabric became victim to his touch.

The rings in his ear became louder as he swiped his thumb over his tip that was already leaking, everything around König became a blur as he thought of you continuously. He's never been this obsessed with someone until he met you. He gripped onto his dick harder and his body starts to burn with flames too powerful to put out—and his heart beats quicker.

He's closer to his high than ever, throwing his head back due to the aching pleasure that consumed him. His eyes look at the ceiling, all that hunts his mind is you. You hunt him every second of his day, even when it's König hunting for you. His insides began tightening, the way his cock began to throb in his hand and how his precum brushes against his calloused fingers when his hands move to his sensitive area.

He lets out a final grunt as he looks at the mess he made in his lap, wishing you were there to clean it all up. His orgasm hit him harder than ever, and his breath is shaky. Stunned at how good you made him feel, it wasn't him that made himself feel good, no—it was you. All of it.

He tensed at first, letting rope after rope of his come dirty his abs and sheets. "Look at what you fucking do to me, Liebe." He whispered, beads of sweat roll off his forehead.

(…)

The next day passed, the day König booked his session to see you. Of course he wanted to talk to you about what's going on, but he mostly made the appointment to see you. It's been a long long time. He puts on his uniform and mask, getting all ready for his missions and well—seeing you.

——

You hear a knock. A knock so familiar and it wasn't just like any other knocks from your clients. König had a habit of knocking exactly four times, and it's a habit he has with you. You shout, "welcome in!" as you take your notebook and pen out. You put your glasses on and present yourself professionally.

König's huge frame stands before you, and you gasped. It's been so long since you've last seen him, you’re now practically strangers. "König! You're here." You proclaimed, welcoming him with a simple hand motion to the chair. "Hello, Mein Schatz." He greets, his voice husky. He looks at you through his eyes, investigating the way you sit professionally and have everything well kept and neat. It almost bothered him, in a good way.

You broke the tension with a question, “anything new?” He continued taking a good look at you, hungrily. It doesn’t show through his mask, but his eyes tells you everything you need to know.

You cleared your throat, waiting for König’s response. “I don’t like the new addition to the missions.” He said sternly, his fists clench and you could tell that bothered him to the extreme. “Why is that? Do you perhaps think they’re weak and unnecessary?” You queried.

He shifts in his spot, “Ja, I don’t like unnecessary addictions. I find it a nuisance.”

“Is it because you prefer having the men you’re familiar with more.. than the new men looking to work the same missions as you?” He prompts his elbows on his knees, leaning closer to the conversation. He is clearly interested in answering. “Yes. Exactly. We don’t need anymore men, we have quite enough of them.” His German accent is thicker, deeper. Cutting through like knife to butter. Your pen wrote down his answers as well as your thoughts in the notebook.

He watched you like a hawk, looking at you closely while you do your job. “Is there anything else, König?” You wonder, his dull eyes sparkled when he hears you say his name. “Hm,” he voiced, “you.”

Your brows furrow at his answer, you cross your legs and place your pen down. Unsure of what he means, and well of course, the therapist you are, you think maybe he has something he needs to say about you. “Did I do something wrong?” You stammered, unable to look him in his piercing gaze.

He chuckled, and you think maybe you embarrassed yourself with such question. “No, Mein Schatz, I need you.” He put forth. Your stomach drops at his answer, crimson red swipes across your cheek and you feel as though you’re going to pass out.

Never in a million years would you have thought to hear König admitting to the fact that he needs you. It stunned you in all honesty.

“I can’t seem to stop thinking about you, Ich werde verrückt.” He points his index finger to his head, “what does that mean?” You question. The part where he spoke in German, you wonder what he means.

He stood up, and you scooted your chair back in response. “It means I’m going crazy, Liebe, you drive me crazy.” König voiced.

You mistook his answer, mistook it thinking that you made him crazy in the worst way possible. “I-I’m sorry, we can gladly stop our sessio-“ he interrupts you, and it’s not the first time.

“Ts ts, I don’t want to. I meant,” he paused, then began, “you drive me crazy with need.” He explained.

You never knew you made him feel that way, and you look around the office just thinking about how unprofessional this all is. “König, when would you like your next session?” You dismissed what he said earlier, you just need to recollect yourself. Your feelings, thoughts and emotions. He just looks at you, quietly.

You walk to the door, and he walks behind you. Each step he took was heavy—and loud, sending shudders throughout your body. He stood behind you, the heat radiating from his body and on to yours.

His right arm reaches out for the doorknob and your heart dropped into a million pieces. God, he knew how to make anyone nervous.

He opens the door for you, and he finds himself out first, but before he does, he says something. “Next week, Friday.” He states, and then walks out of your office.

You take deep breaths, like you’ve been choked and you’ve lost all oxygen. You’ve realized now, just how much König’s little actions made you feel hundreds of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

(…)

König steps foot inside your office. It’s Friday, and what happened the last session felt like it happened yesterday. His mind is all you, it’s all its ever been. Now he will use this opportunity to his dismay. “Hello, König.” You greet professionally, seated on your black chair.

König takes a careful look at you, he misses you immensely although it’s been a week. He noticed your outfit. Your tight black skirt that hugged your curves perfectly, and your white button up accentuating your breasts. He could open your legs wide right then and there and devour you like he hasn’t eaten in days, he’s drooling at the thought.

You turn to speak, and his entire attention shifts to your plump lips. And of course, König’s mind is filled with dirty thoughts. Too lewd to think out loud.

“Is there anything in particular that you would like to discuss today?” Your soft voice made his ears ring, and he couldn’t help the bulge forming in his pants. König wanted to admit that you’ve been on his mind, but he held himself back and contained it. “I’ve just been stressed.” He admits, and it’s true. All the mission stuff had him drained by the second.

“Oh? And why is that?” You questioned, he manspreads on your couch in the office, using the space to sit comfortably. His long legs and big thighs were spread apart, making it a perfect seat for you to sit on, is what he’s thinking. You gulp at the sight in front of you, and he takes his time with his answer.

“I don’t know, honestly. There’s just something new everyday.” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

You get up from your seat and prompt yourself next to him. His knees touching yours, and your actions shocked König—just a tad. That’s a lie, it shocked him, a lot.

He wanted to fulfill his fantasies right there, he had you in his sight and reach, but again—containing himself. “Talk to me, König.” You comfort, rubbing small circles on his hand. The action caused him to flinch, but he doesn’t say anything—yet.

After a few seconds, he answers, “I got into a fight with a lieutenant. I’d rather save that for another session.” Groaned König. “Okay, if that makes you comfortable.” You drawl, “how about coming to three sessions in a row? When would you like your next appointment?” You made sure to ask if there was anything else, but to your surprise—there wasn’t.

“Today.” He states sternly, you’re confused. “It’s already today, König?” You trailed off, dissociating at his answer. “I know, Liebe, I want our session to begin today.”

“But we’ve already finished our session for today.” You argued, all that König had contained was finally let out. He grabs his hand and wraps it around your throat, his actions made you let out a loud gasp, and with that—König lifts his mask up and kisses you.

You instinctively kiss him back, aware of how unprofessional this all is, but oddly enough—you didn’t really care.

König groans against your hot mouth, sending vibrations down your entire body. König felt like he was in a dream, finally kissing you didn’t feel real, you tasted too good to be real. He finally has you in his reach, and in his mouth. Your scent overtook his senses, and it drove him right over the edge. He could fall off and die happily, knowing he’s finally tasted you.

You deepen the kiss, and he bit your bottom lip in return, alerting you to open your mouth wider and let him in. He wants to devour you whole and you just let it happen. His tongue finds yours, and there you both are, kissing each other so roughly. His grip on your neck tightens just a little, not too hard, still allowing you to breathe. Though the kiss had you suffocating already.

More, more, more. Is what König says to himself in his mind, but you let go of the kiss. String of saliva leaves his mouth as you let go. Oxygen had left your body entirely, and you’re there gasping for air. You wouldn’t be surprised to see if your lips had been bruised from the rough and deep kiss. You’ve never been kissed like that before, or ever.

The both of you pant, you can’t believe what just happened. You’ve fully realized what he meant earlier, insisting he has another session. This is the session, and you don’t think it’s going to end soon. “Come here.” He ordered, patting his thigh. Your eyes dart to his big thighs, thighs that could crush you if he wanted to.

You did as he said, sitting right down on his right leg, in your point of view—to your left. He holds your waist tightly, balancing you so you don’t fall. Though you’re already holding onto his broad shoulders for support. “Why do you have me like this?” You question, flustered. König loves to see it, to see you flustered even though you never tried to admit it. He had that power.

“Liebe, do you know just how much I crave you? How much I’ve wanted to see you like this…?” he began, “you’re going to do as I say, right?” He asked lowly. You nod, heat rushing throughout your entire body from his needy words. You never knew how much he needed you, and it actually hit you. König, out of all people.

Secretly, you loved that. His desperation made you admire him, it must’ve been so difficult to contain such desires and feelings. Unaware of what he’ll say or do next, you wait. Patiently.

“Ride me, Mein Schatz.” Your mouth gaped open at his words, his fingers dug deep into your skirt, so deep you’re afraid it’ll leave a bruise. “K-König, what?” In disbelief, you stay still. You’ve never done anything of the sort, for fucks sake, you’re a virgin. König doesn’t know that—yet. Though you plan on telling him. And you plan on telling him now.

“I’ve never done this before, I’m a virgin, König.” You murmured lowly, but still loud enough for him to hear. “Oh, meine Prinzessin,” he looks at you like some prized treasure you are. His prized treasure that he wanted to display for the world to see. “Do you want to do this?” He consented, you look at him with eyelids so heavy.

You’re more than sure you want to do this with him, virginity isn’t a game, and you knew that. He knew that too. But you want to give it to König and you’ve already confirmed it before saying anything.

“I…I do.” You cup his face, hidden back underneath his mask. “I can’t go on if you’re not sure, liebe, tell me—do you want to do this?” He repeats his question, and you want to shout at his face the word yes, but you remain calm. “I really do, König. Show me the real you.”

“Want me to show you?” His accent is stronger laced with hunger, pulling you closer to him. He got the affirmation he needed, and you nod in assurance. He grabs your hips at once, and slowly moves them back and forth. Your brows furrow at the feeling of your soaked panties grinding against his rough combat pants. The new feeling had you addicted and König loves to see you fall apart little by little.

His cock ached and pressed harder against his pants as your hands grip onto his broad shoulder, tighter. The friction from his pants and your grinding made you let out a moan you didn’t know you were capable of making. A moan König could only hear in his head, except it became reality, and König was trapped in a haze. He saw the way your face contorted in pleasure, the way your lips pout as he helped you ride it out.

“So beautiful.” He huffs, pulling you back and forth even faster. You could feel your stomach twist into knots, alerting you that your orgasm is near, but riding against his thigh wasn’t enough. You needed more. “K-König…please.” You whimpered out, he tilts his head, getting the hint.

“Please what? Mein Schatz?” It felt like he was teasing you, but maybe he just needs to know what you’re saying please for. “Touch me.” You demand, desperately needing his rough and big fingers to touch you. “Ohhh darling, you don’t have to ask me twice.” He does just as you asked, rubbing slow circles with the pad of his thumb on your clothed cunt. He smiled under his mask at how wet you are.

The bundle of nerves formed tightly, forming at the very pit of your stomach. Flames ran through your veins and your body burned with lust. You found it difficult to hold his gaze as your orgasm is nearing. “You’re too good to me, liebe, you’re doing so good.” He praised, his eyes focused on your motions and he could just come at the sight of that. “K-König! I’m going to-“ he interrupts you, grabbing your hips with both of his hands and moves you back and forth impossibly faster.

“Come, schön, be a good fucking girl for me and let it out. I know you can do it.” He grunts, talking you through it. His praising and words of encouragement did just enough for you to reach your high. It felt like fireworks were exploding in your stomach, and your legs shook. It was all too much to bare, and you still rode it out.

“Attagirl, wasn’t so hard now was it, meine Liebe?” He appeals, holding your waist still as you tried to regain every last bit of dignity left with each inhale and exhale. “You think we’re done yet? Oh love, we’re just getting started.”

——

NOTE: This is just part 1 peeps, I honestly thought it was getting a bit too long (imo) so I thought—hey—why not turn this into a mini series? Hehe. Stay tuned for part 2, coming very soon. Also, if you’d like to be in my tag list, it’d be my pleasure. Just let me know in the comments. (Btw, English is definitely not my first language…so if there are any grammatical errors and mistakes, please let me know in the comments so I can fix them.)

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sulieykte · 1 year

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𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 // 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ✧˚ · . 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒊

‣ Pairing: Adult!Neteyam (20) x Fem!Omatikaya Reader (19) ‣ Warnings: mentions of bruising and biting, mean Neteyam yet again & a little bit of slut shaming ‣ Word Count: 2.4k ‣ A/N: Did I mention there might be smut in part two? We're not quite there yet it's coming don't worry. This fic has truly taken on it's own life and what was meant to be a two, maybe three parter is looking like it's going to be much longer. I'd like to thank you all on your love for the first part and I hope you all love this part just as much. This was proof read at nearly midnight so if you see any errors, no you didn't. English is in bold italics all other dialogue is in Na'vi. ‣ Na'vi word bank: parultsyìp - term of affection for children

SERIES TAG | SERIES PLAYLIST | JOIN THE TAGLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

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“Slow down Parultsyìp.”

At Jake’s words, you inhaled a deep shaky breath, attempting to steady yourself and give the explanation he demanded of you. He had said those words to you many times, but now they lacked the softness they had had when you were a child, and his fluency was not developed enough for the hastiness of your speech. His tone was now laced with disappointment that sank into your chest like a knife.

It had taken nearly an hour to get to this point and much negotiation on Jake’s part. While he hadn’t been able to convince you to remove yourself from where your back was firmly planted against the wall of the tent affording you as much distance from Neteyam as you could manage short of leaving the family’s home. You had considered your escape momentarily, but you knew you had no chance of doing so with the three Sully men in between you and the exit.

He had practically had to pry your hand from where it covered your other, clearly concealing an injury that you insisted you didn’t have. Until then you’d been clinging to hope that you could take the fall for the whole ordeal, take your licks and leave. Unfortunately, your shaking frame and wild eyes that couldn’t go more than a few seconds without tracking Neteyam had given you away. Jake had gently pulled your arm towards him, his eyes widening as he saw the imprint of his son’s hand impressed onto your skin in purple and navy.

The Olo’eyktan didn’t have time to comment before he had to intervene as his youngest son barrelled towards his eldest. With a shove out of the Marui, Lo’ak had been sent to the Tsahiks tent to get his nose looked at and to send his mother and sister to tend to the two he declared as “Dumbasses.”

So, you found yourself still pressed as far as you could away from Neteyam, Kiri tending to your bruise as Neytiri tended to her son’s injury, Jake crouched in front of you with his eyebrows raised as he waited for your retelling of the events. “Slow down, try again.”

You took a deep breath, not seeing much of an out for yourself. Whatever marks Neteyam had left on your body, and whatever else he was going to do to you if he had reached you, you had intended to break curfew and inflicted a much worse injury on him. Neteyam had been awfully quiet since his fathers entrance, seemingly finding some spot on the ground more interesting than his father’s questioning of you. You were sure it was only a matter of time before he took his opportunity to drop you in it, so you found no point in lying.

“I was going to stay out past curfew.” You saw Neteyam’s eyes flicker to you from the edge of your vision and tried to stay focused on the man in front of you, nodding for you to continue. “Neteyam tried to get me to come back, but I didn’t want to, and he grabbed me.” You winced, as Kiri pressed a little too hard as she applied the healing balm to your wrist, uttering a quick apology before continuing with a gentle hand.

When you returned to look at Jake, you noticed Neteyam had finally lifted his head and his eyes were on you, his jaw tightened as you met his gaze before he looked away. “I don’t know what happened, I panicked.” You continued. “I just wanted him to let go so I bit him… and I ran.”

You failed to add that for a moment, you felt like you were running for your life, or that you weren’t entirely sure what would have happened if you hadn’t found Lo’ak.

Jake sighed, his hand coming to press against his brows for a moment before he shared a look with his mate.

“Kiri, go check on Lo’ak.” The girl nodded, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze as she left to follow her father’s order.

Jake rose to his feet, turning to his son. “All that true?”

“Yes sir.”

There’s a silence that sets your teeth on edge. He should just get it done, whatever punishment he could throw your way could hardly be worse than the atmosphere of the Marui right now.

“You two need to grow the hell up. This is starting to get really old.” Jake didn’t look at either of the offending parties, pacing the tent with one hand on his hip, the other pinched at his brow. “Are you guys not tired of this by now? Because I know I’m exhausted.” You sniffed, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, determined not to cry in front of Neteyam even if it broke your heart to hear the expression of Jake’s disappointment in you.

Jake, along with Neytiri has been a constant in your life from the moment you were born. He was a second father figure to you and when your own father returned to Eywa while fighting alongside him, he was the only one you had left. It hurt to see him look at you with such shame in his eyes.

“You. You are to be Olo’eyktan after me. Do you think this is the behaviour of a clan leader?” He turned to Neteyam, his eyebrow raised as his son struggled to meet his eye. “Indulging in petty little rivalries, causing harm to clan members out of rage?” He gestured to your arm, Neteyam’s gaze following. “To family?”

Neteyam’s eyes met yours, he wanted you to know he meant what he was about to say. “She’s not my fa-“

“Boy don’t even finish that thought.” Jake warned. Neytiri hissed, pushing at her son's forehead. He shook his head, his gaze leaving yours after successfully having lit a fire in you.

“And y/n. Panicked or not, you took it too far. That’s going to leave a scar.”

“All mighty warriors have scars. I did him a favour, maybe now he can stop trying so hard to convince everyone.” The disapproving look you received from Neytiri was worth it to see the tensing of Neteyam’s shoulders as he tried not to react.

“Geez, I don’t know what we’re going to do with you two.”

As it turned out, it didn’t take long for him to figure out what to do with you.

You and Neteyam had received matching punishments, starting with no Ikran for two weeks. It had been the longest you’d been away for Anì since you bonded. You had tried to argue the cruelty of this only to be threatened with a Lo’ak ban being issued if you didn’t stop.

At the suggestion of your mother when she’d joined the other parents’ deliberation, you’d also been stripped of all your duties as warriors during this time and placed on clean up duty for the entire clan each night. It was only a week in and your will to live had begun to slip away, the only solace you found being in the presence of your best friend.

Of course, it had only been fair to punish you equally, but you could not yet be trusted to be left alone together without supervision. Kiri was too busy working alongside the Tsahìk as the raids they had been barred from continued, and Lo’ak had picked up some of Neteyam’s responsibilities, an unspoken reward from Jake for his intervention. Tuk had outright refused, bursting into tears and exclaiming how it was unfair for her to be punished just because they couldn’t get along. That left Spider, whose desperation to be useful to the clan and Neytiri’s personal request – a good move on Jake’s part you had to admit – could not refuse.

You didn’t miss the irony when the three of you received your orders for the day. You were to map out the unoccupied areas of the cave systems, documenting which areas were suitable for expansion. The current layout of High Camp was liveable, but the clan was in need of room to breathe.

Staying several paces ahead of your companions, you tread lightly over the stone path, skipping over the familiar areas you knew from your previous explorations were not suitable. Spider’s presence between you and Neteyam created a distance you were more than comfortable with. Your parents may have had hope that the time you spent with each other would push you closer to one another, or at least closer to tolerating one another but it had been a failure thus far.

If anything, it had proved Spider had a promising future in mediation, having managed to keep the two of you civil.

You had been walking for an hour before you reached your intended destination. A cavern you had come across with Lo’ak in the early days of High Camp. Its walls lined with vines and bioluminescence, a spring at the centre. For a moment you considered that maybe you shouldn’t have brought them here, that you should’ve kept this place a secret between yourself and your friends, but you shook off the doubt.

“Oh, come on man, I’ve seen how Tsani looks at you. There’s no way you haven’t tapped that.” You had tuned out Spider and Neteyam’s conversation for most of the journey, a good choice you found once you started listening in again. Rolling your eyes you walked further into the cavern, running your fingers through the vines.

“I’m not Lo’ak, I don’t have the luxury of passing myself around the clan.” You snorted at that, Neteyam pausing at your interruption, the first sound you’ve made the whole journey. His eyes narrowed as he followed you into the cavern. “Something to say?”

You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. It’s not like Spider’s supervision would do anything if you really pissed him off again, but you couldn’t resist when faced with his blatant lies. Girls talked, a lot. And of course, when it was the future Olo’eyktan, there had been some bragging involved.

“I mean of course you don’t but you’ve had the luxury of Tsyal, Kyuna, Yina…” You drew out each name, pleased as Neteyam’s face dropped. You were ready to declare yourself another win when a smirk crossed his face, your stomach sinking at the sight.

“The same luxury you’ve given to Ralu, I’m sure.”

A sharp intake of breath was heard from the cavern’s entrance, and you looked to see Spider open his mouth, his face melting into worry as he attempted to intervene, his hand wrapped around the vines at the mouth of the cavern as if he were holding on for support. You held your hand up, quieting him before he could speak.

“You are wrong.” You bluffed, and badly at that. It was not something you expected him to know. You had only told Lo’ak and Spider and you were sure they would not share the secret of the intimacy you had shared with the hunter after the second successful raid you had been paired with him for. Neteyam laughed, his face emanating the most joyful look you think you’d ever seen on his face in your presence.

“Oh, I’m not sure, I think I heard him right. What was it he said?” He pinched his chin, fake pondering for a moment. “Insatiable… Like a Palulukan in heat.”Heat pooled at your cheeks, the humiliation bringing back that sharp stinging sensation at the corner of your eyes as you tried to keep your promise to never cry in front of Neteyam again.

“Seriously bro? Too far.” Spider moved towards you, struggling to detangle himself from the vines he’d been clinging to in his rush to move towards you and give comfort. You turned to tell him it was fine, to stay out of it because you were more than ready to wipe the smirk off of Neteyam’s face.

That’s when you saw the crumbling rock land by Spider’s foot. “Shit!” Looking up at the mouth of the cave, your fears were confirmed as more, bigger rocks followed the path of the first, detached from their original place by the pull of the vines. There was no time to warn Spider, not in words at least, and your body could move faster. You lunged forward, pushing Spider’s body away from the path of the collapsing cave entrance, not missing the crunch and his cry of pain as he hit the ground.

There was no time for you to react before you felt hands wrap around your waist, your body yanked back with a force that took the wind out of you. Your back hit a hard surface as your legs were knocked out from under you. All you could do was lie there for a moment, chest rising rapidly as you tried to regain control of your breathing.

Blinking rapidly, you tried to sit up, finding resistance against your middle that pulled you back down. Neteyam’s hands squeezed tighter around your middle as he groaned in pain, he’d had a much harder landing than you had when he twisted you out of the way of the falling rubble, his body hitting the uneven rocky ground as you landed on top of him.

Your body froze as the current position you were in registered in your brain, the hands pressed into your waist were not half as bruising as the grip around your wrist, but the rush of your heart and your body screaming at you to get away once more had you scrambling out of his grasp towards the cave exit.

Except there was no longer an exit. “No. No. No.” You shook your head, refusing the reality before you. The wall of rock where the exit had once been, where Spider had just been standing, could not be real. You moved closer, pushing against the blockade with as much force as you could knowing before you had even touched it that it would not work.

Turning back, you faced your fellow prisoner, now sat rubbing at his neck with a grimace. “Please tell me you brought your comm with you.” He didn’t need to answer, even without the look on his face you could see the absence of the device from his neck. Crumpling down to the ground against the newly formed cavern wall, you called out to your friend. “Bro, you good?”

“Yeah.” Spider coughed, his voice quiet from outside of the rock prison. “Thanks for the save.”

“Thank me by getting us out of here.” Your eyes met with Neteyam’s, his holding a similar panic to your own. “Quickly.”

tag list: @inntercreationflower, @lili-of-the-dream, @arminsgfloll,@strawberryclouds22,@aliceantalus,@afro-hispwriter,@gretesstuff

#~ lys writes ♡‧₊ *#action // reaction #avatar #avatar twow #atwow #neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam angst #avatar fanfiction #avatar x reader

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nexysworld · 2 months

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Dead Dove, Content Entitlement, and Fandoms

There's been no end of posts clogging up popular fandom tags with arguments and opinions on dark content, dead dove, and related things. While I've seen some decent posts that go over media literacy and dark content, I personally feel like none fully encompass my entire feelings on this nor provide all the points that I feel are important.

I know people have strong feelings on this subject, and I'm not expecting to immediately change anyone's minds. But I hope maybe I can toss some food for thought out there, or provide further context from both a victim of SA as well as a content creator. This has been bothering me for a while now to the point where it has been making me no longer want to write or engage in fandoms on Tumblr, and so I needed to get this out there with my stance. I've also had people in my inbox stating that my dark content is somehow morally better than other writer's dark content. TW: Mentions of dark content including discussions of noncon/dubcon, harassment, SA, etc.

Addressing Common Points

If you write or consume [INSERT CONTENT], you're romanticizing and endorsing it and that makes you a bad person. Or, you're weird/wrong/gross for it. I see this brought up primarily with dubcon/noncon topics. It should go without saying, but fiction is fantasy, it's separate from real life. Adults who consume this type of content understand that these things are NOT ok in real life. But to take it a step further, I want to stress that having noncon fantasies is actually INCREDIBLY common. In studies regarding these fantasies, nearly 50% or more of people who participated admitted to having fantasies that align with these topics the majority of which are women. Not only that but these kinds of fantasies are even more common in people who have been victims of these crimes. This isn't some niche thing only liked by a minority of people. If you don't believe me here's an example of ONE study, but there's plenty of easily accessible information out there. By conflating consuming/writing this content with someone's moral character stigmatizes these feelings further and does more harm than good. And I know what you're thinking though. But why? Why would someone who's gone through something like that fantasize about something so awful? Why is this appealing to anyone, victims or not? Fiction creates a safe space to explore topics. In fiction there are no real victims, no one is actually getting hurt, it's all fake. The characters aren't real and if at any point as the reader you are too uncomfortable to continue, you can stop and exit. You can like the idea of a fictional person tossing you around, while also feeling uncomfortable if a real life man tried to pick you up a the bar or didn't take no for an answer. There's also "normal" things you can fantasize about, but not want to participate in IRL.

Hypocrisy and what is considered dark content? This won't apply to everyone, but I've seen a number of people who claim to be anti-dark content but reblog things that are non consensual, perhaps without realizing it. And this is especially true for those who are younger on here. Please understand that noncon/dubcon does not inherently need to be violent or gory. Any situation in which there's a lack of consent or a power imbalance is inappropriate. Somno fics? If it's not explicitly stated that it was agreed upon prior in the fic, that is still non consensual even if it's written to be "sweet.", even if it's a pre-established relationship. Professor x student fics? There's power imbalance there. There's a reason you cannot have a relationship with your teachers in real life. Hybrid fics? Most people write hybrids as completely sentient people who are treated as sex slaves. They have little choice or are "following instinct." You cannot consent to someone who literally OWNS you after adopting you. You get the gist. There's far more to consent than physically manhandling someone. Yet because these things are written in a way that contextualizes them as being "sweet" and "normal", they aren't considered dark content by many people. If you're ok with the above, you have to understand that these ARE forms of dubcon/noncon. I would even argue that these are more romanticizing of these topics than stuff that's far more explicit in nature. If you would be pissed if your IRL partner tried to feel you up in your sleep, but enjoy somno fics, or enjoy the Taboo of Professor Leon, but wouldn't fuck your actual college professor - then that is the EXACT way in which people who enjoy even "darker" content can enjoy the fiction whilst not partaking in real life.

It sets a bad example for younger people on the website/"protect the children." Children shouldn't be looking at smut in general, dark content, vanilla content, etc. I don't know what else to tell you. It is NOT the job of content creators to try and police what teenagers do on the internet, that's between them and their parents. The majority of creators who make 18+ content explicitly state MDNI and block those younger than 18 if we discover them trying to interact with us. That is the most that we can and should be expected to do.

[INSERT CHARACTER] would NEVER act like that, it irritates me when people write them as OOC. Fanfiction is by definition NON canon. The only people who truly know how a character is supposed to act are the people who created those characters. But I want to add on to this, there are plenty of times in which a character acts entirely OOC even in fluffy or vanilla fanfiction. Every writer is going to have a different interpretation of how a character acts or thinks - and yet it's only really complained about when it's dark content. These characters are not real. Leon cannot be upset or hurt by people writing dark content about him, because he doesn't exist. Part of the fun of fanfiction, at least in my opinion as well, is justifying certain things within the context. Many dark content writers will and do explain why the character became how they are or why they think that way using canon as context - not that I think it's required because fanfiction can be whatever you want it to. The point is, dark content or not, not everyone will be on the same wavelength as you about your favorite character.

Even if you're a victim of SA or other crimes, you should get professional help, not read dark content. This is a very bad take in my opinion. Mental health care can be incredibly hard to get. Reading fanfiction is free, it's harmless. But genuinely, imagine you're a victim of a heinous crime, and you're already struggling with feelings regarding it - to then be mobbed by people online telling you that you're weird and wrong for having the feelings that you do? This is also in league with my first point, but having these feelings are actually VERY normal. This is a healthy way to process the emotions in a safe environment where no real person gets hurt, where you can leave whenever you want. Stigmatizing these things does hurt real people though.

You're hurting other people who're victims of these things. Look, if a fic is not properly TW then I fully understand. Every victim will have a different experience, and while some may be ok with dark content, others won't. So if you open a fic expecting it to be one thing and it's another, that's shitty. But tags are there for a reason. If you see something marked Noncon, and that's triggering for you, no one is expecting you to read it. And here's the thing with tags/tw's as well, everyone's trauma is different. Something that one person might not consider dark content, or is generally considered innocuous might trigger someone else. If you are one of those people who think even seeing the trigger warning could be harmful to people, then that's a prime example of WHY you must curate your own experience online. Block certain words, tags, and phrases to make sure you don't see them. But that's on YOU to do, not people who create content. Their only responsibility is to warn you about the contents of the content they've made, their responsibility stops beyond that point. You know what DOES affect real people besides the stigmatization of their feelings or kinks? Harassing them. Leaving hate comments, telling people to unalive themselves. These affect the mental health of the real people behind the content that you don't like. I've seen death and rape threats SENT to dark content writers.

Dark content in other forms of media. It's interesting to me that the majority of discussion around dark content comes from people criticizing fanfiction specifically. Take horror movies for example. The Saw Franchise, we'll say. Do you think the creators of that series want to enact those horrible things onto other people? Do you think they want to be the victims of Jigsaw themselves? What about people who watch content like that? You probably don't think that they do. There's TONS of movies, music videos, even horror novels that have incredibly, and I mean INCREDIBLY dark dead dove content - and yet most people understand that the appeal is in the taboo. That it's fiction. That people who consume THOSE forms of media don't want to participate in those things but do enjoy consuming that content. But when it's fanfiction it somehow becomes a problem.

Entitlement and demand of fandom content. In addition to all of the above, there is a major uptick in people complaining about the content within fandoms some not even relating to dark content. "There's too many stories where reader acts like X." "I hate how so many people characterize this person because that's now how they would act!" "Why is there so much smut? Why can't there be more of {insert what I want}". This is FREE content made by people who do this stuff as a hobby. No one owes you content, and no one HAS to write the way you want them too. If there's tons of content like that, then it's because it's popular. Perhaps your version of a character is in the minority opinion, and that's completely ok!

What's the solution to all of this discourse?

Be the change you want to see! If you feel like there's too many x reader fics where the reader doesn't act how you want - then write it the way you want. Do you have head canons about a series or character that you haven't seen discussed before? Make that post yourself! If you don't feel there's enough fluff in the fandom - then create some! And if you don't want to make content yourself - request it, commission it. Interact with your favorite writers! Encourage them, don't demand. Talk with them about their work, leave comments, and reblog, reblog, reblog!! Being a part of the discussion and interaction is the BEST way to help the community thrive. Surround yourself with the content that YOU want, curate YOUR experience. Block every dark content writer you see if it helps. Go into your Tumblr settings, block words, block tags. Don't set yourself up to be upset or bothered by the content you're getting. Even if you read the above and you still think every dark content writer is a horrendous, awful person - the best thing to do is still block them. Block their content. Harassing them and complaining on it will NOT stop that content from existing. But you will continue to upset yourself by not curating your own experience.

~~~~~~~~

If you made it through all that, thank you for reading. I want to add that my blog WILL continue in the future to have a mix of both dead dove and regular content. I also interact with other dark content blogs, so if you're someone who followed me because of my "regular" fics and want to unfollow/block me, I'm ok with that. <3

#nexyspeaks #Leon Kennedy x reader #resident evil #fandom culture #resident evil writers #resident evil x reader

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ophelisstuff · 4 days

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pls do more cc and pb fics u write so good !!

VACATION WEEK | P.B x C.C x Reader

authors note ENJOYYYYY

requested by : anon

word count : 568

warnings : just paige and caitlin being dumb, a few curse words

So far, the vacation getaway with your girlfriends had been a living hell. Beginning to feel like a single mother constantly scolding two young children.

Weeks before summer break, Caitlin and Paige had brought up the idea of an island getaway for the three of you.

Claiming that it was the best way to kick off summer by spending a week on an island with each others company — and without argument you agreed.

Eager to spend time with your girlfriends who were always taken away from you due to their busy basketball careers.

You were ready to relax and enjoy your quality time with them. The three of you had even cleared your schedules out for a week to make room for the trip.

The days leading up we’re anticipating, making sure everyone’s bags were packed correctly and nothing important was left behind.

However, it all paid off once landing and witnessing the islands beauty — excitement rushing within you parting ways with the plane.

Deeply hoping that the sass both your girlfriends had to offer would fade away for just a week. Hoping there would be little to no room for their occasional disagreements.

Yet, as usual, you underestimated the two women. Because here you stood, arms crossed over your chest as you watched them argue over what to eat for lunch.

“I don’t want pizza - they probably don’t even have pizza! I want wingstop!” Paige argued with Caitlin.

The two growing annoyed with each other because no persuasion was happening — the disagreement was only deepening.

“Yeah well i’m pretty sure the chances of this island having pizza is higher than it having wingstop!”

All you could do was sit on the couch and watch the two disagree. Silently deciding on a solution that could bring their bickering to an end.

“Listen to me when I tell you this. I do not care. We’re having wings for lunch, Caitlin”

“No, we’re having pizza for lunch! you can have wings literally every day!”

“and you can have pizza every day t-”

“We’re not having either if you two keep this up” You interrupted, sliding your phone in your beach bag that held towels, waters, snacks and sunscreen.

Both the girls went silent, the disagreement being dropped as they exchanged dirty looks.

“How about a beach picnic?” You proposed, hoping they’d agree to the idea. Believing it would be more enjoyable with the ocean scenery in view.

Waiting for an answer, you watched as the two exchanged looks. Hopeful that your idea would end their ongoing argument.

“If there’s wings” Paige debated, Caitlin nodding in agreement.

“Oh, and pizza” The brunette added, liking the idea fully.

“You’re both so difficult.” You groaned, happy a solution had finally come into play. Ready to finally exit the hotel room and go enjoy the sunny day awaiting

“now, could you both go change into the matching bathing suits.” You asked from your position on the couch, needing them to get ready so you could head out.

“Oh my god - I don’t wanna match with her!” Caitlin exclaimed through a loud groan, unaware that her words would strike up an argument.

“Well I don’t wanna match with you either!” The blonde fired back.

Exhaling, you leaned back on the couch and allowed another disagreement to unfold. Watching as the two adults standing before you argued like a pair of children.

#paige bueckers x reader #wlw #anon <3 #caitlin clark x reader #iowa wbb #uconn wbb #caitlin clark x paige bueckers x reader #iowa hawkeyes #paige bueckers #caitlin clark #women’s basketball

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redeyerhaenyra · 9 months

Note

perv neighbor basil smut im begging u

Perv!Neighbour Basil finds your camgirl account

Summary: Basil is your neighbour, and after having formed a parasocial relationship with you, he finds your camgirl account. Things get.. a little out of hand.

Warnings: Oh man this one is filthy- Stalking, Parasocial relationships, m masturbation, cum tribute, professional sex work, cumming untouched, jealously, crying, like alot of crying, sextoy use, f reader

Notes: Myself and @ominoose have been bouncing this headcanon around in the dms for a bit and I finally have the opportunity to write it! I hope you like it baby tysm for requesting xx I really got carried away like this is SO LONG my goodness- This can be read as a part 2 to this fic but can also be enjoyed standalone x

Basil has been watching you for a while

You're his neighbour, you moved in to the flat opposite him a couple months ago, and the only verbal interaction you'd had with him was a polite introduction through his letterbox when he wouldn't open the door

You hadn't seen him at all, physically. He'd seen you though.

Oh had he seen you

His heart swelled every morning and evening he'd watch you leave and come home from work, nights out, trips to the shop, ect

His relationship to you, practically non-existent as it were, at least from your perspective, was... complicated

Half of Basil understood you two were already dating, loyal to one another. The other half of him understood that that was a fantasy, and he often found himself caught between the two realities

Poor Basil so desperately wants the untruth to become the truth. He wants to kiss you, profess his love, have it be your hand tugging him off instead of his own every night

But since the... accident, he wouldn't dare let you see him. You'd never accept him- no one would. He was a monster

Poor baby, so insecure 😔

Eventually, jerking off whilst peering at you through the letterbox whenever you enter or exit your home isn't enough. He needs to see you, properly. Stare at your beautiful face and take in all it's contours and shapes without having to have you do the same to him

And so.. he goes online.

He knows your name- you'd told him when you'd tried to be a nice neighbour and say hi, and so with a little sleuthing, he finds your Instagram

Basil spends hours pouring through your every photo, getting wildly jealous and crying (yes he cries poor baby) when he sees photos with other men, and roughly pulling on his cock until its red and raw, having cum so many times over his thighs and chest.

He becomes even more obsessed, his need to see you covered in his cum in some way or another becomes an vital as eating and drinking

He starts printing out your photos and cumming on them- considers laminating them so he can wipe them clean and go all over again

But then what about keeping them covered? Forever staining you with his seed? He can't pick

One day, when he's going about his ritual of jerking it to your insta, he finds a new link in your bio;

"18+ site! Adult only content! Click here❤️"

That perks his interest

Sure he's not stranger to porn, or camgirls, what with all the time he spends alone watching porn, but you? He'd never have assumed.

Basil's heart races, and his dick twitches beneath his sweats

Tentatively, he clicks on the link

Your website looks professional, all properly set up

The first thing he sees is a trailer video- and oh boy

He literally cannot stop the sudden, untouched orgasm flooding through him when he sees the sneak peak you've put together of your content

He's so loud moaning and whining, tears well up again in his eyes becuase he's so sensitive but he needs more

This teaser video of you playing with your nipples and rubbing your tiny pussy through your panties isn't enough

And so, Basil goes to your subscription page. Immediately gets the highest sub deal, he doesn't care if he can't afford it. He needs you so much he'd bankrupt himself if he had to

The benefits of this subscription are many; He gets access to your work DM, he gets two video calls with you a week, and he gets to request some content from you.

Basil couldn't not be happier, he even forgts about his facial insecurity when a few minutes later he sees a message from you pop up on his notifs;

"Hi baby! Thankyou so so much for becoming one of my top donors! It really does mean the world x"

He forces himself to respond, anxiety creeping up his shoulder;

"Yeah np love your work."

Jesus he didn't mean to come off so dickish

You quell his feelings of worry with a smiley emoji, and ask him "So, what's with the username? "Lightningface"?"

He gulps. "I just like lightning is all."

"It is such a pretty phenomenon."

Pretty.. you'd called it pretty. The thing that had maimed him, his deformity... might you have called that pretty too?

"Soooo you're due to request some content from me! What would you like?"

And honestly, Basil isn't sure

Anything you'd give him, he'd take

"I don't mind."

"Are you sure? It is your request that you've paid me for, you can ask for whatever you like!"

Basil really thinks for a moment. A real head scratcher.

"Can you say my name?"

Basil doesn't realise how possessive he sounds

"Sure can!"

"Can it be my irl name?"

"Of course! What is it?"

The man holds his breath as he responds; "Basil. Like the herb."

"Omg!!! That's such a cute name!"

He giggles to himself, you're so fucking adorable he loves you so much

You tell him you'll make his request into a segment during your next livestream

He's jealous, he doesn't want you performing for anyone else.. but like I said, he'll take what he can get

Most of the time until his segment of your livestream he spends crying and jerking off in a strange cycle.

You're his, you shouldn't be showing off.. he feels like you've betrayed him. But at the same time you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen

Poor Basil is so conflicted

Finally, however, his request segment begins

You smile sweetly at the camera, and wave

"So, next up, I have a request from one of my top donors, he has such a cute name! Said he didn't mind what I did so I think i'm gonna surprise him~"

You reach to the side, pulling forth a clear silicone dildo

It's big. Basil gulps, could you take it? What if it hurt you?

You place it beneath you on your bed and slowly tease it between your folds, having already discarded all your clothes at this point

Basil chokes, his worn out cock stirring to life again

And then.. oh then..

You moan out his name, slowly sinking yourself onto the sextoy

Basil moans with you, and figures you must have an expensive microphone because the sounds coming from the screen are all but blasphemous

He loses himself to the rhythmic squelching of your cunt and your moans of his names

He cums so quickly, and there's so much of it, all over his chest

Poor baby whimpers, trying desperately to coax his poor dick back to life, not wanting to have finished so quickly

He wanted to last longer for you..

Luckily you finish not too long after him, he wants to swallow all of your sounds with his mouth

He's never seen such perfection

Glistening with sweat and panting, satisfied, you address the camera for the final time that night;

"I hope you enjoyed Basil, again thankyou so much for donating, I love you all so much, goodnight!"

You end the stream, Basil is plunged back into the dark loneliness of his flat

He sits for a few moments, taking in what just happened..

He soon finds himself looking at wedding rings online

#smut #basil stitt x reader #basil stitt #basil stitt smut #lighting face #basil stitt lighting face

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thedovesaredying · 4 months

Text

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 1

First "official" part of Nikto x Reader fic set in the cowboy AU originally created by @ghouljams once again staring our darling Sputnik. Makes a lot more sense if you read the prologue which can be found linked below.

A/N: Did I spend several hours watching Kevin Richardson videos with him hanging out with his hyenas while writing this? Yes. Do I regret it? Absolutely not. This also ended up a lot longer than I was expecting lmao.

Warnings: Depictions of Minor Medical Procedures.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Prev Part | Next Part

When working as a rural vet there’s a surprising amount of driving involved. Travelling from the clinic to farms and huge properties miles and miles away for in-person appointments and consultations can understandably take several hours out of your day. Most of the time you don’t even have working cell service to help guide you to your destination and you’re forced to either memorise the route beforehand or turn to your old reliable map.

You’re new to the area, having decided to spend some time travelling across the US for the potential experience it could offer you. You’ve done plenty of work on stations in the north of Australia, helping jackaroos to manage any illness within their herds, always moving from place to place, and so Texas seemed like the perfect place to start your travels.

While training, however, you had been given an offer to travel to South Africa to work with the numerous wildlife there both on reserves and in zoos. It was the best year of your life and ignited a passion for working with exotic animals.

Travelling the US for work was an exciting opportunity to help rural communities with their livestock and to work with the numerous native species you’ve never had the chance to encounter in your everyday life. This little town was just another step on your travels and, so far, hadn’t really stood out to you more than any other small town.

So, it isn’t out of place for you to be driving down a lengthy driveway through the woods and pulling up to a rundown old house. What is strange, is the huge creature sitting at the top of the porch.

The hyena is massive. It’s powerfully built with pure muscle, and no doubt would be able to tear you to pieces if it chose to. It’s so distracting that for a long time you don’t even notice the huge man standing beside your car. He looks just as strong as the hyena sitting behind him and you’re not sure how you missed his approach.

When the lady at the front desk informed you that there was a gentleman asking for a veterinarian with experience handling exotics, you were thinking perhaps a rare lizard, or an uncommon species of parrot. What you weren’t expecting was to see an adult hyena staring you down.

You’re more than a little reluctant to leave the safety of the vehicle, but upon receiving a jerk of the head from the man, you cautiously exit the car. Not once do you take your eyes off the predator while you quickly grab your bag from the backseat.

Having dealt with hyenas before, you know better than to show any kind of fear, forcing your shoulders down from your ears and starting to take calm, deep breaths. You offer your name to who you presume is the animal’s owner and hold out a hand for him to shake.

The man, “Nikto,” as he grunts to you, takes your hand after a moment and gives it a firm shake. You’re used to farmers having a strong grip, so you simply offer the man a bright grin. “I take it this is the patient?” you ask, nodding your head toward the hyena in question.

The man is clad head to toe in all-black clothing. Typical cowboy hat, black denim jeans, and a shirt that has a high collar and sleeves that reach all the way down to his wrists where they meet with a pair of leather gloves. All regular clothing, albeit a little dark for such a hot climate, but what really sets him apart is the dark neck gaiter covering most of his features.

You would think it odd for him to be hiding his face on his own property, but you’ve heard that there’s several other ex-military men in the town that also prefer bandanas or masks to showing their bare faces. It looks intimidating, especially given just how huge the guy is, but at the end of the day he’s your client and it isn’t your place to judge.

“да,” Nikto nods, “this is Sputnik.” He looks you up and down, before asking, “you are comfortable with her, yes?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve worked with hyenas before,” you confirm. That, unfortunately, doesn’t make it any easier or less nerve-wracking to be so close to an unrestrained predator. Normally, there’s at least a fence between you and any of the wildlife you’re treating, but hopefully the animal is somewhat friendly given it’s allowed to roam free.

At your confirmation, he lets out a sharp whistle and snaps out a harsh, “КО МНЕ!” Causing the animal to leap to her feet and sprint across the grass to her owner’s side.

You try not to jump when Sputnik runs directly toward you but manage to keep a handle on your reactions. Much to your relief, however, rather than tackling you to the floor and tearing your throat out, the hyena starts laughing excitedly and running circles around you. She’s clearly very curious, stopping every few seconds to try and sniff at you from a distance.

You can imagine it would be an intimidating sight for anyone who has never encountered a hyena before, but she’s clearly just excited to meet someone new. “Is she normally this excited to meet new people?” you ask, unable to resist the smile that grows on your face as Sputnik starts to playfully nip at Nikto’s legs.

The man huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “no.”

You’re beginning to understand that Nikto is not one for making conversation.

As Sputnik calms again, you watch her wander around the area. The issue becomes clear to you quite quickly in the form of a slight limp on one of her hind legs. She seems to otherwise be bright, alert and responsive, only the sore leg causing her problems.

You run through the basic questions about the problem, how long it’s being going on, and how her behaviour has been recently. You quickly take notes on her previous medical history while keeping an eye on Sputnik. After taking down her information, you ask Nikto to bring her to one of the old sheds so you can begin the exam.

She’s a beautiful hyena, and despite not having the behaviour of a domesticated dog, she can somewhat follow her owner’s commands. After seeing Nikto tapping the top of one of the tables, she hops up into a bench for you to more easily inspect her body.

With Sputnik firmly restrained by her owner, you gently reach out for her hind paw. You softly palpate the area, taking note of the large amount of swelling, particularly in the area between two of her toes. After glancing up to ensure she isn’t getting too stressed, you pull apart the toes, spotting a nasty yellow lump of what is presumably infection.

As you check over the area, you notice something black sticking out of the wound. With your trusty pair of tweezers you take hold of the object and begin to gently tease it out of the swollen mass. Sputnik’s leg twitches slightly, clearly not happy about someone touching her sore paw, but after a few soft words of encouragement she settles once again.

Your grip on the object slips a few times, but eventually you’re able to pull it free. It’s a nasty thorn, a whole inch in length that was buried in the poor animal’s foot. Just removing it causes a flood of pus to begin squirting from the wound and you’re thankful for the medical gloves you’re wearing, because it is far from a pleasant smell.

Sputnik whines, trying to pull her paw away again, but with your client still holding her head in place you can continue to express the rest of the fluid without causing her much more distress. With a small syringe of saline, you quickly flush out the remaining chunks of hardened infection until the liquid runs clear.

It’s a small enough opening that she won’t need the wound packed or any stitches to keep it closed. Instead, you spray the area with a thick layer of Blu-Kote to prevent any further infection.

“I'll need to give her a quick antibiotic injection to make sure it won’t come back, just make sure she’s restrained, okay?” You receive a grunt of acknowledgement, then provide the needed shot. Sputnik tries to turn and snap at you, but with Nikto in the way she ends up biting at thin air and growling in frustration.

You gently rub at the hyena’s back with a loving coo, “what a brave girl, you did so well!”

After being released she turns to regard you for a moment, before squealing happily and trying to lick at your face. It seems you’re already forgiven for your cruel transgressions against the poor girl. “Looks like this was the cause of the trouble,” you explain, briefly showing Nikto the old thorn you’d removed.

Nikto turns his gaze to Sputnik, rolling his eyes before gently cuffing her around the back of the head. “Долбоеб,” he mutters, ignoring the way she starts to playfully bite at one of his gloved hands.

You’re not entirely sure what he said, but no doubt it’s some sort of insult. Not that Sputnik seems to care, hopping down from the table and trotting around the barn as if the last ten minutes didn’t occur.

“I gave her a strong antibiotic, but spotted hyenas are pretty notorious for their infections being resistant to treatment, so if she starts getting worse or isn’t improving then be sure to give me a call and we’ll look at if there’s anything we need to do,” you explain, keeping an eye on how Sputnik moves on her feet now.

“Understood,” the man nods, standing ramrod straight with his arms crossed over his chest.

Clearly this man still isn’t very interested in a conversation, given he has nothing further to add and almost seems to be pointedly ignoring you. It’s a little uncomfortable, but he’s certainly not the first... interesting character you’ve dealt with in your career and he won’t be the last. “Do you have any other questions about the treatment?” you ask.

“нет,” he grunts, before quickly adding, “no.”

You nod, offering the man a genuine smile, “well, I’m glad I could help out.” You remove your gloves and quickly start packing away the tools you’d been using, “the office will send through an invoice to your email, so you can pay online or head down to the clinic to pay in person.”

He just nods, watching you silently as you finish up collecting your tools and placing them back away into your bag. His eyes seem to burn into you, his icy gaze piercing through your body and directly into your very soul. You’re not sure how comfortable you are having your innermost self so openly exposed to someone you’ve only just met, but quickly shake off the feeling.

As soon as you’re finished packing, you pull out one of your personal cards, handing it to Nikto. He stares at the piece of cardboard for a long moment, and you quickly explain, “my card, it’s got my number on it in case you ever need help.” You can’t imagine how difficult it must be for him to find someone with genuine experience treating large predatory animals and you’re more than happy to offer as much of your expertise as he wants.

Nikto awkwardly goes to reach for the card with one of his hands, only to pause midway and reach for it with the other one. He fleetingly glances over the card, then tucks it into one of his shirt pockets.

While you make your way back to your car, Nikto calls Sputnik back over and ensures the animal walks at his heels. She doesn’t seem happy with this command, whining and laughing as she looks between her master and you. She very obviously wants to run after you and play but knows better than to ignore her owner.

Sputnik sits next to Nikto as the man watches you quickly pack everything back into your car. She keeps looking between you and Nikto, as if silently begging him to allow her to go back to you for more attention, but he stands strong against her sad eyes. It’s cute, really, since it likely means that weaponized puppy dog eyes are an effective tool in getting the stoic man to crumble if she’s still attempting to use them against him.

Before you hop into the car you give Sputnik a wave, laughing when she cries at you. “Bye, sweetheart!” you coo again, before offering her owner a wave and a smile.

Looking into the rear-view mirror on your way back toward the main road, you can see both Nikto and Sputnik watching you leave. They’re an odd pair, but it’s been a while since you had the chance to work with such a beautiful animal and you can’t help looking forward to seeing both her and her strange human again sometime soon.

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #fanfic #call of duty nikto #nikto x reader #cowboy au

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rysko · 4 months

Note

my request would be literally anything with luca changretta x shelby sister that pairing in this fandom is so my guilty pleasure love your writing so so much, whether you make it into a drabble, hcs or a mini fic i would be happy — gotta love that forbidden enemy lovin 😋

Too old for this - Luca Changretta x F!reader

summary: Keeping secrets, lying to your family, sneaking out...All to see a man, god, what are you? Seventeen again?

OR three times you snuck out to see Luca, and one time he snuck out to see you.

Warnings: Peaky-typical swearing, very minor violence, this is just romantic-comedy-themed fluff,

A/N: Special thanks (and a big fuck you) to @red-riding-wood, next time we race in writing we're making rules.

Aaaaaaanyways, So Sorry this took so long anon! This writing slump was horrible. I really hope you'll enjoy this silly thing!

tag list (yay i have one finally!): @red-riding-wood @peakyswritings

This was stupid. This was so dumb.

Coat hung loosely around your shoulders, shoes in your hands as if to not make more noise than necessary, you snuck through the Small Heath Shelby house corridors. Almost cartoonishly so, when your frame passed one of the occupied rooms. If you had to guess, the last time you did that was years ago, when you were just a teenage girl with overprotective brothers, now you're an adult, rough-around-the-edges woman...with the same overprotective brothers.

Though, this time it's not a nice stableboy you're sneaking out to see. Now it seems like your brothers would have every right to threaten the man you're seeing with a blinding.

You slowly go down the old, wooden stairs, wincing at every crack and whine that echoes. The whole house is dark, the room illuminated only by the street lamps outside.

Almost...

Before you reach for the doorknob, you clumsily take the keys into your teeth to put your shoes on, which puts you in quite an embarrassing position when a table light behind you suddenly turns on.

"Aren't you a bit too old to be sneaking about Y/N?" Polly asked with a smugly raised eyebrow, nursing a glass of whiskey, legs crossed on the velvet red armchair. You spit out the keys.

"I'm not sneaking." You try to compose yourself as best as you can. "I'm going for a walk."

"Very conspicuous behaviour for a walk, love." The glass muffles her chuckle. Was she just...waiting here?

"I just don't want Tommy to get in my hair whenever I even look in the doors' direction." You whine. "I'll go crazy in this house soon." This seemed to soften Polly up just a bit, or maybe activate the part of her brain which insists on the 'fuck them' mentality when it comes to obeying Tommy's orders.

"Just don't get into trouble. God knows i need to tell you that." She dismissed you with a flick of the wrist, and you just nodded before rushing out the door, as if Polly could change her mind any second.

Street after street, the tension slowly eased off your shoulders as you were exiting the tight Shelby territory. It was a close call once in a while, someone almost recognizing you before you could cover your face more. A group of men whistling after you before you could disappear in a dark back alley. Slowly, you closed in on the place you agreed to meet a man by the name you even feared to say in your head, as maybe Tommy would sit there by sheer coincidence, resulting in you getting cut, or him, or both of you, how Shakespearean...

How has it gotten to the point where you are happily fucking the enemy? Devil knows, honestly.

In the back of your mind, you always had a nagging feeling Luca only started seeing you to spite Tommy. This wouldn't be a problem, of course, you regularly told yourself. You're spiting Tommy yourself!

No, that honestly didn't help. The truth is, whatever Changretta's intentions were, or, still are, you found him irresistibly captivating. Like a substance you just can't resist, one that soothes and pleasures, but at the same time comes with a fifty-page warning label. You can see this blowing up in your face from a mile away, in a million different ways. Yet, every visit, every phone call, hell, every sneakily delivered note shuts off any sense you have left in yourself.

And now you feel like losing it again, when just in front of the speakeasy Luca asked to meet you, a very familliar set of hands gently rest on your waist from behind.

"Took you long enough doll." A kiss on the cheek accompanies the low foreign drawl of Luca's voice, sending shivers down your neck and spine. Shit, if all of you will die soon, you might as well have some fun until then. It's not like Tommy's staying celibate in mourning.

"You're saying that to a doll that has to endure my brothers mythering about town. Sneaking out in the middle of the night isn't as easy for me as it is for you." With your arms crossed, you motion to one of the alleys you emerged from just moments ago. "There's all sorts of shady blokes out and about."

"M'sorry, i got impatient, that's all." You could feel his thumb gently rubbing against your waist "Anyone gave you trouble? You got the gun I got you?" Luca pulled back, looking you over, the slightest hint of concern visible in his dark eyes.

"Yes. To the second thing. I'll be fine." You sigh, relaxing your shoulders. "Are we going in?"

"Right this way cara." Luca's lips curled into a small smile. He linked your arms together and in a nearly over-the-top way led you down the stairs of the high-class Speakeasy.

You might as well have some fun, that's all this is after all.

The loud whistle of the conductor woke you up from an on-and-off slumber, the train from Birmingham to London wasn't exactly the comfiest place to rest your head in. From outside the window, the ever-so-lively London train platform came into view.

To be honest, it surprised you when Luca invited you to spend the weekend in London, even more so when you managed to form quite an elaborate story to justify the trip to your family, or more accurately, Polly. Tommy seemed preoccupied with fighting the Italians, chasing the May lady around town, and making quite mediocre gin to even care what you were up to. Needless to say, officially you finally found a friend that you just have to visit. Polly seemed to pay it little mind, but the sly look in her eye, as she saw you off at the door, made you just a tad paranoid that she might have caught on.

Like always, this will bite you in the arse sooner or...sooner.

Up until now, every 'visit' you paid Luca hadn't lasted for more than half a day, only once reaching a full 24 hours when, to your horror, you managed to oversleep. That was a morning of sloppily put-on clothes and numerous muttered 'shits' and 'craps', of course, accompanied by a very amused Luca doing everything in his power to distract you.

What you were doing right now seemed like a step up from the usual routine. Two days aren't going to fly by with just sex, though, that wouldn't be so bad. But lately, you realized you just wanted to...ugh, spend time with him. However sappy this sounded. But that's not what this is. What even is 'this'? When you and Luca met, what happened was purely driven by want, maybe with more than a touch of curiosity of the 'forbidden fruit' in the form of the enemy. Sweet, with sour at the back of your tongue.

Lately, you realized, you only feel the sweet when you kiss Luca. And though you'd never admit it, you dread him not feeling the same.

You two have your moments. Pillow talks with topics never discussed with anyone before, coffee filled with banter worthy of an old married couple, and non-sexual touches that linger for just a bit longer than they should. It's addicting and confusing at the same time.

And that addiction and confusion just led you all the way to London.

Stretching out of your seat, you reach for your bag in the luggage compartment, only for a stranger to take it instead.

"There you go, Miss." The man, looking maybe a decade your senior smiled handing you the bag.

"Thank you, sir." You muster a polite smile, praying internally that the stranger isn't from the same place you are. "I could've done it myself though."

"It's really nothing, common kindness it is..." The longer he spoke, the more his voice trailed off. His eyes widened, studying your frame and most importantly, your face with a new approach. "You're-"

shit

"Thankyougoodbye." You rush and almost run out of the carriage, running into multiple people and throwing rushed half-assed apologies their way. You're stopped by a strong, painful grip on your arm, the man from before pushing you further down the platform, more secluded from people.

"I knew you were familiar." He grabbed the collar of your shirt and pushed you into a pillar roughly, knocking a bit of air out of your lungs. "One of those Shelby devils!" The man's gaze was furious, almost seeing red.

"Let me go." You ordered, trying your best not to attract attention to the both of you. "And we can both forget about this." You're trying your best to speak sternly and diplomatically, yet more than a hint of fear is hearable in your voice. He seems to notice.

"You ruined me!" The Brummie spat. "I'll cut your pretty face just like they cut me brothers." A rough, callous hand cupped your jaw to hold it in place, the other reaching into his jacket. You feel a mixture of panic and adrenaline make its way to your veins.

"Get the fuck off me!" All your strength goes towards your legs. You kicked him back a foot or two, which only seemed to infuriate him more. Before he could take even a step towards you, he's violently grabbed by... Wait, Luca?

"How 'bout you let the lady go, hm?" His grip on the brummies' collar turned red, almost lifting the man off the ground. That wasn't reflected at all in the way Luca was speaking however, for the first time he seemed...calm, condescending even. That only changed when the man didn't seem to take no for an answer. "That wasn't a fucking request." Luca's voice became a gravelly threat, which resulted in the attacker promptly looking between you and Luca as if weighing the risk and reward. Finally, he nodded his head frantically.

Luca didn't need to be told twice. He almost threw the man aside, letting him limp off into the distance. The Italian was almost immediately by your side, gently cupping your face, checking for any sign of hurt or damage. You feel his thumb caress a small spot next to your brow, despite you being almost sure you hadn't been hit anywhere near there. You take a look behind Luca to see the man at a larger distance.

"Wouldn't think you'd just let him go like that." You raise an eyebrow at Luca, not in a teasing way, it just feels oddly out of character for him to just let him go.

"Because I ain't gonna." He turns to a seemingly unaware civilian reading a newspaper, mumbling something that sounds like Italian, his head only slightly motioning towards the direction in which the Brummie fled. Ah, one of his men, cousin maybe. Just as he left, Luca stopped him for just a second more. "Alive." He let him go.

"Look at you, my knight in shining armour." You smile up at him while catching your breath and trying to calm down.

"Yeah yeah." He doesn't play into your teasing this time. "You alright?" He rubs your upper arm as if dusting off any remaining trace of the event before.

"Just a bit roughed up, had it worse after playfighting with Ada back in the day." You shrug. "I was prepared for you to bash his head in right here."

"That can wait a few days." His gaze followed a pair of men dragging the attacker off the station, his voice almost a promise.

"A few days? What happened to the vengeful, impatient Luca I know?"

"This Luca-" He holds out his arm for you to take. "-Is going to starve him a bit before giving him the mercy of a pipe through his skull."

"How romantic." You sigh in an exaggerated, lovesick voice. "Talk more like that and maybe I'll lift the 'no shop talk' policy." You wink at Luca as you link your arms together, his shoulder becoming the perfect pillow for your head. This time, Luca welcomes it happily.

"How gracious of you." His low chuckle meets yours as you head off to the London center. A fun weekend out is due, after all.

Now, this was definitely an unusual location.

At first, it seemed to you that Luca must have just confused locations when calling. Yet here you were, on the outskirts of a local forest, your only companions in the form of singing starlings and rustling trees.

All this seemed like a rope that was being pulled from only one side. You were the one to stress about being found out, evading family, hell, call sometimes. You felt like a brat, honestly. Technically, there was nothing Luca did that should have upset you, he couldn't have if there were no rules. Was that the thing though? Did you want there to be rules?

With every visit, you want to stay longer, talk more, and Luca seemed to entertain all of it. It confused you. What plan did he have with all this? Did Luca want you to catch feelings and lure you into a vulnerable state, resulting in killing you? Maybe he counted on you as a potential ally against Tommy, trying to manipulate you. Maybe he's just incredibly dense?

He can't want an actual relationship. Luca came here to kill your whole family, including you. The fact that he also likes to play with his prey is another thing, hell, he probably has a wife or girl back in New York. There has to be a wedding band under one of these tacky rings and signets.

"What the hell is he planning?" You kick a pebble down the dirt road in frustration. "A damn Picnic?" You finish off with a groan as you squat down.

Your answer came in the form of the sound of a Rolls Royce engine heading closer and closer toward you, the black car kicking up a hefty amount of dust and rocks. As it slows down next to you and ultimately comes to a halt, you see the familiar face of Luca's right-hand man.

"Get in." Matteo nodded in the direction of the backseat, though you didn't take it into consideration, and immediately headed for the shotgun seat.

"What is all this?" You look around the car as it backs up and starts speeding off in the same direction it came from.

"Luca asked me to get you to him safely," Matteo explained, not taking his eyes off the road. "He didn't want any uhh, repeat from last time."

"How sweet." You answer sarcastically. Ah, of course, he couldn't bother.

"He was definitely sweet when he put the bozo out of his misery." He laughed, looking to the side, as if seeking approval for his joke, but didn't get any. Matteo's laughter dies into an awkward cough.

"How long's the ride?" You try to position yourself as comfortably as possible in the stiff leather seats of the car.

"About an hour." He answers, and you visibly deflate in your seat, deciding to spend the time looking at the sights outside, fields, and occasional houses passing by.

A long, awkward silence passes between the two of you. It seemed to bother the man to your right, who tapped his index finger against the steering wheel while stealing the occasional glance. He looked like he was debating saying something.

"So..." He begins, almost like a father starting a conversation with a child he doesn't quite get. "Did you finish Ulysses yet?"

"Did..." You do a double take, studying Matteo for a long second. "...Did Luca give you conversation starters?"

"What if I made them up?" He blurts out.

"We've spoken twice, Matteo." You raise an eyebrow at him, arms crossed. "I never told you what I read."

"Maybe I just guessed what girls like nowadays." He smirked at you, feeling triumphant.

"I'm sorry, but you're the least qualified person to talk about girls." You say with a chuckle.

"Touche." He smiled, then looked back at the road, letting the silence sit only for a few seconds. "But you're right, we've only spoken twice."

"So?" You raised a brow.

"Sooo." Matteo draws out. "We have about an hour to catch up."

You're genuinely confused as to why Matteo was being so personal all of a sudden. Usually, as in, in the last few weeks or so, you've had two separate, short conversations with the man. Once, when you accidentally came into his room instead of Luca's during one of your 'visits'. The other time, when both of you had quite a boring and awkward conversation about English meals in a lift. "On what grounds should we 'catch up'?"

"On the grounds that you're fucking my cousin Miss Shelby." The way Matteo said that was surprisingly casual. "And family is important to me."

"It's not like I'm married to him." You reply faster than you'd want to.

"He damn well acts like you are." He chuckles, and you feel yourself stiffen, looking at the Italian like he just told you the earth is flat. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What do you mean by 'acts like I am'?" The question leaves your lips in an uncertain tone, almost shy.

"Never seen him so distracted by someone he's known for such a short time." He says with a shrug "Foolish if you ask me, but who am I to judge, at least he's happy."

He's happy??

"Uh, yeah." He throws you a pitiful smile, as if he could see how perplexed this information made you. "At least from what I can see."

Oh, of course, you said that out loud.

You quieted down, gaze resting on your lap. Now this was new information you had no idea how to process. You bit your lower lip in thought, unsure if the emotions you're feeling right now are uncertainty or... giddy, immature happiness.

You sit like that for a good few minutes before a small, sly smile graces your lips.

"Cousin, huh?" You ask, looking out the window, your good humour slowly creeping back in.

"I'm not telling you his secrets," Matteo says almost immediately as if he somehow knew that you were going to ask that.

"And I'm not asking you." You clarify. "But you probably have some nice stories."

"About what?"

"You knooooow..." You draw out, cocking your head to the side. "What was he like, back in the day?"

"Same as now, I guess. Only longer ago." It seemed like that was the end of your prying on Luca, but after a longer moment, Matteo mused more to himself than anyone else in the car. "More chipper in New York though..."

"Chipper? I'd like to see that."

"Oh yeah, and stupid."

"Now we're talking, tell me more." You lean forward in your seat, elbows resting on your thighs.

"No, I already told too much," Matteo says like he's telling his friends he's had enough drinks for the night. "He's going to skin me alive if he finds out I told you about this."

"Oh come oooooon. I won't tell." You shuffle your feet excitedly. Matteo looked forward, focusing on the road ahead, but after a moment of looking between the steering wheel and you, he let out a defeated sigh.

"...Back in New York, when we were just goons for Spinietta, Luca came up with a new con to scam people with, a really fucking stupid one..."

"And then, THEN it turned out the other guy was from London, and when he heard Luca speaking in a shitty Birmingham accent he-" He paused, but only to wheeze in laughter. "He beat the fucking shit out of him." Matteo finishes the story, on the verge of tears.

"No!" You gasped, though not hiding your laughter as well, leaning forward in your seat.

"Yes!" Matteo wipes a stray tear from the corner of his eye, still trying to calm down his laughter. "Never seen Luca on his ass faster in my life, ti giuro. "

"Oh god. And I'm supposed to NOT tease him about it?" You say in amused disbelief. "When he's all 'Look at me, I'm mister smug and aloof, I've never gotten beaten up like a bitch before'." You put on your best impression of the Italian, even going to the lengths of putting a match between your lips and exaggerating your words with excessive hand gestures.

"Hey, we're all hiding behind something principessa." Despite Matteo defending his cousin, he still couldn't help but laugh along with you. After a moment, both of you calmed down, this time falling into a pleasant, comfortable silence before you spoke up again.

"What about you?" You turned to Matteo again.

"What do you mean?"

"You said you want to catch up." You lean against the leather seat, bringing your knees to your chin. "We've got an hour, you ever played two truths and a lie?"

It was a nice ride.

Everyone and their mother thinks the Small Heath home is haunted. Random objects flying off the wall at night, specific items appearing in places they weren't before, the occasional crooked painting.

Footsteps are definitely new.

The boys and Polly are dealing with business outside of town for once, while Ada just went out and should be here any minute. But that definitely isn't Ada.

Slow, almost wary footsteps cause the floorboards to creak on the ground floor. You're sitting next to the stairs, knees tucked to your chest and spare pistol in your hand.

Another step.

You press your ear to the floor, trying your hardest to pinpoint how many people were inside just by footsteps... Just one?

They appear to be coming closer, and you internally brace for confrontation with whoever broke into your home. As the intruder passes the corner you were hiding in, you stick out the gun and press it to the side of their head, making them immediately freeze in place.

Wait-

"Luca????" You blurt out in shock, your voice becoming at least a few octaves higher.

"Hey, you actually kept it," Luca says, sizing up the gun he gave you that's now pressed to his head. "Though I'd rather not die by it sweetheart, no offense."

"FUCKING hell Luca! You scared me half to death!” Your arms drop next to your hips. putting the gun on a table nearby.

“Relax, who would it be if not me?” Luca moves towards you, probably to say his hellos in the form of peppered kisses.

"Who would it be? What do you MEAN who would it be?!" You rub your eyes, not sure if out of frustration or as a way of trying to wake yourself up. “Police? IRA? My own bloody brothers?!” Somehow, this is exactly what you wanted. Luca being the one that sneaks through Small Heath and avoids the blinders, instead of it being always you. Though now, instead of it being a late-night fantasy of the charming man sneaking into your bed despite the dangers of doing so, it's a real-life nightmare of this idiot trying to get himself killed.

“Yeah well, it’s not them.” He shrugs, glancing around the house. “I’d like to see anyone try to stab you in the back in this house. I figure before I’ll get to them you’ll just kill them yourself.”

“Yes, I am quite amazing.” You muse to yourself before snapping back into reality. “Don’t think you can butter me up and I’ll drop it, what are you doing here?!"

“I’m seeing my doll.”

“Need I remind you you’re inside my idiot brothers’ territory?”

"Relax, we'll manage."

You two did not manage.

Who knew Luca Changretta had a talent for knocking down hanged pictures and stepping on the creakiest parts of the wooden floor.

“Shush for once in your life.” You hissed at Luca as you led him through the tight corridor, internally begging whatever made-up deity may be watching over you to please not let Arthur or Polly magically appear out of the corner.

“Please, it’s not like-” You can practically hear Luca roll his eyes, and despite you usually letting him release whatever condescending thoughts he had on the daily, you think you just heard a door open in the distance. You practically drag him the remaining meter to your room's door and push him inside, shutting it way too loudly.

As it turns out, the deity listened to you, but only to half of your half-assed prayer.

“Ada! Heyy!” You try to stay nonchalant as you lean against the door.

“...Hey?” Ada's pace slows down next to you, “What’s got you so pent up?”

“Pent up? Pshh.” You're really not good at this. “Well, I guess I’m just tired, I better get to bed.” Your thumb points back towards the door of your bedroom.

Ada stays put, looking at you puzzled and suspicious.

“Are you going?" She asks.

“Yes.” You blurt out. ”What about you?”

“Y/N, cut the crap. I heard something.” She looks at you for answers, but only when she looks at the door again it's almost as if a light turns on in her head. “Are you…Sneaking someone in?” She reached for the doorknob only to be stopped by you slapping it away.

“Ada no!” You shield the door with your whole body.

“Ow! Hey, come on, I’m not judging. God knows you deserve some fun once in a while.” She rubs her hand. “So who is he?” Your sister looks between you and the door excitedly, her voice now hushed, like all these years ago when the two of you spent hours under the covers giggling about the stupidest of things.

“Uhh, just-” You stammered, struggling to find the right words. or any words for that matter. “You don’t know him.”

“I trust he’s not afraid of Tommy since he followed you here.” She threw a wink your way. “Reminds me of Freddie and I back in the day.” A fond smile graces her face as she looks to the side.

“Oh he’s not, that’s for sure.” You laugh nervously, internally waiting for the sweet release of death. Ada seemed to notice.

“All right, I’ll get out of your hair.” She laughs at her sister, squeezing your cheek as she walks past you. “Don’t get her knocked up Romeo, then maybe I won't have to tell Tommy!” She calls, walking off down the corridor. Only after Ada completely vanished from your periphery you opened the bedroom door just a few inches and slid in. The door locked, checked three times, and you finally released a big sigh, hands sliding off the door to rest next to your hips.

You turn around to see a very out-of-place Luca. Almost everything about him clashed with your small childhood room, the humble interior looking somehow even cheaper next to him. After the company took off, the family never bothered to fancy up the place, instead, everyone went their separate ways into apartments and stylish homes. Yet somehow for you, no king-sized plush bed will ever replace the old, creaking twin you have right here in Small Heath, always ready for you with open arms.

Luca took his sweet time taking in the place. Picking up and then putting down every insignificant object, from small toys you never bothered to throw out or sell, to numerous books lying around the room. He spends the most time looking at an old, framed picture sitting atop your windowsill. Luca's thumb brushes off a heavy layer of dust from 10-year-old Y/N in her year 5 uniform, while the actual Y/N takes her place beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Adorable." Luca nudges you, a sly smile on his lips as he puts his other arm around your shoulders.

"Oh hush, I'm sure I can find a picture of little Luca if I sneak into your home." You stab a finger into his arm playfully, smiling fondly at the picture.

"Wishful thinking, doll. Wishful thinking..." Luca sets down the frame and focuses his attention on you. A kiss on your temple leads to his lips softly trailing down to your nose and meeting your lips. Now the stress of the whole damn ordeal seemed to start slipping away, and the sweet taste is there once again.

The sound of a door crashing on the far end of the hallway takes both of you out of your trance.

“So, that…was Ada.” You turn your head to try and hear any sounds of your sister leaving her room, but Luca doesn't seem to pay it any mind.

“She seems nice.” He hummed against your skin, his lips trailing down to your collarbone, biting down gently.

“What are you doing Romeo?” You turn your head slightly to squint your eyes at him, a distrusting smile gracing your lips.

“Breaking my promise to your sister.” His sly drawl is muffled against your skin as both of you step by step head towards the bed.

“Did you want to come here only to sleep with me under Tommy’s nose?” You sit down on the bed, your brows furrowing.

“I always come firstly to you and because of you,” Luca emphasizes every word as he slowly gets on his knees, never taking his eyes off you. “But yeah, being here does come with its satisfaction. If only they’d see you now, cara.” His hands push up your dress, finding their way to your thighs, fingers getting busy with the garters holding up your stockings.

“Yeah, maybe cut it with the Italian. My sister could be listening in.” Luca only seems to respond in a musing hum. “You never know.”

“Should I put on my best Birmingham accent?” He looks up at you, his signature smartass grin more endearing than annoying.

“Not now. You’ll ruin the mood.” You murmur just mere inches from his lips, laying back into the old, creaky bed, Luca following put. “But definitely save it for later, I need to hear that."

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta x reader #luca changretta x y/n #adventures of yinnin #luca changretta #matteo being the bro we need but dont deserve #shameless Ulysses plug #what a great book

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ladylannisterxo · 2 years

Text

Tell Me You Love Me

Pairings; Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Words; 3.1k

Warnings; S M U T (18+ only), fingering, unprotected sex, established relationship, fluff, angst but the kind of angst with a happy ending, ya know?

Summary; A heated argument leaves you standing alone when Steve slams the door behind him. You're not certain when he'll be back but you're determined to remind him just how much you truly love him when he does.

A/N: *slaps the roof of this fic* Ooooof, you can fit so much into this bad boy... we got angst, we got smut, and then to wrap it all up in a bow? We got tooth rotting fluff. Steve just really wants and needs love in this one, okay? And who are we to deny him?

This was requested by @harringtonforhire (thanks so much for requesting!) and this one kind of took on a mind of its own. I had plans for how I wanted it to go down but this is where we ended up sooo hope you enjoy!

{ masterlist }

Moving in together was supposed to be easy, it was supposed to be fun. Up until this point, you had been convinced that every adult ever was full of shit when they gave you that knowing look and said, “moving in together is the real test, that’s when you find out how truly compatible you are.” No, it was you and Steve against the world—that’s what the two of you had said anyway—just you and him in your ridiculously small one bedroom apartment drinking and laughing and curling up on the couch to watch movies, eating absolutely terrible food because neither of you knows how to cook, and spending each evening making love because he was yours and you were his.

So how did you end up here?

The fights hadn’t started right away. For awhile, months even, it was true, paradisiacal bliss. But maybe the one bedroom apartment was too cramped or Steve was frustrated because Family Video wasn’t paying much or you were always stressed trying to balance a job and school. Regardless of whatever contributing factors may or may not be in place, none of them prepared you for the full screaming match that occurred or the words that should have never been said or the slamming of the door as he left.

Steve had come home in a sour mood, barely speaking, and then spent the next hour sulking around the apartment. You had been in the kitchen trying to sort out dinner and as soon as the front door had opened, you could feel the tension crackling in the air. He was acting like a child, that was your first thought, as he wondered from room to room mumbling under his breath and avoiding your concerned gaze.

“Steve,” you snapped, pulling him out of his mind and back to reality. “Can you just talk to me?”

“Nothing to talk about.” He shrugs, then departs the room as if that was going to clear everything up.

You gape, watching his retreating form as he exits back into the living room. A seething anger begins building inside of you as you follow closely behind, refusing to let this be your entire evening. In retrospect, you should have just let it go; let him sulk around for a bit and sleep it off, he’d be fine in the morning. But this wasn’t the first fight of the week and you were beyond annoyed by this point.

“Steve,” you say again, crossing into the living room and staring at your boyfriend who has now deposited himself on the couch, eyes focused on the tv. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” His eyes remain on the tv.

“This,” you emphasize, waving your hands around wildly. “You come home in a bad mood and you instantly push me away.”

His eyes snap over to you. “I’m not pushing you away.”

“Then what the fuck do you call it, Steve?” You inhale deeply, trying desperately to quell the anger bubbling up inside of you. “You won’t tell me what’s wrong, you won’t talk to me. I mean, is it me? Am I the problem, am I not doing enough?”

“No.” He sighs, doesn’t elaborate.

He turns his attention back to the tv and you scoff, a biting sound if you’ve ever heard one. You move further into the room and place yourself directly in front of the tv, effectively blocking his view. His jaw tenses and his eyes grow hard.

Good.

“Stop ignoring me! You don’t get to do that! You don’t get to come home and be in a shitty mood all the fucking time. You don’t get to push me away, Steve!”

“Push you away?” He scoffs, pulling himself to his feet. “I’m the one pushing you away? No, you’ve got that backwards, honey, I’ve been fighting for your attention for weeks now. I come home once, maybe twice, in a bad mood and suddenly I’m the bad guy? No, no fucking way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been distant for weeks now. You’re rarely ever home and when you are, you’re always tired, you never want to talk. I mean, let’s be realistic for a second here, when’s the last time we had sex?”

“Oh my God,” you breathe, a sardonic laugh flowing from your lips. “Is that what this is about? Because I haven’t fucked you lately? I have a job, Steve, and school!”

“But I only have a job, right? Because I couldn’t pull the grades to get into a good school, any school.”

“Don’t,” you warn, “you know that shit doesn’t matter to me.”

“So, what? You’re the only one who gets to be in a tired, shitty mood from time to time because you have a job and school?” He laughs, a bitter and unkind sound. “But me, I should be fine, right? Because I only have my simple minded, ridiculously low paying job which I hate by the way but nowhere else is hiring right now so I’m stuck taking extra shifts and working longer hours just so I can provide for you, for us.”

“No one told you that you had to do that,” you yell, “I didn’t even know you were taking extra shifts because you never told me you were going to because you don’t talk to me anymore!”

“Oh my God,” he says, rubbing his hands across his face. “This is such bullshit!”

“Yeah? Well, I think you’re bullshit, Steve.”

He flinches, hard. All the anger seems to immediately drain from his body as he downturns his gaze to the floor. You stare back, unwavering, refusing to bend. In hindsight, you’re not proud of it.

He nods once, sniffs lightly and then whispers, “Yeah.”

And then he’s snagging his keys off the coffee table and marching towards the door. You almost call out to him, but you don’t. You almost run over to catch him by the arm, beg him to stay, to talk, but you don’t. It feels as if the moment stretches on forever in slow motion, giving you more than enough time to stop him from leaving… but you don’t. Then he’s out the door and slamming it so hard, it rattles the pictures adorning the walls.

You stand stock still watching the door, waiting for him to come back inside. He doesn’t. You wait in that exact same spot for another ten minutes, waiting. He doesn’t come back. You take a shuddering breath and slowly begin turning off all of the lights as you make your way back to the bedroom. He still doesn’t show. You fight the tears threatening to spill as you curl up into a ball wishing he was right there next to you, pulling you into his space, wrapping his arms tightly around you. But he’s not.

He stays gone all night.

==========

Steve still isn’t home when you awake the next morning and by the time noon rolls around, you figure it’s time to finally crawl yourself out of bed. You’re sure he’s at work anyway, giving Robin an earful of everything that had happened. The thought makes your heart ache. You’ve already skipped your morning classes and while you successfully managed to pull yourself out of bed, you end up dropping back down onto the couch to sulk there instead. Fuck being productive.

By the time six o’clock rolls around, you’re pretty positive he’s not coming home again until you hear keys jingling in the lock and quicker than you can process, you’re on your feet, breath stifled in your lungs. The door opens way too slowly for your liking but then he’s there, in his normal Steve Harrington glory that still makes you weak in the knees. He looks exhausted—his hair is an absolute disaster and his eyes are red rimmed, from lack of sleep or crying, you can’t be sure. But then those eyes are trained on you and it’s as if you’ve forgotten how to function entirely.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“I, uh, I just came by to grab some things and then I’ll be out of your way so no need to worry, okay?” He brushes past you, heading for the bedroom. “I won’t be long.”

“Steve,” you begin, following closely behind, willing the sob to keep itself from bursting forth. “You don’t have to go. I don’t want you to go.”

He doesn’t respond, only keeps his back turned to you as he begins rifling through the drawers. You approach him slowly, reaching out to rest your hands against his back. He stiffens at your touch but doesn’t move away. You take that as a slight win, a go ahead and you run your hands softly up over his shoulders and then back down to wrap firmly around his waist. You press yourself flush against his back, head resting between his shoulders.

“Please don’t go,” you implore, voice catching as tears leak from your eyes. “I was upset, angry but I didn’t mean it, baby, I didn’t mean it. I love you so much, please stay with me.”

He sighs but then he’s loosening your grip so he can turn in your arms. He wraps his own tightly around you and that’s when the dam breaks and the sob you’ve been holding back breaks free. He rubs his hands soothingly over your back, soft shh’s and it’s okay, I’m here’s falling from his lips. It’s just like Steve to comfort you even though you’re the one who hurt him—you squeeze him tighter against you.

“Hey,” he says after a moment, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “It’s okay, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

You unhook your grasp from around his back and let your hands trail up over his chest before you cup his face in your hands, keeping him looking at you. You couldn’t bear it if he looked away now.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I’m so so sorry and I understand if you can never forgive me—”

“—Baby, I forgave you the second I got into my car and drove out of here last night. I just, I think we both needed some space after what happened, after what was said, you know?”

You nod, your bottom lip quivering softly. He brushes his thumb softly over your lips, eyes searching your own for any hint that your apologies may not run as deeply as you claim.

“Do you—,” he stops, clears his throat, eyes blinking rapidly, “do you really think I’m bullshit?”

You shake your head vehemently. “No and I can’t believe I said that. I shouldn’t have said that, I’ve never meant anything less. You’re not bullshit, Steve, you are perfect, you are everything and I love you so goddamn much it hurts sometimes.”

“Say it again,” he whispers, brushing your hair out of your face, “tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Steve, I love you so much.”

He chokes on a sob and then his lips are on yours, forceful and insistent, and it steals all the breath from your lungs. You tangle your fingers in the ends of his hair as one arm snakes around your waist and the other cups your cheek. He begins walking you backwards toward the bed, lips kissing every inch of your face.

“Again. Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Then your back is hitting the bed and he’s hovering over you. You stare at each other then, taking one another in as it feels like days have passed when in reality, it’s only been a handful of hours. His lips continue their path from your lips to your jaw down to your neck as his hand snakes up underneath your shirt, thumb running against the underside of your breast before he’s rolling a nipple between his fingers. You arch up into his touch, a gasp falling from your lips.

Your hands are roaming all over his body as his lips and fingers continue their ministrations and without waiting, you untuck his polo from his jeans and forcibly rip it up and over his head. You toss it haphazardly to some far corner of the room before you’re running your fingers up his stomach and through his chest hair. He kisses you again, harder, and you readjust your position to spread your legs, slotting him completely between them. You can feel the firm press of his cock against your thigh and you whimper softly at the friction, wanting him closer, needing him closer now.

“Steve, please,” you whisper against his lips, “I want it. I want you.”

“Tell me what you want.” His fingers cascade down your skin, pushing your panties to the side to slide two fingers through your slick folds. “Tell me, baby, what do you want?”

“You, all of you, inside me.”

“Oh, you mean like this?” He pushes those same two fingers deep into your dripping pussy, pumping them in and out at a torturously slow pace.

You moan loudly at the intrusion, rolling your hips against him but you shake your head, fingers already scratching down his torso to begin unbuckling his belt.

“No?” He purrs, tongue flicking against the shell of your ear. “Well then you gotta tell me, baby. I can’t give it to you unless you tell me.”

You hastily finish unbuckling his belt and unfastening his jeans then you’re shoving your hand down to wrap around his hard cock. He hisses at the contact. “This,” you whisper, eyes staring deeply into his own. “This is what I want. I want your cock buried so hard and so deeply inside of me that I can feel you for days after it’s over.” His jaw drops open slightly. “Then, when the sensation starts to fade, I want you to fuck me again but harder until I can’t think straight, until I can’t remember anything but you. Do you think you can do that for me?”

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, a teasing smirk adorning his face. “I love when you get hot for me.”

“I’m always hot for you, Steve Harrington, don’t you ever forget that.”

Your hands scramble alongside his own in an attempt to shove his jeans down his hips, just enough to free his cock. His eyes lock onto your own, a single breath passing between the two of you, and then he’s pushing himself fully inside. You moan loudly at the feeling of being so completely full. Wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, you grip the back of his neck and bring him down for another heated kiss. His hips roll gently against your own, allowing you to take him slow and steady but oh so deep.

His hands come down to the hem of your shirt, shoving it roughly up your body and then off of your head. You arch your back, pushing your heated skin against him and melding your lips with his own once again. His fingers twine together with yours tightly as he pushes your hands up above your head, holding you gently but firmly in place. The stretch feels divine and every deep thrust punches the air from your lungs.

“Steve, fuck,” you breathe.

His thrusts are slow, precise, methodical but that familiar coil begins winding tightly in your belly and you know you aren’t going to last much longer. You tighten your legs and roll your hips, meeting him thrust for thrust for thrust.

“That’s it, angel,” he grunts, lips against your ear, breath hot on your neck. He releases your hands, one of his own diving into your hair while the other hitches your leg higher on his waist. “I’ve got you, let go.”

Everything is heightened. His thrusts feel harder, his touch seems hotter, his eyes look brighter. Your fingernails rake down his shoulders before you grasp firmly onto his neck for purchase as the pressure builds and builds and he takes you higher and higher. Steve drops his forehead onto yours, eyes alight as he holds your gaze… and then you’re falling fast and hard into the waves of pure ecstasy. A cracked moan falls from your lips, your back arches, and he releases your leg to wrap his arm fully around you, holding you closer than before, working you through your high.

You come down slowly, breathing deeply and he’s thrusting harder, faster chasing his own release. You brush his damp hair out of his face, fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. A choked moan tumbles from his lips and then he’s ducking his head into the crook of your shoulder, moaning softly, thrusts becoming erratic. You press your lips against the side of his face, leaving gentle kisses anywhere that you can.

“Come on, baby,” you murmur, wrapping yourself tighter around him. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Steve thrusts one, two, three more times and then a broken sob emits from him as he crushes you completely against his body, finally finding his own release. A moment passes, you both breathing deeply from this unexpected excursion, and then he’s lifting his head to meet your gaze. A soft, sweet smile plays at the corner of his lips and you bring your fingers up to wipe a fallen tear from his eye.

“Are you okay?” You ask, trepidation winding itself around your heart.

“Never better,” he muses, “sorry, I think my emotions got the best of me there.”

You breathe a laugh as he rolls off to lay next to you. You turn on your side, resting your head on his chest and twisting your fingers with his own. His arm comes up around you, pulling you flush against his side, fingers tracing patterns into the skin of your arm.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head up to look at his face.

He’s staring wide eyed at the ceiling, breathing deeply. You furrow your brow in confusion and pull yourself up to be able to look down at him.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

His eyes flit to yours, softening immeasurably. He cups your cheek in his hand, thumb brushing against your cheekbone. You smile, turning your head to kiss his palm.

“I know you’re probably getting tired of hearing me ask this but could you, could you tell me again?” He flushes deeply, a dusty pink blooming across his chest and up his neck. “Please tell me you love me again.”

You grin, leaning down to peck his lips with your own. “I love you, Steve Harrington. Mind, body, heart, and soul. With every single fiber of my being. I am yours.”

“And I’m yours, every part of me,” he says, “God, I love you so much. I’m so sorry, baby.”

You shush him gently, feeling the emotions building up inside of him like waves on the ocean. “Let’s not talk about it right now, okay? Let’s just be, you and me.”

“Okay,” he whispers and then softer, “again?”

You giggle. “I love you, Steve.”

He sighs, elated. “I love you.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things #writing by 's'

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 9 months

Text

Family love(less). Prologue

Self-Aware! Platonic! Yandere! BSD Characters x GN! Child! Abused! Reader

Description: You are unwanted by your family because of the circumstances of your birth. Your only company are Internet and Books.

You want to escape from this place. You want to have friends and real family.

One night, something strange happened.

You woke up on streets of Yokohama.

And a silver-haired man was looking at you.

But you didn't get here alone.

Tags: Found Family, Isekai, Spoilers for Bungou Stray Dogs Anime, Manga and Light Novels.

Warning: OOC, Platonic Yandere, Bad Relatives, Abusive Family, Bulling, Hurtful comments about Reader and about BSD characters, Physical punishment. BSD Cast want to deal with bad relatives accordingly. English is my second language.

A/N: Multi-chapter fanfic. There will be named OC. All similarities with real people are accidental. This fic wasn't created to mock or to insult anyone. I just want to write something about Platonic Yandere. Hope you enjoy.

Prologue. Storm

School bell rang. The long day of studying was finally over. Students started to put their stuff back in their backpacks. It was time to go home.

You were on a mission. You needed to leave school as fast as you can, without getting the attention of teachers and other students.

You hoped that today you will be lucky enough and no one will notice you.

You quickly grabbed your backpack and hurry to the school's exit.

Getting from class to the corridor - SUCCESS!

Getting from corridor to school exit - SUCCESS!

Getting across School Yard - SUCCE....

"Out of the way, Thing!"

Someone shoved you forward. You lost your balance and fall. You tried to stand up or, at least, rolled on the side.

Someone stepped on you. They continue walking, like you were a part of the road.

Cousin Janie...

Second person followed.... Then third... Then fourth...

Bill... Lily... Jack...

You saw, how adults just moved past you. They pretend, that they didn't see, how children just walking all over another child.

It was nothing new to you.

Miss Agatha... Mister Frank...

You were glad, that, at least, adults wasn't trying to step on you.

Finally, the last of your classmates walked away. You could finally stand up.

Slowly and carefully. Your body was sore. You were dirty. All your clothes were covered in shoe marks. Your hair was dirty. Someone spit on you, you were sure of that.

You start walking home.

_____________

To get home, you need to walk near the park. Small green 'island' in your little town.

"Hey, little rat, were you playing in the dirt again?"

Your Big Brother Steve was waiting for you here. You hoped that he already was home.

Steve was grinning. His tone of voice was full of poorly hidden hate.

"Little rat, you can't go home like this. Little Pig like you need to take a bath. Don't worry, your Big Brother will help you."

He was too strong. You could never overpower a seventeen-year-old.

There was a river in the park.

And Steve threw you and your backpack right in the river.

You were glad, that river wasn't deep.

But now you were completely soaked.

"Now you really are a Rat. A Wet Dirty Rat"

Steve is gone.

You still need to go home.

__________

You reached your home.

________

Ten slaps on left cheek for been wet.

Ten slaps on right cheek for been dirty.

Spanking for trying to leave the school without been noticed.

_______

You were tired and sore.

After the shower, you limp towards your room.

The only place you can be somehow safe.

You barely manage to get into your room. It was small. You had a bed here. A shelf for clothes and books. A small table.

And no windows.

____________

You were a middle child.

Your older siblings were called gold siblings.

Smart, beautiful, handsome, future of the family.

Your younger siblings were called rays of hope.

Cute, precious, hope for the family.

And there were you...

You were you.

For some reason, no matter, what you do, it wasn't good enough for your parents.

No matter, how good your grades are, or if you've won anything.

There were always 'Don't bother me' or 'You don't matter'.

You aren't enough.

Other adults in your family ignored you. They didn't care about you.

They don't see anything wrong with your parents' attitude towards you.

It's not like you are their child.

Besides, your parents never hurt you... much.

Every parent discipline their children.

Your cousins and siblings on the other hand...

They hate you. For some reason.

They saw you as a toy or a servant.

Because adults never tell them to stop bothering you.

They learned, that they can do anything they want to you.

Your family don't care.

Under the influence of your younger siblings, other kids start treating you worse.

In good case scenario, you were ignored.

In worst case scenario you had to run away.

Teachers in your school don't care.

They have better things to do, than dealing with your problems.

__________

You learned few things.

First, always be quiet. Don't draw attention to yourself.

Second, hide important things in your drawer. Your family won't search through your underwear.

Third, there was some wrong with your birth. Something was different. Different in a bad way. You tried to learn more, but no matter who you ask, they didn't tell you anything.

Maybe, one day, when you are older, you will find the truth.

Until then, you need to live in current day.

Right now, you need to have dinner with your family.

With every member of your family.

Today was the first day of Family Reunion.

And it will be hosted in your parents' house.

_________

"[Y/N], eat slow. You are not a pig."

"[Y/N], eat faster. Don't make us wait."

"[Y/N], eat less. You are already fat."

"[Y/N], eat more. You look like a skeleton. People might think that you are starving. Your parents will be in trouble."

"[Y/N], don't you dare shout at your younger siblings! What do you mean, they deserve it? They are younger, then you, they want to play. Yes, even if by play they mean throw food at you."

__________

After taking another shower, you finally were back in your room.

You lay down on the bed. You had some free time.

You need some energy.

You open your phone.

They bought it for you to make neighbors shut up and stop gossiping about your family been so poor, they can't afford to buy a phone for a kid.

You open the app that helped you during bad times.

Bungou Stray Dogs Mayoi Inu Kaikitan

________

You learned about BSD from your siblings.

Almost all of your cousins of all ages were big fans of anime.

They liked to watch anime and manga together during video calls.

Bungou Stray Dogs were among many titles they have watched.

And they have a very strange relationship with this manga.

They hate it and love it at the same time.

They love character designs, you were sure about that.

But you are also sure, that they hate the fact, that characters were based on writers.

You remember, how your cousin Ralph failed a test about John Steinbeck. He was on a video call with your older sister, and you could hear how he was cursing Steinbeck from manga... For some reason.

You can't understand your older relatives.

And you remember, how angry your older sister Jane was on Gogol from manga. She decided to read real world Gogol works. She bought books. When she realized, that books weren't funny, she wanted to drop it. But, because your parents already knew that 'their dear princess' start reading serious literature, she couldn't do it without disappointing them.

So, she cursed character, instead of telling parents the truth.

___________

Despite the fact, that your family has a bizarre relationship with Bungou Stray Dogs and you were too young to read it, you wanted to watch BSD too. Or read it.

There was no problem with watching it. You managed to find a website where you could watch it for free.

But, no matter how hard you try, you couldn't find a way to read BSD for free.

There were all Manga volumes and Light Novels in your house. Your older brother and sister have their own copies.

And you can't ask them to let you read their copies. Because they don't like you. Because they will laugh at you. Wondering, how someone as stupid as you can read.

You can't ask your parents to buy you manga. Because your family don't care if you want something. Phone was necessary. Internet is needed by all family members. There's no law that said that parents must provide a source of entertainment for a child.

But, one day, you were in luck. A very strange luck.

Two months ago you got a whole set of BSD manga and light novels.

_____________

Your Older Brother Steve and Older Sister Jane were... very impulsive.

They tried to stay in trend. To be loved by their classmates. To stay popular in school.

So, when another popular school group decide, that Bungou Stray Dogs manga was for nerds, because cool kids don't read anything, where they can find information about real authors, your brother, sister and your cousins (who attended the same school and were 'loyal' to your older siblings) threw away their BSD Manga and Light Novels. Before that they rip some pages out, tear apart a few books, try to drown them and dance on the poor books.

Then they tell you to throw the garbage away. That's how you manage to salvage the books.

They were in need of some serious repairs, but, you could do it by yourself. And your family wasn't that petty to count, how many tapes you were using or if you take the scissors.

You spend three nights repairing books. You were searching through a big pile of manga and light novels copies for pages in good condition. You use tape and glue on pages to make them whole again.

With great care, you manage to make yourself a full collection of BSD Manga and Light Novels.

After job well done, you were finally able to read manga. You were looking forward to that moment.

__________

In BSD World. Two months ago.

__________

BSD Characters were gathered in the Meeting Room of Port Mafia.

All of them looked tired. They were on the verge of a breakdown.

They don't know why they deserved it.

But they hated that terrible creatures, that called themselves Real People.

Time and time again, they were forced to relieve the worst moments of their lives.

And every time they have heard THEM.

Many different people that were mocking them. Laughing at them. Saying disgusting things about them.

"Why this crybaby Atsushi even here? If he suffers so much, why won't he off himself?"

"Is Chuuya really a Mafioso? I mean, he is mourning the death of the Flags. Aren't mobsters supposed to be cold and emotionless?"

"Ha! Think, what you want, but Oda's dub in this scene make brats' death hilarious."

"I think that Yosano's backstory should be more tragic. Right now it's bland. Her favorite solder killed himself and called her an Angel of Death. It would be better, if Mori was..."

"OH NO! The Clown is alive! Why?! Just Why?! He is a stupid character!"

Comment. After comment. After comment.

About how terrible they are. How useless they are.

How real people wish that BSD cast suffer.

Cursing them for having similar names with some other people from their world.

And now, they did something with them.

All BSD characters feel pain. Someone was tearing them apart. Someone was trying to drown them.

And they can't do anything to protect themselves.

And then another Kitsunebi¹ appeared.

This one was purple.

So, real people decide to end them.

No one from BSD Cast has power to fight. They were waiting for their end.

"Well, I have everything I need. Let's start with the first volume..."

_________

This one was healing them...

BSD characters feel, how their bodies wasn't sore anymore. How they're getting their strength back.

For three nights, Purple Light was taking care of them.

And talking...

"Okay, this goes here... Here we go, good as knew."

"Wow, this page will be beautiful again, when I finish with it."

"I can't wait to read BSD from the beginning. It must be wonderful. Anime was good."

BSD cast were confused. You...

Why this one was different? Was that a trick? Are they going to curse them?

The time reset again. Time to relive their lives. Again.

_________

In Bungou Stray Dogs World. Nowadays

________

"Our Dear [Y/N] are opening the App! Everybody ready?" called Yosano, finishing adding another ten power up materials in her present to you today.

The choir of "yes" was an answer to her.

No one can tell, that two months ago they all were broken and could barely stand.

Dear [Y/N], their precious Guiding Light, saved them.

Not even once they say something hateful about anyone of them. There was only love and understanding. And warmth. Warmth of a child who loved them unconditionally.

All of them cherished [Y/N]. Because they were the only one, who saw, what a great child [Y/N] were.

When they got access to [Y/N]'s phone, they heard it all.

Bullies. Relatives. Siblings. Parents.

Their comments. Their hate, that was aimed at [Y/N]. A defenseless, innocent child.

BSD Cast hate [Y/N]'s family. For what they are doing to them. And for what they have done to characters themselves.

Soon they will be in Real world. They will save Their Dear Guiding Light.

But, before that, they need to punish everyone, who wronged [Y/N].

The Portal was almost ready.

They only need to wait until Midnight.

_________

In real world

_________

You spend an hour playing BSD Mayoi. You got many notes from characters. They were cheering for you. They mentioned that they love you.

You were happier, than before.

At least someone was glad, that you exist.

You hopped that one day you will escape from your family. And find a real family and friends.

You looked at the clock.

Almost 11 pm. You need to go to bed.

Dozing off, you hear, that storm has begun. Raindrops start falling down from the sky.

_________

At the midnight, your phone start glowing white.

The lightning struck.

White light fill all rooms in your house.

When it faded, the house was empty.

And pages of your BSD books start glowing white.

_______

Time resets.

Fukuzawa Yukichi was a thirty-two years old bodyguard again. His client died recently. But right now, he has more important things to do.

Fukuzawa Yukichi was cradling a sleeping eleven-year-old child.

And, for now, he was ignoring the four people laying on the ground at his feet.

#self-awareau #self-awarebsd #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #yandere #platonic #familylove_less #SABSD_Familylove_less

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miyuuuki · 1 year

Note

How about a fic where male reader goes out with they're husband to a sanrio store

✦ SANRIO ~ ♡ !

PAIRING: M!OC/M!READER

SYNOPSIS: your rich husband lets you spend money on your favorite thing, Sanrio.

A/N: Oc name is Osoro Rio!

“Hun, why are we going to the mall at 10 in the morning..?” Osoro asked tiredly.

“They’re having a sale! All Sanrio being 30% off! I can’t miss out!” you said excitedly, dragging him too the mall.

“Hun… the store doesn’t open till 12…” Osoro said.

“Oh..” you said, stilling at the realization.

“Oh well, I can spend money on other things in the mall!” You said happily, dragging him once more much to his dismay.

“Ooh, they have boba! Let’s go get some!” You said excitedly seeing a boba stand, running towards it.

“Hun, calm down you’re dragging me like a ragdoll…” Osoro tried saying, but you ignored already ordering two, memorizing his order.

“Seriously, a clothing shop? Hun, you have like a thousand outfits at home..” Osoro said looking around.

“So? Thrifting is fun, and better clothes then those designer companies. Barely know anything about fashion.” You argued back and eventually grumbling.

Osoro turned his head, before being appalled at the sight. You had your shopping cart already was 1/3 full.

You’ve been here for three minutes.

“Hun, you don’t think you’re getting a bit too much..?” He asked, still appalled.

“Nope.”

“I’m paying for all of this aren’t I..?”

“Mhm!” You confirmed.

“You’re also carrying everything!”

“Oh come on, (N/N)!”

“H-hun, a-are ya d-d-done?” Osoro shakily asked eyeing your cart, which was FULL. Full as in all the clothes were spilling out.

You looked around, before nodding.

“Guess I am, let’s go check out.” you mumbled.

The total was $987.87.

When you went to checkout, it was 11:20. Now it’s 11:56.

“Hun.. it’s 11:56.” Osoro mumbled, barely being able to hold on all the bags.

“The sales gonna start soon!” You gasped in excitement running away, leaving Osoro in the dust.

“Hun- wait for me..!” Osoro yelled after you.

“I’m just gonna drop everything to the car and come back..” Osoro sighed as he walked towards the exit.

Walking into the store, he realized how big it was. He turned his head and saw a depressed cashier, that was on the verge of passing out.

“Dang he looks rough..” Osoro mumbled, before walking ahead into the sanriotopia.

“Hmm… Sanrio nails, bags, supplies, ooh rings!” Osoro exclaimed.

Osoro took one that he deemed would fit you. He turned his head to look for you before seeing the same employee being yelled at by a Karen.

“My daughter wants that bag with the green frog on it! Tell that man to give it back!”

“Ma’am, I can’t do that. He got it first, just because your daughter wants it doesn’t mean he has to give it up…” the worker spoke tiredly.

“He is an adult! Where’s your manager!? I’d like to speak to them, and young man, where’s your wife!? As you’re clearly married, with that ring on you!” She yelled, causing ruckus.

Osoro turned his head to see the young man being YOU..?

“Ma’am, get out or I’m calling security.” The worker said sternly.

“Where’s your manager!?”

“He’s up my ass, I’m the only one who showed at work today. And I’m not taking bullshit, get the fuck out.” He said tiredly before kicking that woman and her kid out. Literally.

“And this green frogs name is Kerropi, and I have a husband too, get it right!” you yelled out at her.

Osoro sighs before walking up behind his husband, and kneeling on one knee.

“(N/N), will you marry me?” Osoro spoke with puppy eyes with the Sanrio ring in his hands, surprising you who turned around just in time.

“Osoro… we’re already married.” You mumbled, reminding him as you showed him your ring finger.

“So? We can still marry again!” Osoro grumbled not moving from his position.

“Fine, only cause the ring is cute and that everyones looking at us. Now get up!” You ushered him off the floor.

“Are you done, hun?” He asked you, peering down at your cart.

“No, I heard there’s onesies we should get matching ones!” You said, dragging Osoro once again.

“I don’t know how I can be taller then you, yet you still manage to pull me with you..”

“I’m just built different, Oso.”

“You’re hello kitty, I’m dear Daniel.” You decided giving him the onesies.

“Why am I hello kitty..?” Osoro asked, he was a man! No way was he gonna be-

“Because you act like a bitch boy sometimes.” You replied, not skipping a beat.

osoro sulked in silence.

“Oso, I’m just joking!” You chimed, already feeling him sulking.

“Ooh, oso they have hello kitty picture frames!” You suddenly yelled in excitement and awe.

“Are you gonna hello kittyify our house..?” Osoro asked starring at the frames.

“Mhm… you can’t do shit about it either.” You answered.

Osoro chuckled before patting your head.

Once you guys were finally done, you guys checked out. The same cashier being there.

He had prominent eyebags and looked gloomy, I mean I don’t blame him, imagine being the only one working at a store as big as a food court?

He had black curly hair, and looked like he could blow a bullet through the next persons head.

“Your total is $104.25… will you be using cash or credit? We don’t take debit.” He asked bluntly.

“Credit.” Osoro replied giving him his card.

“Okay thank you, bye. Come back never please.” The worker said slumping on the desk, falling asleep as soon as his head touched it.

“Jeez, a hundred bucks on hello kitty stuff??” Osoro asked, holding your bags.

“Mhm, now hold still so I can flaunt you and my stuff too my friends!” You said pulling your phone out.

two fics in one day, eat up my children!!

TAGLIST:

@call-me-nev @furotage @peedyharkyonut @nickey-diano

#male reader #x male reader #oc x male reader #oc x reader #fluff #sub male reader #• ☆ miyuuuki works #• ★ miyuuuki sfw #bottom male reader #x bottom male reader #sfw little post #sfw

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alexawynters · 6 months

Text

Scarlet Whispers - pt 2

Gif not mine

A/N: Not sure about the formatting, copy and paste didn't quite work out as planned. Title subject to change, not sure how I feel about it. This is my first published fic here so pls be gentle. Also I'm terrible at summaries.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Trigger warnings (let me know if I forgot to tag anything): Mentions of past child abuse, ongoing adult child abuse, stalking, horror, dubcon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, angst, smut. There will be bits of fluff tho.

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Master list here

You miss your stop.

Not only do you miss your stop, but you end up all the way at the bus depot before the driver notices you passed out in one of the seats. The driver, a kindly older gentleman, offers to give you a lift home since it is the end of his shift anyway. He takes pity on you, perhaps due to your tired and sad appearance. Interestingly, no one seems to notice the red wisps behind his eyes.

You appreciate his kindness, but you are anxious about returning home. A quick look at your phone reveals that it is well past 6 PM and you have missed multiple calls and texts from both of your parents. This is not going to end well. In simple terms, you are fucked. Fortunately, the man doesn't seem to notice your restlessness as your leg bounces nervously as he gets closer to your home.

As you exit the vehicle, you politely thank him and offer to pay for the gas, but the man refuses. His accent changes slightly as he says, "anything to help." You shrug it off, as it is not your concern where people are from. Your focus is on more pressing matters. After closing the door, you square your shoulders and mentally prepare for the absolute shit show awaiting you as soon as you step through the front door.

It shouldn’t surprise you that your father’s booming voice is the first to be heard. “Where were you?”

You start with the truth. “Dad I’m sorry, I was on the bus after my exam, I fell asleep with my headphones-”

”I don’t want your excuses! While you live here under our roof, you will show us some respect, you will follow our rules! You had chores to do today, why didn’t you do them?”

A bead of sweat trails down the back of your neck. You hate being interrupted, and you hate being asked questions when they clearly don’t want the answers. Besides, you are in your twenties, not a child. “As I was saying, I-”

This time your mother interrupts. “Don’t speak to your father like that. He asked you a question, we expect you to answer it!.”

You grit your teeth. “I fell asleep on the bus, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Always with the excuses this one.” Your father laments. “Do you think your future employer is going to care about any of that? No. He’s just going to want to know why you weren’t there.”

It takes every ounce of your sanity to not snap that your answer is the reason WHY you weren’t there, and not simply an excuse. Instead you hold your tongue. They aren’t here to listen, they don’t care. They just want to yell at you, and for you to be sorry.

“I tell you, with behavior like that it’s any wonder at all you’d even be able to keep a job. They would probably fire you on the spot, and then you would be right back on our doorstep, our problem once again to pick up the pieces.”

It’s all hypothetical of course - you’ve never been late to any of your classes, but you have not yet had a job, you weren’t allowed to. You are sure you wouldn’t be late to it though if you were to treat it like your classes. You know you can’t tell your parents this however. Might as well bite the bullet and get it over with.

“Yes Dad, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Saying sorry simply doesn't cut it! Sorry doesn’t fix the problem that you caused, so tell me, how are you going to make the problem right?” he demands. A vein throbs in his forehead. Absently you think about how he knows he should watch his blood pressure, but that would require him to watch his temper. Y/D/N could never.

You know what he is looking for, he wants you to do your chores now, but it’s after 8PM and your exam is at 8AM. If you do your chores now, that leaves you little time for last minute studying, eating, bathing, sleeping, and then catching the bus back to the university. Helplessly, you look to your mother for help.

“Don’t look at me, this is your mess you’ve created. If you had just done what you were supposed to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. If you had just been good, you could be doing whatever it is you do with your free time right now.”

It had always annoyed you greatly that your parents were unaware of your academic achievements. While it's true that you didn't have the best grades as a child, once you entered university and chose a major, you became a straight-A student, even going so far as to make the President’s list the last three years in a row. However, in their eyes, you would always be the little underachiever they had to take care of.

Tears well up in your eyes. This situation wasn't fair. It was an accident. You had fully intended to come home and do your chores, but you couldn’t have known you would sleep through your alarm on the bus. You had been so incredibly exhausted that you experienced a vivid nightmare whilst awake. You were aware that you needed more sleep, but your degree was your only way out of this miserable place. You couldn't risk losing it all just because you missed a few hours of sleep now and then.

“Please?” You beg. You didn’t have anything else to argue in your defense. “I’ll leave my headphones in my bag this time, I’ll set multiple alarms, I won’t sleep, just please let me go study!”

Your parents look at each other, having silent communication. Seeming to come to an agreement, your mother speaks first. “Y/N we’re sorry it has to be this way, but you have already proven on multiple occasions that we can’t trust you to do the right thing. Tonight, you are going to do your chores even if it takes you all night to do it. Besides, we all know you’re not studying up there. For all we know you’re just up there masturbating in the window or something.”

Being stabbed in the chest would have been less painful. You don't understand why you're caught off guard; it's not like your mother hasn't said off the wall shit like this in the past. It's almost as if she thrives on finding the most hurtful and outrageous statements to throw in your face, as if you deserved them. As if you had ever done any of the things she accused you of. Like you were some sort of deviant, when all you wanted was simply the right to exist.

“What the actual fuck, Mom?!” you scream, having finally had enough. Both of your parents look taken aback. Rare is it for you to raise your voice at them, even more so to curse at them. “I know you’ve been pretty checked out of my life for a while now, but I’ve had a 4.0 GPA for the last three years. I don’t know where you got that… comment… from, but I can assure you that all I want to do is go to my room and study.”

“Now listen here young lady,” begins your father.

"No, YOU listen, Father," your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were right about one thing, and that is I am a gods damned adult. I take my studies seriously, and while it may come as a surprise to you since neither of you have paid any actual attention to my life since I turned 18, though it could be argued you really stopped paying attention earlier except for when I was being an inconvenience, but I am actually a great student. This is my last semester before graduating with honors and again, a 4.0 GPA, and I will have my choice of job opportunities. I will leave this place, and you miserable old bats will have no one to be your punching bag anymore. Then maybe just maybe you can finally take a look at the flaws and fix what's wrong with your own marriage, instead of trying to break ME!”

Your chest heaved. It felt good to speak your truth, but as the silence grew, you began to realize that you might have made a mistake.

Your father has finally gotten out of his chair, looming over you. A resounding slap echoes across the room as your father backhanded you, knocking you to the floor. “You ungrateful, miserable little bitch! I don’t know what lies those ‘professors’ at the university have been filling your head with, but you have no future, and you are lucky your mother and I care enough to let you live under our roof! And so long as you do, you will obey our rules, and show us the respect we deserve!”

Fearful, you scramble back to the wall and attempt to push yourself to your feet. “If that’s the price of living here, then I will happily live in the University’s library. One week, that’s all I need!” You step forward to make your escape from this house, but this time your mother shoves you, and once again you find yourself on your knees.

You raise your hands in self-defense, but your mother sneers, "Do it, Y/N, hit me, and you'll be out on your ass faster than you can blink!" Crying, you lower your hands and prepare to allow her to strike you.

The lights went out all at once, and everyone froze. Has the power gone out? It couldn’t have, you could still hear the hum of the AC unit. So what was wrong with the lights?

The lights turn back on as suddenly as they had gone out, and all three of you look around in confusion. However, despite the lights returning, the room appears darker, creating an almost eerie atmosphere. The shadows cast a looming presence over all of you, sending a shiver up your spine. Your home, which you have lived in for around twenty ish years, suddenly feels foreboding, and you wonder if it's too late to flee. It almost resembles one of the nightmares you have been experiencing recently.

Red mist fills the room, a dreadfully sinister voice speaks. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

All three of you turn to the source of the sound - the corner of the room, as a red and black leather-clad boot, attached to black leather pants, steps through a portal and into the room. The Scarlet Witch follows, radiating her full glory. She warns, "If you wish to keep your body parts intact, you will never lay a finger on Y/N ever again."

You’re pretty sure your eyebrows have never been closer to meeting your hairline before and yet here we are. You don’t know who this unfamiliar lady is, nor how she seems to know you but God damned if that outfit doesn’t look as if it has been painted onto her. You blush at your sinful thoughts. Now is not the time, and you’re pretty sure you’re having a stroke of some sort. If nothing else, however, you are grateful for the reprieve from your beating.

Meanwhile, your parents had never taken well to being told what to do, by anyone, they certainly weren’t going to now by this costumed stranger. Your mother bristles. “Who is this Y/N? Another one of your little whores?” Completely disregarding the fact that you have never in fact had a partner in your entire life, and you don’t know whether to be pleased that she seems to think you’re capable of having a sex life or affronted that she thinks you’re some type of floozy. Your mother’s words, not yours.

“What? No, I-” You look helplessly from the floor between your parents and this woman you now recognize as the one from your visions, and the same one from your hallucination this morning. Is she here to help, or to hurt you? She has been your savior and aggressor in both; there’s no telling which she has chosen for now. Glancing between them, you are unsure how to de-escalate this situation. There is no way to convince your parents, for their own safety, that this woman is powerful and not to be trifled with. Nothing you could say, they would believe, and you were pretty sure this woman would kill your parents without a second thought if they didn’t tread carefully.

Seeming to sense your struggle, the woman speaks up in your stead. “As I’ve said, you would do well to keep your hands to yourself. I am here to take Y/N with me, and you will not stand in my way. This is your only warning, which I am giving to you out of consideration for Y/N.”

She reaches down for your hand to help you back up. Hesitantly, you take it, ignoring the shock that runs throughout your body, and begin questioning your entire reality. Take you with her? Who even is she? Where exactly is she going to be taking you? You had questions, and you would like some answers, but if you didn’t get your parents to stand down, you were pretty sure she would follow through on her threat. Sure, your parents were trash, but they were all you had. You loved them, and you were certain that, in their own warped way, they loved you, too.

She helps you up and proceeds to give you a thorough once-over, carefully inspecting your injuries. Her intense scrutiny makes you blush. Meanwhile, your parents remain silent, their thinly veiled anger evident as they observe your interaction. How dare this woman speak to them in such a manner? Thankfully, they wisely choose to keep quiet. Perhaps they also sense the dangerous aura emanating from this woman, perceiving her as a true threat. Then again, it could be due to the fact that she just stepped through a literal portal conjured out of thin air moments ago. Maybe they had been paying attention, but even you are unsure of what is real anymore.

Still holding your hand, the Scarlet Witch leads you back towards the portal she arrived through. "Come, Y/N, we have much to discuss." At this point, all you could do was helplessly trail after, hoping you weren't going from bad to worse. At least by leaving, your parents would be out of danger. As for yourself, well... It was clear that the Scarlet Witch wanted something from you. Hopefully, whatever that was would be sufficient to ensure your survival. Perhaps even enough to negotiate with.

At the last possible moment, your mother chooses, whether out of genuine love and concern for your well-being, or fear at the loss of her control over you, to reach out to take you from this bizarre woman. “Mother, no!”

Y/M/N finds herself promptly flung onto the wall behind her, and stuck there, unable to move. You aren’t sure who exactly screamed but you’re pretty sure it was every member of your family. The Scarlet Witch hadn’t even turned to look, the only indication she had even been involved is the raised hand, opposite the one holding yours, with dark, ink-stained fingertips, bent at slightly odd angles.

“Stop, please! Let her go, she won’t do it again, please! I'm sorry, please!”

Unsure of why you are begging for this woman’s life when she has spent the entirety of yours making sure you were miserable. Still, your heart lurched at the thought of anything happening to your mother. You didn’t like her, and if you never saw her again, that was probably for the best, but you certainly didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

The Witch took a deep breath, seemingly to calm herself, before turning to face you.

In the softest voice you had ever heard she whispers “Detka, I-.” She opens and closes her mouth a few times, deciding what to say. To your absolute mortification and delight, she leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, and promises “I will let them live, but I must say my piece.”

You nod, completely dumbstruck at everything happening in this moment. What. The. Fuck.

Y/M/N, still pinned to the wall, whimpers and struggles to move but is clearly unable to. The Scarlet Witch turns from you to face your parents. Another wave of her hand, and your mother slumps to the floor, alarmed, but otherwise unharmed. It is clear whatever the witch did, both she and your father are now restrained.

Footsteps approach the pair, and the lights in the house flickered ominously. Despite your mother being nearly 40 years older than her (or so you assumed, as you had no idea of this woman's age), the power emanating from her exuded confident malevolence. She showed no fear towards them, and for once, although ashamed to admit it, you were glad to see that they were afraid of someone else.

Though she was only about 5'6", the woman knelt before your parents, her voice filled with menacing intent. "I know everything you have ever done, everything you ever could do, and everything you ever will do. I know what you are guilty of. I know what you deserve, and I can assure you that it is not mercy. I will spare your lives and leave you unharmed due to the kindness of your daughter, the daughter you’ve abused for decades." As her head tilts, you can't help but feel that she becomes even more dangerous. "But if you ever try to take her from me again, I will seek retribution on her behalf, and I promise you it will be the most excruciating agony you have ever experienced. Do we understand each other?"

You squirm uncomfortably. This should not be doing things to you, but then again, no one had ever stood up for you. Ever. Gods you needed therapy. It’s fine. Little boxes, and this was for a little box for later.

The witch stood up and once again took your hand, leading you through the portal and leaving your parents behind. Perhaps for good, you weren’t entirely sure, and you suddenly realized you didn’t care. Anywhere was better than here; even if this woman was dangerous, at least for the moment, she seemed to care about you, and that was enough for you to follow her to the ends of the earth.

Again, therapy…

The pair arrive at a massive stone temple, which you would later learn is called Mount Wundagore, the Scarlet Witch's temple. It is built into a massive, rugged mountain with steep cliffs, situated above dense forests and enveloped in mist. The mountain exudes an air of mystique and possesses an eerie atmosphere. Scattered across its walls are depictions of the woman in front of you, accompanied by various runes whose significance you suppose hint at a potentially supernatural importance.

The Scarlet Witch does not make much of an effort for introductions, nor explanations, simply heads towards the entrance to her temple.

“What is this place?” you ask, hints of awe and fear in your voice

“Our home.”

Your brain stutters. “I’m sorry, what now?”

“Detka, do not pretend you did not hear me, I don’t enjoy repeating myself. This is our home.” Her accent sounds vaguely Eastern European, and becomes more pronounced the more irritated she is. You wonder when she started trying to hide it.

Your mind balks at the idea of this being your new home, it couldn’t be less foreboding. “Uhhh… this.. is a giant stone temple in BFE nowhere, with ice, snow, and-”

Movement startles you out of your reverie. Beings made entirely out of stone shift from foot to foot, as if adjusting their stance. Their eyes have the same red glow as the woman who leads you now.

“Are those rock trolls??” The stone guardians loom threatening, but make no move to engage, they await their Queen’s orders. “Right. Rock trolls. Why is this our home? WHERE is our home? And,” you spin, taking the aesthetic of the temple in, trying not to have an anxiety attack. “What do you mean -our- home? Who are you, and what do you want with me?”

You can’t tell if the faint twitch of the other woman’s lips is in amusement or annoyance at your ramblings, but in your defense, she had let you speak uninterrupted. You were known for getting entire paragraphs out if left unsupervised - it was a talent and a curse. Personally you felt she should be grateful you weren’t jumping down her throat, you didn’t know anyone else who would be taking this half as calmly as you were. Then again, you were still waiting on your Hogwarts acceptance letter at 25.

“My name is..” she hesitated. “Wanda. I am.. I was an Avenger.”

You looked on blankly, hoping she would elaborate. The fuck was an “Avenger”?

"In my universe," (you filed away the fact that she implied the existence of a multiverse for later, as it was a problem for another time) "the Avengers are superheroes. Well, that's what we called ourselves - Earth's Mightiest Heroes. A bit arrogant, if you ask me. We dealt with threats that the military and ordinary people couldn't handle. We were the last line of defense. We saved the world countless times, but at a great cost of lives. We were vain, thinking we were above it all because we believed we were acting for the greater good. But try explaining that to those who were lost as collateral damage.

I digress. We.. were considered to be heroes. There were several of us, we were a team. A family. We lived together, fought together. Died together. Until we didn’t.”

Wanda explains the dynamics of the Avengers team, including how she and her brother Pietro joined. She mentions Pietro's death in the battle against Ultron, as well as the events leading up to and the battle against Thanos. She also covers the events of the “Blip”, and what happened afterward. However, she conveniently chooses to omit the events of Westview, as she didn't want you to know about that just yet.

“That’s.. wow. Wanda, that's a lot. Honestly, if I hadn’t seen your powers myself, I wouldn’t believe you. But all of that still doesn’t explain why you’re here. You mentioned your universe as being so fantastical, why would you come here? And what do you want with me? If you’re a hero, why are you here in what totally looks like a villain’s lair and not with your other superhero buddies?” You neglect to mention the unease creeping up your spine.

This is fine. Everything is fine. Right? Right.

A look of utter despair crosses the witches face as she locks eyes with you before glancing away.

“I mentioned my team before, but I didn’t mention you.”

“…” You slow blink. This was not how you thought your day was going to go, and honestly, you were already getting a bit of a headache. Could she be less cryptic because that would be great. More details, fewer questions. Maybe another nap.

"Y/N, where I am from, you were also an Avenger. You had joined the team before Pietro and I, and were one of the few who made us feel welcome. Despite the fact that we had previously been enemies, you didn't treat us as ticking time bombs. Instead, you welcomed us with open arms. Your go-to tactics were kindness and understanding, which made it hard not to want to get to know you. When Pietro died, you were the only one who checked on me and cared. You taught me that grief is just love persevering. You became my closest friend, and over time, I couldn't help when those feelings began growing into something more.”

You swallow uncomfortably. It sounds like Wanda is telling you that in this other universe you both were an item. It’s not that you wouldn’t be honored to be with such an attractive woman, but it feels weird knowing that that was a different version of you. Someone with superpowers, someone likely more confident by the sounds of it. This feels almost as if you are intruding on something you shouldn’t, yet Wanda is the one telling you this; if it weren’t okay for you to know, she surely wouldn’t be sharing. You don’t really know what to make of this; if she has feelings for this other you, why is she here with this version of you?

“In the battle against Thanos, we learned that the source of your powers was an infinity stone embedded in your skull courtesy of H.Y.D.R.A. experiments, which altered your genetic DNA. Thanos had also learned you possessed this Mind Stone and sought to take it from you by force.”

Anguish on her features, the witch turns to you. “You were going to die, Y/N. We tried, I tried, so hard to protect you, to keep you away from him but at every turn he found you. If he had gotten the Mind Stone, he would have been able to enact his plan to rid the universe of half of all life. You told me.” She hiccups.

“Y-you told me it was okay, that you forgive me. That I needed to.. that I needed to destroy the stone to save the universe. I didn’t want to. I would have given anything else but that. But you held my hand and told me you forgave me, that you only felt me. Then Thanos came, and we were out of time. I was the only one with the power to do it because its magic was so similar to my own. I placed my hand to your head and I-.” She is unable to continue, breaking off into sobs.

Oh. So she had to sacrifice you to save the universe. Well. You agree with the alternate you, you didn’t blame her, and you would definitely forgive her. Awkwardly you try to find some way to comfort her. While obviously you were not the same person she had loved and lost, and you knew from your own experiences with loss that sometimes words just couldn’t cut it. Instead, you shuffle forward, making sure you were heard in case she wanted to refuse you, and pullher in for a hug.

Wanda tenses in your embrace, as if she can’t decide if she wants to sink into it or send you flying. “The worst part,” she continues, “was that it meant nothing.”

If you were a dog your head tilt might have been cute.

“In the end, Thanos was still able to get the Mind Stone, and you were still dead, by MY hand, and it all meant NOTHING!” Wanda wrenches herself from your grasp, looking positively unhinged. You probably should have been scared. You weren’t. Her wrath did… things… to you. Therapy…

“All because Strange saw supposedly every possible future and CHOSE to let you die to save everyone else. As if there was no other possible outcome!”

Oh, that... that makes more sense. The other you was still dead, and Wanda was definitely suffering from PTSD from her involvement in it. Her little stunt with your parents was probably her way of trying to save you or bring you back to life. But in your universe, there weren't any superheroes, magic, or Thanos to protect you from (that you were aware of at any rate). So what was Wanda doing? This wouldn't bring her version of you back to life. You may have looked and sounded alike, and you might have made similar decisions, but you simply weren't the same person. The lack of the same life experiences meant that you had different personalities, despite having a similar genetic build.

“So we saved the world, and I left to live in exile. After the funeral, Clint handed me your belongings, and in them was a letter. A deed to a plot of land you had purchased in our names where we were going to build a house. I think it was supposed to be a surprise after we defeated Thanos. We had never lost before, not since Pietro - I don’t think it occurred to us that we could. So I drove out to see and.. Y/N I was still so new to my powers. They were still mostly subconscious. I was grieving and... it would be easier if I show you. May I?”

“May you.. what?”

A subtle smile appears on the witches' face at your ignorance. You are tempted to mention how beautiful she looks with that smile. Shaking off the thought, you ponder if she can read your mind, as her smile becomes knowing and a slight blush colors her cheeks. Ink-stained fingers reach towards your temple, but she hesitates, waiting for your consent, and your heart fills with warmth. You nod once, despite not really understanding.

Her charcoal-colored fingers, cold to the touch, make contact with your temple. Just as you're about to complain about the lack of warning, you're abruptly transported into a completely different world, surpassing the immersive experience of any 3D movie you've ever seen. You not only hear and see everything in every direction, but you can also feel and smell it all. It feels as if you are truly present in that moment. It takes a few minutes for you to realize that you are witnessing someone else's memories, to be precise, Wanda's memories.

She starts her memory with the unexploded bomb created by Tony Stark, which sat in the middle of the rubble of the Maximoff residence. In that chaotic scene, there were two children, the twins, hiding in fear under a bed. However, before you could offer any comfort, the scene shifted. The twins had been taken to HYDRA, where they were subjected to brutal experiments. Witnessing their suffering broke your heart, and despite your best efforts, you were unable to interact with your surroundings, although you desperately tried. Repeatedly you threw yourself against the walls of the cells in which the twins were held, hoping to free them from their hellish situation. You observed the twins' powers first emergence: Pietro's as he attempted to reach his sister's side, and Wanda's as she tried to defend Pietro from the scientists.

Scene after scene, each one as traumatic, if not more so, than the last, depicting all the events from Ultron and beyond. And then there's you. Except, it's not really you. You've certainly never possessed the power of teleportation, nor have you ever been so self-assured. This must be Wanda's universe's version of you. With bright eyes and a warm demeanor, you appear as a beacon of light in Wanda's otherwise bleak life. You observe as the version of you in this universe warmly welcomes the twins to the team, a stark contrast as to how the rest of the team treats the newcomers ranging from suspicious to openly hostile.

It’s surreal, watching yourself from outside your own body, knowing this version isn’t really you, but still no less real of a person. Wanda’s memories begin focusing less on missions and more on interpersonal relationships. Specifically, the one developing between yourself and Wanda. It’s intimate and you feel like an intruder watching this unfold. Sadly, as you grow closer, Wanda loses the only other connection she has - Pietro is hit by stray bullets while saving children. A true hero, and there was nothing anyone on the team could do to prevent it. You watch in horror both for the loss of Pietro as a friend, as well as knowing the absolute devastation this will cause your beloved Witch.

You can tell at this point that that’s what she was to you. It hasn't been long, but that bond has clearly already been sealed; you can see the signs in both your alternate self and Wanda. You would have to be blind not to. The loss of her brother does terrible things to Wanda and it’s all your other self can do to try to keep her afloat. “What is grief but love persevering?”

The scene shifts again. Time has clearly passed, and Wanda appears to have healed to some extent. She and the team have become much more cohesive, which delights both versions of you. Your relationship has definitely progressed, if the blush currently gracing your face, extending to your ears, is any indication. You feel the remnants of the emotions from your alternate self. They are not yours, but neither are they entirely unfamiliar. It makes for a disconcerting sensation to say the least. You don’t know Wanda like that, even though this version of you does. You wish you could view these memories dispassionately, free from your alternate self’s emotions that are bleeding through, but you suspect that’s not possible. Once again you try to reassure yourself that you are not the same person, no matter the genetic makeup.

Jarring you from your reverie, next you find yourself in another battle, and this one is massive. There are more superheroes here than you have ever seen before, either in Wanda's memories or in films. This must be the fight against Thanos she had told you about. Dread settles in your stomach like a stone, and for a moment, you contemplate what it will be like to witness your own death.

Traumatizing, for sure, though not for the reasons you had expected. While you are unable to interact with your environment, you are able to freely move about. Instead of looking at the memory entirely from Wanda’s perspective, you move to stand beside yourself. Wanda stands before you, ethereal, magnificent, yet utterly devastated. She knows what she has to do and pleads with you not to make her. It is unjust for a woman so powerful to suffer such loss, and still you implore her to sacrifice your life, her happiness, for the sake of the rest of the universe. It is unfair. It is cruel. You know it, but you ask anyway.

She never could tell you “no.”

You know the moment this universe's version of you had died when you witness the sheer devastation on Wanda's face. Most people would probably look away, but you couldn't. For some unknown reason, you feel compelled to witness this moment in all its horrifying detail, if only to gain a true understanding of the witch and the immense pain she has endured. There were surely few things more intimate than allowing someone to share their own memories, and here Wanda was, granting you unrestricted access to hers. The least you could do was accept this gift she was offering, no matter how painful it might be.

The images that follow blur together, evoking your personal experiences with grief and a sense of detachment from the world. The funeral is somber, one and all everyone dressed in black and grey. Wanda is present only in body, and you can’t blame her. Clint, the archer, hands her your belongings, including the letter she had mentioned. It unnerves you how detached Wanda appears to be at this moment, despite being surrounded by friends and colleagues. You worry about what lies ahead for her. So much loss in such a short time, it didn’t take a psychiatrist to know this would surely take a toll on her. You prayed that her friends came to check on her, but you had a feeling either they didn’t, or in her grief, she refused them entry.

Colors blend into one another and fade out. You find yourself standing on a plot of land in a town called Eastview, crouching next to Wanda as she collapses to her knees. Her body is wracked with anguished sobs as she finally allows herself to grieve. You wish you could interact with this memory, to hold her and alleviate some of her pain, even if only for a moment. Instead, you sit with her, sharing in her pain as she releases it all into the world. Wanda allows herself to experience her grief in its entirety, no longer burying her feelings beneath a veneer of numbness. Colors leech from the world around her, turning it greyscale. You're pretty certain that even at their strongest, the average person's manifestation of grief isn't supposed to do that, but then again, the average person isn't the Scarlet Witch. Briefly, you wonder what consequences this will have on her world. Your head feels fuzzy, and as your vision fades to black, you suppose you are about to find out.

You regain consciousness and find yourself in a world entirely devoid of color. Disoriented, you blink as the details of your surroundings slowly come into focus. In front of you stands... well... yourself. Or rather, an alternate version of you who appears to be from the 1950s, slightly older but still alive. Seated beside 1950’s you is Wanda, also monochrome and dressed in 1950s attire. Blearily, you rub your eyes. It has been a long day, and you are extremely tired, unsure if this is just an incredibly vivid hallucination or if you have actually passed out somewhere.

Alternate you asks Wanda a question, to which you aren’t listening, and she replies with a quip - you still aren’t listening, wondering where you are and why everything is in greyscale. What catches you off-guard though, is the surround sound laugh track that‘s garnered in response. It’s galling to admit but you jump, startled, and look around. There’s no one else in the house besides yourself, the alternate version of you, and Wanda. Where did that come from?

Alternate you replies to Wanda, and again with the laugh track. This time you are not as startled, but no less unsettled. What fresh hell is this? Could this be Wanda’s doing? It doesn’t seem like you can ask her though, as you’re just a passive observer in this strange situation. The last thing you remember, Wanda was grieving in Eastview at the plot of land which alternate you had purchased to start your life together after retiring from being superheroes. Strange grey wiggly woos (as you were starting to refer to her magic) were emanating from the witch, quite different from the familiar scarlet color you had grown accustomed to.

Perhaps this was her doing, if only subconsciously. You tried to recall, didn’t Wanda mention something about her powers being new to her and mostly unintentional? This could be what she had been referring to. Apprehension made a home in your chest as you found yourself dreading whatever was about to unfold before you. Oh no, Wanda, what did you do?

It doesn’t take long after observing the hijinks and mishaps, for you to realize that Wanda's grief had manifested through her powers. She had transformed the town of Eastview into Westview, resembling a 1950s-style sitcom town. Wanda, along with an alternate version of yourself (if you were truly still alive - that part you hadn't figured out yet), and the entire town were trapped. While it may have started unintentionally, Wanda became aware of it and began actively using her powers to maintain her idyllic town, keeping it isolated from the outside world and preventing the townspeople from leaving. In her grief, Wanda was essentially playing house, holding everyone hostage. However, despite her powers growing stronger, it was clear that the people living there were suffering. If you could even consider their existence as living.

There were even two boys - twins, just like Wanda was a twin. Your heart broke, knowing this could not possibly end well. While technically not "real" and not even "yours" at that, watching these boys be born, live, and grow caused you to cultivate a love for them almost as if they were your own. Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest; you didn't want to see how this plays out, but you didn't have a choice.

Despite the dysfunction in your parents, you had always wanted a family of your own. An attempt to break the cycle and bring new life - happy and healthy - into this world. You wanted to raise your kids with the love and care you had never experienced yourself.

You understood the motivations of the witch, but that didn't justify her morally questionable choices. Once again, you are condemned to remain on the sidelines, unable to take any action to resolve the situation. You are forced to witness this charade unfold, hoping and praying that it would end well for everyone involved, yet knowing that it would not. How could it possibly?

Despite your bias, after witnessing everything Wanda had endured, you found yourself wishing for the best outcome for her, in particular. Among all the people you could think of, she deserved a break from the misery that had plagued her life until now.

Eventually, it all came to a head when another witch named Agatha Harkness had infiltrated the town with a book called the Darkhold, attempting to convince Wanda to join her and increase their powers. If Wanda refused, the witch planned to take Wanda's powers for herself. Something about a prophecy regarding a Scarlet Witch.

Meanwhile, the alternate version of you had become self-aware of the true nature of Westview. This version of you pleaded with Wanda to prioritize the wellbeing of others over her own happiness, once again. They urged Wanda to defeat Agatha and free the townspeople, even if it meant losing her spouse and children. It was an impossible choice, and you questioned whether you could have mustered the courage to make the same decision in Wanda’s position.

Wanda defeated Agatha, not that you ever doubted her for a moment. She said goodbye to you, again, and then to her boys, and released her spell. The town was free, but her family.. was gone. Wanda was once again on her own.

A startled gasp leaves your lips as you awaken from the memories. It feels like it’s been ages, but from what you can tell, it must only have been minutes since Wanda first began sharing her memories with you. “Oh.”

Cringe. You wish you could have said something, anything more eloquent. Unfortunately, you feel as though you've just been hit by a Mack truck and could nap for a week. It doesn’t help that you were still feeling the effects of lack of sleep for the last couple of weeks.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t feel so good, is it okay if I lay down somewhere…?” A quick glance around the temple makes you second guess the question you were about to ask. Stone floors did not make a good bed.

With a tone much softer than she had been using, she replied. "Of course, Detka, you only need to ask."

An elegant wave of her slender fingers and gone is the stone temple, replaced by a cozy bedroom. At a cursory glance, you can tell it is a sanctuary of comfort and tranquility, featuring a plush, inviting bed. The room is adorned with personal touches, such as framed photographs of you and Wanda, and artwork that is somehow absolutely your aesthetic. Shelves display a carefully chosen selection of your favorite books, each waiting to be explored. These items add character and give the space a feeling that is unique to you, even though you have never set foot in this place before.

“Come,” A glimpse of Wanda and you are surprised to discover instead of her red and black uniform, she is now garbed in an oversized sweater and some cotton sweatpants.

“You have been holding space for others for so long, it is time you took some well-deserved rest. You work much too hard.”

“Uh s-sure.” About to make a comment that perhaps you should also change, but looking down to find that you are wearing your favorite worn Legolas shirt and some pajama shorts.

“Right. Rest.” Part of you wants to ask when you can return to your home so you can finish studying for your exams, but based on previous conversation, context clues tell you that’s the least of your concerns right now, and Wanda probably wouldn’t be too pleased with that topic of discussion right now.

Wanda takes your hand, leading you to the bed and it takes your overworked brain far longer than you care to admit to realize that she means for you both to share it. Your brain short-circuits at all the factors at play here: Knowing that you yourself are touch-starved; this absolute enchantress of a woman dated an alternate universe’s version of you, even going so far as basically playing housewife and mother of your children, and here she was asking you to share a bed. Sure, she wasn’t asking you to sleep with her, but she was still asking you to share a bed next to her and what if you accidentally spooned her in your sleep, and what if-

”You’re thinking too loudly, malysh.”

“What? You can- you’re a mind reader?!” you panic, backpedaling mentally, praying to every deity that existed that you hadn’t had any unsavory thoughts in her presence, and nearly fainting as you recalled that you in fact, had some rather explicit thoughts from the moment you first saw her.. The mortification alone was enough to put you into an early grave. You weren’t sure how you had missed that during everything she had shown you, but you reasoned you were probably more focused on the physical manifestations of her powers.

"Relax, Y/N. I don't intentionally read minds, at least not anymore. Sometimes, surface thoughts are so loud that I can't help but hear them. Like right now, you're practically yelling them at me," she said, trying to offer a reassuring smile.

Unfortunately, while you were no longer freaking out about having accidentally offended the witch, you were now spiraling down a different path. You were agonizing over the pain you had, and likely were still causing her by thinking so loudly. If you remembered any media involving mind reading, the person with the ability usually suffered greatly at the hands of others unintentionally. Naturally, the average person didn't know how to shield their thoughts, and you were afraid that you might be giving her a migraine. To the woman who had only tried to bring you to a safe place and offer you shelter.

You began to hyperventilate.

Wanda could see that you were spiraling, even without being a mind reader. It was written clearly on your face. However, being able to hear your thoughts helped her identify the source of your anxiety, and she berated herself for not considering that earlier. This version of you lacked confidence, and it was now Wanda's responsibility to help rebuild it. At least, according to her.

"Your parents really did a number on you, didn't they, detka?"

Cool hands gently held your cheeks, pulling you out of your thoughts. Suddenly, Wanda invades your personal space, and the scent of vanilla fills your nostrils, momentarily distracting you from what was happening.

"We're just going to take a nap, okay Y/N? You don't have to worry about anything. I'm not bothered by any of those thoughts you have." A leering grin unfurls across her face.

“If anything I’m quite flattered by them.” She winks.

Heat flashes across your body, and you can’t tell if you were embarrassed, aroused, or both. Unfortunately, you knew your thoughts were likely betraying you. Gods, if only the floor could just open up right now and swallow you into the abyss. Yes, that would be fantastic.

"However, there is time enough for such things later. It's been years, Y/N, and I've just got you back. Nap with me, please?" The witch's eyes gaze longingly into yours, and well, when she looks at you like that, how could you say "no"?

She leads you to the bed and, with the practiced ease of her time in Westview, pulls you into her embrace as the little spoon. Earlier, you had been worried about accidentally touching her inappropriately or having a dirty dream. Now though, with her arms wrapped so protectively around you, sleep claims you almost instantaneously.

#Wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #dark wanda x reader

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spockiguess · 1 year

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Breeding Jealousy Part 1 || Peter Quill x Fem!Reader

A/N: This took me way too long to finish, but here’s the first part of a two (maybe three, no promises) part series. Thank you so much to Sav for helping me edit and leaving very silly comments on my Doc. I know my Quill fics are so incredibly out of left field, but my track record shows that this should actually be expected! So hah! Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this even if it took me a couple of days. I’m thinking of writing a Peter x Male/GN reader, so let me know if y’all would want to see that.

Warnings: Smut, Use of Terms like Cunt and Pussy

Pairing: Peter Quill/Female Reader

Sure, you loved being a Guardian, but it definitely came with its hang ups. Be it the death-defying dance you had to walk every time you encountered another fuckhead with god-like abilities or the sickening injuries sustained from those perilous fights, being a part of Peter Quill’s infamous group of heroic outlaws took a heavy toll most days.

Lately, you’ve been finding yourself exhausted beyond comprehension and in dire need of release. So, after much pushing from Mantis and even Nebula, you decided to have a night where you let all inhibitions loose and finally got dicked down in the way you most deserved.

And that came in the form of you putting on your tightest, blackest, latex dress that just barely covered your ass and smearing on the sultriest makeup you could think up all to visit one of Knowhere’s many clubs. Being a planet made up of mostly outlaws, the people knew how to fucking party.

Excitement coursed through your veins, and you exited your tiny bathroom ready to conquer the world.

Futuristic black heels clacked against the metal floors of your shared housing with a resounding confidence as you traversed multiple floors and staircases, purse in hand.

You felt alive for the first time in eight months, and when you entered the common area, you acknowledged Peter–your captain and longtime crush–with a nonchalant wave, barely even bothered by the way he looked you up and down multiple times.

“Where’re you going?” Peter asked incredulously.

“Out,” You answered back excitedly, a wide grin plastered across your face.

With a shocked expression, Peter muttered to himself doubtfully, “Out. Yeah, right. Out,” before he spoke up again, “So where is this out?”

Pausing just before the door, you turned back to Peter, unwavering, “Korthax.” Peter spluttered, knocking over his drink and immediately rose from his seat.

“You’re going to Korthax looking like that? Why?” Peter crossed his arms and you sighed knowing your fun would have to wait until Peter’s little interrogation was over.

Deciding not to answer his question for now, you teased Peter, “Looking like what, exactly?” Peter just scoffed and motioned to your body, as if that explained everything.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you shrugged, “I’m just going out to have fun and hopefully sleep in a bed that isn’t mine tonight. Does that bother you?”

Peter scoffed again, completely unwilling to believe what he was seeing, “Yes, actually, it does bother me.”

This time, you were the one to scoff, “Okay, why? I’m an adult, aren’t I? I get to choose how I spend my free time.”

Peter wasn’t having any of it and crossed the room in a few long strides, getting right in your face, “Not when those choices could put you in a ton of danger.” Peter gave his best serious face but rejoiced internally, totally satisfied with his response. His argument had practically no holes, he thought.

“Right, because when we face off against literal gods, that’s fine. But when I want to go out, then it’s a problem. Thanks, I get it now.” You were being a little rude and extremely sarcastic, but at this point, you were fed up with Peter’s sudden interest in your personal life and how you conducted it.

Peter short circuited, his brain literally could not think of one smart response to that. With what you were insinuating, you were right. Peter himself constantly puts you in danger, so why is now any different?

Still, Peter wasn’t a man known for backing down against good logic, so he doubled down and got even closer, “Do you know how dangerous some of these people are? At least with the people we fight, you know what they’re capable of. Here, you’re at a disadvantage– you feel too safe.”

You were also extremely hard-headed, so you got closer as well, your faces just mere inches away from each other, “These are your people, are they not? You banter with them, you literally call them family. And now they’re suddenly big scary monsters just waiting to take advantage of me? What a crock of shit.”

Peter blew a big puff of air out of his flaring nose, obviously annoyed with your indignation at his abrupt prodding. Peter was backed into a corner, you were much smarter than people gave you credit for. Speaking harshly, Peter began, “Fine. You want the truth?”

You cocked your head to the side, your face sprouting a vicious smile as you rested your hands on your hips, “Yes, Peter, I’d love the truth.”

A minute passed before Peter finally began to swallow all of his anxiety and fears regarding his feelings about you, he reasoned it was about time to let the truth flow anyway. “I like you. I mean, I really like you.”

Peter spoke lowly, his voice a resentful whisper, “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the first day I saw you. So imagine being me, seeing you, wearing that, and you’re talking about spending your night with some cheap lowlife when I’m right here. Now that is a crock of shit.”

Oh. Well, that certainly puts a dent in your plan. Well, fuck it, you thought. Taking Peter’s face in your hands, you pressed your soft, rouged lips against his and pressed your body against him, trying to communicate the utter want you’ve felt for him ever since you joined his ragtag band of misfits.

Peter groaned wantonly, his calloused hands flying to the seat of your ass and squeezing greedily as he deepened the passionate kiss. Fireworks went off in your head. It was all finally happening.

Peter’s tongue swiped against your lips and you opened them in hazy approval, letting him dominate your very being with not one complaint.

Soon, you had to break away to catch your breath. A single strand of saliva kept the two of you connected before it broke off and landed on your chins. A fog of lust clouded your minds and the only thing you could think about was getting in the other’s pants.

Peter was one step ahead of the curve though, and before you knew it, you were being hauled up and over Peter’s shoulder. With a yelp, you dropped your purse and your already short dress rode up even farther, leaving you shivering at the feeling of the cool air hitting your thinly clothed pussy.

Peter noticed this immediately (you swore his brain was wired to scope out anything even slightly appealing within a ten mile radius), and slapped your bare ass, commenting, “Seriously, a thong? How desperate were you?”

You slapped his ass in return, “Oh, fuck you.”

“You’re certainly about to,” Peter grinned wickedly.

Eventually, you made it to Peter’s cramped bedroom and he carefully laid you on his raggedy bed, admiring you for a long moment. Having abandoned your heels on the trek there, you teasingly ran one of your feet against Peter’s tented pants, beckoning him closer.

Peter hastily obliged and dove in, kissing you wildly as he bunched your dress above your hips and situated himself between your spread legs. His large hands traversed your mostly naked skin before his fingers hooked under the waistband of your thong and yanked them down.

You gasped and Peter took this opportunity to capture you in another heated kiss while his thumb slid through your slick folds and honed in on your throbbing clit. Moaning, you kissed Peter back feverishly, your hand coming down to grip his wrist as he rubbed your clit in slow circles.

Breaking apart once again, Peter kissed along the length of your neck before biting your collarbone, then soothing the mark with his tongue. Your other hand flew to Peter’s hair which you grabbed a tuft of and tugged. Peter groaned, pressing against your clit harder, causing you to moan in return.

Sliding down your body, Peter’s face aligned with your weeping cunt before he gave you a cocky look (one eyebrow arched, smile devilishly lopsided) and licked a hot stripe along your pussy, his mouth locking around your clit.

You bucked into Peter’s face and pulled at his hair even more, jerking at the vibrations his breathless moans sent straight into your aching core. Everything felt hot: your body, your soul, the very air in the room, you couldn’t focus on a single thing.

All you knew in that moment was Peter’s eager mouth licking and sucking at your most sensitive spot with a hunger unparalleled. The action sent a blindingly hot energy rippling through you, like an electric current traveling through a copper wire, making you gasp in pleasure.

Your fingers wound tighter into Peter’s luscious hair as you felt this energy ball up in the depths of your core and send radiating shockwaves that caused you to yell Peter’s name like it was a divine prayer capable of saving you from this sinful hedonism.

Wetness dripped from Peter’s chin as your body spasmed and that energy finally released in a seemingly cosmic explosion that sent stars reeling across the universe. Still experiencing the aftershocks, Peter came back up and kissed you long and hard, his hand coming to hold the back of your neck.

Feeling somewhat devious, you gathered up the gumption to lock your legs around Peter’s waist and force him onto his back with a blanket-muffled thump. Not wasting a second, you rearranged yourself so that you were now sitting between Peter’s muscular legs.

The outlaw was still wearing his faded jeans, so you made quick work of them by popping the button, pulling the zipper, and tugging both his pants and underwear down in one swift motion.

Peter smiled widely, chuckling, “Eager, aren’t we?” You grinned, watching as his dick sprang to life and slapped against his toned belly. It was big, in both length and width, and you wondered if you’d even be able to take half of it in your mouth.

You were a trooper, though, so you took his thick cock in your hand and retorted, “Oh, I can be bored, if you want,” mirroring his actions from earlier, you licked a wet stripe from Peter’s base to his tip, locking eyes with him before continuing, “That is totally do-able.”

Peter rolled his eyes, about to make a comeback when you hoped for the best and swallowed as much of Peter’s dick as you could in one fell swoop.

“Fuck!” Peter cursed, his hand flying to the back of your head and grabbing a bunch of hair.

Peter’s immediate reaction only fueled your intense desire to please and you took more of his length into your mouth, trying to stop your gag reflex the moment his cock hit the back of your throat. Curly brown hairs tickled your nose once you reached the hilt, and you soothingly rubbed the sides of Peter’s thighs before resting your hands on his, pushing down to signal that you would really like to be face-fucked.

Peter got the memo and swore again before bracing himself against the bed. Not a moment passed before your mouth was being used like some sort of personal masturbator and tears quickly filled your eyes as Peter’s dick ravaged your throat.

What kept you going was hearing Peter’s utterly indecent moans and achy whines as he got himself off, desperately chasing his own nearing climax.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” Peter whined, head falling back against his pillow.

Soon, Peter’s breath began to hitch and his hips pistoned into your mouth with such speed that it almost made you dizzy. Only a few minutes later did Peter finally still and pump hot cum down your throat as his fingers dug further into your hair, keeping you right in place.

Peter cooed, “That’s right, baby, take it all,” before he finally let go of your head. Catching your breath, you wiped some of the remnants marking your lips and made a show of licking it off your fingers. Peter was already getting hard again, but seeing that made all the blood rush from his head to his cock.

“That good?” you teased, climbing back up Peter’s body. Peter only nodded before kissing you deeply, you could taste each other’s essences on your tongues.

Feeling beat, you plopped down next to Peter’s still-heaving body after wrangling yourself out of your clothes and snuggled closely, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck. Peter decided to ignore his dick for the moment and wormed his arms around your waist, bringing you even closer. The sun began to rise outside of his window, but it didn’t matter as the both of you fell asleep within moments.

#peter quill #peter quill x reader #peter quill x you #peter quill fanfiction #peter quill fanfic #gotg #gotg3 #no spoilers #gotg fanfic #gotg fanfiction #smut #guardians of the galaxy fanfiction #guardians of the galaxy #guardians of the galaxy 3 #guardians of the galaxy vol 3 #fanfic #fanfiction

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lillylvjy · 5 months

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Be my (be my baby)

notes; hey! So this is long over due- was supposed to be part of Halloween but never got to it. Also this fic is a bit fucked up but, recently I’ve been doing research over horror movies and how they’re created and written. I’ve also done some analyzation over serial killers and criminals in college so I used all my knowledge to write this and- I hope you like it! And I know there is some plot holes and details missed, if people like this I’ll do another fic like this, it was super fun to write and yeah! Yes this is very inspired by Carrie and scream. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!!!! If it’s not for you, don’t read it.

warnings; DEAD DOVE: do not eat!, murder, massacre?, blood, bleeding out, choking on blood, insanity, feeling good about killing someone, Simpbur low key manipulates reader a bit, someone tied up, reader stabs someone but doesn’t kill anyone, simp kills a shit ton of people, simp and you go insane at the end ngl, kissing, cheating?, bets, trying to sleep with someone, suggestive, and if I missed anything please tell me! This fic is already fucked up as it is so please tell me!

ALSO!!! I suggest 16+ for this! But I don’t control what you guys read so read with caution. And please for god sake, READ THE WARNINGS!

wc; 2.5k

who; Simpbur x reader

edited: yes. (As much as I could)

It all happened in a blur. One second you were laughing and dancing, and the next you were screaming and crying as random people started dropping to the floor, blood slowly seeping out of them.

Soon random people became almost the whole student body that attended. People scurrying to get out, none made it, the doors were locked.

Quickly running to the next close exit, you tried to push it open. And again. And one more time.

Locked.

You quickly looked around to see more people on the floor, gasping for air as the blood painted the gym floor, walls, bleachers. Looking across the gym from you, another exit, leading to the hallways. You quickly took off your shoes and ran like hell.

‘Why didn’t they come after you yet? What was this for?!’ Your mind screamed over the loud music still playing on the speakers. Of course the dance had to be Oldies but Goodies themed, with various fifty and sixty love and dance songs playing.

Running at the door with full impact, taking notice that you were the only one left really alive, busting the door open and looking both ways, one leading to the cafeteria and one leading to the back of the school. You took your chances.

You took a right to the back of the school, thinking it’d be an easier way out and hiding from whoever the fuck was doing this. As you ran, the music transferred to the speakers all over the school.

Be my baby by The Ronettes blasted as you heard an ear piercing scream be cut short by gasping and gurgling a couple feet away. Halting your run, panting but being as silent as you can, you slowly turn around and see a girl lying limp on the ground, blood pooling all around her as she stared blankly at the ceiling , life seeping out of her every second.

You placed a hand over your mouth to hold back sobs as you lean down and closed her eyelids, not wanting to look into the plain eyes anymore. The music felt like it got louder as your head pounded at everything going on. Where were the teachers? Where was all the trusted adults you were supposed to have? Or did they-

No. You needed to stop thinking and start running and finding an exit. Quickly getting up you, turned around and started jogging before turning right again and running into something, or someone.

You screamed as you hide yourself, getting ready for the sharp impact of a knife or something.

“Y/n? Oh my god-“ you heard the person say and arms engulf you into a hug. You quickly opened your eyes and pushed the person away so you could see them.

Wilbur.

Pulling him back into you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and hid your face in his neck, wanting to hide from whatever the fuck was happening.

Wil has been your best friend since you were babies, both of your moms being best friends as well and wanting to have you both grow up with each other. That worked out as to see you both were inseparable since day 1, him being a couple months older than you. Now you didn’t know whether this would be your last time holding him or not.

“Wil, what’s happening?” You asked the tall man in front of you as he cupped your face.

“I don’t know but we better start going if we want to get out alive, I have a place we can go and hide, trust me?” Wil held his hand out for you to take as you stared at him with wide eyes.

“Always.” You placed your hand in his as he nodded and started to run with you, side by side, desperately trying to get out of any situation that’d lead to be face to face with the person doing this.

As you ran, you saw each teacher attending the dance in their classroom, lying limp on their desk or sitting in their desk chairs with blood soaking their clothes and eyes still open. A shiver tan down your spine as you placed a hand over your mouth, holding back a sob.

Wilbur took a quick left turn up the stairs and dragged you to the last classroom in the hallway. The science lab.

As he turned and got into the classroom, he quickly stopped. You followed in shortly looking at him questionably.

“Wil what- oh my god, Luke!” You quickly rushed over once you saw him in the chair, a rag towel in his mouth and rope binding him to the chair. Luke was the guy you were going out with as to recent and the lead quarterback of the football team. Nothing romantic yet just some dates here and there to get to know each other more. He was your date to homecoming that you thought ditched you for some cheerleader but apparently he’d been kidnapped by god knows who.

You quickly pulled the towel out of his mouth and cupped his cheek as he slowly came too. “Luke? Luke, hey can you hear me? Wil I need help! Luke who did this to you?” You asked as he slowly opened his eyes and looked relieved to see you.

“I don’t know, I think I blacked out.” He said, his voice hoarse and gone. You quickly sighed as you examined the ties in the rope.

“Ok, Wil can I please get som- Wil?” Your voice lowered as you saw Wil looking at the two of you, eyes full of dread, anger and revenge. You quickly stood up as you slowly walked towards him but stopped once he slowly started laughing and a smile appeared on his once blank face.

Wilbur reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a knife, one that was still ridden with blood. He looked at it before point it at you. “You know, this all happened because of you darling. You did this. You decided to ignore all my affections and admirations for this prick who doesn’t even care about you! I care! Not him! I did this for you.” Wil got close enough to you that you could feel his breath against your face. He brought the knife closer to your face and gently ran it down your cheek one as you stood there stone faced. “And you’re going to finish it, isn’t that right darling?”

Your cold, unfazed face quickly turned into one of excitement and joy as a smile adorned your face and you bit your bottom lip to contain it. You quickly grabbed his tie and pulled him down to your level and pushed your lips onto his, not minding the gasp they both heard from the unwanted guest.

You quickly reached into Wil’s jacket and pulled out the extra knife you placed in there earlier that night as you tugged him closer to you, one arm around your waist and one hand around your neck.

Wil pushed you away slightly. “Hmm not now, we still have business to take care of love.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to do this in front of him? Make him suffer even more?” You asked the man in front of you as you fixed his tie. Wilbur smirked as he looked down at you, amused at your sudden demeanor change. He loved it.

“Yes I did, but let’s do it after we deal with this fucking cunt.” Wil whispered in your ear as he pecked your neck and turned you around. “Now darling, what do we do with people who think they can just come in here and expect us to just forget all the shit they’ve put us through with their charm?” Wil asked as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder.

You pretended to think as you brought the knife up to your lips and tapped lightly. “Um… oh! You make their life a living hell.”

“Exactly, good job darling! So, wanna do the honors?” Wil asked as he placed his hands on your hips and stepped away from you.

“Can I say something to him quickly?” You asked your partner as he hummed, agreeing with what you wanted. He let go of your waist as you started walking forward.

“Don’t you dare come near me.” Luke hissed out as you walked up to him. You smiled at him as you meant down, face to face with him as you tapped his cheek with the blunt side of the knife.

“Oh but I thought you wanted me near you all the time? That’s why you started going on dates with me yeah?” Luke looked away from your eyes as you brought the knife to his forehead and moves pieces of his hair back. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I heard what you did. Made a little bet with your friends to see if you could get in my pants? Think I’m worth it now? After everything you did to me and called me? Think I would just accept something like that from you so quickly?!” You started to tear up as thoughts ran through your head. Frustration and sadness ran through your whole body. He didn’t understand that what he did still had an effect on you. It will always have an effect on you. He humiliated you throughout he school years and thinks he can just come in here and get some? Hell no.

Wil came up with this plan after you came to him crying about the whole situation. You knew the second he asked you out something was up, and your suspicions were right when you over heard the stupid cheerleaders making a fuzz about it in the back of class. Making fun of how small you were and how you were “easier”.

Wil was just as, maybe even more, angry than you were. That was when Wil told you he liked you and begged you not to say yes. You weren’t going to in the first place and after all that happened, you definitely weren’t. After that Wil came up with the idea for you to go out with him, play with him and drag it out as much as you could. Wil didn’t like hearing you shared a kiss with the bastard once or twice on the dates, but he let it slide when he saw you after and rid of the scent of his nasty cologne and disgusting kiss on your lips.

But after Wil over heard Luke in class with his gang of idiot, taking in the information, he was fuming. Texting you immediately after, telling you to meet him at his car immediately. He told you all of it. Luke’s plan to finally get some and leave you after. It disgusted him knowing that he wanted to do that to you. His darling. He told you to avoid all forms of contact at all cost, not to let him to close but close enough not to be suspicious.

The plan was working. Get him to tired so he leaves you alone. But Wil wanted more, something else.

Revenge. For all of it. So he sat you down and told you the plan he had, and to say that you were terrified at first was an understatement. You were scared of Wilbur. But after you continued hearing things and going on dates and hearing all the stupid lies coming out of his mouth, you started to understand the plan. The reason behind it. So after Luke asked you to go with him to homecoming, you immediately went to Wil after a couple days of no contact or conversation and told him you were in. And to say that he was happy was an understatement. He was ecstatic. He had his partner in crime back.

Which leads you here, in this moment on the verge of seeing red and snapping this mans neck.

“You ruined my years in school since I was a kid because you convinced everyone that I should be a loner and i deserved it, since my dad never loved me and my moms a drunk. I was the weird kid yeah? Remember those words? I do. They’re engraved in my fucking mind because of you!” You screamed in his face as he flinch back. You quickly stood up and looked down at him with a flat expression. “And I believed it. Until I met Wil. He actually cared enough to get to know me. He cared enough to be my friend. And that’s more than I could ask for. But you, you can’t get enough of seeing me suffer yeah? Seeing me crumple into a little ball and ruining my life. Well buddy boy-“ you lightly pat his face as Wilbur comes behind you and smiles at the boy. “That’s exactly what we’re going to be doing to you but in a more… painful way.”

You finished off as you plunged your knife into his stomach, feeling a rush adrenaline run through you. You didn’t want to do this, but he deserved it, for all the pain he put you through. And you guys already did enough damages so why not a little more.

You took the knife out as you heard him gasp and hiss in pain and uncomfortable.

“You’re fucking crazy.” Luke said as curled in on himself, trying to stop the pain at any cost.

Wil scoffed as he pulled the man’s head back by his hair and leant down close to him. “Go to hell.” He hissed in his face as he shoved the knife into the blondes chest and stepped back as he yelled and the gasping started.

The scene wasn’t pretty. The boy had blood running out of his mouth and down his tux, not that it wasn’t already ruined by the wounds he sported. Yet the adrenaline kept rushing through you like a wave that never stopped. It almost brought you joy to see him like this . To see him slowly dying as all the tension and heartache from the past years slowly drain out of you.

You didn’t know you were crying until Wil cupped your face and cooed at you, wiping your tears away as he put your head in his chest, running his hands through your hair.

“We did the right thing love. These people were not kind to us. They deserved it. You’ll realize that soon, I promise. But now we have to leave, ok? We can get food and crash at my house and talk about this all. Ok? Trust me?” Wil told you as the music over the speakers continued but you weren’t focused on them. Only on the man in front of you and what he was saying. You trusted him with your whole life and if you had to do whatever he said, you would. Always.

You took his hands and pulled him out of the room, making sure everything that you guys brought and used was in hand. “Always. Now where are we eating?”

Wil smiled as tightened his grip on your hand and walked in line with you. “What about burgers?”

“Yeah, I could go for a burger.” You said with a smile on your face.

A smile that had nothing but pure joy and insanity as you tucked the knife away in Wil’s coat.

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#lilly writes #wilbur soot x reader #simpbur #simpbur x reader #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #dead dove do not eat #dark fic #please read warnings!!!!!#wilbur x reader

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