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komelrebi-san · 5 months

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gem ♡ boy band ver.

will be performing in a band in talent show and it gave me ideas

feat.: guitarist! childe, drummer! itto, bassist! diluc, keyboardist! kaveh, vocalist! venti synopsis: Hoyo Entertainment recently debuted a boy band! and you are their pretty little stage-styling manager. the catch? they can't seem to keep their hands off you...

a/n: i got carried away oops

tw: MDNI!!, characters slightly ooc, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap kiddos!!), semi-public sex, slight voyeurism, dacryphilia, p->v penetration, slight breeding, semi-clothed sex, edging/orgasm denial, hand fetish, praise kink, riding, marking (hickies), oral f!/m! receiving, slight manhandling, size kink, tummy bulge, tell me if there's more!

don't like, don't read.

guitarist! childe

always laughing on stage, bright cobalt eyes twinkling as he played

the kind to vibe with his members on stage, looking over at them now and then with a wide grin on his face

the cheeky smile he sends to the audience, the kind of smile where dimples appear at the corner of his lips, paired along with a charismatic wink, makes the audience go crazy

but who cares about the audience when he knows that you're backstage, watching?

always makes sure to throw his head back at back at the end of the song when he strums the last chord

he knows you can see his adam apple bob in his throat, he knows you can see how the light hits his jaw line, he knows you can see the sweat dripping down the side of his face, he knows you can see him pant and his hair stick to his forehead

he knows he's hot, and he knows you get antsy when you hear the fans scream

he's definitely the kind to stare at you intently when you're brushing highlighter onto his face, or using a blue eyeliner that matched his big eyes

'mhm? you're blushing~' he remarks, raising a hand to push away yours that's holding the eyeliner pen before cupping your cheek

insists that you kiss him before you go on stage, for good luck purposes only!

(not just that though, your lips are so soft, of course he'd wanna kiss them)

'ajax, you're gonna smudge your lip- mmh!' and he plants his lips firmly on yours, long slender fingers brushing against your waist

he laughs when he sees your red face, turning to walk on stage but not forgetting to plant another kiss on your cheek

oh, it's so cute, he thinks. he does it every time but you never fail to please him with your flushed cheeks

he knows you stare at his hands - dextrous fingers, prominent knuckles and veins, he knows you practically drool over them when he plays guitar

and you make the prettiest sounds when his fingers work their way into your panties

'wait- ajax- not here-' and he cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, relishing the whimper that bubbled up your throat

'not here, mhm? that's not what your pretty little cunt says, princess. you're dripping wet, i can just slip my fingers right in.'

you're quite sure that you saw stars when his fingers reach a spot inside you that you'll never be able to reach with your own fingers

he chuckles when you break off the heated kiss, a loud moan tumbling out of your pretty lips when he curled his fingers inside you

'no no no, we can't have that, mhm? people are gonna hear.' childe leans in to whisper in your ear, raising his other hand to cover your mouth as you whined.

'unless...that's what you're into. you want them to hear, do you? you want them to hear how good i'm making you feel? naughty girl.'

he laughs breathily when you moan again, the sound muffled by his hand, lewd squelching resonating in the dressing room when he scissors his fingers in your cunt

'tell you what, if you are good and stay quiet, i'll let you cum. how's that?' and he grins when you nod feverishly, bucking your hips into his hand.

he knows you can't stay quiet, he knew, but maybe he'd play nice today, since you're so desperate for his touch, mhm?

he hears venti call for him, so he curls his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pushing his finger pads against that spot inside you that made your legs quiver

with a muffled cry, you gush around his fingers, juices dribbling down your thighs as your walls clamped tight around his fingers

'good girl.' he says, licking your juices clean from his fingers, grinning when you groan at the sight. 'wish me luck, mhm? maybe i'll treat you later.'

drummer! itto

the kinda guy that laughs while throwing his head back as he plays, especially when one of his band members pull off something sick

twirls his drumstick, it looks so cool fr fr

his arms!

there's this once when you told him being able to play drums is cool, so he tried to teach you

made you sit in the drum stool and sat in a chair behind you, wrapping his arms around your figure to take your hands in his own, guiding your hands holding the drumsticks to hit the different drums

back against his firm chest, veins gliding over knuckles when he squeezed your hands gently

oof his hands completely covered your own bc yours were so much smaller than his

you can see the muscles flexing in his arm when he plays, oof he's so strong

and he knows it, he wears tank tops all the time for a reason, bc tank tops meant that ppl can see his arms, good god

in between songs, he runs a hand through his hair and takes a drink of water from his bottle - but you're right there, backstage, watching their performance

so instead, he gulps the water because he knows you see his adams apple bobble up and down

he pours some of the water on his head (under the excuse of the heat) because he knows you can see the water wet his shirt (sticking to his muscles) and lifts his shirt to dry the sweat running down his face

he sees you staring, really - he sees you staring when he twirls his drumstick and pass it from finger to finger, knuckle to knuckle; he sees you staring when he stretches after a performance

'Sorry about my hair, it must give you a lot of trouble, huh?' He says as you stood in front of him, trying your best to curl the hair that fell beside his face

the way his voice was quiet and slightly husky, the way his large hands were dangerously low on your hips, the way he leaned closer to you whilst pulling you into him - everything about him made you melt

you give him a rather nervous smile before leaving him to change into his outfit, but wait - he pulls you back into him

the way he's manhandling you is so hot, ngl

partially, itto really wants to just prove his strength and manliness to you, to prove that he's the best because he knew his band members want you too (who wouldn't, mhm???)

your back was against the wall, his hands hooked under your knees holding you up while his hips rutted into you

'fuck, look at you, taking my big fat cock so well.' he groans. his cock tip was probably kissing your cervix because he was so big. he gripped your blush thighs tight, groaning when your cunt sucks him back in

'shit, you're so tight, doll.' he pants, laughing at your terrible attempt at trying to form a sentence, only incoherent babbles exit your mouth. 'i bet none of the others fuck you like this, mhm?'

you can barely think as he works you impossibly close to your climax, eyes rolled to the back of your head

'fu- i- i'm gonna cum.' he pants, lifting you slightly so that his cock head pressed against your g-spot every time, loud cries ripped from your throat at feeling the knot in your tummy threatening to unravel

he possibly got even harder at seeing your tummy bulge

'yeah? you want me to fill you up? you gonna take my cum like a good girl?' you couldn't answer him, drool running down the corner of your lips, tongue lolling out, way too fucked out to think or respond. but he knew your answer when you whined loudly, walls fluttering around him

he thinks you look pretty, even prettier than usual - barely able to walk, his cum running down your thighs

bassist! diluc

he's the quiet one

but bc of the kind of aura he has, bro's popularity skyrocketed

actually not the type to wear rings and shit, he likes stuff simple

but! the fans went wild when he started wearing them at your suggestion

upon noticing his popularity dramatically increase, kazuha started including more bass riffs in the songs

actually has a good singing voice, but only shines when he does adlibs for venti's vocals

he looks so good on stage, sheesh

long red hair usually pulled back into a ponytail with small braids here and there, bangs curled to frame his face perfectly, rings adorning his long fingers (very much at your genius suggestion, big thank you)

like childe, he interacts with his members on stage

doesn't just open up to everyone, but feels really close to his band members

he's not as outgoing about it, he only subtly shows his trust in his companions

he gives everyone a reassuring nod before lowering his head again to look at his fingers strumming the strings, or pressing down on the fingerboard

bobs his head slightly as he plucks the strings

redid his hair once in the middle of a concert, but he did it by fixing his hair while biting on his hairtie

ooof that was so hot

gentle in his approaches, generally prioritises you and your needs over everything

always brings an extra bottle of water to the dressing room - oh, one of them is for you

gives you a small but sincere smile as you lean closer, gently dabbing eyeshadow/doing eyeliner

the kind to lean closer to you, tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear before stroking your cheek

'thank you,' he whispers, leaning in to press the lightest peck to your cheek, before making his way to the stage, not forgetting to give you a small smile - a smile that he reserved only for you

oof i'm whipped

he rlly loves it when you do his hair, bc you're so gentle with him

catches your eyes in the mirror as you worked away on his hair, curling iron in one hand, hairbrush in the other, bobby pins held in your pursed lips and clips on your sweater sleeve

your touch feels so nice, oop

oh, you look so cute, he thinks. you look so cute when you're all focused on him, and not focused on childe's/venti's shenanigans

but - you look even cuter when you're on your knees in front of him, pouty lips wrapped around his dick, struggling to take all of him in your mouth

'you look so pretty like this.' he says, cupping your jaw in one of hands

quiet for the most part, but when you struggle take more of him inside your mouth, pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his shaft and raise a hand to fondle his balls, he loses it

a gutteral groan rumbled from his chest, throwing his head back, reaching to hook his hand on the back of your head, he pushed your head down slightly as he tangles his fingers in your hair

'you're doing so- ah- so good.' he pants, tugging your hair slightly as he bucked his hips, smiling slightly when you gag as his tip hits the back of your throat, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you whimpered

'you look so pretty, good god.' he groans, rutting his hips into your mouth as he cums down your throat

keyboardist! kaveh

pretty!

his hair is so soft!

literally doesn't give you any trouble when you try to style it

tie it up into a ponytail, half-up, braid it - anything works and anything looks pretty on him, and he has zero objections in you trying out new stuff

does the thing where he drums the desk or his thigh or the arms of the chair, his deft fingers playing his keyboard part, tapping away

at first it was really annoying, geez

but it slowly became comforting, calming, even

almost like a kind of silent noise at the back of your mind, soothing you as you do his makeup

big eyes peer up at you, batting his lashes innocently when you are not working away at his eye makeup

and when you are, a soft smile dances on the curves of his lips, feeling the brush against his eyelids or along the corner of his eyes

he's so gentle, so sweet with you, you could practically see all his affection towards you pour out of his eyes

your heart aches when he's around you because his attention is all on you

but at the same time, he wants, needs, craves your attention so bad at the best of times

quite affectionate with you too

ruffles your hair, pats your cheek, swings an arm around your shoulders - you name it

my gosh, have you seen his music scores?

any and all space is filled with doodles of you - and they look so accurate!

he's always focused on every little detail on your face, every tiny perfect imperfection, he can't get enough of you because you're so pretty that it hurts

it's only fair that he captures your beauty perfectly, since you make him look so pretty when he goes on stage

clingy! he's basically half hugging you when he peers up at you, taking in how you were frowning slightly as you worked away at his face, tracing his cheekbone with a dab of highlighter

takes advantage of every single chance he has to be alone with you, and that's how you ended up being pulled onto his lap as his bandmates filed out of the dressing room, heading onto the stage first

'ka- kaveh, you have to go on stage-' you manage to stutter, feeling him grind his bulge into your aching cunt

'shh, you want this too, no?' he whispers, leaning in to press openmouthed kisses to your collarbone

but it was obvious you were needy - small hand fisting and clutching his shirt tight, humping your hips against him to match his rhythm, quiet whimpers leaving your throat when you feel his erection against your barely clothed cunt

'you're so cute.' he says breathily, tugging you closer to him whilst moulding his lips with yours

oh, his lips are so soft, and he tasted so sweet - like strawberry and peach blossoms and all kinds of other nice things, you can never get enough - he tasted just as sweet as the way he treated you

and when he finally slips inside you, both of you groaned loudly, not even caring about other people hearing

you felt so full - his long-fingered hands on your hips, helping you move up and down on his cock

'i can feel myself here.' he pants, caressing the bulge in your tummy with his warm palm. 'shit- your gonna kill me with your clenching- god- just- just relax, yeah? i've gotchu.'

just like he knew all the small details on your face, he also knew exactly how to work his way around your body

'shh shh, you're doing so good for me, so good.' he praises, leaning in to suck on your neck, pretty red and purple marks blooming across your soft skin.

'i'm- nngh- i'm close.' you manage to make out, hands on his shoulder to support yourself.

'i know, princess. me too. cum with me, yeah?' he smiles, pulling you to him to cradle your head in his neck, voice cracking when he feels your walls clamp down on him again

he brought a hand down to swipe across your clit, feeling you quiver in his touch

with a sob, you cum around him, white strings of both your juices dripping out of your cunt as he pulled out

'good girl.' he says, leaning in to press another sweet kiss to your lips.

vocalist! venti

cheeky little shit

straightup just blatantly stares at you in the mirror when you're doing his hair

peeks under your skirt you're bent over, grabbing tools and getting ready to do his makeup (oh, how he wished he can bury his head between your legs)

always always always makes you dye his hair

under the excuse that the other styling team members never gets the turquoise colour quite right

'they can't mix the same colour like you can.' he complains, whining about you rushing off to do kaveh's hair instead of paying attention to him

no, that's a lie, because it literally has nothing to do with hair colours whatsoever

he just thinks that his hair should be only for you to touch and stroke

of course, he's exclusively yours, and only yours

the fans love him - he's lively, he hypes up the concert, he interacts with the fans while singing, leaning over the stage to highfive and take selfies with them

but he's yours, and only yours

stopped doing his braids by himself - must be you that does it!

whines that he can't do it as well as you do, but actually just really enjoys your touch

'ehehe, is this the tint that you use for your cheeks?' he asks, leaning in until you were nose-to-nose, while you are dusting his cheeks with the pretty blush

you don't reply, opting on leaning back to continue doing his makeup

he knew you were only trying your best to convince yourself, because you were staring at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, hands shaking slightly

'you always make me look so good on stage, i was wondering how you do that...is it because you use the same things personally? ehehe, i knew it~' he laughs, teal coloured eyes twinkling in feign innocence as he grabs your wrist, tugging you closer to him again

'hey, what flavour is your lip balm today?' he asks, batting his lashes, the rather mischievous glint doesn't leave his eyes as he leans in

but he doesn't wait for you to answer, this little shit guy literally just leans in to sneak a kiss by pressing his lips to yours, relishing the muffled 'mnhm!' of surprise

oh, you are so cute

the fans call him cute, but only if they knew, really, that you are the cutest

you're so sweet - you smell sweet, you and so sweet towards him, and you taste so sweet

your lips taste so sweet (oh, they are strawberry today) - but your cunt tastes even sweeter

he's obsessed with your taste - nose nudging at your clit, tongue eagerly prodding at your entrance, finally delving into your hole when he's had enough of slurping at your arousal

'you taste so sweet.' he groans, the vibrations against your folds drawing another whimper from you

'ven- venti-' you pant, but your voice disappears when he moves his mouth to suck on your clit, 2 dainty fingers slipping into your hole

'fuck- i can do this for hours.' he's almost whining, though really you are the one at his mercy. he was on his knees while you sat on the desk, desperately bucking your hips into his face as he worked his way around your folds

it was so lewd, you think. the loud slurps, your juices and drool dribbling down venti's chin, his whimpers and whines as he buried his face into your crotch as angelic as ever

who, amongst the countless number of fans, would think that their idol who had the most beautiful voice, singing songs that praised innocent, sincere love - would be here, your plush thighs opened wide, muffled whines leaving his mouth as he begged to taste you more?

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hannieehaee · 2 months

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Can you do sumn with vernon with a pretty girl like drop dead pretty she’s really shy, quiet and introverted like you can do wtv

content: crush!vernon, kinda simp!vernon, mutual crush, talking stage turned into official relationship, afab reader, fluff, confession, etc.

wc: 1166

a/n: i hope u enjoy what i came up with c:

masterlist

vernon just couldn't help himself whenever you were around, you were simply too pretty a sight for him to behold; always making him fumble and act an idiot.

vernon wasnt really one to put too much weight on appearance, always considering what's on the inside to be far more important, but you had just drawn him in. you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen, and vernon knew were fully unaware of your beauty, which only added even more to your charm.

your shy demeanor and cute blush any time he stumbled over his words made the embarrassment worth it. he would make a joke of himself in front of the entire nation if it meant seeing your shy smile and the way you'd attempt to cover your mouth as you giggled at him.

the two of you weren't dating, per say, but vernon liked to think you were on your way there. with his inability to function around you and your introverted demeanor combined, it was a bit difficult for either of you to ask the other out, but vernon was very much enjoying the 'will they, wont they' the two of you had going on.

he knew you liked him, which was something he prided himself on greatly, always showing off to the members (and consequently turning into putty the moment you walked in).

"yeah, when are you gonna ask her out, nonnie?", had asked seungkwan one day during practice.

the members had been taking breaks on and off throughout the day, with that day being pretty much free aside from dance practice. during one of the breaks, you had come up, as vernon had decided to invite you over to impress you so that you could lend him some company during his work day. the members had taken this opportunity to berate him about your current relationship status.

"oh, you're not dating? huh. mind if i-",

"don't finish that sentence," vernon interrupted mingyu before he could even picture a reality in which you even so much as looked mingyu's way.

"fesity. you really like her, huh? she is super pretty," joined in jeonghan, instigating further conversation.

"yeah ... how'd you get her attention?", now was chan's turn. it was like they were taking turns to drive him as insane as possible while he waited for your arrival.

"can you guys shut up? i'm going to ask her out. she's just a little shy, i wanna show her that i really like her before making things official," he rebutted.

"well, you should hurry up. pretty girls like that are never single for too long; shy or not," added seungcheol.

before vernon could respond by telling him the intricacies of your exclusive relationship friendship, you suddenly walked in, calling vernon's name from the entrance and consequently scrunching up your nose in embarrassment at having accidentally invoked every member's attention upon entering.

vernon couldn't help but coo at you from where he was standing, adoring how shy you could be sometimes. you were entirely unaware of the fact that a few of his members had just been inquiring if they had a chance with you just before your arrival.

despite having been around the members a few times (with your friendship with vernon being quite obviously just a phase of denial on both of your parts), you were still a bit shy around them. you knew that they knew you liked vernon, and you knew that they knew vernon liked you. it was all a childish game of chicken as the two of you waited for the other to make things official.

even through what you believed to be an awkward moment, one look at vernon's soft smile and you pushed that awkwardness aside and walked towards him, offering him a hug before being stolen away by a few of the other members for a greeting hug of their own. vernon simply grumbled beside you, knowing they were all friendly with you, but still wanting you all to himself.

when you finished, he childishly grabbed onto your hand, now holding it in his as a sign of possessiveness (a behavior vernon had never expressed up until meeting you). the two of you inadvertently blushed and looked away from each other, making seungkwan jokingly gag while you weren't looking.

"okay, get him out of here. you two disgust me," seungkwan practically pushed the two of you towards the exit, "don't chicken out this time! ask her out, you coward!", he finished before slamming the door on the two of you, throwing a panicked vernon a satisfied smile.

your eyes had widened as you looked back at vernon, a surprised smile making its way to your face, "'ask me out'?", you asked him.

"oh, uh, yeah ... about that-"

"mhm?"

he cleared his throat and finally made eye contact with you, realizing you were instigating him just to tease him. this eased the nerves he felt at you now knowing that he liked you (which was something he kind of already assumed you knew), though it did not prevent the endless string of words that left his mouth moments later.

"hey! don't make fun of me. i really like you, okay? of course i'm nervous. i've been nervous, which is why i've chickened out of asking you out every single time", his eyes trailed off you due to his nerves, "and you're- you're just so fucking pretty, every time you look at me i lose my train of thought. i have no idea how im even saying this to you right now. or why i cant seem to shut up, fuck. okay, fuck. what i meant to say is: will you please go out with me? officially? as, you know ... boyfriend and girlfriend?", he finished, finally looking at you again, though now with wide eyes and almost breathless.

you matched his appearance with your own breathlessness and shocked expression, but this did not last long, as you seemed to give yourself a short pep talk in your head before nodding to yourself and pulling him towards you, stealing a kiss from him.

he froze completely for a few moments before finally taking action and giving in, kissing you in a way sweeter way than his brain was begging him to (he did not want to scare you away by kissing you in the way he really wanted to).

once more, the two of you were too shy to make eye contact at first, simply blushing and holding onto each other in the most timid way possible.

vernon broke the silence first, "im really hoping that's a yes ..?"

you giggled back, "yes, vernon. i'd love that."

with a boyish fist bump thrown towards the sky, vernon let out a quiet 'fuck yeah!' before holding onto your hand and walking you out of the building, finally leading you to your first outing as an official couple, already planning your first date in his head.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagine #svt #seventeen oneshot #svt imagines #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #vernon x reader #vernon fanfic #vernon scenarios #vernon imagines #hansol x reader #hansol fanfic #hansol scenarios

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theroyalyandere · 10 months

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yandere prince trying to denied the fact that he was abso-fucking-lutely obsessed with female servant reader. this man is in his denial stages. he's always shouting at the female servant reader that she was just a peasant and he was a god (we all know he is fuckng delusional but since its a yandere well then its not so suprising.) and the peak is when at one time the prince caughting the female servant reader being too close to the other prince who was visiting his palace. so when he caught up the female servant his jealousness began to rise as much as the rage he's feeling and he immediately pulled her away from the other prince, and then he bring her to his fancy chamber and yk, they fuck while the prince say "fuck i'm.. i'm so fucking in love, fuck.. you're mine now, yeah, yeah you're mine." and the female servant reader is only muttered "no" and "please" repeatedly. please make this noncon, the darker the fics, the better.

yandere!prince x female servant!reader smut 18+

cw: reader has a vagina, delusional yandere, noncon, obsession, jealousy, toxic relationships, male masturbation, humiliation, dacryphilia, drowning, punishments, spanking, groping, power imbalance, cucking (oops), a little god complex maybe???, mentions of children/pregnancy, slapping.

a/n: I put so many warnings please tell me if I missed something. Also I added more elements in this if you don't mind!

you've been working for a while as a servant to the royals and most of the time you attend to the prince because of his request

you do not know why he chose you out of all people he's the one who chose you yet you find yourself always receiving his anger and him shouting at you

the prince loves to humiliate you in front of everyone and you chose to bear it instead of losing your head if you ever snapped

he would often spill his drink on purpose, asking you to lick the liquid on the floor where everyone will see

he would also give you the most complicated tasks leaving you exhausted by the time you complete each you do not know why he torments you this much but he does it out of love, he thinks he loves seeing you on your knees, that desperate look on your face, the way your face falls when he insults you, he thinks you look so pretty and pathetic

he wants to lock you in a dungeon where only him has access to

he would often sneak to your quarters where sometimes you cry out of frustration

he gets hard at the sight of your tear stricken face, he would often close his eyes and masturbate to the thought of you crying underneath him it never fails to make him cum every single time

he tells himself he is not attracted to you yet his territorial nature over you says otherwise

he despises it even if you're a second late after he asked for you

the prince is the one who often delivers punishments when you fail to do something or displease him in any other way (which is all the time)he would bend you over and spank your ass until it's all swollen and your eyes filled with tears, groping you in the process after your punishment you always end up sobbing making his heart flutter with the way you look at him with those doe eyes

the prince can't help himself but be soft on you which can be rare however when he softly kisses your tears away it always leaves you confused then he would later shift back to his cruel self

his torment would continue until..he dragged you away to accompany him to walk beside the pond, he purposely dropped an item of his onto the water and ordered you to get it for him

you reluctantly lean down to the pond to reach for the object then suddenly you were pushed into the water

you watched as everything became a blur the prince looking down at you, just watching you struggle

you flail your arms and try to swim with your might

you keep shouting for help but no one could her you nor help you

as you start losing consciousness, you hear another splash before you faint from exhaustion

you wake up on a bed with people surrounding you, your vision blurry and a head that felt like cotton

you groan out from the aches and pain in your body

you blink to see who was arguing right infront of you

as your vision clears up, you see the prince arguing with someone unfamiliar.

the other person scans your condition and his eyes land on yours

he immediately walks closer towards you despite the prince's protests

he introduces himself as the prince of the neighboring kingdom

he treats you gently like a fragile glass and asks how you were

too lost into his kindness, you fail to acknowledge your prince's presence

you continued to respond to the questions thrown your way while the possessive prince walked out

for the times you were recovering, the kind and gentle prince kept visiting you. always having a bouquet of flowers or food in hand for you.

you slowly became closer to him as he extended his stay to get you even more as his new friend.

you introduce him to a bunch of stuff that doesn't exist yet at his kingdom.

your attention and time preoccupied by the kind hearted prince. you feel at peace, almost living a fairytale life.

meanwhile, everyone else is walking around egg shells when your possessive prince crosses their way

his tantrums got even worse as he watches you go on a date with the foreign prince.

he tried a different bunch of ways to sabotage the other but he always failed.

as he sees how your face glows with happiness he slowly comes to a conclusion that he loves you, after so many times denying it and now he admits how much he wants to touch you, kiss you, and make you his.

he remembered that all he wanted was you and seeing you so happy with another is making his dark intentions come out to light.

he's supposed to be the only one you treat with respect, you should be looking at him and only him. he should be the one you're worshipping and he's about to make you pay.

later that day, after you were escorted by the prince you've come to acquainted with gently kissed your hand before you enter your chambers.

you turn around with a soft smile on your face as you reflect on the events that happened.

you let out a gasp as you see who's sitting at the foot of your bed.

he smiles menacingly as you get stuck in place while he walks towards you.

your knees trembling from fear seeing how dark his eyes look.

you let out a whimper as he corners you and he presses a handkerchief to your face before you fall unconscious.

you wake up tied to his bed in the grand chamber.

you look across you and see your beloved prince tied on a chair with a gag on his mouth, protesting to set him free.

your eyes tear up at his predicament, as you look to the side the possessive prince, the one you despise the most walk over you like a vulture about to gobble up his prey.

you shout profanities at him and ask him to let you go.

it turns him on seeing the flame in your eyes.

he only let's out a dark laugh.

"you think you can live without me? running away with your prince like a happily ever after. but that's alright I'm here to make you realize that you belong to me."

he crawls over you as you try to kick him but the chains restrain you, he gropes your legs, thighs, stomach, then your chest.

burying his face into your breasts as he looks up at you.

"I can't wait to claim you with my child in your womb."

you cry and shout to get away from you but he only kisses and marks you roughly while the one you love watches you get ravaged by the other.

tears stream down your face as he licks your cheek.

he rips your clothes leaving you naked.

the prince forces your legs open before taking out his hard member.

he pulls you towards him as you try to get away but he was too strong.

he looks behind him and rub his cock against your swollen pussy.

"watch as I take her, maybe that should teach you not to touch what's not yours."

with that, he thrusts into your cunny with a groan while you let out a wail of pain

he doesn't let you adjust as he grabs your throat pinning you down onto the bed brutally fucking you.

"No- p-please!! stop!"

tears cloud your vision as your breath lessens from the way he's squeezing your air pipe.

you slowly stop thrashing as you grow tired and come to accept your fate.

you keep crying as he takes you by force.

he slaps your cheek noticing how you seem to lose focus.

"You're all mine you hear me? I love you so fucking much, can't you see that?"

he mushes your lips together and kisses you hungrily.

the prince changes your position so you can see your beloved's reaction at your defilement.

he watches you wide eyed, tears also streaming down his face as he helplessly watches you.

the one ramming behind you pulls you close to him with your back against his chest.

"No one can take you away from me now, you're mine forever."

#yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #royal requests #yandere #yandere oc #yandere smut #fem!reader #female reader #fem reader #yandere prince #yandere prince x reader #yandere prince x f!reader #yandere fanfic

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gr1mstar · 4 months

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How and where the jjk characters would say 'i love you' for the first time.

notes: this is my opinion, ofc i try to make it as real as possible but well... i'm not perfect. 'i love you' these 3 words are very important in a relationship, so how jjk characters would say it?

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GOJO SATORU

i personally see gojo saying for the first time ‘i love you’ at home, nothing romantic and shit. just you two, a couch and a movie. a lot of sweets too.

as you two were hugging he leaned in your direction and put his head on your shoulder, eyes in the direction of the tv. it was your day off so you decided to just spend it alone doing something relaxing.

it all started with a few kisses on the cheek and than on your jawline, later on the lips. the kiss was slow and intimate and after some time as he connected his forehead with yours, you heard him whispering.

“i love you, so please don't leave me too”

GETO SUGURU

geto will prepare something in advance, thinking that you deserve something special. so he started making preparations a month in advance: looking for a romantic place, making the speech…

he never thought he would love someone in this stage of his life, but there he is, in love with you. so after a passionate round of sex he couldn't control his tongue and fucked up his surprise in 2 seconds.

he doesn't regretted it through, because in his opinion that moment was more intimate than what he planned.

“fuck, baby. i fucking love you”

KENTO NANAMI

nanami will not hide around the bush about his feelings for you, so I think the first time he would say ‘i love you’ it is in a random morning, when you were preparing breakfast and he would come from the back and hug you.

face in between your neck and shoulder he would confess his love for you, sharing a kiss after.

“you know I adore and love you, right?”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

after his first wife, toji will be in denial about his feelings, because he feels that he is betraying his dead lover. but after some time and healing he concluded that a man can love more than one person and that is not wrong to live your life in happiness.

so he tells you he loves you when you two were in bed ready for sleeping. you never really expected the words “i love you “ will come out of toji’s house.

“I love you very much, but not as much as her”

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

this sweet little boy will probably be to shy to say it first, but after a while he started to be restlessness and do it because ‘what can I lose?”. he would tell you privately how he is feeling, hoping that you feel the same way.

he would prepare a flower bouquet as a gift, just to make things special.

“I love you, sweetheart. please take care of yourself”

YUJI ITADORI

yuji will probably say it on the phone after a conversation, too scared to see your reaction. after that you would respond to him by sms, saying that you feel the same way.

he will wait for you at home with a homemade meal and flowers, ready to spend the rest of the day together.

“ok, babe. i’ll see you in a few, i love you”

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daytaker · 4 months

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The Gang React to You Saying You Hate Them

As a disclaimer, I'm going to say that these are reactions to you saying it and meaning it, not just being silly or dramatic. However, I'm also kind of assuming in most cases that this is NOT you saying "I am terminating our relationship entirely and this hate thing is a permanent situation."

The rest of the characters are below the cut.

Lucifer

"Very well. You're entitled to your opinion."

Depending on the situation, he might just shrug it off. It isn't like he hasn't dealt with his fair share of unfair whining from people who are upset with him. It would probably take a pretty emotionally charged situation for him to actually take you seriously.

In that case, he probably wouldn't quite know what would be best to do. He'd give you your space, but generally speaking, his demeanor wouldn't be significantly different. If things remain tense for more than a few days, he'll probably attempt to do the mature thing and sit down with you for a conversation to talk through your differences.

Mammon

"Pfft! No ya don't!"

Stage 1. Denial. You're so full of it. You couldn't possibly hate him, the Great Mammon, the first demon you ever made a pact with. You're just blowing off some steam. You'll get over it in a minute or two.

Stage 2. Anger. It's been a minute or two. You aren't backing down. Well, whatever! He isn't gonna sit around and let some whiny human talk shit about him! So he's going to maturely stomp to his room and maturely slam the door and maturely turn up some music obnoxiously loud.

Stage 3. Bargaining. Brooding has done whatever good it might have done, so he'll start to think of ways to change your mind about hating him. He's really an awesome guy, so it shouldn't be that hard. Obviously, the best way to let someone know you care is by spending money on them. So he'll go out on the town with a credit card and max it out on objects that are very pretty and shiny but really aren't your taste. (The fact that Mammon's taste is not the same as everyone else's taste mystifies him.)

Stage 4. Depression. The shopping trip having earned him nothing but abuse from Lucifer, he'll spend some time cooped up in his room and mope and sulk but definitely not cry, because how pathetic do you think he is? He ain't cryin' over one puny human!

Stage 5. Acceptance? Wait just a minute. You're so full of it. You couldn't possibly hate him, the Great Mammon, the first demon you ever made a pact with. He should stop sulking and go talk to you. Definitely not to beg you to forgive him or anything, but maybe if you squinted, it might look like that. Please don't hate him. Please?

Leviathan

"...I guess I should have known."

This is one of the choices that leads you straight to a bad ending. Ignoring him is one thing. Teasing him is another thing. Snapping at him when you're annoyed hurts, but he can justify it. But if you tell Levi you hate him, it will take a monumental amount of effort to undo that damage.

He'll probably assume you've always hated him, and that your friendliness was all an act. He won't be willing to take you at your word if you if you try and tell him that you didn't mean it, because how is he supposed to know that you aren't lying this time?

Satan

If he's (relatively) calm:

"You don't actually mean that. You sound like a child."

His reaction is a little bit like Lucifer's in this case; he'll leave you alone for awhile and not try to keep up the conversation. He won't really believe you actually hate him either. But he is a lot more insecure than Lucifer, so there's a part of him that nags at him... What if they actually hate you? He'll probably be irritable and difficult to approach when those thoughts are especially prevalent. Unfortunately, this is the sort of situation where Satan is immobilized by conflicting thoughts on what's going on, so it will probably be up to you to start a conversation and talk about whatever happened.

If he's very angry:

"Get out of here if you don't want to get hurt."

Whether that's a threat or a warning can be up to interpretation. I imagine that, as the Avatar of Wrath, there's a part of him that feeds on hate, so if Satan was a different sort of character, he'd say something like 'You fool! You're only increasing my power level!' But Satan being Satan, he'll spend some time in whatever room you've left him in and trash it before he calms down, feels extremely ashamed, sulks and/or broods for awhile at a complete loss for how to fix things without rolling over and looking completely pathetic, and, quite possibly, works himself up into another burst of rage from sheer frustration.

Ultimately, he'll probably be more comfortable talking things out through texts than in person (or starting the conversation with a text, then speaking face to face).

Asmodeus

"Hahaha... What...?"

He won't believe you for a second! Partly because, silly, of course you don't hate him, but also because his worldview does not allow for the possibility that someone he cares about might hate him. If he even considers the possibility that you might possibly, hypothetically mean it, he's in for an entire, earth-shattering identity crisis.

If you don't apologize pretty quickly or at least amend the statement to something he can accept, Asmo will head up to his room and hole up in there for awhile, obsessively tracking his social media accounts and pampering himself in the bathroom. You're lying, though. Look at this face! It's impossible to truly hate a face as beautiful as his.

Beelzebub

"Oh... Sorry..."

First he'll look like a deer in the headlights, and then he'll look like a kicked puppy. If he understands what led you to say this, he'll try and fix it, but if he doesn't, he will... (Select an answer below.)

A) Play video games with Levi. B) Go clubbing with Asmo. C) Eat. D) Learn to break dance.

If you guessed C) Eat, then you've been paying attention during your Obey Me! lessons.

And honestly. Honestly! Why would you say something like that? Maybe he's not your favorite brother, but we all know it's simply not possible to actually hate Beel. We all know you're full of it. So knock it off.

Belphie

"...Beel, did you hear something?"

Yep, Belphie is going to pull out all the pettiness he can scrounge up. He believes that the best defense is a good offense, and he's a pro. He'll act haughty and unbothered, ignoring you and looking entirely unbothered between sulking sessions under the covers.

Pettiness aside, you have, knowingly or otherwise, tapped into a source of deep anxiety in your relationship with Belphie. He has not forgotten the whole...incident that took place when you freed him from the attic. He knows that, reasonably, you probably should hate him, and it's amazing to him that you don't seem like you do.

Once tempers have cooled, it might be worthwhile to talk over what happened back then, just the two of you. It was pushed aside too quickly, and you both probably have things you wish you'd said.

Diavolo

"It seems I've upset you. Please know that I never meant to offend you."

He'll see that you're angry with him and give you your space, but he won't be as torn up about this as some of the others. Why? He simply won't believe you.

He has seen your soul, and it is not the soul of a hater.

Barbatos

"Oh?"

Yeah, get in line. Considering the amount of time travel shenanigans this guy has probably pulled, I have no doubt he has amassed more than his fair share of enemies. More than that, he already knows this is just you blowing off steam. Like Diavolo and Lucifer, this is just water off a duck's back.

Although, depending on how irritated he's feeling at the time of the incident, he may or may not wear a smirk as he gives his noncommittal response. Barbatos might be the man with the multiverse in the palm of his hand, but he is not above being petty. Watch your back for a few days.

Solomon

"Ah... It seems I've hit a nerve! I think I'll give you some time to cool down."

He'll back off and leave you to manage your anger in peace. Then he'll settle in to focus on some project or another that requires his undivided attention. He doesn't want to deal with all the unpleasantness that your words stirred up. Honestly, didn't he get past this sort of thing a few centuries ago? What's a little spat between friends? You don't actually hate him; not after all he's done for you. He can't possibly be feeling insecure...?

Nope, all he's feeling is itchy because of the toxic gas that's starting to pour out of his cauldron. He should open a window.

The Angels

I can't even do Simeon and Luke, because they'd both just be so confused and sad that I'm not sure where I'd go with it besides scolding you for being a bully. You don't just say "I hate you" to angels who are either extremely sweet and attractive or actual children.

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willowser · 6 months

Text

you had only to look at me—

part one.

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.4k+

tags: nsfw (18+), childhood best friend bakugou, oral (f!receiving), m!masturbation, lots of "first time" talk, more angst, more virgin bakugou.

even before i was touched, i belonged to you; you had only to look at me. — the burning heart, louise glück.

this is a repost.

you and bakugou avoid each other just like you did in middle school, only it's a little too easy this time around.

he's terrible at texting back in general, and because you're not initiating any conversations on your own — or sending funny memes or bringing up all might in some capacity — the radio silence draws ever on and on.

the closest you come to interacting with him is getting a snapchat from his mom, his figure in the background at their kitchen table. all you can see is the floof of his hair and the outline of his shoulders, but you're so bothered by the fact that he's home and didn't tell you that you don't even respond.

it officiates things in a bad way; he's really, actually not speaking to you.

and it's — fucking annoying.

at least in the past the distance was mutually and wordlessly agreed upon; you didn't talk because you were busy or didn't have time or anything new to say, but whenever he's come home — because he so rarely does — bakugou has always made his usual, god-honest attempt to irritate you.

and he still is, but this time he's doing it all wrong.

you go through the five stages of grief rather quickly, jumping from denial to anger overnight. several times, you type out something to text him, each message different than the last:

i know you were at your mom's jackass ☠️

it's really not a big deal and i think we should just forget about it, if that's what you wanna do ?

if i crossed some kind of boundary with you then i'm sorry and i won't say that again so you better call me before i put your baby pictures on the internet. i'm serious.

you're my best friend and i don't think it's weird that it happened. if you're being dumb because you're embarrassed, then don't be because i thought it was really hot

unsurprisingly, you don't send any of these and instead just stew in your own aggravation. lunch with him after the whole thing had been just as empty and awkward, and you think he chose the place near your apartment just so you could walk home and he didn't have to spend another second with you.

three months go by, which isn't long compared to other stints you've spent not talking to one another, but this one drags. like a lot. the only good that comes from it is that you graduate from anger to acceptance, finalizing a future without him in it.

except for the few times he invades your brain like a little parasite, red-faced and shuddering, gripping you like a lifeline, and then your stomach flips so hard that you feel sick and it takes genuine effort to check out of that daydream and back into a bakugou-less reality.

and then he shows up at your apartment, uninvited.

his mom hosts a sunday dinner that you don't go to, for several potential reasons. one would be that you'll have to see bakugou and pretend like nothing's happened even though you're still a little peeved; two is that you'll both ignore each other, and that'll reverse all your progress because he's been ignoring you already.

three is that he might not show up, and then you'll have to pretend that it doesn't bother you all night long.

none of that sounds better than watching trash television and falling asleep on your couch, so you tell mitsuki that you're very sick and very sorry, and that you'll make it up to her later.

because of this, the first thing bakugou says to you after you swing the front door open is, "you're supposed to be fuckin' dead."

suffice to say, you're surprised to see him; still outfitted in his hero costume, mask shoved up his forehead so that his hair is wilder than usual. there's kohl smudged around his eyes, messy, and they look brighter and harsher because of it.

there's also a family-mart plastic bag in his right hand.

"what?"

he just grunts, eyes snapping over your figure, dressed down in a too-large sweater and athletic shorts meant for running even though you've never done so in them.

in his hands — still gloved — the plastic crinkles obnoxiously as he holds it out. "old hag told me to bring this to you."

a can of low sodium soup, two apples, gatorade, and something over-the-counter for nausea. there's something else at the very bottom that you don't get the chance to inspect before he interrupts with his big, fat mouth.

"y'look fine to me, so why the hell didn't you go?"

you frown at him and — don't know what to say. clearly, it seems he's going the pretend-it-never-happened route, which is infuriating because he could just as well have done that months ago. even still, he won't hardly meet your gaze, staring for only a moment before rolling his eyes and huffing, sticking them anywhere else. if you peek close, real close, you'd say his ears are a little red, but maybe you're just looking for — something.

you shrug. "didn't feel like it."

he shakes his head like that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard, eyebrow arched. "why the hell not?"

"because, bakugou, i just didn't feel like going, i don't know what else to tell you." you huff, shrugging again when he doesn't say anything. "thanks for the stuff. is that it?"

his lips twist as he thinks, giving you another once-over before sighing. under his tank-top, you watch how his chest expands, the grimace that ripples over his face as he reaches a hand to lightly feel at his right side. "need your help with somethin'."

now you're just being petulant; you snort, raising your eyebrows as his eyes narrow at the sound. "me? are you joking? you need my help with—"

he groans loud enough to drown you out. "y'gonna let me in or y'just gonna run your mouth?" and so you step aside to wave him in wordlessly.

the backpack on his shoulder dumps to the ground by the door and he strolls into the kitchen like he owns the place, despite the fact that he's never been here before. you've lived in the unit for a year, but meetups are so infrequent and showing it off to him was never considered — until now; watching him shuffle through the bag on the counter, your nerves spike at the reality check.

alone together, again. in your apartment. well after dark.

that image of him is so — invasive, sweeping in at the worst times: between your legs, face as red as his eyes, the little moan he kept trying to swallow. how embarrassed he seemed when you asked if he felt good, if you felt good, and the fact that he still admitted it despite everything.

your entire body blazes like a flame to gasoline, and you try to focus on what else he's taking out of the bag, oblivious.

does he think about it at all? the way you have? at the root of the situation, that's what has been most bothersome: is he grossed out? simply embarrassed? does he feel taken advantage of? did he enjoy it and just doesn't know how to say it? the not knowing is driving you insane.

"i got—" bakugou awkwardly angles his body, gently touching at his side again. in his hands is a simple pack of first-aid supplies, like a wound wash and bandages and medical tape. "need you to change this shit for me."

"oh?" is all you can manage to say, still distracted, and whatever is obvious in your voice has his eyes snapping to you from across the kitchen, adam's apple bobbing. you clear your throat, struggling for normalcy. "the hell did you do?"

he's — going to take his shirt off. clearly, by the way he stretches out his shoulders and then slowly reaches behind himself to grab the material by the back, carefully pulling it up over his head with a low, stinging hiss.

bakugou's always been a lean kid — guy — but pulled so taut like that, after years of working out muscles you didn't even know he had, he looks — stupidly shredded, and the slow reveal of his tight stomach is not helping you to focus.

you just never realized how hot it was, because you never looked at him like that. until recently.

his mask comes off with his shirt and he tosses both onto the kitchen counter — again, as if he pays the bills here — and his hair is a mess and he usually doesn't care, but he runs a hand through it several times before finally looking back at you, eyes outlined in black.

"y'gonna help me or...?" he shrugs, trying to appear impassive — but it's too obvious; something's shifted, for the both of you.

you don't trust your voice anymore, so you just shuffle over to him, frowning at the dirty, worn bandage that's already unsticking from his skin. with his teeth, he pulls off his gloves and it's a wonder why he even wears them, really, because his hands are filthy underneath, covered in soot and black-stained grease.

standing like he is, arm slightly raised, you can see all his sweat, muscles shifting under his skin as he breathes, and his hairy armpit is staring you in the face and you don't know when he stopped being 12 and started being 20 and when he became such a man. it's not fair, that he should suddenly be so — attractive.

"you're disgusting," you tell him — and mean it — and it's met with such hot and irritated surprise that you have to keep talking before he explodes. "you should probably take a shower before putting on a new bandage."

it's road-rash up his right side, still shiny and wet and blood red. still raw. just looking at it is enough to make you cringe.

bakugou huffs, exasperated. "okay, gimme a towel then."

"i didn't mean take a shower here!" you squawk, taking a step back as if to further yourself from the suggestion.

detonation imminent; bakugou curls his hands into fists and the same muffled warning you've been getting your whole life crackles. "okay," he says, voice thin and razor sharp. "you're coming back to mine then?"

your whole life flashes before your eyes — or at least the few minutes it took for him to lose his shit between your legs. "what? no, why would i?"

"i need your help with this, dip-shit!"

"you're saying there's no one else that can—"

"if you want me to fuck off, just say so!"

things go silent, startlingly so. totally still, except for the rising flush across his face, one that you used to read as annoyance but are now translating into something else you never could have expected from him: embarrassment. it's starting to give you whiplash, how much you're discovering despite knowing him all your life.

"closet is at the end of hall," you say in surrender. "bathroom will be on your left."

bakugou mutters a quiet, angry little "jesus" before stalking back to the front door to get his bag, and then he's disappearing into the dark of your apartment.

you slump down on your couch and — struggle. watching the tv and absorbing nothing; it's a rerun anyway. the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry washes over you as the shower spray sounds in the background, followed by a low-timbered swear and the clatter of several bottles against the tub.

it's easy to butt heads with bakugou. you don't think there is any other way to interact with him, really, because he's so argumentative and that used to be okay, but now things are — off. you don't know what he's doing, what he wants, why he's here and in your shower when he could be at home or getting patched up at his agency. all the conclusions you can come to are frightening, a little, and they're hard to fathom; is he — does he want more?

is this just because he's a guy that got some action and is looking for a second round, or is this because it's you?

this stupid situation has only added an unnecessary amount of drama to your life, and you think maybe the pretend-it-never-happened route is the smartest path, even if you can't stop thinking about him and the strength coiled in his biceps, in his shoulders, and how tall he's become and — when did he lose most of the baby fat in his face, and when did he get such a sharp jawline?

how much is he working out, to get his body like that? he used to be a skinny, scrappy little thing and now — he can probably lift a truck over his head. must run all the time, though he's always been active, and you've never looked before, but you wonder how nice his ass is.

what he looks like under the shower, soapy and wet.

furiously, you blink out of your daydream, feeling like a foreign body in your own skin; if someone would have told you only a handful of months ago that you'd be having weird, sensual thoughts about your best friend, you would have laughed so hard you'd cried. or puked.

but if anyone else stands in that picture with him, your heart squeezes painfully. traitorously. already, you've shared so many memories with him; the start of elementary school, learning how to swim, giving each other equally bruised faces, staying up all night to study for important exams, tackling middle school graduation side-by-side, him making himself at home in your first apartment, just as you had done in his.

the devil on your shoulder asks: what's a few more firsts?

it seems like the shower stops in record time, but when you hone back in on the tv, the episode has changed and new drama is settling in. distantly, the rattle of the doorknob is more aggressive than it needs to be and when the echo of a swung-open door trails down the hallway, your heart suspends in your throat. never have you had to think this much just to be around him, and it's bothersome.

clean and relaxed, he's — softer; you spare a quick glance at him when he comes to stand beside the couch, distracted by the show on screen, and his hair is damp, starting to stick out again the more it dries. his muscles aren't made of marble anymore; still there and rippling, but he breathes calmly and his skin is baby smooth, tender. you eye his tummy and the line of fine hair running down into the waistband of his sweats, and do your best to ignore the sudden desire to kiss right above his belly-button.

"since when are they talking again?"

just as he looks at you, your gaze shoots back to the screen, eyes narrowing as you try to rapidly remember what's happening in the day-to-day for stay-at-home, pro-hero wives.

"uh," you blink, distracted — and he notices, "what do you mean? they've been hanging out, like, all season."

bakugou watches the tv in silence, occasionally glancing down to the bandage in his hands as he carefully spreads it out, as he dampens the towel with the antiseptic and dabs at his wounds.

"even after she hit on whatshername's husband?"

"yeah, that was a misunderstanding," you frown at him but he doesn't see it. "remember when they went to that dinner party and all hell broke loose because—"

his flat look serves for a rude interruption. "they go to a lot of fuckin' dinner parties."

"i know, but," you scoff, annoyed, "have you even watched this season?"

bakugou scoffs, mocking and over-dramatic, "yeah, as if i've got all day to sit on my ass and watch your stupid girly—"

"you're watching it right now."

"because you've got it on!" he huffs when you sink into the couch, resolutely trying to ignore him. “start it over then, if you’re gonna cry about it.”

you gape up at him, going as far as to pause the show so that maybe he’ll acknowledge you and all your annoyance; he doesn’t. “start it over? this is, like, episode 26!”

“so? got a hot date or what?”

he’s not at all interested in the answer and that’s obvious when he spins around and holds out the bandage expectantly, staring down at the scrape — glowing red and angry, a mirrored wound you can feel scabbing across your own skin; itchy and irritating.

finally he looks at you properly, frowning softly and — you see him then, can feel the tension lining his body as you carefully tape on his bandage. trying to hide how uncomfortable he is, though you he’s never had to do so with you in all of — forever. it’s nauseating, and again you're struck by the image of him, only now it's of the horror that had been on his face afterwards, at what you’d done.

it pushes everything over the edge; quietly, so that your voice doesn’t expose anything, you say, “you haven’t spoken to me in three months.”

silence weighs in the air immediately, heavy, and you watch him try to appear unbothered, shrugging as he stares back at the unmoving tv, jaw tight. “phone works both ways.”

“yeah, but,” your hands drop as he steps away to pull on a loose shirt, and you curl your fists into your own. just as he has. “i’m always the one having to reach out—”

“so why didn’t you?”

“what?” frustrated, you massage your temples, trying to soothe the nuclear headache threatening to incinerate you. “are you seriously trying to—”

“what’s the big deal?” he huffs, slumping down into the far corner of the couch before cringing, swearing as he gently touches at his bandage. “you’ve gone longer than that without talkin’ to me, so…”

the tone of his voice is infuriating, as if this is somehow all your fault — and maybe it is, because you shouldn’t have crossed such a boundary with him, but — he can be such a dick.

“it’s not just me bakugou, you could have just as easily picked up the phone, too!” your teeth grind when he shrugs again, leaning his head against his fist as he looks anywhere else. it almost looks like guilt that's dragging his expression down, but you know better than to assume he could feel such a thing. “you always—”

“jesus, if i always do this—”

“shut up for a second, damn!” and then because you can’t stand the stupid look on his face, you kick him in the thigh for good measure; it garners a warning glare, his teeth bared.

he easily catches you by the ankle when you try to kick him again. "tell me what the big fuckin' deal is."

"the big deal? oh, you mean besides the fact that you totally came in your pants?"

it stuns him for a second, eyes wide and face pale, before he's yanking you across the couch, narrowly avoiding the knee aimed for his gut. "you—fucking—!" a smack lands across the back of his head when he ducks and he plants a heavy hand over your face, forcing you to close your eyes and turn away.

"you're gonna blow my head off!"

"if i wanted you dead, you—" he intercepts the hand you blindly reach up with, crossing it awkwardly over your chest so that you're pinned down like a wild animal. "you would be!"

"kiss my ass, katsuki." you snark, and it does something to him, your use of his first name, because he's still for a moment before sitting back and collecting your wrists correctly, to hold against the couch arm above your head.

"you're such a fucking—" he swoops in so low that his nose almost brushes yours and he grabs the front of your sweater with his free hand, like he's gonna shake you down for some lunch money. "fuck, i could just—" and then he groans long and loud, so annoyed he can't find the words.

"yeah, well—"

"shut up," he lightly knocks his forehead into your cheekbone with another dissatisfied sound, letting out a heavy sigh as he sinks his face down into your neck.

all your muscles tighten on instinct, waiting for the sharp bite that's due any second — but his fingers only uncurl from the material of your sweater, slowly slipping around to tangle into the hair at the nape of your neck. his pull there is a little tight, enough for you to know he's got you, but not so much that you're head is aching; you can't imagine you have a sensitive scalp, anyway, after growing up around him.

you want to say something — which is an annoying realization because now you feel like too much of a talker — but you just focus on the heave of his chest over yours, the breath that moves through him. the minute jostle of his hips as he settles further into the space between your legs, almost comfortable. the slight swell of something unfamiliar against your inner thigh.

bakugou presses his face a little further into you, warm, and the tip of his nose drags along the column of your throat. successfully sedating you, distracted by the feel of his parted lips against your skin.

your body is hot all over, very suddenly; the sweater now feels like a death trap and hopefully you don't smell weird, though it's never been a worry before, not around him, and your adrenaline is rushing and you're kinda tired of acting like you don't know why that is.

fuck pretend-it-never-happened. it's been a long three months.

he's almost entirely pressed against you, but there is a small gap of space that closes when you open your legs a little wider, hitching them around his waist as his breath stutters against your neck.

it's happened so quick, so effortlessly yet again; you give a purposeful roll of your hips upward and are lost in him all over.

only — it's different than it was before because straddling his lap hadn't done much for you, but now the weighted outline of him is right against your center and the pressure that drags across you sends tingles up your spine and has your toes curling in your socks. when you let out a tiny gasp at the stomach-flipping sensation, tension coils in every curve of his body and the grip around your wrists and in your hair only tightens.

you can't help it; you let out a "katsuki" in the same heady tone as you did in his apartment and it has him falling easily into the slow grind you've been unable to stop thinking about. what shifts across his face is obvious, against your throat, like the scrunch of his brow and the slow drop of his mouth. he tries to muffle his breathy "oh" into your skin, but it echoes throughout your entire body, has an ache beginning between your thighs that he's already soothing.

the nip comes then, teeth sinking gently into your neck as you weakly cry out in surprise, but it's only for a moment before his tongue — wet and heavy and wide — is tasting over your jugular, lips closing around your skin as he sucks experimentally. you let out a proper moan then, squirming against his hands and up into him so that the pressure doubles for the both of you.

katsuki finally relinquishes your wrists, carding his hand down your body before coming to squeeze your hip, your thigh, locking your leg tight around his waist. "yeah," he rasps, voice deeper than you've ever heard it as he presses his forehead into yours. "how do you fuckin' like it?"

being bitten, he means, vengefully, but you're spread open beneath him and he's rutting the hard length of himself against you roughly, eagerly, and panting open-mouthed and you tighten up at the aggression in his tone and in his hands and his very being and —

"fuck," you gasp, loud and wanton, "fuck, katsuki—"

and then you are kissing your best friend.

the boy from down the street that always ruined your hair and taught you where to place your thumb if you were gonna throw a punch. that used his empty pen cartridge to blow spitballs at you and mocked you for losing crane games, even though he ended up giving you the stupid stuffed animal anyway. that had to be king of the castle, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield. that demanded you be his queen, weeds he picked for you woven carefully into your hair by his hands.

katsuki kisses like he's shy — another term you've never thought of in relation to him and all his fire and brimstone; it's slow and a little delayed in comparison to what his hips are doing, as if he's in his head too much and is trying to figure how to move his lips and when. tentative and chaste, until you run your tongue along the seam of his mouth and pry him open a little more.

it's making you hungry; that possessiveness from before is creeping back in, eager to have him in ways nobody else has. you arch into him, biting at his lips and sighing into his mouth as goosebumps break out across his skin.

with a slant of his head, he deepens the kiss and you can feel his nostrils flaring, the fingernails scratching against your scalp, the bruises he's probably leaving on your thigh. he lets up only to breathe, panting into your ear when he begins to bite and suck on your skin again; your earlobe and neck and even the cut of your jaw. like maybe he's hungry, too.

you fist a hand into his shirt just to tug it up his body, feeling the strong contract of his stomach when your fingers ghost against him. katsuki gets the hint quickly, rising up to his knees to tear the material off — much more harshly than he did before, which has you eying his crinkled bandage — and you move fast to take advantage of the new space.

it gives him pause when you yank down your shorts, pulling your legs back to slip them off and fling them somewhere across the room. his face goes red again, and his heaving chest, too, and his eyelids flutter as he takes in the sight of your flimsy, damp cotton underwear. you start to pull the sweater up your stomach, but he's watching so intently — so ravenous — that you get shy, without a bra underneath the too-hot fabric.

in any other situation, katsuki would have grabbed onto this moment, your hesitation, and held it over your head to come back and poke at. cataloged this little weak spot for future arguments, but now —

not once has he ever been gentle with you in anything; it's enough of a surprise that that's even a possibility for him, for the two of you, but he presses his body back into yours and kisses you deep, calloused fingers tracing over the new skin exposed to him. he doesn't try to push the sweater up any further, but one hand slips up your back, to splay between your shoulder-blades like it had before, and he's so close and you've never known him to be this — careful. with anything.

"y'r so—" katsuki rolls his hips again and groans, whispering against your lips. "fuckin' soft."

his sweatpants are still on and you don't know why, but when you reach down to help tug them off, he grabs your wrist before they can go too far.

he presses the heat from his cheeks into your own, like he wants to share it. "you done this before?"

"have you?"

he frowns at your non-answer. "i asked first."

you have. three times, technically, though a phantom pain echoes in your stomach at the memories, and you feel an odd emptiness in your chest that makes you really glad to have the sweater still on. your answer leaves you a little ashamed, under his gaze, and you purposely turn from it. "would...that bother you?"

before, you wouldn't have cared, didn't care, nor were you even thinking of him when it happened. wherever he must have been; u.a, probably, getting ready to make his lifelong dreams a reality while you trusted a boy that didn't look at you the way katsuki is now. that didn't hold you and touch you and kiss you the way your best friend has.

he scoffs, though it doesn't sound as careless as it usually does and he squeezes his eyes shut so you can't read them. the truth that's hidden there. "no," he lies, "why would—" but he doesn't finish, just sighs.

"it was awful anyway," you tell him, offering a small smile when he peeks down at you. he doesn't say anything, so you kiss him once, twice, until his tension is melting away. "should have been you."

the grip on your thigh turns almost painful and he grinds into you so roughly that you both gasp, loud in the tight, barely-there space between you. "yeah," he rasps, sucking another bruise into the hollow of your throat. "fuckin' should have."

you try to imagine it; eighteen and nervous, naked in front of him for the first time since you were seven and got into paint from his mom's workshop, when she made you both strip down in the same room, furious. how different he might have been with you then, how much more unsure. kinder than your ex, without a doubt, even for katsuki, and he probably wouldn't have even gone through with the whole thing, considering how uncomfortable the first time is.

or maybe it wouldn't have been, with him; maybe he would have looked into it, taken the time to wind you up the same way he is now so that you were eager and wet and ready. looking down at you with his wide, almost-black eyes in the dim light of a table lamp. another first to share.

"if i'd have just," he huffs, allowing his sweats to slip down past his hips. shoulders trembling when he makes you moan out his name again. "fuckin'—grown a pair 'n told you—"

the weight of him becomes more obvious, the straining bulge he's rocking into your core, and seeing it is — really getting to you; wearing such tight boxers, you can tell just how close the pink tip of him is to his waistband, nearly peeking out from just how hard he is.

it takes a shrug to get him out of your shoulder, so you can press your lips back to his. "can still be you, katsuki," you breathe, biting on his bottom lip until his tiny frown is gone. "if you want, it can still be you."

for a minute, he indulges himself in the greedy kiss you're giving him, testing strokes of his tongue against your own as his hips stutter out of rhythm — but it's when your fingers brush through the hair at the base of his stomach, trying to slip a hand into his boxers, that he's gasping into your mouth and pushing his body up and away.

determination settles over his face then — along with his vibrant flush — and he doesn't say anything as he grabs you like it's nothing and scoots you up the couch so that your back is pressed to the arm, propped up. once he settles between your thighs, he just rests his face into the plush of your stomach — which is humiliating and has you squirming, but the firmness returns to his hands; holding your hips so that you'll still, so that he can kiss right above your belly button, just as you wanted to do to him.

heat flares in your own cheeks — and down your chest and in your ears and searing on the back of your neck — when you feel the first puff of his warm breath against your underwear, where you're sensitive and slick and aching.

this is completely new to you; your ex-boyfriend probably never considered tasting you here, certainly not with the same desire that's painted across katsuki's face. you have to slap your hands over your eyes and bite your lip, embarrassed, suddenly, at how desperate the simple press of his mouth to your underwear makes you.

"hey, hey," katsuki grunts, pinching at your hips until you peek at him through your fingers. the highlights of his cheeks are crimson and his eyes are black, glaring with an intensity that makes you shiver. "it's my fuckin' turn."

to make you fall apart, he means, just as he had.

at the first hot drag of his tongue against the material, you squirm, leaning your head back so that your expression is hidden. another grunt comes from him, you think in dissatisfaction, but he continues, laving until your mouth is falling open and the fabric between you is drenched.

he's gone just long enough to be replaced by the ghost of his thumb, touching you much too-gently. hunger has you stealing another look at him, watching behind your hands as he stares, blatantly, at the mess he's already made of you, stroking the pad of his finger against the sodden material in interest.

discovering; a curious swipe over where you're aching has you sighing and trembling and his eyes jump back up to your covered face, open mouth curling into the faintest smirk as he does it again and again and again. it's bullshit — how quickly he's figured you out, almost as if your body was meant to be unraveled by his hands — but then again, it didn't take you long either, did it?

"katsuki," you hiss, digging a hand into the hair at the crown of his head, tugging on it until his smile is dropping and his eyes are lidding. your body is on fire and your legs are trying to close around his head, hips squirming as he toys with you, like the little brat he is.

deadly serious, he grabs your underwear and holds it tightly in his fist so that you can wiggle one leg free, and then he's tugging it out of his way and devouring you whole.

it's sloppy, the mixture of spit and slick as runs his tongue through you, wet and wide, and you're so sensitive that you squeak out in surprise, fingers tightening. a groan punches from deep in his chest and your hips buck at the vibration of it, drawn so tight already.

"oh my—" you gasp, dropping your other hand from your face to grip the couch; eyes closed, you're somewhere else entirely, lost in the clumsy swirl of pleasure between your thighs.

katsuki raises his head to breathe, reaffirming your grip in his hair by wrapping his fingers tight over your own. at the shiny sight of his mouth, you can't help but to whimper with a needy roll of your hips, until he's simply sticking out his tongue and allowing you to ride it, to use it as you need to. it's embarrassing, how desperate you are, but his eyes are knife-sharp and trained on you and you've never experienced anything like this.

he moves then, slipping one hand further up under your sweater, cupping your breast carefully as his lids flutter — and the other is shoved between his hips and where they're pressed into the couch. you tighten up at just the idea of him rutting into his hand while kissing your messy slit, moaning openly, head falling back as your eyes start to roll.

this is — fuck — you've never been so turned on in all your life and it's driving you crazy; at one point in time, the thought of bakugou like this would have grossed you out, but now you think it's only like this because of him. anyone else wasn't right, not the way he is, and he's maybe a little impatient and unwieldy, but it's katsuki. between your legs with his mouth on you — something he wanted — and his fingers are brushing over your nipple and the other is down his pants, wrist flexing and —

"fuck, oh fuck, i—" you try to sit up, chasing blindly after the high, but he forces you back down. a long groan is muffled by your skin and when he lifts his chin just a little, a glob of spit falls off his lips and the sight makes your toes curl before he presses back into you and sucks.

everything goes blank as you free-fall into him and you cum quietly, muscles so taut in your body that your voice can't even squeeze out of your throat. the minute you're able to breathe, he's biting a mark into your thigh and yanking you back down under him, lips slick against yours.

tasting yourself on his tongue has you coming out of the heady haze, ravenous; katsuki helps you to shove his boxers down, though he can only gasp tightly when he grinds against you, coating himself.

"'m not—" his soft hair tickles your face when he shakes his head, arms trembling beside your head. "i won't be able to—"

"keep going," you breathe, smearing your mess over the tip of him and down his length as he groans. "i don't care, keep going."

he smashes his lips to yours, though he's only able to meet the pump of your hand a few times before dropping his forehead to your shoulder, spine curling, fingers digging into your hair. katsuki swears long and low, eventually letting out a soft sound you wouldn't have expected from him as his entire body tenses and he spills onto your stomach.

"goddamn it," he moans into the fabric of your sweater, weary, after a long moment. "now 'm fuckin' tired."

and for some reason that makes you laugh, though the lust is dissipating and your nerves are trembling at the memory of how this ended last time. katsuki pulls away suddenly, making your stomach drop, and he doesn't look at you as he detangles himself, awkwardly shuffling away from the couch and out of sight.

you frown down at the mess on your stomach, the way it's pooling in your belly-button — and you'll be damned to let him leave you like this, but just as you finishing reciting over and over what you want to say, he appears, towel in hand.

it's still damp from his shower and you tense on instinct, waiting for him to start twirling it with that stupid grin on his face, but katsuki only arranges your legs so that he can sit between them, carefully wiping you off as his cheeks burn. and you just watch him, the way he runs a hand over your skin to make sure he got it all before helping to finagle your underwear back on properly.

then he just looks at the tv, unmoving. if he's trying to appear casual at all, it's a piss-poor job — but he's never been able to keep his fat mouth shut for long.

the look he gives you lacks its usual heat, though you can't tell if that's just because he's drained or if he's withdrawn for another reason. "what now? six months, a year before you talk to me again?"

and you're annoyed all over again.

"what?" you return his weak glare, sitting up properly so that you're right in his face. "are you kidding me? you didn't talk to me either."

"the hell did you want me to say?" he scoffs and — you could slap him, for ruining everything so quickly. wipe that stupid look off his face with your fist. "'sorry i busted a nut, you free for dinner?'"

"yeah!" the shrill tone of your voice makes his eyes widen, and you throw your hands up in the air, incensed. "that sounds wonderful in comparison to coming home and avoiding me."

"i didn't avoid you," he mutters, though his eyes drift back to the tv. "just didn't have shit to say."

"bakugou," you slap your hands over your face for the second time, though this one is much worse than the last. "how is that fucking fair? what did you want me to say?"

and now — his eyes are full and furious, mouth curling down into an ugly frown that you've so rarely had the pleasure of seeing on his face; every time his mother made you go home and when you told him you weren't gonna try to test into u.a. when he overheard your girl friends teasing you for liking an older boy in your school.

when he was losing you, you realize.

"'m not doin' this shit with you," he mutters, definitive, before swiping his shirt up off the floor and standing. "not doin' this bakugou shit."

"oh my god," you groan, rising, too, because your stomach is twisting at the thought of him leaving again, no matter how angry he's making you. "what does that even mean?"

you trail him as he stomps into your kitchen to grab his work shirt and mask from the counter, trying to interrupt him at every turn, and the scowl on his face only grows when you shoot to stand in front of the door, just as he reaches for his bag.

"you can't—"

"this," he seethes, gesturing to you and then himself before gritting his teeth so hard that they should shatter. "this is why i didn't wanna fuckin' talk to you."

you knew he didn't. the minute lunch ended and when you made out his shape in mitsuki's snapchat: you knew. but hearing it from his mouth is as much of a confirmation as it is a kick in the gut.

there's more he's struggling to say, mouth shifting as he chews on the words and the skin of his lips. his gaze jumps from you to the door to something on the counter before he's swallowing again, staring down at you with brand new eyes.

the light in the kitchen makes them shine, angry and sad. "i can't—" he sighs, nostrils flaring like he's mad at himself for struggling. "go back to bakugou, not after—" a vague hand waves toward the couch. "maybe this is just, i don't know, whatever to you, but i — fuckin' can't."

tell me what the big fuckin' deal is; earlier, he'd demanded it of you, why the silence mattered so much this time when it didn't seem to matter before. in the midst of your anger, you didn't think twice about his wording but now —

he wanted you to say it. katsuki wanted to hear you say that it hurt to be without him for so long, and he kept his distance because he was afraid that you wouldn't.

"you're so stupid," you mutter it quietly, and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, enraged, but before he can get another dumb word out, you loop your arms around his neck and just — kiss him.

not crazy or wild or lust-driven, just your lips to his, slowly working him out of the shell he's tried to hide behind.

the bag in his hand hits the ground with a soft thud and then his arm is wrapping around your back, tugging you to him as he finally breathes and opens his mouth — and lets you in.

when you cup the sides of his neck, katsuki inhales sharply through his nose, pulse jumping under your fingers, and his lashes flutter against your cheeks as he opens his eyes. he pulls back enough so that you can stare at each other and you realize that eyeliner is still clinging to his lids, making him seem sharper than usual.

you're a little stunned, then, at how beautiful he is.

"i can't go back to bakugou either, dumbass." gently, you knock your forehead into his, smiling at the pout on his face. "you've totally screwed that up for me."

"yeah, well," he huffs, "about time. only took you all my goddamn life."

"sorry i'm late."

"what else is new?" he rolls his eyes and you squeak, indignant, before sticking your tongue out at him, patience worn thin already.

you expect a bite or a pinch to the cheek or another rough violence that falls along the lines that have made up your relationship thus far — but instead there is only something soft that reflects in his eyes and the shy kiss he presses to your lips, something that he's kept safe just for you, guarded, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield.

#narrator voice: willow did not have the spoons to extend the ending #whoopsie #okie okie part 2 #✿ willow writes #✿ one shot: bakugou

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chrolloluvr · 2 months

Note

May I request Mammon angst HCs please? Like the reader is possibly breaking up with him or something? (i love your HCs for mammon<3)

Mammon Breaking Up Hcs

note: Thank you i'm so glad you like them pookie!! also yes i love this idea ❤️❤️

warnings: Cursing, creepy behavior, unbalanced power dynamic, killing. Not proofread!

Female!Reader, (no specific gender, so can be GenderNeutral!Reader)

It would be best to tell him over text, since he is guaranteed to throw a toddler like temper tantrum if you ever told him in person.

So you text him over text, what happens? He 100% thinks you're joking at first. He thinks you aren't being serious at all, and that wow babe, you might even be a bigger clown than I am.

But when he realized that you were being serious, he gets angry. How dare you? Why would you ever break up with him? He is the king of greed, he has trillions of dollars in the bank, so why don't you want to stay by his side? Did he do something? Did he hurt you? What happened? Baby, we can sort this out-

In a way, still doesn't think you are being serious, which is what he tries to tell himself. So he will let you leave, and will act like he doesn't need you.

Another author said this already, but he will 100% go through the stages of grief, (he will never go through acceptance, because in his mind, you will always come crawling back to him.)

He will be in denial for a very long time. Let's say you move out, and even start residing in another ring. He will send you texts. All. The. Time.

Your phone will mods likely have 103 Missed Calls, 986 Messages, and 37 Voicemails. He is crazy, and especially crazy for you. So when you don't respond to him, he does not understand why. He likes to think that you were just going on vacation for a while. He genuinely thinks you two are still together.

Anger- Once he sees that you have indeed moved on, and that he is no longer living in fantasy land, he gets extremely angry. His general mood spikes, he lashes out (wayyy more than he used to), and a-lot of his servants are scared to talk to him. Will absolutely keep bombarding you with texts every day. He will even get his servants to start texting you on his 100's of extra HellPhones.

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:34

Come hone ygu little cungt

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:35

ANSWERF ME.

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:35

Do ygu knoe how easily i can replaece yu

Mamm🕸️💚 11:36

Fine go shack uo with sorm dirty hoboes you little slut

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:36

I dont kneed u and youir mediocar holes

So yeah... thats just one example. He has so many spelling mistakes because he is typing so fast, and practically brekaing his phone from how angry he is.

But in reality he does need you. You are. the one thing that keeps him running. However he will never, over his dead body, ever admit that.

Bargaining- He will send things to your... new home... in gift baskets. Fizzarolli plushies, flowers, tickets to his live events, expensive jewelry, the list goes on. It gets to a point where (if you live in an apartment complex) People start stealing his gifts and start putting them up online to sell. (And they go for 10s of thousands of dollars.)

He send these to you so that you can hopefully come crawling back into his life, so that he can control you again.

At this point, you have most likely made it public about your distance between you and the sin. Your relationship was extremely public, and known by everybody.

He refuses to speak publicly, because he wants people to think he still controls you. And when i say your relationship was big, it was definitely the most talked about relationship in all of Hell. People will go nuts about you two breaking up. Another author said this as well, but people will go crazy with the comments.

"L Mammon fumbled so bad its actually wild."

"Bros got plenty other options 💀"

"Why tf would she/they break up w/ HIM???🤰"

"Now that hes single I call dibs 🙌"

You try your best to ignore the comments, but eventually you cant, its not just online, but in real life you feel cornered as well. You might even start to reconsider your departure with him. Which is exactly where he wants you.

Depression- He spirals into somewhat of an insecure man. He strives to be better. He ups his game for his big pageants, soon to be bigger, just to impress you.

He maaaay or may not have killed people in your favor. This is known, obviously, but his obsession along with his newfound insecurity has left him no choice but to show that if you dont want to come home, he will show you its safer than anywhere else.

Overall, if you do end up coming back to him, he is overjoyed with happiness, and will take extra precautions to ensure you wont ever walk out on him and his warm embrace again.

However if you end up never wanting anything to do with him, he will be devastated, but he will force himself to get over it. He is Mammon, he truly does not need you. In reality, you were somebody he felt an unexplainable feeling to protect. He absolutely can live without you, but for some reason, he feels like he cant. If somebody were to ever bring you up, he would lash out, and make his anger everybody's problem. He may get over you after a while, but he will never fully accept the fact that you left him.

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circeyoru · 2 months

Note

This is one request but I just got this in my head what if the reader die like seriously die how Alastor well react to that?

Yandere Alastor x his soul owner reader become my favorite pretty fast and I'm not even joking about it.

To those that have no idea what this is talking about, check out {Unwanted Soul}

Really? You mean it? Your favourite? 😻 Thank you!! (someone pick me up, I fell off the chair)

Now the answer to your question

You trying to give Alastor torture?

Seriously dies, like no go to Heaven (like Sir Pentious). Just poof, gone. Oh wow.... Alastor's not gonna like that one bit

Let's just say, the city is gonna have a few weeks of destruction.

Alastor is aware of your death, it's a common question to ask when getting to know others and it tells on what type of person they were when living. He knew you committed suicide, depressing. It was a moment of concern when you heard his death and brushed your fingers over his forehead, you muttered it out that you killed yourself. Then both of your didn't touch the subject afterwards.

His knowledge of this explains why he's so focused on your every need and wants. Because he doesn't want to lose you, doesn't like the thought. His nightmares were of you disappearing to somewhere he can never see, no, not even redemption to Heaven. There, he can still maybe drag you down but not when you were gone gone.

All that control and gentleman moral is gone when you were, no one was safe, no place was safe. The place where you lived and found him will be his new territory and he will guard it. Any demons that remind there will be his next broadcast. He's acting on his rage and sadness, nothing more nothing less.

Why were you gone? How were you gone? This can't be happening.

Ṫ̵̠̺͖̠̦̭͑̌̎̊͠ḫ̶͙͍̰͓̿͂̿͛ͅḯ̴̛̤̙̋͗͛s̸͎̆̉̍͑̚ ̵̦̟͆̃͝i̶̠̺̙̮̪͊̚͜s̵̡̢̲͉̏̔̒̌͘ ̷̥̻̫̭͖̍͆͑͊̍̄n̵͎͎̔͗̂̈́̆̕o̶̝͇͌̈́́͠t̴̡̼̪͉͍͒̚͜ ̴̮͖̿̃h̸̬̮͓͙̃a̸̢̧̞̭̮͗̒̈́̉̈p̵̖͕̀̄̇̚p̷̙̥͈̮̟̈̊͑͑͜e̸̘̰̭̼̖̣͑n̵̨̟̙̫̏́͘͜͝i̴̢̿̐̀ń̶̛͖̳̲̥͛̅̑͠g̶̛͓̭̥̥̪͗͆!̶̘͕̱̎̎

After his destruction, being drained and felt his soul in his chest again. It felt too heavy for him. Like his soul wasn't his. Where are the restrictions on his power? Where's that feeling like he was caged? Where's that connection he had with you? Oh, he was too far from your home. That hotel wasn't your home. That's why. He abandoned the redemption project altogether, no matter what stage and how connected you were to the hotel. That lousy hotel is NOT YOUR HOME.

The simplest way to describe what's happening to Alastor is that he's in denial. Denial that you were gone. That you'll leave him behind. It goes from waiting for you to return to hallucinating that you were there.

He made your favourites. Oh, it wasn't touched after a while? You weren't feeling hungry, that's why. He got you new clothes. The clothes weren't in your closet? You didn't like it, well, they were designed rather horridly. He hugged you on the bed and slept. He was hugging a soft toy that you would when you sleep or do your hobbies.

There was so many, too much excuses that he made for the lack of response he got. He refuse to accept that you were gone. You merely left to go to Earth to get more merchandise or new shows to watch with him. He'll wait for you at your home. He'll wait until you come back.

Ý̶̮̟͙̔̏͝ǫ̸̢̦͍̀́u̸̪̬̘̠̩͒͘ ̷̱̂̋̀̅n̶͎̓̀̆̈́e̶̢͇͓̲̩͙͗̾̑̿̀v̵̖͙͉̳̆͗͠͠e̵̡̳͎̿͋r̷̺͚̆ ̷͖̝̺̤̯̊͗̓̉͠c̶̤̈ǎ̷̱̻m̸̖̥̚ê̷̜̝̜ͅ ̸̢͕̠̔̅̌͝b̵̬̯͒͑̈͛͊a̷̙͆̔̏̊̈́͌c̶̢̙̳̟̐̓͘͜ḳ̵͚̖̬̈.̵̘̳̗̐̿͊̕

This is so sad... I know I write a lot of angst, but man! I love this series!!! Why you gotta ask that?!

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

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ophelia-writes-fics · 5 months

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i like when you get mad (i guess i'm pretty glad that you're alone) [kilgrave x reader - 18+]

You're a dancer at a club, and your shift just took a weird turn.

Tags (please read!): fem!reader, degradation, some mild praise, spanking, oral sex, face-fucking, cum swallowing, penetration, choking, erotic asphyxiation, unsafe/unprotected sex, face slapping, clit slapping, masochism (reader), sadism (kilgrave), humiliation, biting, scratching, bruising, some minor blood, threats, condescension, painplay, pain kink, minor bondage, edging, orgasm delay, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, mind control, mention of voyeurism/exhibitionism, slight dacryphilia, overstimulation, hair pulling, posessiveness

Word count: ~7.7k

CWs/TWs:

super dubious consent (reader likes him and consents to everything/is into the things they're doing without being compelled to, but some orders are given that can't be resisted and it's not pre-negotiated, so proceed with caution)

un-negotiated kink and unsafe choking/breathplay (i know you guys know but please don't choke anyone like this and please ask for consent in general but especially with kinks)

it's kilgrave. he's a walking red flag.

i'm not condoning anything irl, but this is fiction and i'm a kinky bitch, so i'm sexualizing this absolute maniac and i am having a lot of fun doing it lmao

You were leaning against the bar, scanning the crowd as you took your first shot of the shift. It was Friday night, with most of the crowd being well-dressed men who looked like they’d just finished with a long day of work, which meant you’d be going home with enough tips to pay your rent early.

The most eager members of the crowd were seated near the stage, where your friend had them utterly captivated with an elaborate pole routine, so you began to search the back of the house for customers who might want something more private. A group of college girls already drunk off Red Bull and vodka, cheering and shouting compliments at the dancers with the kind of unbridled joy and solidarity that only drunk girls can summon…a man who’d clearly been dragged there by his friends, his eyes glued to his phone, his blush visible even in the dimly lit club…a bouncer pulling a particularly belligerent customer towards the door…

There. On the other side of the room was a tall, sharp-featured man in a dark purple suit, sitting alone, looking thoroughly bored with the performance onstage, glancing over at you every now and again with what appeared to be a look of interest. Perfect.

You quickly ran a hand through your hair, took a deep breath, and plastered on your most winningly seductive smile before strolling towards him with as much ease as you could muster in six-inch stilettos.

“Hello there, love,” you purred, leaning forward against the table he was seated at. “Is there anything I can do for you tonight?”

You thought you’d gotten every possible response to that question before. You’d seen everything from polite rejection to aggressive groping to desperate requests for friendship or conversation, but what you’d never experienced and certainly weren’t expecting was a glance up and down your body followed by a discontented sigh and a slight frown, then a “Fine. You’ll do.”

You opened your mouth to tell the stranger off, but before you could, he held up a finger to silence you, then leaned in closer.

“Take me to your most secluded room. Don’t ask any questions, don’t stop to talk to anyone. Go.”

Your head immediately began to spin. Your brain felt cloudy, as if someone had swept every thought from your mind and replaced them with a thick, impenetrable fog. Before you could try to shake the feeling away, your body was already moving, walking briskly towards the back of the club, seemingly completely independently of your own will. Get to a private room echoed over and over, clouding all the other thoughts that you were desperately trying to muster. You felt wrong, like a puppet with your limbs being jerked around by some unseen controller, no free will of your own to be found. No, not a puppet, your mind vaguely registered. A doll.

You heard one of your friends calling you, asking something or maybe just saying hello, but when you tried to turn your head to respond, don’t stop to talk to anyone pierced your skull like a shard of ice, ringing in your ears like an intrusive thought. You didn’t stop walking even for a second. You didn’t even look at your friend. Something was very, very wrong.

Your stomach was in knots by the time you got to an empty room, your heart racing against your ribcage like a trapped bird against a windowpane. You leaned against the wall, trying desperately to steady yourself as the strange man followed you inside.

“Lock the door,” he ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand. The door was closed and bolted shut before you even realized you’d moved.

You tried to say, or even think What did you do to me? But the same cold, cloudy pain overtook your head. Don’t ask questions. You shut your eyes tightly and clenched your fist as your body swayed, shaken by the unfamiliar sensation, feeling your breath grow shallow with panic. When your vision refocused, you stared at the stranger, who was tossing his suit jacket aside, reclined lazily on the couch like he hadn’t a care in the world. He fixed you with an annoyed look.

“God, don’t grimace like that. The least you could do is give me a smile.”

Your face rearranged itself into the same winning, seductively charming smile you’d had on earlier, but you could tell that your eyes weren’t engaged. He didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, he didn’t seem to have noticed your fear at all, grinning back at you like the devil himself.

“That’s more like it. Now, kneel for me. Arms by your sides, hands in your lap, chin up. There you are.” His smile widened as he watched your body automatically follow his orders.

He stood up and began to pace in a slow circle around you. You felt his dark eyes piercing you, evaluating you, examining your body for any minor flaw or imperfection, even though your vision remained fixed straight ahead and your smile remained in place. The carpet dug into your knees, your stiletto heels stabbing the backs of your thighs. But still, you knelt, unmoving and obedient as he stroked your hair like you were a well-behaved pet.

It felt good, you thought, feeling a knot in your stomach form at the realization. He was incredibly handsome, with fingers as long and slender as the rest of him. You might have invited him back here on your own even if he hadn’t performed what you were growing more and more sure of was mind control. The thought made your blood run cold, but at the same time, you could still feel how red your face was under his gaze.

Your pulse quickened as he moved back around to face you, still with that same analytical stare. His eyes lingered on your chest as he bent down slightly, moving his hand to caress the side of your face. His thumb brushed your lower lip, still frozen in place from where he had ordered you to smile.

“Open your mouth,” he said, and you obeyed, with another rush of arousal immediately followed by shame. He pressed his finger against your tongue, eyebrows raising as you moaned at the touch.

He pressed harder, still keeping his hand firmly on your jaw. “You like this, don’t you? Tell me the truth, don’t hold back.” His voice was low, his tone vaguely threatening in a way you couldn’t quite place.

You nodded, mouth still agape. Your face flushed at the eagerness of your response, the embarrassment at finding pleasure in being controlled so thoroughly sinking deeper and deeper into you. You’d never felt anything like it, and the adrenaline from the initial terror of being manipulated was quickly turning into an aphrodisiac when combined with your attraction to him.

He scoffed - a short, mocking laugh. “My god,” he grinned, straightening up. “Then you can consider yourself a very, very lucky girl.” The swell of pride in your chest wasn’t at all hindered by the way his tone darkened; you couldn’t even tell if you were genuinely delighted at having impressed him or if you were just following his orders and “considering yourself lucky.” From the way your brain clouded over and the way your cunt tightened onto nothing, it might have been both. You groaned slightly at the feeling, then quickly bit down on your lip to try and suppress the sound.

If he noticed, he gave no outward expression. Instead, he reclined back onto the couch, his legs falling open slightly, and he beckoned you forward with a wave of his hand.

“Come here. You can kneel at my feet where you belong.” The way he said it was so light, so casual that you could tell he wasn’t trying to be dominant or turn you on. He just genuinely believed it. God, the ego on him. Still, you started to climb to your feet to walk over.

However, before you could even stand all the way up, he raised a hand to stop you. “Ah-ah-ah. No, none of that. You can crawl. You look ridiculous walking around in those shoes anyway.”

You collapsed back to your knees, cringing slightly at the bruises you knew you would have tomorrow as you crawled towards him.

“Good girl, so you do know your place,” he said, his tone taking on a thick layer of condescension as he patted your head. “Tell me, how often do you sleep with your clients here?” He barely even looked at you as he asked, staring off into the distance as if you were boring him.

“Never,” you replied immediately.

“Never?” He raised his eyebrows, sparing you a quick, scrutinizing glance. “Then what exactly do you do in little rooms like these?”

“Private stripteases. Lap dances. I let some touch me if they pay me enough,” you answered truthfully, realizing only after you’d spoken that he hadn’t ordered you to do so. You prayed silently that your answer was good enough. A voice in the back of your head questioned why you were so desperate for his approval, but it was quickly overcome by another wave of lust.

Despite the work you did, it had been far, far too long since you’d been fucked, especially by a man as pretty as the one seated in front of you. And as much as you hated to admit it even to yourself, whatever power he had was one that you desperately wanted him to use on you. You’d never been so scared or so turned on in your life, and your deep masochistic streak was begging for more.

The man snapped his thin fingers an inch away from your face, snapping you out of your thoughts. You blinked hard, realizing you hadn’t heard a single thing he said since you answered his last question.

“Hey,” he reprimanded sharply, punctuated with a hard slap to the side of your face. “Snap out of it. God, what’s the point of sitting around here with you if you’re not even going to listen?”

“No, wait, I’m sorry, I just—“

He cut you off with a disgusted roll of his eyes. “Don’t grovel. If you’re sorry, find a way to make it up to me.”

You swallowed hard, nodding your head, mind racing. Your eyes flicked down to his lap, then back up to his face.

“May I…well…I mean, would you like me to…” you stammered, mentally kicking yourself for how timid you sounded.

“What? Spit it out,” he snapped.

“Can I please suck your dick, please?” The request was out of your mouth before you even had time to process it.

He laughed again, the same sharp mocking laugh he’d given you earlier, fixing you with a self-satisfied smile. “Oh, you really are desperate, aren’t you? Fine. Hurry up and start. Make it good.”

Of course, you followed his orders. The ice-cold feeling that came with trying to resist felt entirely foreign to you now, and the brain fog that set over you whenever he gave a command barely had time to take hold before you obeyed.

You started slowly, gently licking the tip of his dick before gradually working your way down, letting your mouth adjust to the length, pressing your tongue against him as you gently bobbed your head.

While you were still struggling to take even half of his dick in your mouth, he roughly grabbed your hair, and without warning, shoved your head down to the base of his cock.

You choked hard, tears immediately streaming down your face, but you couldn’t get even a second of relief with the way he held you firmly in place. You took a deep breath in through your nose, but the air was immediately knocked from your lungs as he pulled your head back, then shoved you back down, thrusting forcefully into the back of your throat. You gave a stifled cry and frantically grasped at his leg, trying to get leverage to break away, but you felt him slap your hand away before pinning it against the couch cushion.

“You can take it. You want to impress me, don’t you? Stop struggling and let me fuck your throat.”

Your body went limp, all reflexes to break away and gasp for air vanishing in an instant. You could feel yourself choking, your face dripping with spit and tears, but you didn’t care. Both his hands were twisted in your hair, pulling hard, shoving your mouth onto his cock over and over again like you were a toy. You moaned desperately, half from pain and half from delirious pleasure. After what felt like ages, he ripped you away, forcing you to look into his dark eyes.

“Put some fucking effort into it,” he hissed, releasing your hair from his wrenching grasp. “Show me why I shouldn’t get rid of you right now.”

You immediately set to work, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and stroking what you couldn’t take with your right hand. You didn’t know what “getting rid of you” would entail. You didn’t doubt for a second that he could kill you. You felt briefly concerned that this didn’t turn you off in the slightest before your thoughts were pulled back to the task at hand.

You sucked hard, running your tongue against the most sensitive places you knew of, gently teasing him, just enough to hopefully make him feel as desperate as you did. Your efforts were immediately rewarded with a low moan that became an almost feral growl, feeling him thrust upward involuntarily. You doubled down, relishing in every sound you could draw from him.

He exhaled sharply when you pulled back, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock and flicking your tongue, tasting the pre-cum that dripped from him. He reached out, hand tangling in your hair again, but not quite as hard as before.

“Right there,” he sighed, holding your head in place, eyes shut tightly. “Fuck, there you go, right there, just like that, harder…oh, god, what a good fucking girl you are…” As you felt him get closer and closer, listening to the way he moaned for you, you felt yourself grow hot all over, more and more desperate to feel him let go, to cum down your throat.

You whined sharply, pushing even further, your body aching all over with unfulfilled desire. You took every single inch of him, swallowing hard around his cock, pressing your nose to his stomach, ignoring the way your throat tightened and instead focusing on how badly you wanted him, how terribly you wanted to impress him…

Your efforts paid off immediately when he forcibly pinned you where you were, grabbing your hair as he came with a rough, broken shout, his cum hitting the back of your throat.

After what felt like ages, you felt him collapse backward against the couch cushions. You pulled away, quickly swallowing the mouthful you’d accumulated, then opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to show him how well you’d taken it.

He softly laughed, peering at you with a slightly unfocused look before closing his eyes again, still on cloud nine, chest rising and falling quickly as the overwhelming pleasure slowly subsided.

You leaned your head against his inner thigh, gazing up at him with a lovestruck stare. He looked so vulnerable like this, open and overwhelmed with all the sensations flooding him, a slight smile on his lips.

A man with all the power in the world, everything he could ever want only a few words away, everyone wrapped around his little finger, and yet here he was, your head between his legs, absolutely radiant in the afterglow of his orgasm. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

He really is cute, you thought, even if he is terrifying. You examined his face carefully, taking in every detail — his sharp cheekbones, his thin nose, his dark eyelashes, the soft pink of his lips, the curve of his jawline and neck. There was something almost delicate about him, hidden by how deeply intimidating he was, and you hadn’t noticed it until now. He was just…well, he was just so pretty. There was just no other word for it, even now (or maybe especially now) that his sophisticated appearance was ruffled. His hair, once perfectly combed, was messy, a few dark strands falling into his eyes. His pristine suit was wrinkled, jacket long discarded, his tie partially undone, his shirtsleeves hastily rolled up, his belt and pants unfastened, and to top it all off, his gorgeous cock resting against his stomach, still half-hard. He was a fucking vision. You could have stared at him for ages.

You gently tapped his leg to get his attention. “You know, I don’t actually think I caught your name,” you said, batting your eyelashes a bit. Your smile faded when you were met with a cold silence. He shook his head, straightening up and brushing his hair back into place.

“You don’t need to know my name,” he snapped, all the bliss from a moment ago having vanished as he pushed you aside, readjusting his clothes.

You sat back, thoroughly dejected. You had thought you’d done well. You wanted to make him feel good, and you had, but it wasn’t enough. You shouldn’t have felt like this about one of your clients, but you’d never met anyone else like him, and you wanted more.

Your heart sped up as he reached for his jacket. Gathering his things meant he would leave, and an impulse deep inside you was yelling at you to do something. This wasn’t a job anymore, you needed him. He’d gotten you in the palm of his hand, desperate and wanting, and now that you had done what he wanted, he was acting like you were invisible. You weren’t going to let things go that easily.

You pulled yourself up onto the couch, ignoring the ache in your knees and the pain on the backs of your thighs where your high heels had dug into your skin. Before he could react, you climbed onto his lap, facing him, arms around his shoulders. You’d never broken your “no kissing clients” rule, but that rule was the furthest thing from your mind as you leaned in for a kiss, pressing your lips firmly against his.

With your eyes closed tightly, you barely even realized he had shoved you away until you landed on your back against the leather of the couch. Your eyes snapped open, finding the man standing before you, with a look on his face that was a mix of anger and bewilderment and something else you couldn’t quite place. He opened his mouth as if preparing to ask you something, but he closed it again, turning away from you. You bit your lip as he paced slowly, his hand over his eyes. Had you read the situation wrong? Was he ashamed that he’d come back here with you? Did he not like being kissed? Had you come on too strong? Was it over the line?

Your heart skipped a beat as he stopped, focusing fully on you. You felt cornered, like a prey animal about to be devoured. He looked angry, vengeful, his already dark eyes completely devoid of light as he approached you.

“Strip, then bend over the couch, facing the wall. Now.”

Chills ran down your spine as you quickly undressed. You hadn’t been wearing much before, but naked, you felt completely exposed under his cold glare. You reluctantly turned away, the brain fog coming back like a tidal wave in response to your slight resistance, and you bent over, just like he’d told you to do. You could feel yourself shaking, terrified at the idea of what he would do to you, but with a hint of anticipation that kept you from falling off the edge into panic.

You closed your eyes tightly and tried to ground yourself in the brief moments of silence, waiting for whatever would come next, but they shot open as soon as you felt the sharp, unmistakable shock of his belt whipping you across the backs of your thighs at full force.

You cried out involuntarily, from shock and from the stinging, nearly unbearable pain. You hadn’t even had time to compose yourself when the second hit came, the pain intensifying as he struck the same place even harder. Your skin burned and you felt your eyes well up with tears, but you could feel the heat of arousal inside you growing, your masochistic side alight with pleasure. You wanted more.

“Fuck!” you gasped as he landed a series of quick, searing lashes across your thighs and ass. Your nails dug into the couch as you bit your lip, trying to stifle a scream as the metal buckle whipped into your skin. Your head spun. It stung, so badly you could barely take it, but it felt fucking incredible, endorphins and adrenaline coursing through your body, making every sensation electric as he kept going, relentlessly striking you over and over again.

You were granted a temporary reprieve when he leaned in close to your ear, running his fingernails down your back, hard enough that you knew there would be marks tomorrow.

“Don’t even think about holding back,” he hissed, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “I want everyone outside this room to hear you scream for mercy, and I want everyone to know you’re not going to get it.”

Immediately he resumed his punishment, the sound of the belt hitting you again and again echoing off the walls. Your body instinctively followed his orders and you felt yourself cry out involuntarily, a broken sound halfway between a gasp and a yell. You barely even registered it as your own voice.

Thwack.

A particularly brutal hit made you cry out, arching your back in a desperate attempt to ease the pain.

“Fuck, please…” you begged, feeling like you were on the verge of fainting.

“‘Please’ what?”

Thwack.

The ice cold feeling shot through your brain like a lightning strike. Beg for mercy. Scream for it. You desperately wanted to, but at the same time…

“Harder, fuck, please, harder!”

The words were out of your mouth before you even realized you’d spoken them. Immediately, the room fell silent. You gasped for air, still reeling from the searing pain and the frigid ache of trying to resist him.

He took hold of your hair without warning, yanking your head around to look at him.

“Repeat that,” he snapped.

“I— I want it harder,” you panted, trying to force your blurred vision to focus.

A long, tense pause.

“You like this.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, god, yes.”

“Of fucking course you do.”

He grabbed you, turning you around forcefully so that you were facing him, then without warning, his hands were wrapped around your neck, so tightly that you couldn’t even take a moment to breathe in, your windpipe fully constricted.

“I bet you like this too, don’t you?” he muttered through gritted teeth.

You nodded desperately, as best you could with your neck being held firmly in place.

“Listen to me,” he growled. “You live and die by my orders. You have no other purpose but to please me, do you understand? Just look at you. I could do anything to you and you would love it. You get off on being whipped, you get off on being choked half to death…I could beat you senseless and you would cum from it.”

You moaned in ecstasy, but it came out as barely a whimper. You could feel your heartbeat in your temples, your vision going dark around the edges as his fingers dug into your neck.

“I’m going to do whatever I want to you. That’s all you’re good for. Do you understand?”

You tried to answer, but you couldn’t move. Your head was pounding, your throat feeling like it was about to be crushed. You saw stars, multicolored lights popping in and out of your vision. The darkness around the edges was rapidly expanding, bleeding further and further into your line of sight until you couldn’t see at all.

At the last possible moment, before you could feel yourself slip over the edge into unconsciousness, he let go, dropping your limp body and watching you gasp for air, coughing and retching as you struggled to breathe in after being deprived of oxygen for so long.

“Pathetic,” he scoffed, glaring down at you like you were nothing more than dust.

You lowered your head, thoroughly humiliated, pressing your forehead against your knees as you gulped in mouthful after mouthful of oxygen, mind racing. He could have killed you. He could have choked you to death without a second thought and you wouldn’t have been able to stop him, you told yourself, but still, in the deepest parts of your mind, the danger thrilled you.

You needed him to touch you, to hurt you, to ruin you. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted to you, and the thought made your stomach ache with terror as much as it turned you on.

He caressed your hair in a way that would have almost seemed tender if he hadn’t just strangled you half to death. You looked up slightly, and he tilted your chin up so you were face to face. He moved your head slightly to one side, then the other, examining you carefully, and smiled with a sick satisfaction.

“You’ll have bruises on your neck for a week,” he praised with a slap to your cheek. You moaned softly at the impact, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling.

He bent down, picking you up ever so slightly to rearrange your body in the position he wanted, laying you down and spreading your legs. You could see from your position how hard he was. Your pain had turned him on as much as it had done to you.

You stared up at him as he admired his work, stroking his cock as he gazed at the bruises and welts and scratches he’d left on your skin.

“Come here,” you pleaded, your voice still raw and hoarse from being choked, spreading your legs further.

He was immediately on top of you, his thin hips pressed against yours, hands wrapped tightly around your wrists. “Don’t you dare give me orders,” he spat, but despite the venom behind it, you could tell from the way his hips rubbed against you that he was as desperate as you were. You felt his cock brush against your clit as he bit down hard on your neck, surely adding yet another bruise to the collection you’d accumulated.

You bit your lip, wanting him to just stop teasing, to hurry up and fuck your brains out, but as you were considering whether or not to try and resist his don’t give orders command, you felt the tip of his dick press against your entrance. You’d known it was big, your aching throat was doing an excellent job at reminding you of that, but you still couldn’t stifle a gasp at the feeling. It was just a whole different experience like this.

The beautiful man above you gave you a look that sent chills down your spine.

“You want it,” he whispered, leaning in so close he could have kissed you.

You nodded eagerly, fixing him with a pleading gaze. You hadn’t needed the command in the slightest.

“Beg.”

“Please…” you whined, your nails digging into your palms as you clenched your hands into fists, struggling to keep still. “Please, please…”

“Not good enough. Beg harder.” You had no idea how he managed to sound thoroughly indifferent, even while he was this hard.

Your already racing heartbeat quickened. “Please, I’m begging you, fuck me, take me, ruin me, do anything you want to me, I —fuck— I need it, I need it so badly, please, I’ll do anything…”

That same sadistic, terrifying little smile crept across his face. “Anything?”

“Yes, anything, just please, god, fuck me!”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured, before roughly thrusting into you, as deep as he could possibly get, without giving you so much as a second to adjust.

You couldn’t even try to hold back a scream, and he had the nerve to laugh in your face as he slapped his hand over your mouth.

“Oh, careful, don’t shout like that! They’ll think I’m doing something horrible to you in here,” he grinned, punctuating his words with hard, deep strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside you. “It sounds like you’re in absolute agony. But we both know better than that, don’t we?”

He picked up the pace, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to fuck you deeper than you’d thought possible.

“You know, I really thought that you’d put up a little more of a fight,” he continued, almost nonchalant despite the grin on his face and the vicious pounding he was giving your sensitive cunt. “I thought I’d have to order you to get off on the pain, or that I’d have to bash your pretty head against the wall to get you to listen. But I got lucky, didn’t I? I just happened to come across the most disgusting, most depraved little whore in the city, so eager and willing to listen, to take whatever I give you.”

The hand that wasn’t keeping you quiet brushed against a sensitive spot on your inner thigh and you all but melted, whimpering with pleasure underneath him as he fucked you harder.

“Oh, that’s it, let me hear you moan,” he said, throwing his head back with a growl, pulling his hand away from your mouth. “You don’t care who hears, do you? I bet you like it. I bet you love knowing that all your little friends and all your clients are hearing you get your pretty cunt ruined by a complete stranger, don’t you? You like them knowing that I hit you and choked you and you still let me fuck you like this. You just love that everyone knows that you get off on me hurting you, that everyone knows you’re just a desperate slut for pain.” He punctuated the last word with a hard, backhanded slap across your face.

You nodded frantically, moaning your assent, hands grasping at his arms, holding on for dear life as he completely wrecked you. You felt him grin as he leaned in to bite your neck, his tongue darting over your sensitive skin as he did so.

Your hand wandered, finding its way to his dark hair, and you couldn’t stop yourself from running your fingers through it, pulling ever so slightly, not wanting to risk his wrath again but unable to resist the temptation. Your eyes widened with surprise when he gasped and moaned, his teeth temporarily leaving your neck before he recovered and bit you again, much harder, this time on a sensitive spot just below your jaw that made you cry out. When he was satisfied with the mark he’d left, he broke away.

“You know what would be fun?” he teased, his tone menacing as he roughly grabbed your breast. You shook your head, unable to take your eyes off him. “I’d just love to see what it would be like if you weren’t such an easy little slut.” He paused, running his hand up your body, admiring the marks he’d left with a self-satisfied look.

“Put up a fight for me. That way, I can show you exactly how filthy whores like you deserve to be treated.” He sat up, his fingers clutching your hips so hard that you knew they’d leave even more bruises on your already aching body, never once faltering in his steady pace.

You flew into action immediately, frantically trying to push him away, trying to kick hard enough to get him off of you, despite the fact that your body was still aching for more. He laughed, a quick cruel sound, almost surprised by how readily you threw yourself into the role of his struggling victim, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them down above your head without missing a beat, leaving you even more helpless than you already were.

You moaned, feeling the way his dick throbbed inside you when you struggled harder, trying in vain to remove yourself from his grasp. Fucking sadist. You thrashed harder, your body still reflexively following his orders, but to no avail; he had you completely pinned in place.

Almost without realizing you were doing so, you jerked your head upward, biting the exposed skin between his neck and shoulder and digging your teeth in hard, barely even noticing how fiercely you had latched onto him until you tasted blood.

“Fuck!” he shouted, letting go of your wrists, hands immediately moving to grab your shoulders. You let go with a sharp inhale the moment you realized what you’d done, horrified at your own actions. He roughly shoved you down, forcing your mouth away, still fucking you harder than you thought possible.

“God, I should fucking kill you for that, I really, really should,” he growled. He turned his head slightly to look at the bite you’d left, scowling when he saw the blood beginning to seep into the collar of his shirt. He let go of one of your shoulders to grab your chin, forcing you to stare at the damage you’d caused.

“Look at what you did,” he spat through gritted teeth, with a wild, almost manic look in his eyes. “You think you have the right to do that? The right to defile me like that after I’ve taken such good care of you? Answer me.”

You bit your tongue, wanting to point out that ‘taking good care of you’ had involved beating you black and blue with a belt, choking you half to death with his dick, and then strangling you until you were nearly unconscious. Sure, you’d enjoyed all of it, but still.

“Answer me,” he repeated, harsher this time. “Or I swear to god I’ll kill you.”

“You told me to fight back!” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, pettiness entering your voice despite the murderous look in his eyes that made it very clear he had been expecting you to beg for forgiveness.

He stopped moving completely. He was still all the way inside you, and you could barely stop yourself from grinding your hips against him to try and get yourself off, but you didn’t dare move. The hand that had been gripping your jaw released, moving upward to pat your cheek gently.

“I did tell you to fight back, didn’t I?” He was mocking you, his tone sickly sweet and condescending, like you were a particularly petulant child that he was trying to discipline. Against your better judgment, or maybe just to see what he’d do about it, you nodded.

Before you could even realize what was happening, you were in terrible pain, a pain that knocked the air out of your lungs, your eyes immediately streaming with tears from the impact.

It took you a moment to process that he had just punched you in the face as hard as he possibly could.

You instinctively doubled over, curling into a ball, body and mind reeling from the blow. Your ears were ringing, your vision clouded over. It felt like your brain had been shaken vigorously inside your skull, nausea welling up inside you at the sensation, all of it so severe you were afraid you might faint.

In your dazed state, you could barely absorb what he was saying to you, only catching snippets here and there: “...didn’t fucking tell you to ruin my shirt…going to show you…disgusting girls like you…”

You felt something being wrapped around your wrists as he manhandled you so that your arms were above your head. He’d bound you up with his tie, you realized, feeling the delicate silk against your aching skin. You opened your eyes as you felt his hands on your ankles, roughly pulling you so that you were lying with your legs spread for him. There was, you observed as your vision refocused, a decent bit of blood on the collar and shoulder of his shirt, a stain that you were positive would never come out. What a shame. Probably a designer shirt, too. Must have been expensive.

You were shocked back into reality by him throwing your legs over his shoulders, bending you in half, once again filling your cunt with a hard thrust. Despite the pain still throbbing behind your eyes, which was slowly receding, you were still so, so desperate for him. You’d been close when he’d stopped, and in your hypersensitive state, you could feel your pleasure building rapidly, and before long you were writhing in his arms.

“Please, don’t stop, please,” you begged, barely even processing the words that were coming out of your own mouth. “I’m so close, I need it, please, please, I need to cum, don’t stop…”

“No,” he snapped, giving you a furious glare. “Didn’t you hear what I said? You don’t get to cum. I wouldn’t have let you cum even before you bit me like a rabid animal. What makes you think you deserve it now?” His last word broke off with an involuntary groan, his pace growing erratic in a way that told you he was close to a second orgasm. He inhaled sharply, collecting himself before doubling down. “Don’t cum. No matter how close you get, hold it. Do you hear me? Do. Not. Cum.”

Despite his orders, you felt your muscles begin to tighten, your pleasure mounting in a way that normally would have sent you over the edge, but nothing happened. You physically couldn’t cum. The feeling just kept building and building, far past what you thought was your breaking point, never stopping, overwhelming you to near-madness and never giving you a moment’s relief, and you bit your lip to stifle a scream.

“Oh, don’t try to act all pitiful now,” he growled, punctuating it with a hard slap to your already oversensitive clit that made you cry out. “You know damn well that you earned this. And if you ever try to bite me like that again, I’ll make this permanent, do you hear me?”

Your eyes flew open, widening in terror. He couldn’t do that. Could he?

The look on his face told you that he absolutely could.

“Oh, it’d wear off eventually,” he purred, leaning in closer as if he were about to kiss you, his fingers just barely teasing your clit, his delicate touch unbearable in your hypersensitive state. “But I could tell you not to cum, over and over and over again, and you’d have no choice not to obey. I could keep you this close for days, weeks, months, maybe years if I wanted to, and drag you around with me like a needy little pet. I could order you to follow me around, to never leave my side. I could put you on a leash. I could parade you naked all over town, let everyone see how badly you want me, even with bruises and cuts all over you.” The thought sent a painful jolt of arousal through you, your legs shaking as you tried desperately to keep yourself from moaning at the idea. He grinned at you, making it very, very clear that you were doing a terrible job at hiding it.

“Oh, of course that turns you on. Fucking depraved, aren’t you? Are you like this for everyone you meet, or do you just want me that badly?”

You couldn’t form a concrete thought, let alone focus hard enough to give him an answer, but you knew his monstrous ego would love it if you could. You just wanted him that badly.

His hand wrapped around your neck, not quite enough to choke you but hard enough so that you felt the marks from when he had. “God, who would have thought that this would be so fun? Beating and fucking a pathetic little thing like you, I barely had to order you to do a thing,” he teased, panting as he fucked you faster. “I’m going to cum inside you, and you’re going to like it. Beg for it. Do it. Now.”

“Please,” You gasped for air, voice coming out as a choked whisper. You were in agony, every inch of your body burning with pain and anticipation and need for an orgasm that kept building and just wouldn’t happen. Burning hot tears were streaming down your face; you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to. “Please, do it, cum inside me, I don’t care what happens, I need it, just…”

Your pleading broke off into a desperate wail as he brushed a strand of hair out of your face. Even the gentle motion, combined with every other sensation you were feeling, was absolute torture, too much for you to bear. He grinned as you pulled away, trying to escape any more stimulation.

“Oh, god, you look so damned pathetic…oh, god, fine, do it, cum for me, I want to see you break, just do it now--” His voice cracked, his hands desperately clutching at your hair as he came inside you with a desperate moan, feeling you tighten around him, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Your body went completely rigid at his command and you came hard, the feeling so intense that it felt like your skin was burning all over. You were vaguely aware that you were thanking him, over and over, unable to control the words coming out of your mouth. He silenced you with a forceful kiss, the first one he’d given you all night, and you melted into his touch, thoroughly overwhelmed.

You felt his hips twitch, still riding out the last of his orgasm as you deliriously wrapped yourself around him, clinging on for dear life, moaning with ecstasy.

Finally, he broke away from the kiss, and your body fell limp, overstimulated past your breaking point, so much so that you vaguely wondered how you were still conscious. Your legs dropped from where he had propped them on his shoulders and you lay there, trembling like a leaf, feeling the warmth of his cum inside you.

When you finally collected yourself enough to see straight, you worked your wrists out of the now-loose binding of his tie, then raised your head to look at the man still lying on top of you. His head had dropped onto your chest, his eyes closed. He looked so still and gentle that you wondered if he was asleep.

You reached down, stroking his hair gently with shaking hands, remembering how much he’d liked it before. You wanted to have this little moment of vulnerability with him before he went all cold and ruthless again. He sighed, pressing himself further into your bare chest and wrapping his arms around you. You couldn’t hold back a smile as pride swelled inside you. You felt like you’d tamed some kind of monster, and really, you thought to yourself, you had. You could practically feel the bliss radiating off of him along with the warmth of his skin against yours.

You leaned your head back, staring at the ceiling as you gathered yourself. You were sore all over. Your muscles burned from how tight they’d been for so long, your throat ached when you swallowed, and you still had a pounding headache from the punch to your face and the way he’d choked you. Your body had already begun to bruise, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“It’s Kilgrave.”

You looked up, vision still slightly clouded with pleasure. “Hmm?” His face was turned away, expression hidden.

“My name. Kilgrave.”

You grinned harder. You’d won.

“It’s pretty,” you giggled, giving his hair a playful ruffle.

He quickly smacked your hand away, sitting up and pulling out of you with a scoff. Ah. There he was.

“Shut up. Don’t even think about it.”

“What?”

“You know what,” he snapped, reaching for his jacket. “Don’t play innocent now, especially not when you look like that.”

You glanced down at your body. He had absolutely wrecked you, but your smile never faded as you looked back at him.

He rolled his eyes, but there was no venom behind it, or at least none that you could detect. “Filthy little thing,” he muttered, re-buttoning his shirt.

You sat up, stretching your sore muscles as he composed himself quickly. You were amazed at how he could go from looking absolutely delirious with pleasure one moment to looking like this the next, all put together and polished as if he hadn’t just fucked you into oblivion.

“And where are you off to?” you said, glancing around the room, trying to find where he had tossed your clothes after you’d taken them off.

“You don’t need to know that.” He walked quickly towards the door, but paused as he realized that you were still looking at him. He sighed with frustration, but still turned around to look back at you.

“I’ll be back next week, if I decide you’re good enough for me to use again. In the meantime, don’t even think about opening your legs for anyone else, do you understand? I don’t want you catching anything and giving it to me.” His tone was bitter, but you could still sense something almost fond behind his words. “Now, once I leave, you’ll wait five minutes, then go out there and put on the best show of your life for all those sad desperate men out there, with my cum dripping down your thighs. Understand?”

Ah, you realized. Not fondness. Possessiveness. Even better. You nodded, barely managing to suppress another proud grin. He gave you what you assumed was supposed to be a contemptful look before turning again to leave, but he might as well have given you a kiss on the forehead with how good it made you feel.

“Bye, Kilgrave,” you called as he left, giving him a playful wave.

He looked back. He didn’t answer, but the facade slipped for just a moment as he blew you a quick kiss, and then he was gone, grinning like a man who had all the power in the world as he closed the door behind him.

A/N: this is the first part of a series! if there's enough interest, i'll post the next parts :) Like, rb, and/or follow if you enjoyed, and thank you so much for reading!

#jessica jones #kilgrave x reader #kilgrave #kilgrave x reader smut #kilgrave smut #smut #minors dni #my fic

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http-finnick · 1 year

Text

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫

finnick odiar x fem!reader

summary: after the war, your whereabouts are a mystery left with missing next to it. finnicks days are gloomy without his love as jealous friends burden him.

request: hi I love your finnick stories so much!! i really like reading them ♥️ i saw requests are open an was wondering if you could do a finnick x reader where its after the war and he thinks shes dead but later finds out she’s alive and he’s just happy and excited to plan their life together? thank you ♥️

I dont..miss her. it's strange. I- I want her here it's just..I feel like I've lost something..like I'll find it soon. It'll be in arms reach soon, just...wait. that's all. wait.

"you're grieving. It's denial" his head pops up to see a red-headed woman cross her legs, he almost forgot he was saying that all out loud

"she isn't missing, Finnick, she isn't at arms reach. She's dead." Annie moves her hair behind her ear before resting her head on her hand, staring at his expression, for a reaction to her statement

"some shrink you are." he scoffs, he hates how she's talking. she isn't dead. she cant be.

"...finnick" pity. her tone is pitiful and there's nothing he despises more. he struggles to find logic to support his calm as he fumbles from rage

"no body."

"what?" "no body. no proof. she could be alive" now he stares straight at her. her wide brown eyes flashing a sign of annoyance before being coated with a wave of seriousness.

"we went over this. you need to look at the facts-" "I am. no body." now he's getting defense, how could she say that? wheres her hope? she never gives up on anyone why would she give up on you so quickly?

"you called me a shrink. I'm not. I'm a friend and you need to listen to me as that. mourn her. do it now before you hold onto her forever"

she's gone. I know that now. I don't talk about her anymore, annie doesn't like the noise. mostly to myself when I want to reminisce on good memories that just end up with me crying in the bathroom like a pathetic wimp. sometimes I think to talk about her to annie but she just tells me to let go of her. but I can't.

the 5 stages of grief. Annie told me about that. is confusion one? I feel confused.

I sit on the island counter as I hear fabric on fabric, it's the dress of annie swiping against itself as she walks in to check on me.

"hey, you okay?" she leans against the wall, fiery red hair longer than ever as she awaits my answer

"uhh, yeah, yeah." brushing it off as I sit up, she isn't satisfied. he knows but it isn't the time.

"wanna talk about it?" seriously? he can? and to think she hated the noise

"it'd be nice" he answered sniffing slightly as he was already getting emotional

"what's the matter?" she sits down and motions for him to do as well, he hesitates, feeling more in control of the situation by standing and looking away, but, he sits.

"uh, I'm really am missing her a lot more" he watched her chew her cheek and he starts to feel claustrophobic. is he a burden? an annoyance to bring up the past? to dwell so heavily?

"what are you hanging onto so much?" her tone is soft but he knows spitfire when he hears it, he smiles and bites his bottom lip, he knew it was too good to be true.

"what?" shes clueless. utterly clueless and he's about to snap

"no it's just, wow."

"..wow?"

"you tell me to mourn but I'm never allowed to!" he smiles while sitting up, completely done. over her bullshit and looking for a fight

"well, mourning isn't clinging onto things fin." she hits right back, ready to get this over with and go to bed.

"what the hell is wrong with you? I- I have no one to fucking talk to!"

"you aren't here when you talk! you are somewhere else living in the past and you can't hear anyone when they tell you the truth!"

"oh- oh so what this truth?" he pushes her, ready for her to say, daring her to.

"that she's dead and you need to get over that." she strikes for the kill and it fucking hurts. he bites his tongue as she scoffs and tries to form a semi-redeemable apology that he knows he just bullshit

"no. I need you to get the fuck out." he waves his hand mindlessly towards the door as he stares at the floor, feeling blood pool into his mouth from biting his tongue a little too hard

two of the most important women are gone from his life and he only has a chance with one of them.

he wears dress pants and a button-up with flowers he picked this morning. he needs at least for this to work out.

he slides the bouquet onto the counter and lets his fingers run through his fluffy locks as he opens the fridge, trying to find some drinks they can have together as he scans the empty cold box.

he throws his head back at the sound of the rippling scream of his phone, he can't deal with post-capitol shit right now.

he swings his feet and grabs the telephone off the wall, stating his name and 'hi' as he waits

a woman chimes in on the other line stating herself and her authority as she starts to say things he doesn't really understand, numbers of times and dates, he doesn't do appointments or capitol press anymore

"wait- wait. I'm sorry, what?"

"for ms.l/n, when will you arrive for her?" he drops the phone as his throat closes up. they found her. they found her. they found her.

her body.

pickup. they want me to come to get her. his knees became weak and he slid to the floor, only now hearing her voice asking for him as it dangled next to his shaking body

he grabs it and puts it up to his ear, his voice cracking as he asks what date, time, and location to...pick her up.

he couldn't help but notice the way she talked about 'ms.l/n' in a slight past tense. he wanted confirmation for the longest time but it was bittersweet knowing she was actually gone. no fuck that. it's bitter it hurts like hell. it feels like the day he found out she was gone and panicked looking for her, though this time actually finding a body. he isn't gonna let Annie's "coping 101" infect his brain now. he is in pain. he feels like he is dying.

his love is gone. It's been months of her gone but now she's gone.

the train ride was silent as he just sat there in shock the whole time. he was lucky enough to get one today. he hopes they are wrong, hoping when he walks in it'll be someone else.

he stumbles into the hospital, telling the nurses about the call and about the woman on the other line. they tell him a room number and he floats there without question.

he notices how the room isn't leading to a morgue but rather a patient room. maybe it's full. maybe they found her with other missing troops.

and turns the door and cracks it open, he can't stop himself to shut his eyes tightly as he hopes shes is in a zipped body bag at least

he opens his eyes right when he walks in.

there. it's you. no doubt.

it's you sitting up. you're alive.

"y-y/n?"

"holy shit finnick..you're all dressed up for me?" how, how could you joke at this time? how can you joke at all? you were dead. he thought you died he-

he sprints towards you and hugs you tightly, tears flowing from his eyes as he smells you, feels you, loves you again

"I- I thought you died.."

"me too" you mumble feeling your own tears slip out as he weeps against you. you're safe.

"I love you, I love you so much" he cries out, not daring to pull away from you but you manage to lift him up just enough to be face-to-face with him. you kissed him softly, his lips familiar and warm

"I love you too"

you're thin and bruised. utterly beaten down by nature as your busted lip smiles at him, and he knows no matter how long you were lost you were the same old you deep down.

"let's get married. let's get married and move anywhere you want." he smiles, thinking of living with you in the meadow, alone, just the two of you.

"woah, next you're gonna say let's make a million babies" you giggle, pretending like you weren't about to say the same thing.

"not quite a million my love but close to it" he laughs and you fall into it as well. wiping your tears with your free hand had only now noticed how hard your other hand was gripping his

"I missed your laugh so much" he sniffs, tears still spilling out as he smiles at you

"I missed everything about you so much" you dip back in to kiss him and he goes right to it, hugging you deeply as he thinks about how soon you'll be his wife. soon he'll be your husband and soon you two will have a life. a real one.

an: I hope this is okay! I added Annie drama on accidentally lmao. I hope I didn't pace it weirdly and I hope I was able to catch how Finnick was feeling at least a little well. like he knew deep down she was alive but he was just mourning her absent presence. I hope you guys enjoyed it! mwah, love you so much!

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