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sweetiecutie · 7 months

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🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

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aft3rhrs · 6 months

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— number: unknown ღ

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: strangers to lovers

warnings: dead dove, yandere, manipulation, corruption, mentions of stalking, mentions of therapy, dirty talk, humiliation, obsession, mentions of masturbation & dub con sex, allusions to cnc, allusions to depression and anxiety, hints of fear kink, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut).

*use of the word “rape”.

masterlist

In the last few months, you've grown used to the sound of your phone ringing late at night. It still sent your heart into a frenzy, nerves sparking up like wires — but you peeked at the screen nonetheless, taking less and less time to hesitate to answer.

Number: Unknown.

Palms sweaty, you clicked accept on the call.

A chuckle greeted you.

"Lonely?"

You tried to ignore the chill his voice sent rippling down your spine, raising goosebumps along the way.

"What do you want?"

"Don't be like that," Jungkook cooed. "I missed you. Wanted to check in. What's up? How was therapy last week?"

The question came with a tint of mockery, instantly dusting your cheeks. It wasn't surprising by now that he knew; he knew everything about you, it seemed, from soul to entrails. But you couldn't wrap your head around how, or why he even paid such close attention in the first place. All you were capable of comprehending clearly was the anger blazing in your chest.

"Screw you."

"Aw, come on," he crooned on the line. "I'm just checking up on my favorite girl. Any progress? Did you tell your therapist you let your stalker fuck you right after filing a report? Did you tell him you pick up my calls?"

You felt his words swirl and burn in your stomach, as if you downed a glass of liquor. Shame crawled all over your skin, hot and uncomfortable. Why couldn't you find it in yourself to hang up? For a moment, you considered doing just that, but then quickly brushed off the idea.

Better to entertain him like this than to have him show up at your door.

Right...?

He could hear you breathe in, the lack of an answer curving his lips upwards.

"Well, that's okay. I really don't like you seeing him, though. I'm kind of offended you went to someone else for help."

"You're the reason I need help!" You hissed, unable to stop yourself. "You're seriously sick in the head."

"What a mouthy little thing you are," Jungkook murmured. "Pretty brave for someone who claimed she's afraid of me." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Pretty hypocritical too... I might be crazy, but you're the one still talking to me. Didn't you come all over my cock like a good little girl too? I think you might be a bit sick yourself, sweetheart."

Oh god.

No.

You pretended you didn't feel yourself clench around thin air, pretended your underwear wasn't getting drenched.

"But I don't mind," he continued, raspy, "I can be your therapist, baby. I'll help you feel better."

Your eyes fluttered closed, head growing foggy.

"Why keep running? Why keep running if you always let me catch up?"

"I don't," you whispered, "I'm trying to—"

"No," Jungkook tsked, "you're not. Are you too scared to face yourself in the mirror? Do you see my eyes when you try?"

You shivered for some reason.

"No."

"That's a lie... You like it when I chase you, and no therapy is ever going to help you. You know why?" He coaxed, soft. "Do you know where your sickness lies, angel...? It's not in your head. It's in your heart. You dont trust love, you don't feel it, unless it's got you losing breath, nice and tight, like a noose. Why don't you let me give it to you?"

Despite the pounding of your heart, you tried to keep his words out of your mind, tried to focus before you disappeared so deep into the fog, you'd become a part of it. But you were so tired... and floating in the dark, weightless, felt a little more like peace.

Still, swallowing thickly, you tried.

"Do you get off on taunting all your victims like some kind of psycho?"

"Oh baby," he sighed. "How many times do I gotta tell you? You're the only girl I want. No need to get jealous."

"Go fuck yourself—"

Another chuckle, then a groan.

"I should. I really want to... Miss you so much..."

Your stomach flipped.

"Miss your mouth. Didn't have time to fuck it back then... Would you let me now?"

"No," you breathed out, shaky.

Why were you still talking to him? Why were your thighs squeezed shut so hard?

"Mmm, that's what you said last time, and yet look who ended up begging me to fill that little cunt."

Your hand tightened around your phone, the pulsing in between your legs refusing to cease and getting harder to ignore.

"I know you could take it all," he breathed. "All down your pretty throat, no complaints. Would be too busy sucking, right, baby?"

"Why even bother asking?" you whispered, your voice small, like you knew the answer already.

Because you did.

"Makes me hard," Jungkook admitted, shameless. "It's cute to see you struggle. Acting like a frightened little doe, like you weren't waiting for a wolf to eat you up."

The confession was so dirty, nothing short of predatory; but it made your cunt throb and heat stick to your underwear, and you couldn't decide if you were more disturbed by him or by your own reactions.

"Fuck..." he swore hoarsely. "All that screaming and fighting only to end up begging for it. Do you like it forced? No need to think, no need to make choices. Just taking my cock like a good little rape toy, yeah?"

You weren't able to contain the hitch of your breath, thighs quivering and spine tingling all over.

Jungkook moaned softly in response, the sound shooting straight through your pussy.

"Wanna come?"

This wasn't happening.

You were losing grasp of reality, consumed by the need to find a lifeline. You felt like you caught a fever, your reply coming out more mellow than intended.

"No. Please stop."

"You're a bad liar, little doe. Without me your body and soul feel empty. You need me as much as I need you."

Your eyes fell shut. You shook your head, repeating your denial like a prayer.

"No..."

Your brain was running on automatic, trying to hold on to some semblance of rationality.

"Does it make you feel better to say that?" Jungkook muttered. "Wouldn't it be easier to give in? I know how much you wanna sneak your hand into your panties. Go on, baby. Rub all your thoughts away. It will feel so good."

You felt your thighs tremble again, the wetness between them unbearable. It was getting harder to breathe through the rising heat, your mouth falling open, trying to catch more oxygen into your lungs.

"Go on, pretty. I'll come with you... Just say the word."

Yes.

No, that wasn't right.

Please...

"No," you forced out again, something that sounded too much like a whimper. "I'm going. Stop calling me."

Jungkook just sighed.

"Shame. Can you at least move closer to the window? Do a little twirl for me. I missed you so much..."

Your head snapped in the direction of the window, heart jumping in alarm. Jungkook seemed to know; he sounded so amused, like it was all a game. And he was winning.

"Just kidding. I have some things to do, but I will see you soon, baby."

"Jungkook—" you panicked, shaking your head, "please don't—"

"Goodnight. I love you."

Beep.

He hung up.

You hugged your knees and lowered your head onto them, welcoming the darkness that greeted you, eclipsing the faint glow of your nightlight.

Was this your fault? You were in pieces for so long; surely that must have been to blame for the sickening pull you felt to answer the phone every time he called.

Maybe that was how Jungkook had managed to get to you. Slithered in through the cracks, took advantage of all the empty spaces. Poured himself in like poison, down to the last drop. Maybe that was also why he needed you so much; there was nothing left of him but you.

You let yourself slump onto the bed, probably the last time you'd be able to sleep through the night somewhat calmly. Because when Jungkook said soon... he always meant soon.

And the clock refused to stop ticking.

taglist 💌: @whipwhoops @svnbangtansworld @ane102 @stellalovesstarss @crisle19 @jksteponme @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @dolphinmochi

#sorry to those I couldn't tag! ❤️#anyway lmao #dead dove #yandere bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts yandere #jungkook smut

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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months

Text

crimson red part two

words: 1.3k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, NON/DUBCON, R*PE, M*RDER, stalker!rafe, branding, scaring, p in v sex, unprotected sex, knife kink, descriptions of blood

part one / part two / part three

you can practically feel rafes eyes on you. all day every day, no matter where you go, you know he’s not far. you try to go on with your normal routine, chest bandaged up underneath your shirt as you cringe, tugging at the scars as you attempt to reach the top shelf at the grocery store.

“here, i got it for you.” a tall man reaches up for you, grabbing the box of cereal and placing it in your hand.

“thanks so much!” you sigh with relief. you certainly don’t want to stretch your scars and cause them to start bleeding again.

“no problem.” he smiles at you. “i’m liam, what’s your name?” “oh, uh, y/n.” you also smile but he must get the vibe that you’re not really interested, giving you a nod before continuing down the aisle. liams handsome, but you won’t drag anyone into your life, not when rafe is knocking at your door every night. he doesn’t need to break in anymore, you gladly open it for him.

you finish your grocery shopping, wishing you would have gotten a chance to go earlier as you shiver, the cold air hitting your skin as you step out, still pushing your cart now filled with bags.

the setting sun guides you towards your car, making you realize that theres no streetlights as you squint to load your car, filling the trunk when you hear someone clearing their throat. you turn, expecting rafe.

“oh, hi.” you realize through the growing darkness that it’s liam.

“hello again.” his voice is deep, but nothing like the easy purr if rafes. “can i help you load your groceries?” you look to your cart, only a couple bags left.

“i’m almost done, but thank you.” you nod, turning back to your car, but you don’t hear his footsteps moving away on the pavement, instead there’s a scuff of a step forward. you keep your attention on your trunk, praying that he will get the hint and walk away. you hear a strangled gasp that has your eyes widening, turning quickly to see liams body crumple to the ground.

“oh my god, rafe!” you scream. rafe moves quickly towards you, pressing his palm against your mouth as your eyes widen.

“i told you to stay away from men. the only reason i don’t slit your throat too is because i heard you telling him to leave.” rafe moves his hand slowly, your chest still heaving up and down but now under more control.

you look from his blue eyes to liam, his eyes now completely lifeless and glazed over, red spilling from the cut on his throat.

“now let me help you.” rafe loads the rest of your groceries while you stand frozen. you let him move you, carefully take your hand and guide you to your passenger seat. realization doesn’t set in until rafe drivers you home, taking all your groceries in for you while you’re sat stunned in the car.

“come on inside.” rafe coos softly, his voice in contrast to the sharp blade inside the leather sheath hanging from his belt.

“oh my god.” your words whisper out before you scream the next ones. “you’re a murderer! you killed that guy!”

rafes hand is back over your mouth as you begin to struggle, trying to get away. you knew rafe was capable of terrible things, but you never expected for his obsession with you to go this far.

“shut up.” rafe grunts, letting out a shout when you bite at his palm, sinking your teeth in and pulling back, trying to hurt him even a little bit as much as he hurt you.

you manage to squirm away for only a minute before rafe is dragging you inside. “you made a serious fucking mistake!” rafe yells, tossing you over your shoulder as you resign to your fate, slumping forward. “going to show you what happens when you are a fucking brat.”

he throws you onto your bed, your body bouncing as he tugs your shirt off, not caring about the tears streaming down your cheeks. he rips your shirt in two pieces like it’s paper, so effortlessly it has your eyes widening, a reminder of his physicality, his pure strength.

“r-rafe.” you plead out, but he ignores your whimper of his name, grabbing your wrist and using your own shirt to tie it to the headboard. he rips your sports bra off next, again tearing it, causing your skin to burn from the sudden movement of the fabric. your other wrist is tied up next, so tight it makes you cry out.

“rafe, please, i’m sorry.” you lean forward, trying to convince him to stop. “i was just scared.” “you should be scared of me. i could fucking kill you and you act like such a brat. you should have waited for me to help you in the grocery store.” it’s ridiculous. all liam did was help you get something off the shelf, and rafe fucking murdered him for it.

“you’re right.” you nod. “just be gentle, please.” you plead, your cunt bruised and red from last night when rafe had you, shoved your face into your own mattress to soak up your tears as he tore your pussy apart.

“ill do whatever i want.” rafe peals the bandage back from your breast, tapping the scar in a shape of his first initial. “should i remind you that you're mine?”

you just whimper. you have nothing left to say, no dignity still inside as rafe tugs your pants off before undressing himself, placing his sheathed knife on your bedside table like always. a reminder, now a reminder stained with an innocent man's blood.

“my pretty little pussy.” rafe coos, fingers swiping through your folds. “she's so pretty i love her so much.” he bends down to kiss your clit before baring his teeth and biting down, making you cry out, back arching as you strain against the wrist restraints.

“did that hurt or did you like it?” rafe questions, kissing your clit again like he didn't just gnaw on it. “or both?”

you know he expects an answer, the way he's looking up at you impatiently. “both.” you hate admitting how much you like the effect rafe has on your body, but with his face in your cunt you know the rush of wetness would give it away anyways.

“good girl.” he hums. rafe picks your hips up, so used to manipulating your body as he shoves his hips forward, sinking his cock inside of you in one smooth motion.

“fuck, still so tight.” rafe grunts out, immediately setting a fast pace, cock stretching you out without remorse. the pain just amplifies your pleasure as you moan.

rafe is thankful that you have no close by neighbors with how loud the both of your are, his thrusts hard and punishing, one hand moving to pinch and pull at your clit, deciding not to be gentle as part of your punishment.

“p-please untie me rafe.” you whimper out.

“what, so you can just bite and hurt me again?” he shakes his head. “i don't think so.”

rafe groans as your cunt clenches around him, your hands gripping onto your ruined shirt, fingers starting to go numb from lack of blood flow.

“maybe i should just leave you tied up. maybe get some handcuffs and chains that way no man will ever flirt with you again.” rafes eyes stay on the scar on your chest. “maybe i should finish carving my name on you.”

“n-no. im yours, rafe. i know that.” you do. you thoroughly belong to rafe. even if he forgot about you, let you go free, stopped watching your every movement, you'll never be truly free. he's utterly wrecked you for anyone else to the point where you crave him.

with every thrust of his cock and tug of his fingers, you feel yourself breaking more.

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fuckmyskywalker · 4 months

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dad!anakin and insomniac reader. it’s around 2 am and he hears her shuffling in her room. he founds out she woke up in the middle of the night, and she can’t fall back asleep at all. what else would a good daddy do? he gives her warm milk, melatonin, but none of it works, so he has to resort to using his cock.

🫧

18+. Smut. Fauxcest. Dead Dove Do not Eat. Implied Somnophilia.

I need a diff type of milk. Man milk?

"Are you sleepy, baby?" He deep voice coos at you followed by the gentle rocking of his hips. The soft slick noises are barely audible beneath his labored breaths and your quiet panting. Dad!Anakin sees your eyes fluttering, eyelids growing heavy and your body relaxing. You nod, mumbling a little 'yes, Dad' which earns you a sweet forehead kiss. "Atta girl, see? Dad knows what's best."

You pull the fuzzy blanket over your chest, closing your eyes and exhaling shakily. Anakin smiles and presses his palm flat over your lower abdomen, applying light pressure, feeling his cock moving inside you.

He can be sweet and caring when he wants to— it pains him to see his precious angel struggling to sleep and waking up the next day exhausted and drained. So, the natural thing— and what a good father would do— is take responsibility and fix his baby's problems.

"Sweet dreams, cupcake," Anakin whispers, groaning under his breath when your walls clench around him, coating his cock with your sticky arousal. His eyes look at your entangled bodies, throbbing every time he sees his length disappear between your puffy folds. "Daddy is here."

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers!#🫧 anon #dad!anakin #dad!anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x reader smut

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thisthatpinkvenom · 1 year

Text

*SHHH!*

COLLEGE BF!SAN / COLLEGE!FEM READER

⤏ Synopsis: You and your boyfriend are two irresponsible college students who just can't keep your hands to innocent hand-holding. and there seems to be a really pretty witness to your intimate shenanigans.

⤏ Genre(s): drabble*, smut smut smut

⤏ Content: college couple!au, established relationship!au, non-idol!au

⤏ NSFW Warning(s): public fingering, public oral, light dirty talk, light praising because it's always cute <3, getting caught in the act, exhibitionism and voyeurism, these two are freaks please don't do this in real life!!

⤏ Note*: this content is completely fictional.

It was on you for foolishly choosing such a discreet spot where other eyes weren't lurking. You should've known better than to trust San to behave himself at a secluded corner of the library. If it weren't for that, you wouldn't be plopped onto the edge of the quaint little desk with him standing between your parted legs.

It's a Thursday evening, and the library was decently occupied; many were huddled in groups with a few exceptions of lone students staring with half-dead eyes at their laptop screens. Soft murmurs and not so subtle crunching on baby carrots aired throughout the building, and you prayed to any divine being listening that your staggering breaths fell on deaf ears. The last time you checked, it was around six o'clock and with the two very much so distracting fingers lunged between your wet walls, you're sure you wouldn't get anything done by the time it became seven.

Bursts of adrenaline rushed through your veins as you teetered on a thin line between fear and pleasure. You didn't even register how you've crinkled a page of the textbook lying open next to you—the one you've tried so hard to keep without damage—as your hand desperately searched for purchase in anything nearby. Your eyes flitted between the view of your lover's hand disappearing at every two beats under your skirt and nervously checking behind his shoulder for any innocent incoming passerby looking for a book. But it lasted only a measly moment until you were gently pulled by your chin, meeting eyes with the lust-filled ones of your boyfriend who pierced you with his gaze.

"Eyes on me, Baby," he coaxed, pressing kisses to both corners of your lips with cute little chu sounds emitting from each one he gave. The hand on your chin fell to your thigh and you momentarily shuddered at his cold touch.

"What if"—you squeaked when his thumb pressed against your clit—"someone, hah, s-sees?"

He smiled a wolfish grin and muttered, "Then wouldn't that be a sight for sore eyes?"

"Sannie," you whined. "It's n-not funny."

"Don't worry, no one's gonna know as long as you keep those pretty little moans to a minimum."

And you wondered how you were supposed to do that when he soon dove into the crook of your neck, licking and nibbling at your skin in hope of leaving a trail of purple and red petals. His fingers never slowed or lost their rhythm, opting to only go faster while your arousal grew embarrassingly louder. You could feel it dripping more and more with each pull of his digits before they sloppily stuffed whatever they could back in.

"You think they can hear that?" he teased, fingers playing around with the wet squelches of your juices through hasty "come hither" motions. "Don't pretend like you don't get off on this just like I do."

He continued, "I know you like spreading your legs for me whenever I ask—you do it so easily."

"S-Sannie, please," you pleaded. You weren't too sure what you were asking for, but you knew he always managed to understand what you needed somehow.

"I know, Baby," he cooed. "Just a little more, okay? You're doing so well."

And just like that, he dropped to his knees and nudged your thigh with his free hand. You knew what he was going to do and clenched your teeth to prepare when—without warning—he attached his lips to your painfully swollen clit. It took all you could muster to not release the most pathetic cry when you took in all the books around you, remembering where you were as you had to be on your best behavior possible. Which in hindsight, it was a little too late to do much when you've got your fingers tangled in a handful of black hair.

His fingers continuously pumped in and out your pussy and his mouth was relentless on your clit, sucking and licking without any other goal but to please you. Though it proved to be difficult to let loose; you couldn't lie back on the table or moan without shame, not when you caught sight of a book being pulled off the shelf from the other side. And your heart fluttered when a face appeared behind the vacant space where the book once was, your own eyes mirroring how the stranger's tripled in size. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't look away from the image of you trembling on the desk, cheeks drenched in tears as your lover's identity was veiled under your skirt, clueless as to who's watching.

It's useless to stop now, there's a fat chance you'll get reprimanded but at least you'll have a mind-blowing orgasm to make up for it. If you were in the right mind, you would've scolded yourself for acting upon your urges; for exposing your dirty deeds to some poor girl. And now she'll know exactly what you look like when you cum, from the way you bit your tongue to conceal your moans and the way your chest heaved while you worked to catch your own breath. But oh, what's that?

She gnawed at her bottom lip, ogling as if she were in a trance, seemingly waiting for you to reach climax. And you liked it.

It was all too much; your boyfriend's face and fingers buried between your legs and the pretty girl perving on your intimacy did all sorts of things to your head. It was coming, you were so close, so close, so close. You were an attention whore, like it or not; you wanted her to watch—watch your legs quiver and your mouth gape open in a silent scream, your gaze boring deep into hers.

You really wanted her to absorb the view, hoping that she found the cum glazed over your pussy pretty. And like the freak you were, you liked the way her cheeks were adorned with pink when San stood up, his lips glistening under the fluorescent lighting as he sucked on his cum-covered fingers. When he caught sight of the extra lingering eyes, she finally turned around, covering the empty gap in the shelf from her suspecting groupmates who quietly pestered her with questions as to what she was staring at. He looked back at you with a smug grin, tongue slipping out to lick your arousal from his lips.

"Looks like someone's been enjoying this too."

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez timestamps #ateez fanfic #ateez drabbles #kpop smut #san smut #choi san smut #ateez fic #ateez reactions

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boxofbonesfic · 11 months

Text

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [5]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why.

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 3,761

A/N: i cannot wait to see what you all think of this latest development! please drop by my ask with thoughts or comments, and as always, thanks everyone for your patience! ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

To your absolute horror, Lloyd doesn’t stop. You’re dizzy, both from the realization and the even, steady grind of his hips. It’s terribly familiar, the way he touches you—like it’s not the first time. Your stomach rolls as an anguished wail tears from your lips at the thought, because it’s the same one you’ve been shoving down, burying underneath every single other thing you can think of, because it couldn’t be true. Ransom wouldn’t do that you, he wouldn’t—

But he has.

Lloyd clucks his tongue at you, and reaches forward to cup your face. “You can scream, Princess.” He grins. “I know you can’t keep quiet anyway.” His words turn your stomach. Your arms, previously paralyzed at your sides, come up to push frantically at his face and chest as you curse.

“Get the fuck off me, Lloyd!” You scream, but he doesn’t move—doesn’t even falter as he continues to rut into your shamefully wet cunt. He doesn’t budge, like your blows don’t even hurt. It makes you even more panicked, your eyes growing wide as you sob. Frantically, you scream for your husband, your voice swallowed by the crashing surf.

“Ransom—! Ran—” Lloyd silences you with a kiss, swallowing your fear as he presses his lips to yours. Your shock allows him entry, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you squirm beneath him. Lloyd catches your arms easily, forcing them back against the rock behind you.

“What’s the worst part, Princess?” He asks mockingly, his amused chuckle puffing against your lips. “That it’s me? Or that you liked it? That you always liked it?” You don’t want it to be true, shaking your head as you stare at him with tear-filled eyes. He nods in response, as slow and deliberate as his thrusts. Your stomach churns with the combination of this forbidden knowledge and the unwanted pleasure that creeps up your spine.

He knows your body, that much is obvious. You don’t know how you didn’t see it before, a hundred thousand puzzle pieces falling perfectly into place as your life crumbles around them. Lloyd holds you like Ransom, kisses you like Ransom—

Or does Ransom kiss you like Lloyd?

He plays your body perfectly, like you’re an instrument he’s already mastered. Even as your head swims, the thick weight of his cock drawing pleasure from you even as you fight against it. You can hear it, how wet you are, how much your traitorous body is enjoying Lloyd. It’s maddening, the way you clench and quake beneath him, struggling ineffectually against pleasure you don’t want. He transfers both your wrists to one hand, using the other to cup your chin.

“It’s really not as bad as you think,” he coos, dragging his thumb through your tears. He kisses you again, painfully softly. “I know what you like.” Lloyd’s fingers taste like the sea as he draws them across your trembling lips. “I know what you hate.” He traces circles around your puffy nipples, before painting stripes of salt-water down your belly. He spreads your lips wider with two fingers and draws those same circles around your clit.

“I hate you!” You grit through clenched teeth, through your furious, shameful tears. Lloyd clucks his tongue, before leaning down to nose at the skin of your throat.

“No you don’t, Princess. You love Ransom—so you love me. We’re the same, baby-doll.” He leans up, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t you get that yet?” You don’t want it to be true, it can’t be, they’re so different—but even as you think it, you know he’s not lying. You’re reeling, the stretch-burn, the raw pleasure of him inside you, the knowledge that he’s been there before—

You wail as you cum, staring unseeingly at the sky. Lloyd doesn’t even give you the courtesy of slowing down, instead fucking you steadily through it with his cock and fingers buried in your cunt. He carries you, unwilling, from one height to the next, twitching and pleading. When he finally pulls his fingers from your soaked folds, he sucks them clean.

“Love you so much, Princess,” he groans, rocking his hips steadily into yours as you mewl miserably. “I can wait for you to know you love me too.” His fingers press the skin of your hips like Ransom’s. Lloyd sucks your bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth with a growl. He holds you still while he empties into you. As he pants against your mouth, he grins.

“Feels good not to have to pretend.”

“Get off me.” You hiss at him, glaring at him with red-rimmed eyes. This time, he listens. He pulls out of you with an appreciative hum, stopping briefly to admire the slick, sticky mess he’s made. You pull your swimsuit down roughly, tugging your shirt tightly around yourself like a shield while you grab your now soaked shorts from the water, and begin to struggle into them.

“Let me—”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You shriek, jumping further backwards into the surf. You slip on the rocks, barely remaining upright as you scramble away. “Y-you don’t touch me!” You brandish a slick rock in your hand as threateningly as you can. “I—I’m going to tell Ransom, an-and—”

The look he gives you is almost pitying. “Oh Princess. Go on and tell him.” He nods at you with a sick smile. “Tell me what he says.” Lloyd holds his hands up as you retreat, giving him as wide a berth as you an as you circle back to shore. He doesn’t follow you, watching as you stumble across the sand. You head into the trees and underbrush ringing the beach, fleeing your brother-in-law’s gaze. You know the general direction of the hotel, and you head that way, opting not to go back to the party.

The party. Your stomach turns as you think of it now, Linda’s words holding fresh meaning now. Did she know? Did Ransom? The entire idea was so ludicrous you could scarcely believe it was really happening—but it was. It had. The evidence of Lloyd’s transgression was smeared between your salt-stained thighs. You want to vomit, and so you do, leaning against a tree as you heave into the sand.

“Sweetheart?”

You look up, your eyes wild. It’s Ransom—or Lloyd. You don’t know, now, torn between wanting to rush into his arms, or turn and run. You simply stare at him distrustfully, mirroring his step forward with one back, maintaining the distance between you with careful precision.

“Baby, what’s wrong? You just wandered off, and—”

“Are you Lloyd?” You ask sharply, swallowing the desire to respond to his concern. You can’t trust your own eyes now, not anymore, and you don’t want to get close enough to verify.

Ransom stares at you confusedly.

“No? Why would you ask me that? Did something happen?” He takes another step closer, his arms outstretched placatingly. There’s true worry on his face as he takes in your wretched state, your open shirt and wet shorts, dirty feet and missing shoes. “Baby, did something happen?” He asks again, slower and more deliberate. You want to believe him, this man wearing your husband’s wedding ring, staring at you with the same eyes as the man you’d run away from.

“Tell me something about the fountain.”

“The what?”

“The fountain!” You shrill hoarsely. “The fountain, from—”

“The one in the village,” Ransom finishes. “With the messed up tiles.”

This time, you can’t stop yourself from rushing into his arms, sobbing.

“I—Lloyd, he—” The words won’t come out between your hiccoughing sobs, and you settle for burying your face in his chest as Ransom wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly, pressing you to his body as you wail. The truth sticks in your throat like taffy as you tangle your fingers in his shirt, tears soaking into the expensive fabric.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart.” His voice is soothing. “I’m here. I got you, okay? I got you.” He doesn’t rush you, waiting until the tears slow to press a kiss into your hair. “You don’t have to talk right now. Let’s get you back to the room, okay?”

Ransom practically carries you through the underbrush, emerging near the long stairwell up from the beach. Your family—and his—are still down at the party, but you barely spare them a glance as you stagger up the sandy concrete steps. Before long, the ringing in your ears blocks out the music anyway, and all you can think about is Lloyd’s response to your threat.

Go on and tell him. Tell me what he says.

Lloyd is nowhere to be seen as you enter the villa, and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You didn’t even realize you’d been watching for him, waiting for him to appear like he always did—but he doesn’t. You’re relieved as Ransom leads you back into the bedroom and closes the door behind you. For a moment, you’re not sure what to do with yourself, standing blankly by the door while Ransom watches you helplessly.

“Sweetheart… can you tell me?” He asks, resting his hands on your shoulders. You flinch at his touch instead of leaning into it, and pain flashes briefly across your face. Somehow, you are hesitant to name the shape of the monster that haunts you even now, like Lloyd had cursed your jaw to stick. With difficulty, your force it open.

“He—he pretended… he was you. And… we… I didn’t know, Ran, I didn’t know it wasn’t you,” you babble, tears forming in your red, glassy eyes. You’re expecting to see his face crease with disgust at the part you won’t say out loud, but it doesn’t. Ransom’s silent, his face scrunching first with disappointment and then anger. You can tell he’s looking for an outlet, and he settles on routine.

“Did you take your vitamins, Sweetheart?” He replies, a worried hand on your belly. “Does anything… hurt?” You shake your head.

“N-no.” Ransom turns to the dresser, grabbing the bottles and shaking out your pills one by one. You take them, shuffling into the suite’s bathroom. You a cup cool water from the faucet and bring it to your lips, swallowing them down with a grimace.

“Let’s get you a bath, Baby.”

You nod wordlessly.

Ransom helps you get undressed, and you watch his jaw tic at Lloyd’s drying cum on your thighs. He fills the whirlpool tub with hot water, and you shift uncomfortably from foot to foot as you watch him. When it’s full, he helps you into it before splashing into the water himself. He sits on the back side of the tub with you between his knees, reaching down to hold you as you sink into the water.

You lean back against your husband, fresh tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. I want to wake up now. There’s little you wouldn’t give to open your eyes and find yourself on the beach, this terrible nightmare broken. But when you do open your eyes, you’re still in the bathroom, your husband’s hands rubbing soothing circles into your skin as you wash away the evidence of his brother’s sin.

“Oh Sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I… I don’t know what to say.” He strokes your hair as he speaks to you softly, gently, like he’s soothing an animal. “Lloyd’s a lot of things. Impatient, being chiefest among them.” You freeze, the air seeming to flow right out of your lungs—out of the whole room. The dripping of the faucet is as loud as thunder.

“W-what?”

“I didn’t want you to find out like this, Sweetheart, believe me.” You wrench yourself away from him, water sloshing over the sides of the tub as you stare at your husband in disbelief. It feels like reality is crumbling to nothing as you watch, bleached into dust by the brightness of his sad smile. It’s all you can see.

“N-no, no no no no—” He reaches for you, and you slap his had away, tripping as you scramble out of the tub. “You knew.” You moan, bile rising in your throat as you wrap a towel around yourself. “You—you always knew.” Ransom rises from the lip of the tub and steps out onto the tile. You want to vomit, but there’s nothing left to bring up as you dry-heave into the sink.

“Sweetheart, I need you to calm down, this stress isn’t good for the baby.”

“The baby—” You let out a despairing little laugh. “How long, Ransom?” You ask him hoarsely. “How long have you been letting this happen?” Finally, your husband has the decency to look ashamed.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!” You scream, pounding a fist against the counter. “Yes it fucking matters!”

“I think before New Years, last year.”

“A—a year?” You choke out the words as you clutch your belly with a shaking hand. The baby—you don’t even know if it’s Ransom’s. You feel dirty, despite having bathed. Deeper than your skin, like something inside is tainted, rotten. You want to crawl out of it, leave it behind like a shell. Perhaps then you might be able to draw enough air into your tight lungs to be able to do more than sputter your husband’s words back at him in abject disbelief.

You don’t want to relive the last year and a half but you can’t help it, flipping through the moments like flash cards as you try to pinpoint every transgression, every lie. For every possible memory that feels wrong, there are dozens of blank spaces, empty places where recollection should be. Your husband had poked his finger through the thin saran wrap of your memories, and you hadn’t even realized it was happening.

Ransom reaches forward to rest a hand on your back and you shove him so hard he stumbles, your eyes wild.

“Don’t touch me. You—you will never touch me again.” You hiss, the words ragged. Ransom scowls at you as you storm out of the bathroom, the towel still clutched against your heaving chest. You can barely hear anything over the sound of your own ragged breathing and the thundering of your heart. They’d been switching off for over a year, and you hadn’t even noticed. Sickness and shame twine in your gut as you snatch the clothes in the closet off their hangers, throwing them into your open suitcase without bothering to fold them.

“Sweetheart, don’t be rash. The baby—”

“Will not even know your name.” You don’t look at Ransom—you can’t. You feel like you don’t even know him, and you can’t help but wonder if you ever did. He’d known—hell, maybe he’d even participated in Lloyd’s sick games. The man you’d thought you married would never have stood for that. You grit your teeth as Ransom scoffs amusedly behind you.

“You’re just going to pack your suitcase and go, is that it?” There’s a cruel edge to his voice you don’t recognize—it makes him sound like Lloyd. “Baby I’m just trying to give you what you want.” You glare at him over your shoulder before returning to packing, refusing to even entertain the discussion. You push past him to get to the dresser, pulling out the rest of your things.

“You’re not thinking clearly, and I think if you really stopped and gave it some thought, you’d realize you’re making a mistake.”

“Oh, I’m the one making the mistake?” You can’t help but turn to spit venom over your shoulder. “You and your brother took turns on me like a fucking carnival ride, but I’m making a mistake?”

“You wanted a big family, a stable family. One nobody could touch—”

“You’re sick.” You swallow against the bitter acid in your throat. “How can you try to make this okay? I—I never want to see you again. Ever. I—I really, truly mean that.” The needle inside you continues to swing between rage and abject horror as you dress yourself, practically shoving your limbs into the most convenient pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Your head buzzes with the turmoil of it all, practically full to bursting. Your passport is still in the bedside table, and you make sure you grab it, shoving it into your pocket before throwing open the bedroom door.

It’s hard to breathe around the ache in your chest as you drag your heavy suitcase down the hallway, trying to ignore the sound of your husband behind you. You’re bordering on hysteria, frantic tears and snot running down your face as you flee your husband’s placating words. That’s probably the most maddening part of it—how he continues to parse out the words slowly, patiently, like he’s waiting for you to realize how sensible he’s being. You’re about ten seconds away from clapping your hands over your ears like a child, so you don’t have to hear him anymore

“Sweetheart, let’s talk about this.” Ransom calls after you. You stagger against the wall as your knees tremble, but you force yourself through it. Your heart is beating wildly, your palms clammy as you look back at your husband. You don’t expect to see him smiling. “You’re not being rational, baby.”

You don’t even know how to respond. The only words that seem to come to mind are insults, curses; the violent ills you’re currently wishing on your husband and his family. You can’t listen to him—it’s only going to make you more enraged. You already feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest, as you gulp down ragged breaths, your vision swimming. You rest a hand against the kitchen island, your whole body throbbing hotly with your pulse.

“Shut the fuck up, Ransom,” you pant. “You can’t spin this.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He ignores your acid glare, leaning forward to curl a lock of your hair around his finger. You push him away, but the movement is clumsy, your hand swinging bonelessly at the end of your arm. “You know how persuasive I can be.”

“You’re really just like him.” It slips out before you can stop it as you shake your head in astonishment.

“Oh what, you just figure that out?” Ransom’s voice is mockingly soft. “It took you long enough.”

You slap him.

The sound of it is loud and sharp, and Ransom’s head actually turns with the force of it, your husband stumbling back a few steps. It was his surprise that had allowed it—you and Ransom had never struck each other, not counting the playful smacks he delivered in the bedroom. For a moment he stays like that, frozen, before slowly turning to look at you. Your wedding ring had split his lip, and you watch as he draws his thumb across it smearing the bright line of crimson across his mouth.

“You’re starting to piss me off, Sweetheart.” His hand clamps so tightly around your wrist that it hurts, and you yelp, pushing uselessly at his chest. Ransom had never been violent with you, never even given you reason to suspect he would raise a hand to you, but as he bends you over the kitchen island, you feel fear. Your husband twists your arms behind your back, ignoring your pained whimper when he squeezes too tight.

This—this isn’t happening. It’s not. My family is here, my, my father—

You wail, the sound muffled by the marble countertop and your tears, salt and snot running onto the counter beneath your cheek.

“Just let me go, Ransom—”

“Oh Baby we are way past that.” The kiss he presses into your hair makes nausea churn in your belly, and you let out another sob. “I put a ring on that—where’s your finger, baby, let me see—ah! There it is.” Ransom holds your hand up, his fingers digging into the meat of your palm. “On that finger,” he continues, tapping the diamond with his fingernail. “Till death do us part, Sweetheart, that’s what we said. That’s what you promised me—and Lloyd.”

“You’re crazy—” The words stick in your throat as your vision tunnels. I feel sick. You do, your stomach churning as your heartbeat thunders in your ringing ears.

“Wha-you do’t me?” The words are like bubblegum in your mouth as your husband chuckles softly.

“You didn’t really think those were all vitamins, did you?” Your eyes widen with horror as you begin to struggle again, flailing your uncoordinated limbs as you try to force Ransom off of you. “Now don’t worry, it’s nothing that could hurt the baby,” he says reassuringly, as if that is your only cause for concern.

“Noo,” you moan, wriggling feebly beneath him as you feel yourself recede further and further into your body. “Don’ wannit.”

“I know, Sweetheart. But what you want isn’t good for the family,” he says, stroking a gentle finger over the curve of your cheek. “You want to run, too run from what we’re trying to build with you. For you,” Ransom releases you as the sound of nearby voices reach your buzzing ears. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

He steps away from you as Nathalie bursts through the door, holding a champagne bottle by the neck as she dances to music blaring from her phone speakers.

“There you are, chica, we were looking—mom! Dad! She’s in here! I thought you—are you okay?” She sets the bottle down on the small table to the right of the sliding door. She rushes over to you, looping one limp arm around your shoulders as concern sets into the lines of her face. “Jesus, I—Ransom! What’s wrong with her?!”

Your husband appears in your tunnel-vision, carding a worried hand through his hair.

“Thank fucking Christ, Nathalie—I was just going to text you. I think she’s having a reaction to something, I don’t know—”

“Nn-Nat don-bel—eev ‘m,” your warning slurs together into an unintelligible soup as your head lolls. Nathalie tries to stand you up against the counter, and dimly you are aware of her calling for your parents, her voice muffled like she’s talking underwater.

Lloyd—or is it Ransom?—lays you down on the countertop, his grinning face looming over you as your vision narrows down to a pinprick, the concern in his voice at complete odds with the grin on his face.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”

to be continued…

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

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bug-is-snug · 4 months

Text

starved pt. 2

part one

plot: you're a zombie <3 CW: depictions of violence, depictions of obsession, gore, self-cannibalism (stay safe cutiepies!), blood, gore, eventual smut (That means Minors DO NOT INTERACT), self harm (I think? I'm not sure but I'm adding it to be safe!), military inaccuracies, dead dove do not eat kinds of stuff

A/N: let me know if I missed anything with the content warnings! Also please forgive me for the terrible accents, I am but a small humble person with the brain made of v8 juice- Also some of this was written on mobile so forgive me if there are any grammar errors ^^; banner by: @frostthecupcake (deactivated) and found by using "Find A Banner"

You felt your face grow warm as your mind went back to the sight of your Captain's wrist. Well- mainly his veins...God, he had lovely veins... You imagined grabbing his arm and sinking your teeth in, tearing away at his skin and tendons with gnashing teeth...while you daydreamt you couldn't help but wonder; How sweet would his flesh taste? Shaking your head profusely, you let out a huff and continued to head off towards the barracks while ignoring the emptiness in your stomach. God, you could feel the blood running down your throat, warming you far better than any hard alcohol... "Stop it." You hissed quietly to yourself, as if you had any control over the thoughts that ran rampant in your mind, "Don't think at all, just shut up!"

Taking a moment, you lean up against the wall and desperately try to gather your thoughts. Your stomach growled almost angrily, making you let out a frustrated groan. "Hungry?" A familiar voice cooed playfully, their Scottish accent giving away their identity instantly. You look up to see Soap, your heart instantly beginning to race. Your eyes scanned over his body while your nose took in his scent, which allowed you to recognize that he had just gotten back from the shooting range, the smell of his musk and the gunpowder making your head swim. "Uh-" Christ, you sounded dumb, "Maybe? I dunno, I kinda skipped lunch today...though I do hear that your body can make you hungry when you're exhausted so- uh- maybe it's that?" ...WHAT? Where did that even come from?! What kind of stupid excuse is that?! Soap raised a brow, staring at you for a moment and giving away that he was also just as bewildered as you were over the shit you just said. "...I am going over here now." You quickly walked around him, attempting to make it to your room. "Hold on now, that dinnae make a lick o' sense. What's goin' on wi' ye?" A strong, calloused hand grasped at your forearm making your heart jump to your throat, "Ye alright, lovie?" You shuddered slightly, digging your nails into your palms as thoughts of tearing your precious teammate’s ribs apart and sinking your teeth into his heart while it still beats made you feel dizzy and your stomach ache. What would it taste like? Sweet? Savory? How much would you be able to devour before someone else stumbles upon the sight? You quickly interrupted your own thoughts as you blurted out, "I think I'm sick is all." Soap hummed and reached over, pressing his hand against your forehead. "Ye dinnae feel sick, ye feel cold to be honest, lovie..." He muttered. "Sarge-" You were cut off by his hands feeling up the scruff of your neck and under your jaw. "Sorry, mate. My mum used to do this to check if me or my siblings were sick..." His voice was low, as if he trying not to spook an injured animal. "Sarge, I'm fine, honest-!" You tried to reason with him. You knew he was telling you the truth, but you also knew how he was. To clarify, while the relationship between you and Soap was rather handsy it was usually a welcome action and when it wasn't, you would tell him and he would back off. The touches the two of you would share sometimes bordered on inappropriate, but it often didn't go much further than that. It was a very intimate relationship, one that could be missed if someone didn't have a trained eye. However, it wasn't quite romantic...just intimate and sometimes intense-

Looking into his eyes, you could tell that while he was indeed just checking up on you, there was a small sense of enjoyment at the fact you were letting him casually paw at your sensitive skin. You let out a soft hiss in pain when he pressed down on a particularly tender spot, "Johnny, too hard..." "Sorry, lovie..." Soap said quietly, letting go after a moment. "It's okay..." You assured him, "What's the prognosis, Doctor MacTavish?" He chuckled at your teasing and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, "Yer feelin' a bit stiff is all. Probably from yer god-awful posture." "Then I am going to do what I was planning to do and go take a nap. I should probably tell Gaz...I was gonna eat lunch with him today..." You said, disappointment heavy in your voice. "I can tell 'im fer you, lovie. Dinnae ye worry yer little head ‘bout it." Soap smiled, reaching over and giving you an affectionate pat on the shoulder. A sigh left your lips as you gave him a relieved smile, "You'd really do that for me? Thank you, Johnny..." He smiled back, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder. "Yer welcome..." You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow which made him chuckle and give you a wink before he walked around you, leaving you on your own as you finally made it to your room. You remembered the last time you retreated to your room when feeling unwell while you stared at your bed, closing your door behind you. It was a few days after the attack... Your body felt like it was on fire, especially where that damn doctor had bitten you. Your heart raced and your arm felt like your veins had poison coursing through them. You had refused to let anyone know, nor let anyone take care of you going as far as to barricade the door. Stupid? Yes, but what were you supposed to do? Let the teammates whom you trust your life with every single day know you're unwell? Ask them for help because they're your found family and you would drop everything to take care of them if they were in this state because you love and cherish them as people? Cringe- You groaned in pain, curling up in your little bed while digging your nails into the fabric, tearing them effortlessly much to your surprise. "What the fuck?" You huffed out, grimacing as you stare at the ruined sheets, "I just bought those..." Was that what you should have been worried about? Absolutely not, but you have to cope somehow. The pain was unbearable, but the worst of it was the fever and the fever dreams that came along with them. Well, you called them fever dreams; they actually appeared in your mind when you were awake. And most of them were really just...urges... Visions of ripping people apart filled your mind. It felt so real...you could feel your fingers digging into some faceless person's skin, tearing apart their flesh and ripping apart their ribs while they screamed and thrashed. The more skeptical part of your mind shoved it off as just an edgy little thought that you had as a courtesy of watching so many horror movies with Gaz, just a silly little spout of aggression. No, it was the thought of eating the person that got you to worry. It was the thought of burying your face into their warm body and sinking your teeth into their heart that scared you. The worst part of it was the fact that your stomach growled every time you imagined chewing and swallowing, like a forbidden fruit... Blood spilling down your chin like you had just bit into an apple after days of neglecting your hunger became a feeling you craved desperately. "Please just be a really fucked up version of the flu..." You whispered, "I swear to everything that is good and holy if it's not-" You were interrupted by a sudden sharp pain in your stomach, making you cry out. Burying your face into your pillow, you let out a quiet sob while you clung to it. Somehow, you felt embarrassed about how much pain you felt. You've taken bullets for fuck's sake! You have broken bones, dislocated joints-! And a little stomachache is making you cry?!

"What the fuck...?" You muttered, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Upon seeing the literal puddle of it in your hand you cringed, “Mm…that’s nasty…”

Sitting up, you use the headboard of your bed to keep you steady while your head pounds and begs you to lay back down. You huff, leaning your head against your arm for a moment. This fucking sucks. There is no denying it!

Your nose is pressed against your flesh, and you catch a whiff of yourself…Oh my…

Your stomach beckons you, and in that moment, you don’t even care. How can you? You’re starving!

So…

Without a second thought…

You sink your teeth into your wrist with a sickening squelch, tearing through veins and muscle. And, God, if it didn’t taste lovely…

Back To Current Day…

You sit down on your bed, running your fingers over the stitching you had done over the once torn sheets. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough!

With a sigh, you lean against the wall, staring at the ceiling as you reach over and gently touch your forearm, your fingertips sliding across the edge of the bandage. You didn’t really want to check if the wound was still there…but you didn’t want it to get infected either.

Your eyes glance down as you kicked off your shoes, scooting into your bed while your hand slowly peeled the bandaid off. You expected infection…a festering, pulsing and pus filled one…however, there was nothing. Your wrist was completely healed, like nothing happened-! How…?

You shake your head as hard as you can, as if it would shake the thoughts away. You ball the bandaid up and go to the trashcan, tossing it before going to your sink and rinsing your hands off. This isn’t so bad, right? It’s- er- not ideal, but it’s something! Maybe you should keep a journal of your changes- No. Too risky. If anyone found it…

Your eyes closed as you lean against the counter, inhaling through your nose while your leg bounce uncomfortably, “I can’t see a doctor…I really should but-! …What if I hurt someone…?”

You found yourself doing that a lot; whispering to yourself, fighting yourself…etc…

But that’s neither here nor there, it’s time to eat.

You started to head to your mini fridge, kneeling down before it and opening it up to take a package of raw meat out. You tear it open with your finger, feeling yourself begin to shake…

Shoveling raw meat into your mouth was not a good feeling. Did it scratch that lizard part of your brain? Yes. But social norms taught you to be disgusted with such bad manners-! However…as you sunk your teeth into the raw chicken breast, you ripped and tore away at it, feeling yourself grow more and more ravenous as it you continued. It tasted pretty okay for the most part, which is what surprised you the most.

Tasted like chicken, obviously, but the raw flavor added to it somehow? It was so hard to describe! But…then those thoughts came…

You were imaging the meat belonging to Soap, your beloved teammate. You felt so dirty and perverted…

‘This isn’t normal,’ You reminded yourself, ‘This is NOT. NORMAL!’

You didn’t even realize someone else had entered your room until they cleared their throat, making you snap your attention to whomever it was.

Oh shit.

#bug sure is snug in this rug #141 x reader #task force 141 #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #poly 141 #john soap mctavish x reader #zombie au #zombie reader #john price #141 au #cod 141

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absurdthirst · 4 months

Text

Breaking & Entering {Frankie Morales x F!Reader x Santiago Garcia}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.3k

Warning: Home invasion, restraints, guns, threats, non consensual sexual activities, vaginal sex, double penetration, anal stimulation, fingering, cum play, derogatory language, role play, aftercare.

Comments: Two men break into your house with more than robbing you on their minds.

🚨🚨DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT - this story contains dark theme of role-play and non-consensual sex🚨🚨

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You’ve never been a deep sleeper, always worried and there’s so much to worry about. With your friends overseas fighting for their country and their lives, you wonder if you’ll ever see them again. The usual things worry you too. Money, your job, settling down with a guy, having kids. Would you be a good wife? A good mom? There’s so much to worry about. So when you hear the bump, you’re stirred from your light sleep. The creaking of the wooden floor makes you frown and you open your eyes when you hear what sounds like movement downstairs.

You’re not sure if it’s your imagination and you sit up, trying to figure out if it’s the darkness making you hear things or if someone is in your house. You get your answer a few moments later when the door to your bedroom opens and two masked men enter, guns in hand. “Don’t make a fucking noise.” One of them demands, aiming his weapon at you while the other starts to rifle through your drawers.

You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your lips until the one closest to you grabs you, shoving his gloved fingers over your mouth, “I told you to shut the fuck up.” He growls and you shake, starting to panic.

“Nothing here.” The other one says before he holds up a pair of crotchless panties, “unless you wanna take these home?” He asks his partner who chuckles, looking down at you.

“Are you a dirty girl?” He asks, the gun still pushed against your temple.

Your mind suddenly goes blank, unable to form a coherent thought other than the terror of having two men in your house in the middle of the night. Your mouth opens and nothing but a squeak comes out, making the taller one of the men chuckle behind his mask. “Ohhhh she’s so scared she can’t even speak.” He coos mockingly. His gun nudges deeper into your temple and he steps forward, closer to you. “Why don’t we make her scream?”

“How are you thinking of doing that, hermano?” The other one asks, shutting your drawer but he’s still holding the panties. “Or we could keep her quiet? Tie her up? No one would ever know.” He suggests and the other hums in consideration.

“She’s a pretty one. We haven’t seen a pretty one for a while. Maybe we could see how good she is at sucking a cock? Would you suck a cock to save your life, pretty girl?” He coos, sliding the gun down your head until he’s caressing your jaw with the muzzle.

You shudder and a small whimper escapes. You don’t know what you would do, but you don’t want to die. The gun in his hand feels cold and deadly against your skin and you don’t want that to be the last thing you feel. He hums and lifts it up over your chin and presses the barrel up to your lips. Shaking, you let him press it harder, opening your lips and your tongue touches the barrel.

"Oh she's eager to save her life." He chuckles, pushing the gun deeper into your mouth. "You don't wanna die, do you, hermosa?" He coos and you make a noise around the gun, shaking with the possibility of what they could do to you. "Nooo. She doesn't" The other one coos and your eyes are wide as you look at them, wondering what they want. Are they here to rob you? Or worse? "No need to be frightened, little one. We are just gonna have some fun." He promises, caressing your cheek.

Fun. A shiver races up your spine at the word and you must struggle slightly, because the arm around your body tightens to the point of near pain. “Don’t fucking move.” He hisses angrily, growling it into your ear and pulls the gun out of your mouth. “Kiss my hermano.” He orders, moving you forward towards the other man. “Say you’re sorry for insulting him.”

The ski masks conceal their identities but their mouths are free due to the cut out hole so you are shoved towards the man and you know you have to kiss him, otherwise you could die. He leans in to meet you halfway, his lips forcing yours to move, his hands finding your waist to pull you up against him while his partner grabs your hands, keeping your wrists together until you feel something pinch the skin as he tightens the zip ties. "Shhh. Don't worry, baby. You are safe...as long as you do everything we tell you." He promises and you gasp, allowing the tongue of the one you're kissing to push into your mouth.

His tongue slides into your mouth and all you can think of is that it is some kind of dream. You are dreaming. Still asleep in your bed, safe and sound. You'll wake up and shake your head, wondering what had caused you to think of this. His kiss is skilled and despite the terror, you feel yourself starting to respond to him. Your body heating up and your tongue flickering out shyly to mix with his.

The man watching you smirks, chuckling at the way you respond to the kiss. “That’s it, pretty girl. Just relax. You do what we say and you get out of this alive, okay? You’ll enjoy it too.” He promises, sliding his hand down to squeeze your tit through your tank top.

You whimper, trying to shift away but you can't, not when the other man shifts closer. Boxing you in between the two men and surrounding you. You can feel the strength in their bodies and you know that resisting will only result in you S’s hurt.

His hand squeezes your breast and pinches your nipple, making you whimper into the other man’s mouth. His tongue sliding against yours and they can feel how tense you are, slowly trying to relax you. They didn’t find what they wanted in your house but they did find you. “Wanna see how wet you are baby.” He murmurs, sliding his hand down into your sleep shorts to cup your cunt.

It’s shameful, the small sound that pours into the man’s mouth when a thick finger slides through your folds. Making you freeze for want of grinding into his touch and begging for more. You aren’t supposed to encourage them. You try to pull away from the kiss, but he’s holding the back of your neck, not letting you go.

Your moan vibrates between them and urges them to continue. The shorter one chuckles and pulls at your tank top, tugging it down until your breast is exposed and he ducks down to take your nipple into his mouth. The other one’s fingers push inside of you, curling before sliding back out to rub your clit.

Your cunt quivers, making you gasp so the two men touch you so brazenly. Making you moan at yourself mockingly, closing your eyes in shame at how good it feels.

“She’s a dirty one, hermano.” The shorter one chuckles against your breast while the other kisses down your throat, his fingers pushing back inside of you. They can feel you relax under their touch and their cocks are hardening at the thought of more. “You’re gonna suck my cock, aren’t you baby? Be a good little whore for us so we spare your life.” He hums, slapping your tit when he pulls back then he reaches into his pocket for his knife. Your eyes widen and you start to move but the other holds you tight to keep you still. “Don’t move.” The shorter one holding the knife warns and he grabs your tank top, cutting it through the middle to expose your tits to their hungry eyes.

Both men groan at the sight and the taller one behind you reaches up and cups your breasts. “We should fuck these.” He huffs, pinching both of your nipples. “Maybe we take our time. Keep her for a few days. It’s been a long time since we’ve indulged.”

You whimper, in both fear and lust which terrifies you even more. You shouldn't be turned on by this. Hands are everywhere, pinching and pulling, pumping and curling inside of you until you can't keep track of who is who. "I think she wants us to fuck her. You are a cock hungry little whore, ain't you?" The shorter one asks and you can't stop the strangled whine that escapes your throat. Both men chuckle and you pant as you are pushed closer to your orgasm. "That's it. She's gonna cum." The taller one coos, his fingers pushing deep and the other presses his finger to your clit, rubbing harsh circles.

Your eyes roll back and your head falls against his shoulder, crying out when you feel your body start to pulse. You shouldn’t cum, but you can’t help yourself. Pushed to the brink by these men and their skilled fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whine when he doesn’t stop stimulating you.

They don't stop, pushing you past the first orgasm and onto another, wanting you to be overstimulated and writhing, trapped between them. "That's it, such a good girl. Taking what we give you. Gonna make you feel good." The taller one promises, biting down on your ear lobe while the other slides his hand down to smack your ass, his fingers sliding between your cheeks to press against your puckered hole, "you want us both inside of you?" He murmurs into your ear. "Oh she does." The taller one chuckles when you clench around his fingers.

"I don't want your ass. I wanna be inside that tight little cunt." The short one says and his hand finds his friend's at your pussy. "Gonna stretch you out." He promises, pushing his finger in alongside two of his companion's.

They are filthy and yet you aren’t struggling. Gasping when you feel the thickness of his fingers inside you alongside the taller ones fingers. They are going to fuck you. You should be screaming and begging them to stop but another wave of arousal pours out of you and makes it even wetter as he scissors his fingers to work you open. “Why me?” You manage after a moment, wondering if they had been watching you or if they would have done this to any woman they found.

They both chuckle, deep and dark. "We have been watching you. We wanted to wait, make sure you were the one we wanted. You are everything we have been looking for, baby." The shorter one murmurs, kissing your neck as he pushes another finger inside of you to stretch you out even more. "You are so pretty. We wanted to see you scream out for us. You have something we want. Your cunt and...the money." The tall one reveals.

“Money, what money?” You gasp, eyes closing tight and you try to restrain another moan.

“You know what money.” The shorter one huffs, chuckling quietly and curling his fingers up again just to pull another sound out of you.

“You know what fucking money.” The taller one grabs the gun from his side to press it against your temple again, “all that money your daddy left you. It’s hidden all over the house. At least that’s what we heard.” He says, his fingers still moving inside of you.

You whine, shaking your head even as your body bucks against his touch. “That- it’s a rumor.” You promise them. “There’s no money.”

"Don't fucking lie to us." The shorter one growls. grabbing your hair but the taller one reminds him, "after, hermano. After." The gun is lowered and your hair released before the men continue fingering you.

There’s no way that you are going to get out of this unscathed. You feel the hardness of the taller man’s cock behind you, grinding into your ass and throbbing insistently. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever you want.” You pant out breathlessly. “Just don’t hurt me.”

The men withdraw their fingers, unable to wait any longer. "You wanna fuck her first then me?" The shorter one asks and the tall one nods, reaching down to unbuckle his pants, working on pulling his hard cock out. "What - what are you gonna do?" You ask, knowing exactly what they are doing but you want to hear it. "We are gonna fuck you baby. Both of us. At the same time." The short one answers, grabbing his knife so he can cut those flimsy sleep shorts off of you. Your arms are grabbed, still tied together, and you are pushed to straddle the tall one. "That's it, don't struggle. Good girl." He coos, reaching down to position his cock at your entrance. He holds your zip tied wrists to keep you still as he starts to push deeper inside of you.

Your cry is both fear and pleasure. Feeling him fill you up, you know another cock inside you is going to be a stretch and they are going to push you beyond anything that you have ever experienced before. You can’t balance yourself and would collapse forward if it weren’t for the man you are impaled on holding your shoulders as he grinds up into you.

Watching you take the other man’s cock, the shorter man reaches over to look into your drawer. “I knew she was a dirty little whore.” He chuckles as he pulls out the bottle of lube and he opens it, pouring some onto his hand while he works his pants open with the other. “It’s gonna feel good baby…we promise.”

You can’t even manage a comment as he starts to rub the lube around your already stretched out hole. Whining when you feel him shuffle closer and then the blunt head of his cock swipes through the lube. “Oh fuck.”

The man beneath you stills so his companion can start to push into you, slow and steady to not hurt you despite them stretching your tight cunt to the limit, their cocks pressing against each other as they push deeper inside of you.

The men groan, both of them holding onto you like an anchor. Fingers digging into your hips and ass. “Fuck you’re tight.” The taller one groans, leaning in and biting down on your shoulder.

You can’t speak, overwhelmed at the stretch and slight tinge of pain as the two men fill your cunt with their cocks. “Move.” You manage to gasp and the taller man chuckles, starting to move inside of you. It doesn’t take them long to establish a rhythm, a cock constantly inside of you as they rock their hips.

They both rock into you, a steady pace that steals your breath with the stretch of both of their cock drilling up into your cunt. “Fuck, this is perfect.” The shorter one groans, kissing along your neck and flexing his hips just a little sharper. “She likes this. Our little whore. We need to keep her just like this.”

You whine at their filthy words and their hands are everywhere while yours are still tied together. “We could do anything to her right now and she’d love it. Maybe I can fuck her ass next. You want me to open you up for me?” The one behind you coos, his hand sliding down to smack your ass until he’s leaning back so he can press his finger against your puckered hole.

You are so eager to please them it’s almost pathetic. Your own hips trying to move and get even more friction than they are providing. “Look at her. So fucking eager to please us she would let do any goddamn thing we wanted. We could fuck every hole she has and thank us for it, wouldn’t you, baby?”

“She would. She’s desperate for us.” The other one coos, reaching between your bodies to rub your clit. The strangled groan you let out makes them chuckle and they continue their punishing pace. “Gonna cum for us? Soak us in that tight little pussy?” The shorter one groans when you arch your back, changing the angle. “That’s it. Good girl. Fuck - shit. Yes that’s it baby, cum.”

They keep rocking into you, pushing you higher and the shorter one palms your tits. Massaging them and then pinching them sharply enough to make you gasp.

You’re pressed between them, their cocks moving a little faster inside of you and you are gasping for breath as their cocks push deep inside of you. “Fuck. She’s so tight.” The one beneath you groans and rubs your clit a little faster.

It’s so intense, all you can do is just let them use you. Your thighs tremble and your fingers hook around a belt buckle and you hang on as they fuck you like there is no tomorrow. “I-I’m- I’m gonna cum!” You squeal, starting to clamp down around their lengths.

“Fuck yes. Yes. That’s it. Shit.” One hisses while the other groans his appreciation, biting down on your shoulder as you shake, your cry echoing off of the walls of your bedroom. “That’s such a good girl, good little slut. Gonna - gonna fill you up with cum, let you drip.”

Your eyes roll and your cunt clenches at the filthy words. Your body responds like a bitch in heat and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. “Please.” You beg, feeling their thrusts get even harder. Enjoying the pinch of pain as they slam into you now that your cunt is used to being stretched full.

The taller one cums first, pushing up inside of you with a hiss and his hands grip your hips as his cock twitches. Rope after rope of his seed coating your walls and the cock of his partner who groans and keeps his frantic pace, seeking his own orgasm. It only takes a few thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you too, moaning out loud against the back of your neck.

Both of them pant, the taller one chuckling slightly as he starts to soften inside you. The rough fabric of his pants scratches the inside of your thighs and the burn from it is noticeable now that the high is gone. “Good little slut.” He coos softly, smirking beneath the mask. “So good we might let you live.”

The shorter one pulls out of you first and shuffles back to grab his flashlight, turning it on after the taller one pulls out of you so he can watch the combined cum drip from your abused cunt. "Mierda." He murmurs, watching it with fascination and you slump over, barely able to stay upright as the men shift away from you.

The taller one shifts you onto your stomach, pulling your knees up under you so that your ass and cunt is on display for them. Admiring how swollen and cum filled your cunt is. “Too bad we don’t have time to fuck her ass.” He groans, reaching out and scooping up some of their combined cum to rub around your puckered hole. Enjoying the way the muscle spasms at the sensation and you whimper. “Now, be a good girl and tell us what we want to know.”

“I don’t know what you want to know.” You pant when his finger presses against the muscle, slipping in just slightly. “You know. We know you know. Don’t make us hurt you, sweetheart. You know where the money is.” The taller one coos and the other one smacks your ass with his palm.

You cry out, clenching around the pushed in finger and scrub your head against the sheets. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You insist. “There’s no money. None.”

The taller one tuts, “don’t lie. It’s not very sexy, hermosa.” He clicks his tongue and pushes his finger inside of you while the shorter one pushes two thick digits into your abused cunt, cum pushing out around his digits.

“Oh fuck.” Your body jerks in pleasure and the slightest pinch of pain but you enjoy it. You moan into the sheets, feeling stretched out in a different kind of way. “I don’t.” You pant, denying it even though you know that they won’t believe you.

The tall one tuts, leaning down to spit on his finger when it pulls out of your ass and he adds another finger to stretch you out. “You do know. We know you do.” The other one coos, acting like he’s coaxing you when his fingers are pushing deeper and curling inside of you.

It’s too much and yet you are pushing your hips back for more. “I- I need-“ you choke out before a wordless sob of need rips out of your throat. Their other hands seem to have multiplied, touching you everywhere and it feels like you can’t even breathe.

Your choked sob makes them chuckle and they rub your clit and squeeze your tit while their hands continue their movements. “That’s it. That’s it baby girl. Cum for us. Cum. You can do it.” The short one coos and leans down to bite your shoulder.

All you can do is obey them as they coax your body towards their goal. Every finger curl of their hands making your body shake and tremble. "I- Fuck! Frankie! Santi!" You scream when stars burst behind your eyes and your cunt clenches down and soaks them.

They work you through it but Frankie groans, “baby, you ruined it.” He whines slightly and Santi chuckles, kissing your shoulder.

“She didn’t ruin it. We did. Made her cum too hard ,she forgot to role play.” He smirks against your skin and the men soon withdraw their digits from inside of you. “Felt too good, huh, hermosa?” Frankie snorts, leaning in to kiss your neck.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp out, trying to catch your breath as they stroke your ass and sides, both of them on either side of you. “I- it was too good.” You admit, giggling slightly. “But I want to do it again.”

“Yeah? You wanna maybe do something a little more…aggressive next time?” Santi asks, knowing you wanted to tonight. It was your idea. They are happy to indulge you, wanting you to be satisfied in their duty as your lovers.

“We would do anything you wanted us too, baby.” Frankie promises, kissing your shoulder gently. “Tonight we just needed to see how you would react. You didn’t even use your safe word, I knew you wouldn’t.”

“So damn good for us.” Santo says as he removes his mask and Frankie follows suit, grabbing the flashlight to turn it off before he reaches over to turn on the lamp, letting you see them both for the first time. Santi grabs his knife to cut the zip ties, massaging your wrists as he helps you turn over. “I’ll get you cleaned up.” Frankie murmurs, kissing your forehead before he shuffles off of the bed.

Santiago presses closer, kissing your cheeks and petting your hair. “You were so good for us baby. Do you feel good? Anything you didn’t like? Wanted more of?”

Frankie comes back and carefully cleans you up, tossing the rag aside after he tucks himself away in his pants and he lays down beside you, pressing you between him and Santi. You turn to kiss Santi, “it was so good. Everything I wanted. I wanted the surprise and you gave that to me. I loved it, baby.” You promise and peck his lips while Frankie caresses your side.

“You want more?” He asks, wanting to know himself.

“I do.” You snuggle down between the two Delta force soldiers and while your relationship is not conventional, it works for you. They are gone a lot and often stressed from their work, so the easy, shared relationship with you works. “Maybe something a little more primitive?” You ask. “I know you two don’t look at camping like a vacation but something out in the woods?”

Frankie caresses your spine, “yeah? You want us to chase you down?” He coos, his blunt nails scraping your skin. “You want us to chase you down and fuck you in the woods? Use you for our pleasure?”

You grin as you turn your head and look at Frankie. “Yes I do.” You promise him. “Especially if you fuck me like you did today.”

“We can arrange that. Leave it with us. Now, get some rest. You need to sleep after that. Me and Frank are gonna clean up and then we are gonna fall asleep with you.” Santi murmurs, kissing your shoulder as Frankie works the covers from beneath you so he can cover you up.

They are so good to you. Despite saying they were shit with relationships and couldn’t give a girl what she needed since they were always gone, you found both of them to be incredibly thoughtful and sweet. You wouldn’t have much communication while they are deployed but they would let you know when they could and that’s good enough for you.

Frankie and Santi clean up, stripping down to their underwear and sliding into bed beside you after getting you a bottle of water. “Come on baby, let’s get some sleep. Frankie said he’d take us to brunch tomorrow.” Santi promises with a chuckle.

“I’m not dealing with you on endless mimosas, Pope.” Frankie snorts, curling around you.

“You know you love it when I get horny from Prosecco.” Santi smirks against your forehead and you chuckle, “brunch sounds good.” You murmur, pressed between the two men, satisfied and safe. You trust them with your life and you know they will always protect you, satisfy you, and make you happy. Even if you ask them to fake breaking into your house.

#pedro pascal #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #catfish x reader x pope #catfish x f!reader x pope #catfish x you x pope #santiago garcia x reader

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cookie-crumblr · 5 months

Text

Red Lily Down

GN! Reader x Bunny Hybrid Harem

Part 1~

Introductions

Their Info: 💐🐰✨

Part: 1 2

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, GN! Reader, No pronouns used for reader, no genitalia descriptions mentioned for reader, bunny hybrid reader/mostly all of the harem is an animal hybrid of some kind, NSFW: sexual themes all throughout, every named character wants you, non con touching, smut, no sex yet! nipple touching

Disclaimer: This harem’s theme is based off of a mix of Roots of Pacha and Watership Down. Not intended to represent any real or specific person/time/place/ or culture!

“Wakey, wakey sleepyhead!” You fling open the thick curtains to Azure’s room.

He was already awake, but he’s got a fierce mix of laziness, and craving you as a daily wake up call. So he was well prepared to stay cooped up for a while. “You’re the sleepyhead, been waitin’ all mornin’ for you,” He pats the cushy bedding beside him, inviting you to join.

You gleefully hop over. As you begin your decent, his arms fully envelope you, and pull you into his body. You snuggle against him as he inhales the top of your head deeply. “You shouldn’t crawl into everyone’s beds, Y/n… Especially a guy’s, like mine…” He pauses, before he scowls, “Or Lore’s. Stay away from her’s too.”

Your heart thumps at the connotations to his words, and the proximity to his hot body that you’re far more aware of now. The way his body contours to you perfectly…

“But… You’re my friends!” You try and keep the fact that your burning up now hidden. Try as you might, it doesn’t stop the fact that you both can hear the sound of each others blood pumping faster, and harder.

“Don’t pretend your heart didn’t just jump,” he nuzzles into your head further, “and your so warm…” His hand finds your chest through your top and squeezes softly.

You jump out of his bed at once, “I’m gonna be late for my checkup with Llyr!” An excuse, sure. But true nonetheless.

“Tell ‘em i’ll kill him if he touches you.” He growls as he rolls over in a huff.

“He has to touch me!” Your face warms, “He’s the healer, Azure.” You roll your eyes at his back.

Azure grumbles and sinks further into the pillows and hay, “I’ll still kill ‘em…”

On your walk through the warren you feel uneasy… Something is definitely watching you.

“Oooooh Llyr! I’m here~!” You enter the vine covered healer’s hut with a mighty flourish, ready to get your business out of the way.

“Perfect! Welcome, Y/N! please, have a seat here,” His back is turned as he speaks. You can hear the sound of him using a mortar and pestle to grind something into a mushy, grainy substance. The sound persists through several long moments, a growing nervousness is able to sink in…

It’s just a check up! You breathe in.

“There… Now, Y/N, i need you to eat this.” He addresses you.

“What is it?” you inspect the bowl, it’s just a mushy, herby ball.

“You don’t want it?” His smile remains even.

“I guess I do…” Unaware of his special ingredient, you gulp it down… You trust the warren healer.

It tastes like roots and spice.

You don’t feel any different.

“Good. Now, take off your shirt”

“Oh… Okay….” Whether you’re used to having it off or not, you still feel embarrassed to do it for him. You cover yourself with your arms until he pulls them away.

“There, good job,” he coos gently. Your cheeks feel warmer.

He leans his head against your now bare chest, fuzzy blonde ear resting all the way up over your shoulder. “I need to hear your heartbeat clearly,” He reaches up your torso.

“O-kayyy—EEP!” As you’re speaking he tweaks your nipple.

“Good~” he coos, “Good response,”

He’s rolling your nipple now.

“Mm… I-Is th-this—necessary?” You question.

“Heyyy, Y/n~!” The warren’s playboy, and your ex, enters through the beaded curtain with a certain undeniable swagger.

The healer puts his arms up in surrender, “Mateo,” though his eyes crinkle into a smile, he’s anything but innocent.

“Been sent by chief to come get them” A sly smirk spreads across Mateo’s face as he helps you back into your clothes.

He rakes his fingers up your arm, leaving goosebumps behind. His hand trails the edge of your ear, and he leans over top of you to blow a little puff of air into it. Your insides heat up, and you cover your face shylly.

“I-uh… Gotta forage with Aster soon anyway! sorry Llyr” You follow him out.

After you’ve both gotten outside and away from curious glances, he pins you to the closest earthen hut. His hand finds your ear to play with yet again, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you…”

“How many people have you said that to?” You roll your eyes.

“C’mon, don’t be like that. I should have never cheated on you…”

“We were together for like one summer when we were like seventeen cycles old.” While you speak you brush away his roaming hands.

He grabs you by the hips, and pushes you harder against the wall. His passion and frustration mixing for you specially. “I never stop thinking of you. Truly. It’s not even sexual all the time!” You feel his breath against your lips, and turn away.

“Wow that’s such an accomplishment for you. I’m soo honored.” You say, sarcasm dripping off your tongue like venom. “I’ll go find the chief myself.”

When you walk away, he’s left there somehow looking more hot than when he came to get you. Disheveled, hot and bothered… Craving you.

On your way, you continue to feel watched…

You open the woven bramble door to Chief Winter’s carved stone hut.

“Ah there you are, little one, have you come to a decision?” Winter is sitting, one leg crossed over the other, leaning back. His one green orb takes in all of you. Your own eyes wander across every deeply carved muscle on his body, stopping in wonder at every beautifully thick and jagged scar.

You notice him smile, pleased that youre enjoying his glorious visage. He uncrosses his legs and his loincloth is tented by something absolutely massive. Your mouth is suddenly very dry. “Yes sir… I mean no sir! I mean—! I don’t know yet… Sir!” You blather.

He asked you a moon cycle ago if you wanted to be his mate.

He laughs heartily, “Do not fret, little one, I find you most endearing.” His smile is warm and inviting, a stark contrast to such a hardened looking man. “But, I’m sure you have duties to attend to. You are dismissed. Do visit whenever though,”

“Y/n! Hey!” Lore pops out from nowhere and makes you jump.

“Lore! Gods, you scared me!” Hand over heart, you try to speak without gasping.

“Hehe! Sorry!” She shifts her attention to the chief, “See ya Winter!”

He smiles and gives you a nod as you’re dragged out by the bard.

Something is still watching you. You can sense it every time you’re no longer sheltered by the indoors.

She clings to your arm as you both walk through the crabgrass and clovers between huts. “When’s our next slumber party?” She puts her bottom lip out and gives you her best puppy dog eyes. She’s adorable.

“I donno, Azure said I shouldn’t be getting into everyone’s beds anymore…”

Her grip tightens painfully, “and… Where were you when he said that?”

“in…”

“His bed. Hm.” Lore pulls a jagged flint knife out of her belt. “Be right back, Y/n~”

you grab her arm, “Wait! could you please stop threatening eachother?”

“But!!! UHG! he needs to die.” She folds her arms, and tilts her head up defiantly, her back is turned to you.

You lean over her shoulder to get direct access to her ear. “No he does not, Lore. I’d never forgive you,”

“F-fine.” Steeling herself with a deep breath, she re-sheathes the knife. “You owe me though…”

“What do you want?” You ask.

“A sleepover! Duh!” She touches your chest, “And…” Her lips crash softly against yours, the scent of sweet herbs carries on her. “That.” She pulls back to look into your eyes before she saunters away happily.

You notice the position of the sun and almost shriek! Aster is so gonna rub it in your face if he forages more than you.

You hurry home to grab your favorite basket and head to the forest to join Aster. On your way, you feel that you’re being hunted.

“Hey Y/n~ Wanna make it a game day?” Aster’s basket is already a quarter full of little fruits and mushrooms, so he’s going to win, but…

“Sure, why not” You giggle.

“Usual rules, loser has to do whatever the winner says…” You don’t quite notice the devilish sparkle to his smile, so you naturally agree. Gotta have fun while you do your duties!

Your basket fills fast enough, you still lose, though it’s not like you didn’t see it coming.

Once you’ve both turned in your efforts of the day, Aster finds you at the banquet. You were putting your bowl away after cleaning it, when his arms snake around you.

“Loser…” He taunts.

“Hah! Aster, no need to be a sore winn—” His hand travels down to your bottoms. “er…”

“Shh. Do whatever I say, remember?” Fingertips find your skin now, brushing barely over it. “stand still.”

Shaking legs and all, you obey to your best ability.

He finds a sweet spot, eliciting a small gasp, and he stays there. Your brows knit, and you close your eyes. he pushes down harder, but still gently.

“Next time, I’m gonna take you.” His breath tickles your neck as he whispers.

You shiver, eyes wide.

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thedivinershiddenarchive · 1 year

Text

the childhood best friend.

CHARACTERS ; yandere!imaginary friend!childe;tartaglia x fem!reader

SUMMARY ; It's been a while that you've last met your imaginary friend, more specifically, your childhood one. But his intentions with you are different. Now, he's changed. He's much more forceful and possesive and now he can't take in the sight of you being miserable. And he wants to fix that, but he made it much worse for you.

CONTENT ; dub-con, imaginary friends, possesiveness and jealousy, usage of "(little) dove/girlie/sweet girl/darling/sweetheart", childe can read/hear your thoughts, riding, fingering, biting and sucking, teasing, mentally-broken reader, very minor character death, a bit of gaslighting, very small implication of manipulation, praise kink, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampies, supernatural or is it all in your head?

masterlist | tag system | 17-, MASC-ALIGNED DNI!

“Ginger!” you cheered, running up to the ginger that was playing alone on the sandbox. The moment his eyes laid on you, he stood up quickly and sprinted towards you, hugging your figure and swinging you around with a laugh. “Dove, you’re here!”

“Of course I would be! Where else do I go when I play?” you pout and he chuckled, “Well, your other friends.”

“You mean the ones that I’ve left to travel somewhere else? Yeah right.” you puffed your cheeks, causing him to pinch them. “Hey!” you grinned and ran up to him and pinched him, causing the boy to snicker. “Can’t help it.”

“I just realized you’ve only been calling me ‘Ginger’ a lot.. I think it’s time for me to have a real name like a real person!” he lilted and you gripped your chin, thinking hard on what name you’ll give him. Hah, no wonder you haven’t given him a title, none stuck out to him and you couldn’t think of anything. “I don’t know at all…” you whine and he pouts.

“[Y/N], can you come with me? I need to buy some Ajax detergent so I can clean the house a bit.” your mother calls out from the bench, standing up and gathering her things laying on the seat and you feel your smile widened. “Ajax!” you pointed at him and you saw Ajax’s eyes glimmer.

“I’ll take it! It sounds so good!” you felt proud, even putting your hands on your hips, pleased with his given name despite getting it from a cleaning product. “[Y/N]!” your mom calls you again and you jump a bit and scurry over her, giving your hand to your friend and he takes it, walking with you towards the woman who was waiting for you with a confused face. “What is this girl into right now?”

“Don’t be scared, I’m here!” Ajax cooed as he held you close to him, you weren’t a big fan of horror movies, especially when you’re so young. Having nightmares aren’t a normal occurrence but you were thankful to have the ginger close to you so you could feel safe.

“You can open your eyes now,” you trusted his words and open them, you feel him hold your hand and lips placed on your knuckles. You leaned onto him more, his touch… Felt so real.

Your promise started here, out of the moment, you confessed that you wanted to be friends ‘til the end. That you want him to be near you and have each moment between the two of you be fun and amazing. You just didn’t know how this promise has improved your relationship with each other the older you got, you may or may not have regretted making that. You know how he likes his promises to be kept and takes them seriously.

You were about eight years old when you started making up imaginary friends, how lonely were you that you used this to cope? Now you have three more people in your jumbled mind to tolerate. Well, they aren’t that bad. They can’t hurt you in any type of way but it does stress you out more.

Now you’re a twenty year old working a dead-end job, you’ve never encountered them ever again. Even after the promise you’ve made with “Ajax” that you guys will still be connected, he hasn’t appeared, thankfully. Hell, it's been so long that you don't even know what he looks like now.

“Get these papers done by the end of your shift, [Y/N].” your co-worker demanded, dropping a stack of paperwork on your desk and leaving you with it. You let out a frustrated groan and almost slammed your fist down the table but you kept your cool.

This will take a while.

You tiredly flopped on your couch, you would’ve slept right there right now if it weren’t for something sinking on the cushion. You exasperatedly looked over your shoulder to see someone sitting on it. You immediately widened your eyes in horror, knowing that someone might have broken into your house and you quickly got up.

What you didn’t expect was a normal-looking teenage boy who looked like he just got out of bed, but the said boy looked familiar. Way too familiar. That tired grin and blue ocean eyes that showed no light whatsoever looking right at yours. “Did I disturb you, dove?”

Dove? Why did that feel like you’ve heard this before. Maybe you did but you’re just forgetful. “I’ll take that as a yes, you did have a hard time at work. Not like it’s a foreign sight to see you on your desk as you handle those pesky paperwork. Maybe that’s why you don’t have time for me anymore..” that whiney voice, how did he know all that? I mean, yeah it’s obvious that you were a minimum wage worker but literally anyone with your job can be tired of it. But what creeped you out is that out of all the employees that worked at your place, you were the one who he spied on the most.

“Who are you?” you questioned, raising your brow in suspicion. He only chuckled loudly, almost psychotically. “You still don’t remember me? Ah… When was the last time you’ve imagined me again…? Right, when your stupid crush rejected you at work and that was a year ago. Or maybe two..? Hah, even I forgot,” you sweat, his brows knitted together and his crooked smile widening, “it’s been that long, huh?”

“You didn’t tell me who you are, ginger..” you scowled, moving away, picking your phone up from your bag in case. “Ginger.” he mutters, cupping his cheek with his palm. That nickname was anything but unfamiliar.

“Is that really your name?”

“No way. Seriously, if you don’t know my name, should I just tell you?”

“Should’ve done that when we first met.”

“First met? I promise you this, [Y/N]. We’ve met a lot. And I don’t take my promises lightly.” it came out as a growl, you know better than to not piss him off but he did make you angry at first. Though that isn’t an excuse to be straight up dead right now.

“Call me Ajax, okay, little dove?” Ajax whispers when he crawls to you to get closer to your ear, his deep voice is much more clearer and it makes you shiver. And scared. Instead of hearing one voice, you hear multiple. You hear four in total, you feel unsafe, afraid.

You pushed him away but he caught your wrists in his and gave you a playful grin, “Does it ring a bell?” Indeed it does. Ajax, The one who comforted you through the harsh rejection of your co-worker, the one who played with you for so long when your friends couldn’t keep in contact with you because of you constantly moving out.

“You make a promise, you keep it. Or the ice breaks your tongue and you never lie again.” The man spoke those very specific lines from the nursery rhyme he got from TV. “And we promised to be together, be friends ‘til the end. I would’ve actually stayed if you hadn't kept me away for so long.”

He pushed you on the couch and you struggled against his hold. What is this? He was supposed to be an imaginary friend! Someone who can’t hurt you, someone who can’t hold you physically, so why can he touch you?

“Ouch, I’m hurt. You only think of me as an imaginary friend? Someone who can’t touch you like this?” he emphasizes with a knee on your clothed crotch, rubbing lightly. “I can hear your thoughts, girlie. Because I’m just a figment of your mind, so it’s interesting hearing what you have in that brain of yours.”

“Stop!” you push him, kick him, anything, but he wouldn’t budge. It looked like he wasn’t even bothered with the fight you’re trying to put in. “Why should I stop?”

You’re thinking hard, thinking of him just disappearing. To stop his rough grip on your body. Your breathing quickens when his teeth touch your neck, his tongue working on your skin and sucking on it.

You quickly went quiet when the voices in your head told you to, you didn’t know what had come to you. You didn’t know why you listened to it, you know that what you did was on command and that you no longer have control.

“Finally, you shut up. It was getting really frustrating to deal with you being noisy.” he had you on his lap, lightly grinding his tented crotch against your clothed pussy, moaning quietly as his cock slowly stimulated.

Ajax tickled your skirt before bunching it up and stroking your cunt through the fabric of your panties, you hate your body for reacting to it. You know you don’t want it, no. But your body reacts differently from what you’re thinking right now. “Aww, look how wet you got? Do you actually like this?”

“I thought you could read my thoughts, asshole. Of course I don’t.”

“Then why are you getting wet?” he murmurs, letting his fingers slip in your clothing and into your hole. “Let yourself go for me, babe.“ purring, he connects his lips into yours and drinks up your moans. You absolutely hate how good he makes you feel, even if you didn’t want this. Didn’t want to get fingered by your own imagination.

“Still thinking about that? Even if you’re lost in pleasure?”

“Shut up already..” you grunted as he curled inside of your pussy. He loves the way your nose scrunches as you try not to make too much noise to satisfy him or to let your neighbors hear. You’ll feel embarrassed when they check up on you and see you moaning at nothing.

“Like I said, let yourself go.” he emphasizes with a harsh thrust that has you gripping on his digits tight. Ajax pulls them out and forces them into your mouth to taste yourself, “Suck.” That command alone had you doing what he said. You were afraid of him going too rough on you. And he knows that.

He doesn’t mind how hard you cling onto his shoulder blades, how your teeth bit into the skin of his fingers. He only focused on how good he made you feel to even forget how much of an asshole he was.

Your breath hitches when his lengthy digits hit your throat before pulling them out of your mouth, seeing the string of saliva connected to his fingers. He takes them into his mouth and tastes your saliva mixed with your juices, letting out a satisfied moan from how good you taste.

“You think you’re ready for me, sweet thing?” he said with a hint of persistence in his tone. He must be much needier than you, most likely after the both of you became disconnected for so long.

“N-not yet.”

“Why not? You seem more than ready. Don’t tease me, now.” he pulls your collar towards him, making you fall with him. Ajax was now laying on the couch by his back while you were sitting up on his hard-on.

“Take my pants off. You better take it all once it’s inside.” he demands, a scowl appearing on his face as he sees your hesitant hands trying to unbutton his jeans. “Don’t be so slow. It’s frustrating me.”

You whimpered when his hands gripped your hips, forcing you to roll your crotch over his. He moaned quietly as he continued the procedure until you finally undo his pants. “Touch it already.”

“You’re quite demanding for someone that’s under me.”

“You wanna switch positions then? I don’t mind which way. As long as I can make you fucked out of your mind, I’ll be satisfied.”

You purse your lips, deciding to stay silent, even when he lowers his underwear and palms his length right in front of you, letting out groans of pleasure while he glances at you, begging you to touch him. The sight of his cock had you distracted, the sheer size with the veins popping out. “Are you gonna watch and look pathetic or are you gonna take it for me?”

Ajax forces himself out of his briefs and has you hovering over his cock. He lightly brushes the tip over your wet entrance, letting your juices stain his hard-on until it was dripping on his entire length. You muffled your moans through closed lips, not wanting to satisfy him further.

“You sound and taste so good, I wonder how you feel inside of me.” He grinds upwards, letting you sink into his dick with each roll of his hips. This went for a while ‘til he filled you to the brim with his member. He threw his head back while his nails marked your waist from how hard he was squeezing.

“Feels much more amazing, fuck…” his breath hitches as he sets a pace, plunging upwards that it even starts hitting your cervix from how deep he was. You hated him, even if you haven’t interacted with him for a year. Even if you get wet from his praises.

But it felt so good, he felt so fucking big that he hits inside every sweet spot. Ajax felt the same, how you clenched around him and how your breasts jiggled through the fabric of your loose shirt.

He admitted that he hated watching you from afar, looking miserable. But he hated it more when you cried over a man who didn’t deserve your affection. I mean, it was fine to reject someone but to embarrass them about it? That was what had his blood pumping in anger.

Nobody would know where his body is now nor will they know what happened to him. Now you’re wondering, how could someone get physical when they’re not real? There has to be a reason, right? A reason for how he’s touching you, holding you, and even making you feel so good.

“Mine, all mine. I'm all that you'll ever need...” he growls whilst pulling you towards him and smashing your lips on his, drinking up your gasp and whines. You know how obsessive he can be if you think back on it, jealous of how other kids try to play with you but you always get pulled back by an invisible force.

Ajax has you for himself now. But he has a deal with your other friends so he has to make every second worth it. Even if you can’t take it anymore.

You keep bouncing on his cock, taking in how good it feels with each hit. You grasp on his shoulders so tightly as he continues making sweet sounds into your mouth. “Sweet girl, you feel so good, god..” he snuggles into your pair of breasts, giving them open-mouthed kisses. His saliva dripped on the skin and bruises that he made.

Your bodies were intertwined with one another, sweat can be seen dripping on your foreheads as the both of you continued your rough sessions. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

You could only groan in response, nestling your face on his neck to find comfort in as he continues lunging inside of you. Ajax can’t let you go from how hard he’s holding your waist.

Even as you wail in pleasure and see stars, you still hide your face from him. The twitch of his hips as he empties himself inside of you and long soughs can be heard from near your ear.

You felt comfortable enough to pull out of his neck but the moment you laid your eyes on the supposed man under you, he was gone. You furrow your brows in confusion and look at the lower half of your body to still see that it hasn't changed.

What was that? I mean it was just a figment of your imagination but it felt so real to the point it can touch you… The bruises on your body were still there. You believe that this wasn’t something mental. You were too focused on your thoughts that you didn’t notice the door knocking.

You perk up and quickly wore your panties and used your skirt to hide what was under it. You looked through the peephole to see… nothing? You opened the door to see what was actually outside but you only spotted a picture of you hugging nothing. You went stiff, you could only theorize you were hugging the same ginger-haired boy but he wasn’t there.

You convinced your parents to take a picture at some point and of course, they were weirded out when no one was by your side but they played it off as some innocent childhood play that you were in.

You flipped the picture to see another one attached to it, it was you on the couch trying to push, again, nothing. It’s all invisible. If he isn’t there at all, what was touching you? Why can you feel it when in reality nothing was there?

Now this was something unexplainable but scary. Was it really in your head? You’ll have to learn more somewhere else. But you still have work from nine-to-five. So maybe you can check in the library tomorrow after your shift. Hopefully, you won't meet him again there.

#notsodivininglover ; king’s pages #childe x reader #childe smut #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut

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hollowtakami · 2 months

Text

-> CONTENT: implications/references to trauma, hurt w/ lots of comfort

-> AN; wrote this bcs ive been really struggling and needed to hear these words. i hope they uplift at least one person, then ive done my job right.

thinking about keigo being so empathetic and caring when you eventually open up to him - a wilting flower, suddenly blossoming through your tears, with keigo to guide you through it. all your trauma, all that baggage that people put in your cold, dead hands and walked away without a care; keigo would help you sort through it all.

you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to fully process it, what happened. so much happened that perhaps your brain could only remember so much, little fragments of a mirror shattered, fragmented memories are all that’s left as they refract onto the darkest parts of your brain.

keigo doesn’t mind. he’s so gentle, his voice warm like a pigeon’s coo. he helps you breath; “1…2…3…that’s it, dove. you’re doing amazing,”

he holds you in his wings, a crimson cocoon of safety that radiated the warmth you needed from those that took away your light.

slow fingers run through your hair as keigo’s lips pepper your forehead with sweet reassurance that he will be there for you no matter what.

“your trauma doesn’t define you, birdie,” he says.

smiling warmly, he coos, “i’m so, so proud of you.”

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fuckmyskywalker · 10 days

Note

Hear me out—a dad! Anakin x reader, where the reader is so shy and doesn’t have a lot of self confidence. 🥺 Like, she’s so good and obedient with everything else. But when it comes to her own pleasure, she just doesn’t want to accept it. Like pushing Anakin’s hand from lifting up her shirt with a blush because, “Dad, no, ‘m not pretty like Mom—”

I feel like this is one of those times dad! Anakin would be more gentle. Like—still firm, because he’s obviously still gonna get what he wants. But he also is pissed that his girl thinks that about herself. 😠🤣

Just, Anakin pinning the reader’s back to his chest, pawing and squeezing her breasts and her tummy and her thighs; plunging his tongue in her mouth with a bruising kiss, before forcing her to look in the mirror he set up to make her watch as he fucks her.

Him grinning at her in the mirror, whispering in her ear to “Say it. Say you’re pretty.”

And the reader just whimpering and slumping against his body, gasping at the feeling of his fingers pinching her nipples and making her back arch, being forced to say “I’m pretty, I’m pretty—” over and over again, watching her dad’s cock fucking into her so deep— 😍😍

Ughhhh, I’m sorry. I’m horny, but also have low self esteem. 🥺🤣

18+, smut, dead dove do not eat, fauxcest/stepcest, closest I'll ever write to fluff.

I tried to make justice to this ask since I have high self-esteem lol, hope you like it.

“Come on, you can say it,” Dad!Anakin urges you, running his hands up and down your sides— and obviously spreading your legs open when he sees them inching a bit too close for his liking. “If dad thinks you are pretty, you need to think it too.”

“I can't— dad, I just can't,” You mumble, tightening your arm around his neck. The position is slightly uncomfortable for you, plus being spread out in front of your vanity is… something else.

It does feel good, but you can't make it look as good as it feels.

Which is Anakin's problem.

"Yes, yes you can," Anakin coos at you, lifting his hips faster, forcing you to watch every second of his fat cock spreading your puffy folds. "Say it baby, or else I won't let you come."

Hesitation runs through your mind. Do you believe him? Can you even think so high of yourself?

"Don't you want to be daddy's good girl?"

You do, you want to make him proud.

"Then say it."

Opening your mouth, you close your eyes momentarily before a hard thrust makes you open them wide. "I—I'm pretty! I'm your pretty girl, dad," You moan, toes curling at the sensation. "Please— fuck me harder."

Anakin chuckles, leaking inside you, immensely pleased by your words. "There you go. My princess is the prettiest of them all, isn't she?"

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers!#anon #dad!anakin #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x fem!reader #anakin smut #anakin x reader

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canvasbaby · 8 months

Text

Trafalgar law x reader part 2

Here part 1 here https://www.tumblr.com/canvasbaby/728309298232442880/trafalgar-law-x-reader

⚠️⚠️⚠️

THIS IS DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. READ THE WARNING IN MY FIRST POST PLEASE.

warnings: kidnapping, cutting, description of organs, mentions of rape, dubious-but-basically-non-consent, mentions of drowning, weird doll obsession, blowjobs,

^Lemme know what I missed

Summary: you’ve been with law for a month now. He’s almost impossible to please, but you find a way.

⚠️⚠️⚠️

It’s been about a month since law took you. Every day is the same. He wakes up, you wake up. He feeds you breakfast (literally, your hands are tied back) he leaves for the rest of the day. You’re not sure what he does when he’s gone. You found out from the polar bear, the only crew member allowed anywhere near you, that this is a pirate ship. And law is his captain. Law would occasionally come back to the room. He’d dress you up in cute clothes. Something a doll would wear. He’d do your make up and hair. Pose you on a chair and take pictures. He really like when he could cut off your limbs, or slice your neck. He kept those pictures in his bedside table. Then, at the end of the day he would come back in the room with dinner. He’d dress you down, shower you (cleanliness was apparently very important to him, ironically). And then finally, after the longest days of your life, he’d turn off the lights and let you fall asleep.

He likes holding you close. He like when your heartbeat was in his ear. He confused you. Why would someone as cruel and heartless as him hold you close? Why would he take such care in feeding you and caress your face and coo at you while he dresses you up if he’s just going to slice you up. Your head hurt thinking about it, so you tried not to.

Today, you’ve lost count of how many it’s really been, you’re sitting with the bear for lunch. He’d bring you something like rice balls or soup for lunch every day, claiming his captain was busy.

Bepo, you’d found out his name a bit ago, starts the conversation for today “how’re you feeling Miss Y/N?” Law makes him call you that. It’s weird.

“Okay, I guess” that was your answer every day. What could you do? Complain to him about his own captain? He did seem to feel bad for you, but clearly not bad enough to help you. You take a bite of the rice ball. It’s salty.

Bepo lays down next to you. As much as you hate him for allowing this to happen to you, he’s just so cute!! He reminds you of your dog…

You’re not sure when, but sometime after lunch you’d fallen asleep. You wake up calmly, something that only recently your body’s been allowing. You hear the creak and lock of the door. He’s here. You sit up on the bed, Bepo must have left.

This was the worst part of the day. Seeing him. He was relentless. Any time you think you might actually be able to live your life like this,

“I wanna have fun with you tonight…”

He suggests something like that.

“Okay.” You couldn’t answer with no. No got you in trouble. No got you pinned to the outside of the submarine. No had you drowning constantly. Never being able to take a deep breath. He had kept you like that for a week. Compared to that, this was a walk in the park. And evil park, but a park nonetheless.

Law considered this the best part of his day. After long hours of making sure the ship was running properly, watching the crew so they do their chores, and charting where to go next and planning his next move, he finally got to play with his toy.

He opens the closet and chooses a dress. Todays dress was a pink babydoll dress, with lace accents and puffy sleeves.

Law turned to you and gave you a once-over. “Undress.”

You immediately began stripping. He preferred you without panties or a bra for this part. Weirdo.

After you were properly dressed, stockings and shoes too, he sat you down at his desk and started on your hair.

His hands combing through your hair would feel good under any other circumstance. His long fingers carefully scratched your scalp. He pulled in into pigtails today. His favorite.

“Stand up” he took a step in front of you. “Come here.” He opened his arms for you.

You stood on shaky legs.

His desk had always been messy. You never really paid attention, always just papers and books. He placed you to be in the edge of the desk. Opening the drawer and pulling out a knife, you knew what was next.

You couldn’t anymore. You wanted to really die. As the knife pierced your skin, dragging into your stomach, you belt out a scream. It hurt. So, so bad. The blood ruining yet another dress. The fabric mixing with your now loose skin. His breathing picks up. He drops the knife and leans in. His hand going to caress your wound.

Law leans over you and takes a deep breath. You probably smell like sweat, but he doesn’t seem to care. He lets out a deep groan as his hands tease your insides. The hot white pain blinds you as you feel your stomach go numb. At some point, the pain gets too much for your receptors to process.

Law grinds himself against you. His dick was aching and all he could think about was fucking your new hole he made.

He had raped you a few times before. But mostly when you were already dead, or you would die midway through due to the injuries he causes. When you died like that, you stayed out for a while. Like a dream. A way to escape him.

But the pain would always be unbearable. The pain of his cock dragging through your red insides as he would grab your exposed ribs for support. He was relentless when he got like that, but immediately after he would shower you in compliments (admittedly odd ones) and hold you close.

But the pain. The pain was intense. You felt it everywhere. Impossible to escape the pounding in your stomach and the pull on your ribs. Hurt was an understatement. It was unbearable. Unbeaten. You can’t describe like anything else some poor soul may have experienced. This man was sick.

But right now, he hasn’t gotten to that part yet. He’s still just petting you. Sniffing and holding you. You had the idea to save you, but you’re not sure if you should.

You’d given blow jobs before, and yes they’re uncomfortable, but there’s no way the pain could be worse than your usual sex with law.

So, you swallowed the bile rising up your throat. And got off the desk, standing in front of him.

“What’re you doing? Get on the desk.” His eyes were harsh, but you’d hoped he would go along with this.

“I was thinking.. uhm, you always do all the work..” he looked at you confused, but as you sunk down to your knees he understood immediately.

Now, law was not a very experienced man. The only people he’s had sex with were dead. And you. But you were right, he was doing all the work. It was so much better than his fist, but he couldn’t help but think.. what if he could just receive? So, he pulled up his chair and sat down in front of you.

You gulped. That is is going to be awful. Your shaky hands go to unbutton his pants. Pulling down his pants and underwear (with his help) his sick springs out in front of your face. In any other situation, you’d find him extremely attractive. Especially his dick, but you knew this and his hands were the appendages that caused you so much pain.

So, you spit on your hands and started stroking. He’s immediately feeling it, he grabs your hair and pushes your head closer. You open your mouth and take him in. He’s in shambles. He hunches over you and groans as he starts using your head as a fleshlight.

You can barely breathe. The only thing getting you through this is that fact that it’ll be over soon. It doesn’t hurt anywhere near the pain you feel when he fucks you, but it still hurts.

His cock hitting your now sore throat over and over. His hands gripping your skull for dear life. You look up at him. You’re sobbing.

He cums down your throat as soon as he sees how fucked up you look. Your messy hair, teary eyes. Soaked from the waist down in blood from your now healed wound.

You pull off of him with a pop and look up at him. You need to make him happy. Satisfied. So you open your mouth so he can see some of his cum, and swallow.

He did like that. He stood you both up and kissed you. The most visceral kiss you’ve had with him.

You suppose you did well, because the rest of the evening went on without sex. You’d saved yourself from the pain, but now you’re not sure how to feel. The feel of his cock in your mouth is still there. The horrible taste and the pressure of his hands.

Maybe you’d made a mistake, but at least you’d made him happy.

Idk if I’ll make a part three but if you really want one maybe I’ll give reader Stockholm Syndrome cause I’m a sicko lol

#one piece smut #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law smut #dead dove do not eat #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #tw rap3

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

prev chapter

———

Seven in the morning on September 8th, the mourning doves gently cooing as the sun rises, the walk to the minivan is as silent as a graveyard.

“C’mon, guys,” Luis tries, but not that hard. “Let’s try for a good year, okay?”

To her credit, Veronica does her best to muster up a smile. Marco manages a nod.

Rachel does nothing. She hasn’t so much as spoken a word since the accident.

The half-hour drive to where everyone needs to do is completely silent. Luis tries initially to put on the radio, but he hears Marco’s sharp inhale when he averts his eyes from the road to change the station and stops immediately.

It’s been three months since Mamá and Papá passed. Sometimes Luis feels like none of them are ever going to be okay again.

Rachel and Marco are dropped off first.

“Remember to check in with your guidance counsellors,” Veronica says. “Luis and I talked to them last week. They’re aware of the…situation.”

Not that it did much. They’d made an appointment to talk to the school administration as soon as the high school opened, just before classes started, but they’d made it to the office and neither of them knew what to say. ‘Hey, there’s a very good chance that both of these kids are going to have extreme drops in performance or even fail because they both just lost their parents in one night?’ No, of course not. ‘Please be aware that Rachel has regular panic attacks at the sounds of car horns and brakes squealing, and that Marco sometimes just gets up and leaves and you don’t hear from him again for hours?’ Probably, but still. How the hell were they even supposed to breach the subject? Luis and Veronica aren’t fucking guardians. They’re barely even legal adults. Hell, neither of them can fucking drink, yet!

But there was no one else to do it. So they mumbled their way through an explanation — parents dead, kids traumatized, go easy — and high-tailed it the hell out of there. Both of them have been hanging up the phone whenever the school calls.

“Love you guys,” Luis says as they wrench open the side door and hop out of the van, slinging their backpacks on behind them. Veronica repeats the sentiment. Marco mumbles something in return, Rachel says nothing, and then they’re both off.

Before they can fade completely out of sight, Veronica calls Marco’s name.

“Watch out for your sister.”

Marco hesitates for a moment, eyes shining like broken glass, and then he nods. He turns back around without another word and disappears into the crowded mass of teenagers.

“We knew today was going to be rough,” Luis mutters, starting the car and carefully navigating out of the parking lot. “We expected this. That’s what all the parenting books said.”

Veronica’s silent for a long moment.

“Doesn’t make it any easier.”

It takes them a little farther to get where Veronica needs to go. Her apprenticeship is entirely dependant on whether or not she can find a welder willing to take her on — it’s 2003, for fuck’s sake, it shouldn’t be that hard, but some people suck. Some people will be completely incapable of seeing her as valuable as she is, and they won’t even bother. It’s a shit reality, and frustrating as hell, but it’s their best bet for money in the long run. Veronica’s always been good with her hands, and with Luis already eating up funds in tuition and God knows how much savings they have left with Mamá and Papá gone, Veronica working as she’s learning is their best bet. The trades pay well, too, and they’ve got three more kids to save up for.

Luis swallows the lump in his throat. Marco has always wanted to go to Juliard.

How the fuck are they gonna afford that?

“Drop me off here,” Veronica says, pointing at a shop just down the road. Luis slows to a stop in front of it, peering through the windshield.

“…That place?” he asks skeptically. “You sure?”

If it weren’t for the two people arguing just inside the garage doors, Luis would assume the shop is abandoned. The sign’s paint is so faded and scuffed up that it’s impossible to read, and several windows are boarded up. The walls are more graffiti than brick.

“I looked it up online,” Veronica explains. “They don’t have a website, but I found a couple blogs mentioning it. Apparently it’s the most competent shop in town, and it’s run by a woman.” She shoots him a small smile, grabbing her bag and opening the passenger door. “I’ll be fine, you big loser. Or have you forgotten that I’ve kicked your ass in every fight we’ve ever had?”

Luis snorts. He has not forgotten. He’s pretty sure he has minor brain damage from the time Veronica slammed his head into a side table when they were fighting over a girl in middle school (who didn’t like either of them, go figure).

“Believe me, asshole. I didn’t forget. Keep your cell on, though, okay? Call me if things get weird. I’ll be here, you know I will.”

She smiles at him again, and seeing some genuine happiness and excitement bleed into her expression for the first time in months is more relieving than Luis has the words for.

“I will, Luis. Now get lost. You’re gonna be late for class.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He waits until she’s inside the shop and talking to who he assumes is the owner before carefully peeling off, mindful of the early morning traffic around him. Once he’s well on his way and a little more comfortable behind the wheel, he adjusts his rearview mirror slightly to see the baby seat strapped tightly in the back.

“You and me, now, huh, Lance?”

Lance grins at him around the thumb he’s got stuffed in his mouth, babbling happily.

“Yeah, that’s right, buddy. You’re going to be the first college-educated baby, because we sure as shit cannot afford daycare.” He grimaces. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say shit around you. The parenting books say you pick up on bad language and are more likely to be using it when you’re older.”

Lance does not seem to be too terribly offended, continuing to stare back at Luis through the mirror, brown eyes big and wide and knowing.

The parenting books say that he will have just barely gained a sense of self and awareness in July — 7 months — but Lance has always appeared so knowing. He’s ten months old, now, and sometimes Luis is convinced he already knows how to speak in full sentences and just doesn’t feel like it.

Babies grow at their own rate, Mamá had said years ago, when Luis asked why Rachel wasn’t walking yet. She’ll get there, mijo. Don’t worry your pretty head about all those milestones your textbooks tell you about.

It hurts to remember her words. Even now, months after the accident, thinking of his parents makes something like bile rise up in his throat.

But he’s never known anyone wiser than his mother. And certainly no parents better than his own, so he might as well get used to thinking about them.

He pulls into the first available parking spot he sees, in what has to be a fifteen minute walk at least to the main buildings on campus.

Oh, well.

He turns off the car, running through the checklist in his head — windows up, lights off, no check engine light, keys in pocket, seatbelt off — before getting out and opening the back door.

“Alright, Lancey-pants. You ready to come sit through Calculus III with me? Huh? Yeah, I bet you are, you little nerd. Let’s go.”

Lance’s carseat is big and clunky and heavy most of all, and combined with the diaper bag and his own backpack he feels like a fucking packhorse. He feels like a freak, too, with all the stares and giggles from other students he walks by.

He swallows, ignoring the burning of his cheeks, and walks on.

He just barely makes it to his class on time, sliding into one of the only available seats just as the lecturer starts speaking. He keeps Lance strapped in his carseat, rocking him gently with his foot as he takes out his notepad. He prays that Lance falls asleep so that he can get through the next couple hours without incident.

“…and hopefully you’ve all read the first chapter of your textbooks, and we can dive right in…”

———

They almost make it.

They get so close.

For the first two hours of the lecture, everything is fine. Luis is paying as much attention as he can, scrawling down notes to keep up with his rapidly-speaking professor. Every so often someone shoots him a dirty look when Lance says something in baby-talk, but they can fuck right off. Lance is being an angel, by baby standards. He’s almost completely silent, brown eyes wide as he observes the world around him, vastly different from the home he’s been confined to for the entirety of the summer. Any sound from him is no louder than the occasional whisper of any confused students. He’s fine.

And then the sniffling starts.

Luis isn’t quite sure what sets him off. He made sure to feed him just before they left, so he shouldn’t need anything else for another two hours. He’s obviously not sleepy. It might be a diaper thing, but Luis doubts it. He took care of that before he left, too.

Regardless, Lance begins to sniffle, and then he begins to cry, and no amount of desperate shushing and cooing from Luis does anything before Lance truly begins to wail.

Like a scene from a nightmare, the professor stops what she’s doing. Every eye in the classroom turns to him.

“Is everything all right?” the professor asks.

“Fine,” Luis chokes out. He doesn’t even take the time to gather up his bag, he just scoops Lance from his seat and flees as quickly as he can. Hopefully he can come back for his stuff when the lecture ends.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Luis soothes, gently bouncing an inconsolable Lance as he walks the campus grounds. Numerous people give him nasty or pitying looks as they walk by, but Luis ignores them. They’re not his concern right now. “What’s wrong, huh? You miss your parents? Me too, sweetheart. Fuck.”

Lance gets like this, sometimes. He just cries and cries, like his heart is breaking. Veronica thinks his heart is a little broken, and he needs time to heal, like the rest of them.

“It’s okay, Lancito. Let it out. Let it out.”

By the time he sees his class file out of the lecture hall, Lance has finally calmed down to hiccups and sniffles.

“Let’s go get our stuff, yeah?”

Luis tries to slip back inside as inconspicuously as possible, making a beeline for his seat and is relieved to find his stuff untouched. Thank God.

Lance protests when he tries to rebuckle him in the carseat, so he just dumps all his books into the seat and holds Lance instead. It’s fine. If Lance wants to be held, he can hold him. It’s the first day of classes, after all, so he probably won’t miss too much, note-wise —

“Excuse me, young man.”

Luis startles at the voice, whipping around to face whoever’s approaching. His professor stands a few feet away from him, straight-backed and tall, orange saree almost reaching the ground. Luis turns to face her, setting down the carseat and holding out one hand.

“I’m so sorry for interrupting the lecture earlier, Professor. I’m Luis Sanchez.”

“Sarah Lee,” she says. “And no need to apologize.” She smiles kindly, letting go of Luis’ hand and extending hers out to Lance. “And you, little one? What’s your name.”

Lance giggles. He doesn’t remove his hand from his mouth — thankfully — but leans forward to bat his head gently against her hand.

“This is Lance.” Luis pokes him in the stomach, making him giggle again. “He’s noisy. I wouldn’t usually bring him to class, I swear, but I had no other option and I already paid tuition —”

“Walk with me,” Professor Lee interrupts, and then she’s out the lecture hall without so much as a glance behind her. Luis frantically throws the rest of his stuff into the carseat and scrambles to follow her. She doesn’t speak again until they reach the campus gardens — the projects of fourth year environmental science students.

“You’re nineteen, yes? Twenty?”

“Twenty,” Luis affirms.

She hums. “Thirty years ago, I was in your exact situation.” She leans forward and plucks a sprig of mint from the garden, holding it towards Lance. “Good for digestion,” she explains, at Luis’ wary look. “And soothing the mind.” Luis nods once, and she hands it to Lance, who immediately shoves it in his mouth. He makes a face initially, but seems to decide that he likes it, gnawing on it slowly.

“You were in my situation?” Luis prompts. This is…not what he expected, but he’s so lost and the professor is speaking so kindly that Luis is willing to take any helping hand, at this point. Plus, Lance seems to like her, so.

“Yes,” she continues. “Twenty years old, freshly married with a newborn baby, desperately trying to get my degree so I didn’t throw away everything my mother sacrificed to get me where I was. Not an easy task.”

“Oh.” Luis feels horrible for misleading her. “Lance isn’t…he’s not mine. He’s my brother. My parents —” his voice cracks — “my parents passed, early this summer. I have no one else to watch him. My other siblings can’t take him right now and it’s not ideal, but I figured university has other adults, you know? People will be mature about it. I just — I dunno. It’s — I’m sorry if I implied our situations were the same. I can’t imagine what you had to go through.”

“Luis,” she says gently. She stops, facing him fully. “I am so, so sorry for your loss.” She considers him carefully. “You are carrying a lot on your shoulders right now, child. You don’t need to carry unwarranted guilt, as well. True, our situations are not identical, but they are very similar, no?“

“I guess,” Luis says weakly.

“I’m trying to offer my help, child,” Professor Lee says, reaching out and squeezing his hands. “Just like I was helped when I needed it. Accept it.”

Luis shudders, then nods. This is almost too good to be true, and he’s in no place to refute it. He’s not sure exactly what she’s offering, but anything is better than dragging poor Lance to class every day and hoping for the best.

“Good. Now, thankfully there are much better systems in place now than there were in the seventies. Did you know the university offers on-campus childcare for reduced rates, to help train the student educators? Come. Let me show you where to sign up.”

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nanamimizz · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝚬 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐔𝚬.

tags: 18+ minors dni, dark content, dead dove do not eat, yandere caretaker reader, s6 overhaul, unwanted kissing and touching, toxic situation, overhaul is referred to as a pet??? implied physical and sexual misconduct, afab reader, reader is not a hero but a vigilante on the heroes side, noncon.

synopsis: you are sick, unbashledy so and what else should kai expect when you are the only prison that can contain him.

Kai knows this is wrong. Gold eyes peer at you as you hum in the kitchen, the sound of a knife hitting the chopping board grates his ears in a way he can’t stand and again he wishes he had his arms so he could leave this place.

Kai Chisaki has fallen so low he doubts he will ever see the grace of god everyone speaks of anymore, He supposes it’s his punishment for his sins but even he wouldn’t wish this upon anyone. His sleeves hang at his sides pathetically as they have for a while as you make your rounds from the kitchen to the dining table where he sits limply on the chair next to yours. You smile at him, in that same faux-sweet way and your hand comes to gently sweep through his dark hair.

The thin hairs across his body stand on end, he fights the urge to flinch and loses because he can hear the pity in the way you coo his name.

“Oh Kai, if you’d behave you wouldn’t be so scared of me you know that right?” The saccharine sweetness of your voice is like poisoned honey and it terrifies him. In the back of his mind, his cynical mind can’t help but be amused by this setting. The loss of his arms and the loss of his power has left him as a shell of a man and he can’t cling to any sense of arrogance or arrogation he once claimed so easily. You know this as well as the air you breathe. It is what made it easy for you to take him, tucking him into your home like an injured bird never to fly again.

Your hand has gone from his hair to trace the stubble on his face - it has grown into a shadow that you still haven’t gotten rid of despite how he hates it. You don’t trust him with blades yet, you had said once but he could see the sadistic glee in your eyes as his face twitched at the itchiness he despises. He can still hear the burners of the stove going and that’s what he chooses to focus on rather than the sweet things you say to him, a voice so kind it makes him want to bash his head in.

“Stop - stop touching me. You’re sick, I want nothing to do with you.” He says and it sounds empty, defiant as he maybe is Kai knows defeat and knows its bitter taste. It seems that it is all he knows - losing his quirk, his organization, and his sick goal of destroying all quirks. You laugh and it sounds like wind chimes that grate his ears. He wants to destroy you, your home, your honey voice, and your shining eyes that always seem to dance with joy when he faces his own discomfort.

“I am sick,” You grin and it’s too cruel to be on your sweet face. The kettle you put on whistles in the middle of your agreement and you tilt your head to the side. It would be endearing to anyone else but you. You lean in, too close into his space and he can smell your sickeningly delightful vanilla perfume that makes his ears turn pink as you press a kiss to the corner of his lips. He can taste the mild sweetness of your chapstick and disgust crawls up his spine because he did not want you to kiss him - to touch him.

“I’m sick with the plague, and so are you my little bird.” You call as you make your way to tend to the kettle, its piercing whistle breaking with his self-respect when you come back, two cups of tea he hates in hand. It’s like you, too sweet for him that he feels like he’ll choke on it, the grains of sugar digging into the delicate pink skin of his throat. You kiss him again, hand at his neck and he wants to spit at you - curse at you but nothing he does can stop you, he knows and he bites back the tears when you nip at his bottom lip. He is so weak now, he can’t even stop a tear from making its way down his cheek as you pull away to coo at his tear-stricken face.

“Stop, stop please,” He begs - pride broken down to nothing as you wipe away the salt water from his eyes. Your hand is soft and warm from the kitchen he can’t help but lean into your touch. There’s a look of pity on your face and he can’t help but feel his own turn pink in indignation.

“Poor thing, you’re such a pretty crier you know.” You say and it’s the thing that breaks him. Another wave of tears slides down his stubble-covered cheeks. You make an ‘aww’ sound as you tenderly wipe them away. Before you were crouched to his level but you rise to stand at your full height and you wrap your arms around his limp frame. You take him into an embrace he doesn’t want, he tastes perfume he hates to like, and his face is surrounded by the plushness of your chest.

“No one will save you from me you know that right?” He nods in your arms - he knows, to the villains, he is useless without his arms and the heroes don’t really care what happens to him after what he put Eri through. His nose betrays him and he finds himself burrowing into your chest for comfort.

“Good boy. You deserve this, it’s what you earned for the terrible things you did. You’re going to be mine until you die right?’ Again he nods, your voice a fuzzy static as he keeps digging his head into your chest. He can feel your laughter at his pathetic need for affection, your hand is back at his head running it through the longer-than-before strands of almost mahogany hair.

“Dinner will be ready soon, it’s your favorite.” You say and the other shoe drops, he stills in your embrace, and it all comes to a halt. You don’t know what his favorite is - you’ve never asked and you never will. Why would you? He’s just your pet bird with a broken wing that should be thankful that someone is even trying to maintain him. You leave to the kitchen and he can feel the warmth of the house that isn’t his home but a cage and his tears have left his face tacky. Kai turns his head, in a slow and lagging motion, and looks out the window. The prison under the sea, named after a Greek myth was wrong, that was not Tartarus.

You are.

#lamb.writes #tw darkfic #tw dark content #overhaul x reader #yandere reader #tw yandere #tw noncon

142 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 1 year

Text

Driven By Power {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: Haunted!Din, removing helmet, fingering, breast play, mentions of oral, NON-CON, DUB-CON, alcohol consumption, tipsy reader, deceit, manipulation, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, rough sex, pregnancy, angst, kidnapping, imprisonment

Comments: After learning that the Mandalorians that remain won't follow Din unless he can prove that he has the best of their people's interest at heart, he is persuaded by the voices in his head to do the unthinkable. Trick you into marriage and carrying his child.

🚨🚨 DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT - This story contains elements of manipulation/lies and forced pregnancy/kidnapping. If these things upset you, do not engage🚨🚨

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || The Mandalorian MasterList ||

GIF Credit: @pedropcl

Din stares at Bo Katan as she tells him that in order to get the rest of the Mandalorians to follow him, he will need a riduur and children. It’s shocking but he isn’t surprised. Mandalorians are followers and to be a leader, he has to be an example. He knows that family is deep rooted in his culture and he needs to show that he can lead Mandalore into the future. “They will not follow you, even with the saber.” He doesn’t want to be a leader but what choice does he have? He cannot die and allow another to have the saber. With a sigh, he exits the castle and finds you waiting for him with Grogu.

“How did it go?” You ask, curious and so damn beautiful. Din hates how gorgeous you are and so out of his reach despite sitting behind him in the star fighter.

Din doesn’t answer right away, something that drives you crazy and you huff, turning towards the kid and rolling your eyes and making a face so he coos happily. “At least we got to make a pit stop.” You grumble. “My ass is going numb and I miss the vac tube in the Razor Crest.” There hadn’t been a lot of privacy in the ship but it was better than the no privacy or space in the starfighter. “Where to now?” You ask, watching as he checks the panels on the ship.

Din doesn’t answer again and you huff, crossing your arms. You’re used to him giving you the silent treatment but even this is too much. He lifts up from the landing pad, punching in a destination, and the ship whirls as it ascends into the atmosphere before launching into space. “Guess it’s a surprise, huh kid?” You look at Grogu who coos in response and you lean back, accepting that you’ll find out when you get there.

Din’s mind is whirling, torn with what he has to do and what is right. There’s been a voice inside of his head lately, since he won the saber, that urges him to give in to what he wants, regardless of what is right. He tries to ignore it but right now, the voice is making a good case for why he should do what he’s considering. “It’s for the benefit of every Mandalorian in the galaxy.” it says and how can he argue with that?

“Naboo.” Mando answers you after he has set the ship’s coordinates and you gasp. Naboo. A planet that he might have to be on for a few days. One that you could rent a room and sleep in a real bed. “Did Bo tell you about a sect on Naboo?” You ask curiously, wanting to meet more of Din’s people. You always think of him as Din since learning his name but call him Mando out loud. Not understanding the rules of Mandalorians, although you find yourself drawn to him. He’s silent, not exactly forthcoming with information about his religion but you figure that’s because you aren’t Mandalorian. When you are asleep sometimes, you hear him talk to Grogu, explaining things about the ship, or his religion and it makes you think of what this man would be like as a father of children. Surprisingly patient, it’s been the fantasy of a few self pleasuring sessions in the showers at rest stops along the galaxy when he wants to clean up.

“No.” Mando replies curtly, “we will need somewhere to stop. Rest for a few days. We need to find a safe space before we continue our journey.” He answers and leans back in his seat, looking down to see Grogu climbing into his lap. “Get some sleep, we will be a while.” Din orders, closing his eyes behind his helmet to silence the constant noise in his head from the voice telling him to do what he needs to do.

Naboo is gorgeous and you look through the tiny port excitedly as the fighter breaks atmo. Resting for a few days - that sounds like a vacation. Not that you’ve ever known Din to stop and take one, but you are eager to see what he views as rest. “Ohhh it’s so beautiful.” You gasp, seeing the stunning waterfalls and lush greenery that makes up the majority of the planet. “This is heaven. Are we staying in a remote spot or in the spaceport?” You ask.

“Spaceport. Figured it would be nice to be able to have a day or two in a proper bed and a ‘fresher.” He says as he navigates to the space port and comms in for a parking spot. They guide him in and he lowers the ship to the port. “Come on kid, let’s get something to eat.” He says, knowing Grogu must be hungry, he always is.

No camping. A real bed. You scramble out of the back of the fighter and hurry to keep up with him and the child. “Maker, the things I would do to sleep in a bed.” You groan happily. “I’m going to spend at least an hour in the ‘fresher.” You have to guess that he wants some time out of his armor. “I might not get dressed again.” You giggle at the thought of not wearing shoes for the next few days.

Din’s cock twitches at the thought and he grunts, opening the hatch before he gets out of the fighter. He carries Grogu and pays for the parking to the attendant. “Come on, mesh’la. Let’s go.” He orders and you follow him into the spaceport and through to the accommodations.

You follow behind him, aware of the awe and eyes following Din. You noticed it, even if he did not. The wary looks or curiosity as people turn their heads to follow the confident gait of the gleaming Mandalorian as he walks through the port. The building he stops at looks luxurious and you bite your lip as he steps through the doors to walk up to the desk where a purple Twi’lek is working.

“Hello, how can I help you?” She asks and Din hands Grogu over to you so he can pull out his pouch of credits.

“I’d like two rooms. Connecting rooms.” He says and she nods, eyeing the imposing Mandalorian. She tells him the cost and he hands over the money, taking the key cards. “Come on kid, I’m sure you’re tired.” He takes Grogu again and guides you down the hallways to the rooms he had booked. His heart pounds in his chest with anticipation but he’s ready to do what he needs to do.

“Oh Maker.” You moan softly. “I cannot wait to lay down in a bed.” You huff, “I think I’ll order food and eat it in bed.” You smile dreamily at the idea of just lounging and not being cramped in that little jump seat. It had been made for a droid, not a human. “Are you going to remove your armor for a while, Mando?”

He nods, “yes mesh’la. I- I need to relax.” He admits and opens the door for you, walking in to open the connecting door. Grogu is set down and he coos, immediately trying to find something to get into. “Mesh’la, do you want to use the fresher first?”

“I’m going to take my time,” you caution but Din just tilts his head like that doesn’t matter. “Okay, I’ll go first. You can eat and get the kid down so you can have some helmetless time.” You always wondered what he looks like. “Will you order me some food too?”

Din nods, "of course, cyar'ika." He reaches for the datapad to order food for all of you, knowing he will need to eat in private before he showers and he watches you walk off to the 'fresher. He sighs softly and Grogu coos, reaching for the silver ball Din keeps on him to occupy the kid. "I know. Food is coming." He promises, handing him the ball.’

In the ‘fresher, you groan at the luxury. Real water, not a sonic shower. “I’m going to take a bath!” You call out, stripping out of your clothes. “Order me some spotchka too!”

Din bites his lip, that dark voice in his head telling him that this is his chance. He calls back that he's ordered the spotchka and he waits for you to come out of the 'fresher. When the food arrives, you're still in there and he feeds Grogu, the little guy soon falling asleep so Din carries him into the room next door and shuts the door, ensuring that the kid doesn't hear what is going to happen next. "Food is here." Din calls out, stripped down to his flight suit.

When you finally emerge, your skin is steaming and pruny from how long you soaked. Wrapped in a towel, your clothes are in the small washer and you know that Din wants to clean up. “Thank you.” You smile at home gratefully and motion towards the ‘fresher. “Hot water is unlimited.”

His eyes trail over the drops of water still clinging to your skin and he swallows harshly. “That’s good. Mesh’la. I- I need you to repeat what I say. I can’t tell you why just yet but I need you to trust me, do you trust me?” He asks and you nod, “of course.”

He reaches for your hands, gloves caressing your damp skin and he inhales deeply. "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde" He says and you repeat each word after he says it, unknowingly marrying the Mandalorian in front of you.

“Good girl.” He murmurs, rubbing your hand with his thumb and he lets go. “I’m going to clean up. Your food is getting cold, you should eat and drink.” He gestures to the spotchka, his stomach twisting with guilt but the voice reminds him that this is necessary. He steps into the fresher, stripping down and removing his helmet. He wants to be clean for you so he takes his time shaving, washing himself off and soon he has just a towel wrapped around his waist as he takes a deep breath and steps back into the room.

While Din had been in the ‘fresher, you had eaten, enjoying the food that wasn’t rations packs and drank most of your spotchka. Pleasantly tipsy as you wonder what language Din had you repeat. Was it Mando’a? Was he trying to impart some wisdom or perhaps make you a part of his clan? The idea makes you giggle and you open your mouth to ask him about it when the door opens. Squealing when you see brown hair, you slap your hand over your eyes. “Your helmet! I didn’t see your face! I swear!” You know Din had removed his helmet to save Grogu but you don’t know why he’s taken it off again when he’s trying to redeem himself.

He sighs, knowing you won’t understand until he tells you everything later, but he walks over to you, taking your hands in his to lower them from your face. “It’s okay, riduur. You can see my face. It’s allowed.” He promises, squeezing your hands to assure you that you can open your eyes.

“It’s allowed?” You peek one eye open and peer up at him cautiously, as if you are afraid you might get scolded. Then opening the other in surprise because Din Djarin is fucking attractive. Your mouth drops open and you huff. “That’s fucking unfair. You’re even hotter without the helmet.” You have no filter when you’ve been drinking, one reason why you haven’t drank about the mandalorian before. “Wait-“ your eyes widen. “Am I mandalorian now? Is that why it’s okay to see your face? Is that what those words meant?”

“Something like that.” Din chuckles and caresses your cheek, inhaling sharply at the feel of your skin under his bare hand. “Mesh’la. It means…it means beautiful in Mando’a. I think you’re beautiful.” He murmurs, brown eyes meeting yours when they widen in surprise.

“You do?” You blink owlishly at him and then repeat it back to him. “Mesh-la.” You hum and grin. “Mesh’la. You are very mesh’la too.” You promise him.

Din smiles, blushing softly at the compliment since you’re the first person he’s willing revealed his face to other than Grogu. “I- I want you. I want to touch you.” He says and slides his hand down to caress your neck.

“You mean……” you bite your lip. “Sex?” You have dreamed about Din, imagining his voice and his hands. You can’t even imagine how he would actually fuck, but your eyes slide down his torso and you honestly think you start drooling. “Yes! Fuck yes, but- I’m not - I don’t have an implant.”

“It’s okay.” He promises and bites his lip, staring at you for a moment to take in the way you are appraising him like he’s a five course meal. “I - I have an implant.” The voice in his head urges him to move forward and he licks his lips, “can I kiss you?” He asks, preparing for his first kiss.

Maker, this is really happening. You bobble your head up and down, giggling slightly when you feel dizzy. “Oh, maybe I shouldn’t have drank so much.” You pout, “but yes, I want you to kiss me mesh’la. I’ve imagined you touching me so many times when I’ve been in the ‘fresher touching myself.”

He wants to stop but the voice in his head urges him on, telling him it’s what he has to do. Din likes that you’ve thought of him. He likes that you want him. He leans in to kiss you, awkwardly knocking his nose against yours. He sighs and shifts to press his lips to yours, heart pounding in his chest as he cups your cheeks and shifts closer, his cock twitching under the towel at the intimacy he’s denied himself for so many years.

He’s a bad kisser. It makes you giggle again and you reach up, hesitating for a second before you touch his face. Only to pull back when he groans. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have touched you, should I? I don’t know the rules.” You fret, not wanting to misstep.

Din grabs your hand and brings it back to his face. “You can touch me, riduur.” He promises and presses his lips back to yours, reaching for you to drag you out of the chair so he can press his body against yours. “Tell me what you want.” He orders, kissing along your jaw and he can’t seem to get enough of you. That voice in his head is cheering in victory and he feels almost high, high off of touch and intimacy. What he’s been lacking for so many years.

“I want-“ you pant at the feeling of his lips on you and it makes your head swim. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.” You know that this is something that Din has never done before. Not fucking, you know he has needs, he’s gone to a brothel before. The intimacy though, that is new to him. You want him to do everything he’s ever imagined to you,

Din pulls back to look at you, his riduur, and he swallows harshly at the way you so willingly give yourself to him. It’s intoxicating. He doesn’t say a word but he reaches out to grip the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head and he’s relieved to find you without a breast band. “Fuck.” He murmurs, eyes fixed on your tits, and he reaches out to cup them, loving the feel in his hands under he’s surging forward to wrap his lips around your nipple like he’s seen in porn holovids.

You gasp, never taking Din for a breast man, closing your eyes and moaning as he sucks on your nipple. “For- for always having your mouth covered, it’s pretty fucking good.” You praise, reaching out and sinking your fingers into his hair without second guessing yourself. “Mand- can- can I call you Din?” You ask shyly, wondering if he would prefer being called by Mando. Maybe he has a power kink.

He pulls back to lick your skin, loving the taste of the standard issue body wash combined with what’s purely you. “You can call me Din.” He assures you, his hands caressing your back and he switches over to your other breast. “Fuck, mesh’la.” His hand slips down to work on your pants, wanting you bare before him.

“Din.” You whimper, reaching out with your other hand and stroking his back. Wondering how it feels for him. You’ve never seen him without even a single globe and now every inch of skin is bare, beyond what is behind his towel. “Oh fuck, I get to see mandalorian cock.”

Din chuckles against your flesh, pushing your pants down and he shoves your panties down too, pulling back so he can see your naked body when you kick them aside. “Maker…you’re gorgeous, riduur.” He groans and reaches for the towel around his waist, knowing it’s about to fall anyway with how hard he is getting just looking at you.

“Maker.” Your eyes widen and you understand now why his flight suit is just black and slightly baggy. He had to hide the monster he keeps in his pants. “Fuck, Din. You’re going to be in my throat.” Your hands have a mind of their own, reaching out and starting to touch him, pressing softly against scars and ridges of muscle. He’s not completely ripped like you had expected but why would he be when he’s covered head to toe? He’s strong though, you know that metal on his body everyday has made him incredibly strong.

Din shudders at the way you caress his skin, his hands finding your waist to pull you against him. “I need you.” He murmurs, the voice in his head growing stronger, and he slides his hands down to squeeze your ass. “Mesh’la.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck, sucking on the skin below your ear.

“There is a bed right here.” You feel dizzy from his attention now; wanting more. Din starts to guide you towards the bed and you whimper when you feel his teeth scrape along your pulse. “I hope you fuck me hard.”

He chuckles against your skin, “if that is what you wish, riduur.” Your knees hit the bed and he pushes you down, straddling you as he follows you down to the mattress. “I’ll fuck you however you want.” He promises and slides his hand along your thigh, his knee pushing them apart so he can slide his fingers through your folds.

“Fuck!” You moan, rocking your hips up to meet his hand. “I want you to fuck me how you want. Just I want you to want it rough.” You chuckle, grinning up at him. “You- it’s so strange, seeing you without your helmet. Your voice is so clear.”

Din snorts, “I can’t hide my expressions. Beskar has done it for me.” He confesses, rubbing your clit, and he loves feeling your hot flesh directly against his skin. You’re already so wet and he groans when your hand finds his hard cock. “Cyar'ika.” He warns with a low groan, his cock twitching in your hand and he knows you will struggle to take his length so he pushes two thick digits inside of your pussy, his thumb pressed against your clit.

“Oh fuck.” Your mouth drops open and you let out a low moan as his fingers fill you up. Closing your eyes for a moment before you have to see him, want to see him. Watching his eyes darken as he stares at where his fingers are buried in your cunt. Your hand squeezes his cock and you pull it away to spit in your palm and wrap your fingers around him again to jerk him while he fingers you.

“Dank Ferik.” Din curses, groaning when you squeeze his cock and start to pump it in your soft hand. He curls his fingers inside of you, making you cry out, and he leans down to take your nipple into his mouth, knowing that this is his new fixation.

Part of you wonders if this is because of what Din and Bo Katan talked about. If so, you need to know what that woman said because this is everything you never knew you wanted. “Oh maker, you like being able to use your mouth, don’t you?” You gasp out. “Fuck, if we do this again, you can- oh fuck, you can use it other places too.”

Din groans, releasing your nipple with a pop. “Fuck yes. I want to taste you.” He murmurs, wanting you to cum on his fingers right now. He will taste you later, after he’s cum inside of you. “Later. I promise.” He sighs and switches to your other breast, taking your nipple in his mouth to suck and bite down on.

The idea that this might be more than once and his teeth applying the most exquisite pressure against your nipple is too much. Crying out, your walls clamp down around his fingers and you pour an embarrassing amount of cum over his digits. It’s been so long since someone else has touched you and the fact that it’s Mando adds to the pleasure

“Maker.” He groans when you soak his fingers and he works you through it, the wet noise is music to his ears as he tries to work you open for his cock. When you whine, he withdraws his fingers and wraps them around his length, “I need you, riduur.” He murmurs, shifting to kneel between your thighs, working his cock while his eyes devour your heaving chest.

Nodding, you look up at him, wanting to ask what ‘riduur’ means, but you don’t want him to take another moment before he’s inside you. “Please, Din.” You beg quietly, stroking his arm and rubbing your thumb over a scar on his forearm.

He nods, shifting closer so he can rub the head of his cock against your clit, and he groans at how wet you are. He meets your eyes as he pushes inside of you, shifting onto his elbows as he pushes deeper until he’s pushing against your cervix. “You okay?” He asks, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable.

You can’t make a sound except for the groan as all the air is forced from your body and ever cell lights up in pleasure. Your blunt nails dig into his skin and you swear that you’re going to pass out before you can finally suck air into your lungs with a gasp that sounds as if you are drowning. “F-fuck!” You squeal when you can finally vocalize how you are feeling. “Oh fuck, shit-“ you pant. “You’re so- so fucking big.”

He can’t deny that he’s proud about how much you like his cock. That he’s stretching you out. “Mesh’la. Fuck. You - you’re so - it’s so good.” He chokes, feeling your bare cunt grip him and you’re so wet. He is clenching his jaw to control himself. It’s been a long time since he was in a pussy this good and to have you beneath him, his skin against yours, it’s almost too much.

He stays still until you start to squirm, needing him to move. “Please.” You beg, eager to see what he can do when he moves that big cock inside you. “Fuck me, oh fuck me so hard I see stars.” The baby is in the other room and it’s been so long since you’ve been fucked properly.

Din growls in response to your plea and he nods, taking a moment before he decides to fuck you hard. He pulls out until only the tip remains before he thrusts deep inside of you, piercing deep inside of you with no mercy, he starts to fuck you with earnest.

All you can do is scream. Pain and pleasure melding together in perfect unity to have your entire body bow up. Taking every powerful swing of his hips with a piercing ache that brings tears to your eyes and makes you dig your nails into his flesh. Not caring how much you are going to ache in the morning, you want more.

He hisses at the way your nails dig into his arms and he grabs your thighs, pushing them back towards your stomach so he can sink deeper inside of you. “Fuck mesh’la. You’re - you - fuck. So good.” He pants, that dark voice in his head roaring with victory and egging him on.

“Yes, yes, fuck Mando.” Your eyes roll back in your head and you’re breathless. Panting and moaning every time he hits deep. “Please, please baby, I’m so close.” You reach up and caress his face, loving his wrecked expression.

He groans, feeling you get slicker, tighter, and he pushes deep inside of you, lowering his hips so his pelvis grinds against your clit. “Cum for me, mesh’la. Cum for me.” He commands, kissing along your jaw until his lips press against yours.

It’s like he flips a switch for you. Brilliant lights burst behind your eyes as the coarse hair above his cock grinds into your clit and rubs you just right, making you cry out again. “Din, Din, Din!” You scream his name when he pushes deep again and tension in your belly snaps, making you shake underneath him,

He growls in delight when you cum, clamping down on his cock, and you soak him with your juices. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkk.” He growls, the voice in his head urging him to do what he has to do. Making him groan as he buries his cock deep and starts to cum with a moan of your name, his cock twitching as he pulses inside of you.

You whine at the sensation of his warm seed filling you. Thankful that he has an implant. Your own had malfunctioned awhile back and you had it removed by a med droid on Navarro but lacked a replacement, so you had just done without. It wasn’t like you were having a lot of sex. No sex before tonight. “Oh maker, you cum a lot.” You moan, feeling it start to push out of you even as he’s still pumping it into your cunt.

Hearing you say that combined with him filling you up has him burying his face in your neck, breathing you in and the voice in his head cheers with victory. Pleased at his actions. “Mesh’la.” He murmurs, slowing his pace until he stills inside of you, cum pushed deep and he rolls over so you are on his chest.

“Wow.” You giggle, still cock drunk as you sprawl out on top of him. “That was…amazing.” You can’t help but lean in and kiss his neck. His cock is softening but hasn’t fallen out of you yet and you’re content to layer in his arms. “What now? Do I have to wear a helmet? Is that how this works?”

Din chuckles, “no. No helmet. Nothing changes. Just that you can see me without my helmet, without my armor.” He doesn’t tell you why, the voice telling him to not say anything just yet and while the guilt gnaws at him, he can’t lose you. The voice has done him well so far. He has to continue listening to it.

****

“Fuck. Oh fuck!” You cry when Din pushes into you from behind, the new angle makes him feel impossibly bigger. He can’t stop fucking you. He’s lost track of how many times he’s cum inside of you over the past few days when the kid is asleep.

“More Din.” You beg, leaning down and pressing your cheek against the mussed sheets. You are exhausted but craving more from him, aware that once you leave these rooms that he won’t touch you like this for some time. Unsure why he is so amorous, but you aren’t questioning it. “Maker riduur,” Din told you that ‘riduur’ is something like ‘lover’ in Mando’a so you have taken to calling him that as well. He really gets off on it, going harder when you call him that. “Fill me up, please.”

He groans when you beg him to fill you up, that voice once again roaring with victory and he hisses when you clamp down on him, squeezing him like a vice. “Cum first.” He orders, sliding his hand down to wrap it around your neck, dragging you back against his chest so he can find your clit with his other hand. “Cum for me.” He demands, groaning when you whine his name.

You have lost count of how many orgasms you’ve had over the past few days. Too many. All of them leave you stumbling around like a newborn foal and he’s proving just how good he is with his hands as he works your clit. “Din!” Your hoarse cry fills the room again as you come apart on his cock.

He groans, pushing you towards your climax and he’s desperate to see you cum again. He hisses when you clamp down on his cock and he thrusts up into you, gripping your hip once you’ve whined that you are overstimulated and he grunts as he buries his cock deep and spills his seed to paint your walls for the umpteenth time.

Closing your eyes, you hum softly, panting as he presses himself against your back. Since the first night, he’s shared more of himself, grown comfortable around you, even eating with you between rounds. Maybe it’s just because he needs to keep his strength up, but it makes you feel good. It’s inevitable, falling in love with him. You know it. Now, you turn your head and kiss his lips. “Now I want to sleep for the rest of the night.” You tease, reminding him how he’s not exactly rested during this stay.

Din sighs, shifting to lay down, staying inside of your body. He groans and kisses along your neck, enjoying staying inside of you. He murmurs your name, curling around you. “Sleep, mesh’la. Tomorrow we leave.” He reminds you softly, knowing the kid will be waking up soon.

“Hmmm, ‘night.” You murmur sleepily, worn out by Din’s constant need for you. For a man who oftentimes seemed to only care about his quests, he is surprisingly indulgent with you. Quickly you fall asleep, knowing that you will need it.

After leaving Naboo the next day, Din continues his quest to Mandalore, deciding to stop off on Tatooine to see Peli after you’ve been to a few planets to seek more Mandalorians. With no Mandos in sight, Din decides to visit Peli and see what Tatooine has to offer for his ship. That’s when you get nauseous. Immediately seeking the ‘fresher when he lands in the port at Peli’s place and Din smirks under his helmet, knowing exactly why you haven’t been able to stand smelling the kid’s snacks. “Maker Mando! What have you been feeding that girl?” Peli asks him, picking up Grogu.

Din tilts his head causally. “Bantha jerky.” He jokes, knowing that you hate the meat and you groan and clutch your stomach. The mere thought of it makes you almost sick and you hate the queasiness over something so mundane. “Maybe I’m getting sick.” You think. “I need to see a med droid. I can get another implant placed too.”

Din swallows harshly under his helmet and he nods, “perhaps that’s best. I’ll get the kid sorted and then we can go find the med center.” Peli finds Grogu some food and you gag, moving away from it, and Din gets the kid into bed to take a nap. “Come on, riduur. Let’s go find the med droid.” He wants it confirmed, what he suspects is going on.

You go along with him, happy that while he’s not as physical with you since leaving the planet you had vacationed on two months ago, he still calls you riduur. He also presses a little closer while you are in villages or cities on the planets you visit, seemingly a shadow.

When you arrive in the med center, all eyes are on the Mandalorian and he wants to take your hand in his gloved one but he can’t show connections. That creates a visual weakness to anyone who would dare attack him. When you’re in the private room, the med droid comes in and scans you. “It’s probably a bug.” You sigh, watching the droid work and Din sits there in silence, not wanting to say a word.

It doesn’t take long for the scan to finish and the droid's lights flash along with a few beeps. “Diagnosis - pregnancy.” The robotic voice proclaims, making your heart drop and your eyes widen dramatically. “The fetus is eight weeks developed - prenatal vitamins will be dispensed. The recommendation is for rest and water. The nurse droid will be in shortly.” The droid spins around on its wheels and leaves you reeling from the news.

“I- oh maker.” You breath out, unable to look at Mando for fear of bursting into tears. “I- I didn’t- your implant - it must have - dank ferik. I- I’m so sorry, Mando.” You exclaim shakily. “I- I’ll have the nurse droid- we don’t have to- I can just-” You know he doesn’t want a child and how would you fit another in the damn starfighter? It’s cramped enough as it is, you can’t sit in that mech droid seat with a rapidly swelling stomach.

Din is glad he’s wearing his helmet so you can’t see the victorious grin on his face. “Mesh’la. I have to tell you something.” He reaches for your hands, bring your gaze to his, your eyes watery with unshed tears. “Those words you spoke…before we - it wasn’t - it was Mandalorian marriage vows. Riduur means spouse or partner. We are married.” He reveals, glad you can’t see his face. He does feel guilty but he’s done what he needs to do.

Blinking in shock, you shake your head, sure that you had misheard him. “W-what?” You are horrified, in disbelief. “No- you’re joking and it’s not funny.” You hiss, pulling your hand out from his. “Don’t lie to me to try to distract me. This is- oh Maker, what am I going to do? I have to- I have to terminate it. You don’t need another kid.”

Din shakes his head, squeezing your hands a little tighter when he retakes them in his, the voice in his head growing angry. “You cannot terminate it. I won’t allow it. I- l lied to you.” He admits, knowing you might hate him after this. “I don’t have an implant. I wanted to get you pregnant, mesh’la. As the leader, I must set an example to my people, to unite them. I must have a riduur and younglings. I wanted you to be the woman who provided those things to me.”

“I-” You try to pull your hands free again, but he won’t let you, holding on while you struggle against him. “You- you lied? You asshole!” You shout, tears starting to fall as you realize he’s not lying. He married you without you knowing and impregnated you. Mando doesn’t joke about things like this and there is a slightly proud edge to his voice. “How could you do this? Why- why me? Did you- oh fuck-” Your stomach rolls and you immediately start to throw up, jumping back so you can bend down between you.

“I did what I had to do for my people. As their leader, it’s my duty. You will not terminate the child. We will continue to be married. You shall be by my side as I take my rightful place on the throne. We leave for Mandalore today.” His tone is final, leaving no room for argument.

Your retching has barely stopped when he gives you his edict and you don’t know what is worse, the fact that he lied to you or the fact that you are realizing that he must have just touched you for this quest of his. He didn’t care for you at all. He doesn’t resist when you pull your hands away this time and wipe your mouth. “Fuck you.” You hiss. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Mando.”

Din shakes his head, “I’m sorry, mesh’la. You don’t have a choice. By Mandalorian law, you’re bound to me. I am responsible for you and our child. You will be leaving with me.” He dictates, “you will be by my side.”

“Don’t ‘mesh’la’ me.” You snort. “You know you tricked me. I didn’t know I was marrying you. No one would call that valid.” You know that if he wants you to leave with him, no one would stop him from taking you. He’s a Mandalorian. “This isn’t right. You- you can’t do this to me.” Your tears start again. “I- I don’t want to have your baby. Not like- you tricked me. You told me you had an implant.”

“Does it matter now? You’re pregnant. With my child. You cannot leave me. You will have the child. We will remain together. I- I’m sorry about how I had to do this but it was required. Bo Katan told me that I’d need to lead by example and I- mesh’la. Please, I’m sorry.” He murmurs, knowing that getting forceful won’t get him what he wants.

“Don’t touch me.” You jerk away when he reaches for you. “Never touch me again.” You sniffle and the nurse droid comes back into the room. Mando reaches for his gun, obviously ready to shoot the droid if you mentioned wanting to terminate the pregnancy. Reality setting in as the droid hands you a bottle of pills and a chip for your data pad to read about what to expect. You can’t do anything but cry as you are left alone with Mando once more, your hand sliding down to your stomach and the life he has planted there.

Din watches you, seeing how distraught you are at the news that he tricked you but he can't bring himself to feel bad. He had to do this, the voice in the back of his head telling him he was right. "Riduur, we must go. We need to continue our journey to Mandalore before you can no longer travel."

“I am not your ‘riduur’.” You hiss, angry that he had told you it meant lover and you feel sick when you think of every time you had called him that while he was inside you, begging him to fill you up. You had played into his plans perfectly and you feel so dumb. You clutch the bottle and shake your head. “I am not going with you. I want nothing to do with you, or Mandalore, or Mandalorians.”

Din sighs, reaching for his cuff to grab something he rarely has to use. “I’m sorry, riduur. This is for your own good.” He says and grabs the vial, breaking it and shoving it under your nose. He knows it’s safe but he desperately needs you to stay with him. When your eyes roll into the back of your head, he catches you and carries you to his ship, securing you before he grabs Grogu and makes his way to Mandalore.

****

Groaning, your eyes slowly open, your head pounding and for a moment, you don’t remember what’s going on. Blinking as your vision starts to clear and you see that you’re in some kind of ruin. “Wha-“ Even with the pounding in your head, you jerk upright remembering the med clinic. Din - marrying you - impregnating you without your agreement. “Din!” You scream before you spot him standing against a crumbling wall.

He pushes off of the wall, "riduur. You're awake." He has kept you drugged during the entire journey, rushing to get to Mandalore before you would wake up. The voice in his mind telling him this is the best place for you. "You will remain here until you have our child."

“What- no!” You shake your head, wincing in pain and you feel the weight of something around your wrist while you lift your hand. “You-“ the weight is a manacle, chained to the wall of the room you are in. “You- you’re going to chain me up?” You screech, immediately starting to tug on the chain. “Din, no, no, you can’t do this! Why? Why are you doing this?” You demand, starting to sob again.

“I’m sorry, cyar’ika. I have to.” He can’t explain it, it just feels right. “I’ll bring you some food in a bit. Stay here, relax.” He says like you have any choice but to remain in that spot. He doesn’t allow you to argue as he turns on his heel to the door, opening it with a creak. “I’ll be back.” He promises, knowing that this is what has to be done to save Mandalore.

“Din! No! Come back! Please! Please!” You scream, sobs escaping you as you sink back to the cold floor after the door closes. Din takes the dark saber off of his belt, feeling its power, and the voice in his head tells him he’s doing the right thing. This is to save Mandalorians everywhere…no matter the cost.

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