#prompt: attempted rape | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deunmiu-dessie · 2 months

Text

ⅳ▬ ⁽ 𝓎𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒿𝒶 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₈˖₆ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW, explicit content, teratophilia, yautja/human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, breeding, dubcon, rape/noncon elements, violence, alien abduction (??), reader is lowkey horny all the time. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: after a yautja breaks into your home, all hell breaks loose.

꒰m!yautja ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

THUMP THUMP

Crash!

𝒴our eyes flutter open, bleary with sleep and confusion. The room is dark, the moonlight filtering through the window, casting a soft glow onto your thick blanket. With a yawn, you stretch out your limbs, feeling your joints crack as you reach out for the lamp on your nightstand. The small clink of the knob being twisted breaks the silence of the night in your quiet house. You take a moment to rub the sleep from your eyes before you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and shuffle down, your warm feet making contact with the cool touch of your house shoes. It takes a second for you to come to but you finally find yourself upright and walking out of the room. You weren't necessarily worried, as your mischievous cat often wreaks havoc on the counters at night. It's a familiar sight. Typically, you would leave the mess until morning, but this time, an inexplicable urge pushes you to investigate. Plus, you're quite thirsty. Descending the wooden stairs leisurely, you reach the end of the hallway at the bottom and flick on the light switch. The single bulb illuminates only your immediate surroundings, but it's enough for your eyes to adjust to the darkness downstairs.

The shuffling of your footsteps reverberated in your ears, causing an inexplicable unease to wash over you. Your legs became as heavy as lead, making each step a painful endeavor. Suddenly, a surge of alarm courses through you as when the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps erupting across your skin. You halt your movement, allowing your senses to sharpen and tune in. The faint jingle and jangle of your cat's collar catches your immediate attention, prompting you to cautiously retrace your steps towards the staircase. As your trembling hands gripped the railing, you were taken aback by the sight of your black and white feline leisurely stretching at the top of the stairs, its mouth opening wide in a yawn. If your cat had been upstairs all along, then what was the noise you heard? Fear crept into the depths of your stomach, churning your insides and burning your throat. In this moment of vulnerability, you realized that you were unarmed, with the only available option being a baseball bat tucked away in the closet just a few feet from where you stood. A lump formed in your throat as you swallowed hard, desperately attempting to maintain your composure as you stealthily made your way toward the closet. The thought of calling for help vanished from your mind, replaced by a gripping fear that consumed your every thought. Your attention was suddenly captivated by a mesmerizing neon green hue, its splatters leading a mysterious trail toward the dining room.

With trembling hands, you press them against your mouth to stifle a sob, cringing when you feel the clamminess of your skin. As you stand frozen in terror, your ears tingle and twitch, picking up on a soft clicking sound in front of you. Slowly, your eyes scan upwards, only to be met with an impenetrable darkness in the dining room, with the glowing substance serving as the sole source of illumination. A soft whimper escapes your lips, and at that moment, all thoughts of finding a weapon vanished. Whoever or whatever was in your house, one thing was certain - it was not human. As you stood there, the air before you seemed to ripple and quiver, creating a captivating display of ethereal pink and green hues before your dark dining room came back into your 'sight'. A shudder traveled down your spine, and your legs wobbled, as if unable to bear your weight any longer. With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, you tentatively extended your hand, half-expecting your senses to deceive you in this surreal moment. The sensation was akin to touching a brick wall, the object beneath your hand was rigid and corded with muscles. You clenched your eyes shut and bit your lip, pulling your hand away briefly from whatever was there. Your lashes fluttered, lifting to reveal glossy eyes and unshed tears. The air suddenly materialized into something inhumane. The air around you suddenly morphed into something otherworldly. It stood imposingly tall, slender, and muscular. Once more, you heard that clicking noise coming from the being in front of you. Overwhelmed by the intense mental stimulation, your mind reaches its breaking point. Your eyes involuntarily rolled to the back of your head, rendering your body completely incapacitated. In a sudden motion, you stumbled forward, colliding with the mysterious entity standing before you. With surprising tenderness, its clawed hands extended to cradle your delicate form.

With ease, the colossal Predator effortlessly lifted the small human who had fallen into him, ensuring that its sharp claws didn't puncture your tender thighs. Your head hangs limply, narrowly avoiding the menacing tusks attached to the Predator's shoulder armor. Perturbed the Predator emits a series of clicks, and swiftly makes his way into the living room and to the small couch, gently unfurling his arms from around you and placing you onto it. Tilting his head his tubed dreads cascade over his shoulder, and behind his mask, the Predator's intense gaze is fixated on your motionless body. Fortunately, you appeared unharmed, it seemed you had simply fainted. Ahn'thu's head jerked up abruptly, rendering himself invisible to the naked eye immediately. The sharp crunch of broken glass echoed in his ear canal as he swiftly surveyed the room through his mask, instantly identifying multiple human heat signatures. Glancing down at the small figure nestled on the couch, he reassured himself that you would remain unharmed among your own kind. Revealing himself now would undoubtedly result in a hasty and reckless response from the intruders, no doubt they would fire without thinking of who was in the house originally.

The Yautja took his eye off the human on the couch and ventured into the darkness of the living room. The heat signatures were moving closer, almost to the living room. The heat signatures were getting closer, inching towards the heart of the room. Humans, being as noisy as ever, made their presence known with every step, every whisper, and every click of their weapons. Ahn'thu maintained surveillance on their positions, making sure they stayed within sight. The soldiers eventually entered the living room, speaking in hushed tones. It took awhile but one of them noticed you unconscious on the couch, nudged his fellow soldier, and pointed towards your body.

" We have a civilian here Captain, your orders?"

A burly man in the front came to a halt, scanning the area until he spotted your motionless form."Check for signs of life," he commanded. Ahn'thu's warning trill sent a shiver down the soldiers' spines. The sound of his gauntlet blades unsheathing itself made them wary and the room was suddenly filled with red dots from their weapons, aiming at nothing and everything. " Stay on high alert! It has the advantage of being able to see us, but we are unable to perceive its existence. Keep your guard up and remain cautious at all times. "

Ahn'thu almost let out a click of amusement. He didn't want this gruesome scene to play out in your home. He didn't want you to wake up to the putrid smell of metallic blood and death. He didn't want your eyes to widen in horror at the sight of crimson stains on your wooden floors and white walls. The sound of your groans echoed through the room, instantly drawing the gaze of everyone present. With bated breath, they observed as your unconscious form gradually stirred back to life. Ahn'thu emitted a contented purr, relieved to witness the small human's recovery. Although reluctant, the Predator seized the opportunity to depart unnoticed while their attention was fixated, skillfully concealing itself nearby.

With a flutter, your eyes blinked open for the second time tonight, accompanied by a pounding ache at the back of your head. Oddly enough, you couldn't recall any instance of hitting your head. As you propped yourself up, the fog in your mind started to lift, and your bleary eyes regained focus.

The hushed shuffle of footsteps nearby caused your muscles to tense, and in that moment, the memories flooded back. You turned your gaze slowly towards the direction of the sound, your hands instinctively rising to cover your mouth, a gasp escaping through your fingers.

In front of you, a group of armed men stood, the lasers of their guns fixed on your trembling figure. Suddenly, one of them took a step forward, gradually lowering his weapon. "We're not here to hurt you. We're after something that has entered your home. Have you seen anything?" Reluctantly, you nodded your head and swallowed a sob. "T-there was this man— no, this thing. It was tall, but it didn't appear human. It was injured. I didn't even notice it at first, despite it being right in front of me." Anxiously playing with your fingers, you muttered, "I know it sounds crazy, but it just appeared out of nowhere, like it was invisible at first." The man nodded, his face wearing a grim expression. He raised his gun again, aiming it at your head. " If only you didn't know so much. " Your eyes widened as you looked at the other soldiers in the room, tears falling down your cheeks. "N-no! I swear I won't say a word, please, please don't hurt me."

' gurgle '

Blood coated your face in small rivulets, and you sat paralyzed on the couch, observing as the man in front of you collapsed to the floor, blood pooling from his mouth. Suddenly, the alien materializes, a massive eight-foot Yautja looming just a few inches away from the lifeless body. The masked creature locked eyes with you, its head cocked to the side. Time seemed to stand still as you both stared at each other until chilling words reached your ears.

"Fire!" Bullets whizzed by your face, lodging into the walls and furniture around you. You couldn't help but scream, curling into a tight ball to make yourself as small as possible, hands covering your ears, eyes shut tight, face buried in your knees.

Ahn'thu vanished from sight, the sound of his blade cutting through the air was more deafening than the gunshots, and soon bodies were falling to the ground. Their cries pierced through your hands and tears streamed down your face. Despite the diminishing sound of gunfire, it didn't mean that it had completely ceased. A searing, white-hot pain shot through your thigh, prompting you to release a scream that resonated with pure agony. The intensity of your cry caught Ahn'thu's attention, causing him to swiftly turn towards you, his cloak disengaging in the process. A deafening roar reverberated throughout the house, shaking its very foundation. With a swift and calculated movement, Ahn'thu twisted his body towards the soldier closest to him, seizing the soldier's head in his powerful grip. In a bone-chilling display, he twisted and pulled, leaving behind a severed head and a spine dangling from the Predators' colossal hands. Ahn'thu swiftly reached for the shuriken hanging from his waist, the sharp blades catching the light as they spun open. With a precise throw, the blade pierced through a man's throat, causing the others to scatter in fear dropping their weapons in the process. After dispatching the final opponent, the Yautja turned towards the trembling human huddled on the couch, your body covered in a sheen of sweat. The massive figure advanced, only to halt when you tucked your body to the couch, a pained gasp echoing in the room. While he wished for your comfort, that wasn't a priority when there was a bullet lodged in your thigh. Ahn'thu's gaze flickered to the wound, his concern evident as he saw the blood seeping through your clenched hands that were putting pressure on the area. With swift movements, he approached you lifting you gently into his arms. A gentle purr rumbling from his chest, soothing you. Gradually, your body relaxed in his arms, the tension melting away and your heat signature indicating a decrease in distress. The Yautja grumbled as he heard the wailing of cop sirens. He walked over to one of the dead bodies, softly positioning you so you were cradled in the crook of one of his arms, and pulled the shuriken from the man's throat, flicking it out so that the blades closed. His ship was a considerable distance away, but luckily, he was surrounded by miles of woods. Calling for his ship and cloaking it in a clearing would be a simple task. Ahn'thu smoothly exited, slipping through the gaping hole in the wall with care not to cause you any discomfort. The clamor of the intruders breaking through the door pushed him to hasten his steps, the cloaking device immediately bending the light and allowing you two to become transparent. He realized he had to extract the bullet swiftly, noticing the ashen hue of your soft skin, and your eyes bleary with pain. He comforted you with a soft purr, holding you close to maintain warmth. With a gentle flutter, your eyes succumbed to the overwhelming pain, plunging you into a deep slumber for the second instance that night.

For the past half an hour, he has been walking tirelessly, determined to put a considerable distance between himself and the small town. Initially, he frets when you don't show any signs of movement for the first ten minutes of the journey. However, he finds solace in the data and body temperature readings provided by his equipment, albeit temporarily. Gently, he cradles you in the crook of his arm, drawing you closer so that he can operate his gauntlet. The ship will arrive shortly, in just a matter of minutes. He steals another glance at you, observing your shallow breaths and the rapid movements of your eyes beneath closed lids as if chasing fleeting dreams.

The ship arrives with a gentle breeze and the familiar beep of his gauntlet. It briefly materializes, showing him the entrance before vanishing and sealing behind him. The interior is pleasantly cool, but not too much so. The netting covering his body regulated his temperature, he was never too cold nor too hot— but Ahn'thu preferred it to be cold. His main concern is removing the bullet from your body, so he takes you to his room and lays you down on his furs to inspect your wound.

Unfazed by the blood staining the plush bedding, Ahn'thu retrieves a reddish substance from a nearby chest. With a delicate touch, he grasps your leg, wiping away some of the blood to locate the wound. Placing the red putty against the injury, he allows it to work its magic. As tears cascade down your cheeks and your body writhes in pain, he holds you firmly, emitting a deep purr from his chest to provide comfort and alleviate your suffering. Although you grow increasingly docile, spasms persist in your leg as he maintains his grip.

As the weight of the crimson putty becomes burdensome, he delicately peels it away from your skin, examining the bullet now cradled in his palm. Ahn'thu places it within a smaller container before retrieving a vial of cerulean liquid and returning to your side, his worried expression evident. Clicking his tongue in apprehension, he understands the impending agony that awaits you. He applies a single drop of the liquid onto the wound, resuming his comforting purrs, almost stopping when your trembling hand finds his and clings tightly. Your cries grow louder, sweat trickling down your body, causing it to tremor uncontrollably. Though he can offer little in terms of remedy, he remains by your side, providing solace through closeness and doing his utmost to ease your suffering.

It feels like an eternity before your trembling stops, your wound closes, and your breathing becomes steady. In reality, it only took five minutes. You're still grasping his hand, his claws curled inwards to his palm so that he didn't hurt you in any way. And while he's reluctant to let go of you, he does so— he needs to report back to his Elder and start the hunt for the Bad Blood in the Town area. He lets out an amused click as your hand slightly rises off the bed to find him again. He turns and makes his way to the door, letting it slide open before leaving.

As your eyes flutter open, you struggle to adjust to the darkness surrounding you. The remnants of a bullet wound in your thigh send phantom pains coursing through your body, causing a dull ache. With a weary groan, you manage to sit up, only to be startled by the sudden flood of light that blinds you momentarily. The room feels alien, unfamiliar, and a wave of panic threatens to consume you. However, you gather your composure and slowly maneuver yourself off the massive bed. Every movement is accompanied by the symphony of your body's protests - the creaking of bones and the popping of joints. Finally, as your feet touch the cool metal flooring, you take a moment to stretch your limbs, savoring the sweet relief it brings.

It seems like you're just in a room, with no visible exit. Desperately searching for a way out, you cautiously explore the walls for any hidden buttons. You jump back as a door slides open, cool air brushing up against your skin. After cautiously venturing out, you find yourself in a maze of identical hallways, feeling disoriented. Biting your lip you walked a bit farther, gasping softly as you stumble upon a control room filled with strange symbols and advanced technology.

With a sudden jolt, you took a step back and collided with an unyielding force. Suddenly, a sharp clicking noise resonated near your ear, propelling you into a sprint, deftly evading whatever obstructed your path. When you dared to steal a glance behind, there was nothing to be seen, and a sigh of relief escaped your lips. However, as you redirected your attention forward, a horrifying sight greeted you, prompting a piercing scream to erupt from your throat at the thing in front of you. Overwhelmed by fear, you stumble backward and seek solace against the safety of a nearby wall, tears streaming down your cheeks, your body convulsing with hiccups, and your breaths coming in deep, shaky inhales.

Ahn'thu takes a step closer, then crouches down, his head cocked to the side. You seem to fear him, understandably so given recent events. He resorts to purring, noting the wariness and familiarity in your eyes. He looks down at his gauntlet and starts to type, you're curious but not enough to scoot closer and look.

You lean forward some to see what he's doing but jerk your body back forcefully when he moves abruptly, attempting to show you his gauntlet, hitting your head on the metal wall behind you. Though a dull ache lingers in your skull, you pay it little mind.

However, Ahn'thu on the other hand, clicks worriedly, leaning closer to look at your head. He reminds himself that you're scared when you move further away from him. With a sigh, he withdraws his hand and presses the enter key on the gauntlet. Although the voice is slightly distorted, you can still comprehend its words.

"You are safe here."

The sight of your chest's rise and fall gradually slowing down, accompanied by the subtle narrowing of your eyes in distrust, captures Ahn'thu's attention. He finds solace in the fact that you are not easily swayed by trust, recognizing it as a sign of your survival instincts. With caution in mind, you skillfully slide away from him, ensuring maximum distance before confidently standing up. "Where am I? Why did you take me?"

Ahn'thu's gauntlet and translator struggled to keep pace with your rapid-fire questions, causing him to click in frustration. However, as he began typing something, you paused, eagerly anticipating the voices of various individuals.

"One at a time."

You let out an exasperated sigh and fold your arms tightly across your chest. How ironic it is that these aliens, with their supposedly advanced technology, can't even comprehend a simple conversation. The throbbing ache at the base of your skull intensifies, causing your face to contort in pain. In response, the Yautja takes a step closer, triggering your fight or flight response.

Your body instinctively takes a few steps back, almost losing balance and narrowly avoiding a collision with the cold, unyielding metal wall of the ship once more. Ahn'thu effortlessly closes the distance between you two, reaching out to firmly grasp your forearm and provide the stability you desperately need.

As you take a moment to closely observe it, you can't help but be intrigued by its reptilian skin, adorned with patches of green, black, and dark grey. Surprisingly, its skin doesn't possess the expected rough texture; instead, it feels more like a unique blend of softness and hardness, almost resembling a pliable plastic. Its claws delicately grasp your forearm, ensuring not to harm you.

Although its face remains concealed behind a metallic mask, you can hear the faint sounds of clicks and growls, which you assume to be its language. Startled, you swiftly retract your arm and take a step back, fixing a piercing gaze upon it. "Who are you?" you inquire. The alien meets your gaze with its enigmatic blank mask but then proceeds to type something.

"I am Ahn'thu, I am Elite Yautja Warrior."

You would have trouble pronouncing that, but you decide to give it a try regardless. The sound of your voice attempting to replicate his name brings a hint of amusement to his expression, and he responds with a gentle purr when you pronounce it as accurately as you can.

"What is your name?"

The voices startle you as you hadn't even seen him type it in. You seem wary for a moment, and Ahn'thu backs off, not wanting to push you into sharing if you're not ready. Your eyes reflect a bit of trust now, the stormy pools slowly turning into murky waters. "It's Y/N."

It's silent between the two of you for a moment before your stomach lets out a deep growl, making you place your hands over it with furrowed brows. Ahn'thu takes a step closer, and this time, you don't retreat. "I will feed you."

You slowly and warily take its outstretched hand and jump when he grasps your hand gently, pulling you down the hall. You follow closely, absentmindedly tracing circles on the skin of its palm with your thumb. Ahn'thu remains silent, secretly pleased that he has earned a fragment of your trust. The two of you enter a different room, completely white and almost blinding after the dimly lit corridors of the ship. It takes some time for your eyes to adjust to the stark brightness.

Ahn'thu softly ushers you towards a table, a subtle detail you might have missed if he hadn't guided you to sit down first. You quickly pull away your hand from his hold and give him a stern glare. The Yautja admires your boldness, pleased that you remain cautious - and rightfully so, as you're clueless about his intentions. The cooler uncloaks itself when he steps closer to it and you let out a startled gasp, head tilting. Ahn'thu trills and opens the door, unveiling a selection of exotic fruits from the various planets he's visited. He's tested to make sure that they're safe to eat, the inhabitants of Earth were known for their fragility after all. Ahn'thu returned to the table and sat down, the cooler vanishing from view. You observed the unfamiliar fruits with concern, some appearing intimidating. It was the first time you sought guidance since waking up, your wide human gaze up at him through lashes, showing a hint of trust towards him.

Ahn'thu purrs and grabs one of the fruits, flipping a blade in his hand and slicing it open. He extends a piece towards you, but your attention is completely captured by the fruit's unusual color. The Yautja lets out an impatient huff and reaches up to unhook his mask, causing a hiss to echo throughout the room as the restraints are released.

He braces himself for the typical reaction – a scream, a gasp, a recoil in disgust, or perhaps even a comment on his hideousness – but you defy his expectations. Instead, your human eyes widen with genuine curiosity, your hands instinctively clench at your side, and your fleshy lips form a small 'o' of wonder, devoid of any fear.

Your lips part as you gaze into his deep-set eyes, you can't help but be captivated by their human-like appearance and the profound intelligence they hold. His mandibles, though relaxed, twitch slightly under your careful observation. Intrigued, you lean forward, your eyes filled with soft wonder. Ahn'thu finds your human fascination amusing and decides to indulge in the fruit, carving out a small piece and savoring it. The taste is sweet, leaving a delightful, bubbly aftertaste on the tongue but it isn't unpleasant in the slightest.

As you gaze at him, your eyes widen in astonishment, fixating on his mandibles and teeth. Mesmerized, you observe him chewing effortlessly. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to grab the remaining portion. Carefully, you bring it closer to your lips, making sure to avoid the skin.

A stream of blue juice trickles down your chin as you take a bite, causing a soft gasp of delight to escape your lips. The explosion of sweetness and fizziness on your tongue leaves you in awe. You glance at him, your eyes brimming with wonder, and Ahn'thu clicks in amusement.

With a tantalizing flick of your pink tongue, his amusement gradually subsides. You savor the lingering taste by licking up the remaining juice. Your fingers diligently clean the stickiness off your skin before you devour it, relishing every bite.

Ahn'thu notices your swift completion and offers you his remaining portion. You accept it graciously, taking a gentle bite and sighing in delight at its exquisite flavor. Surprisingly, it not only satisfies your cravings but also leaves you feeling pleasantly full.

The Yautja carefully observes you, taking note as your eyelids grow heavy and your pulse begins to calm. Exhaustion from the day's chaos and frantic running through the corridors has caught up to you. Suddenly, you startle as numerous voices echo in your ears, urging you to rest. Despite your weariness, the idea of drifting off to sleep with a mysterious alien predator lurking nearby is not how you envisioned meeting your end.

Ahn'thu observes as your hair dances around your face while you groggily decline. He desires your comfort, but also knows it's for your own good. The Yautja rises and gently carries you in his arms. Sensing your exhaustion, you offer no resistance, allowing your head to rest on his chest.

He moves cautiously, avoiding any sudden movements. Your gentle breath brushes against his skin, leaving a warm sensation. The worry lines on your forehead and eyebrows have vanished, revealing smooth human skin.

Ahn'thu reaches his room and delicately places you on the bed, watching as you immediately snuggle into the soft furs, inhaling gently. The fabric of your shorts ride up and caress your thighs, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the soft globes of flesh that had playfully jiggled when you ran away from him. Your ass looks velvety smooth, and he longs to savor the delight nestled in-between your plush thighs.

Suppressing his primal desires, he snarls at his own thoughts and shakes his head, causing his dreadlocks to whip around him. Ahn'thu swiftly turns on his heels and exits the room, making his way back to the meeting chamber to report the encounters with the humans and bad blood.

It takes a few hours for your eyelashes to flutter open completely. The room is cast in shadows, with only a faint light illuminating the doorway. Snug in your cocoon of warmth, you find it hard to part with the soft furs. Sliding out of bed, you approach the door and are surprised by its swift, noiseless opening. Stepping into the hallway, you begin to walk aimlessly, not quite certain of your direction but moving forward nonetheless.

Your movements come to a halt as the indecent cacophony of grunts, clicks, and growls fills the air. Backtracking, you cautiously steal a glimpse into the room, the door barely ajar. A gasp lodges itself in your throat, but you swiftly muffle it with your hand, preventing it from reaching your ears, or rather, his ears.

With eyes widened in disbelief, you watch him forcefully thrust into a contraption resembling a fleshlight, yet possessing an uncanny fleshy texture, reminiscent of the inner walls of a vagina. It drips with viscous neon droplets of cum, a soft hue of pastel green. What astounds you the most is the sheer shape, size, and girth of his cock.

As wide as four of your fingers combined, the length stretches from the tip of your index finger to your wrist. It's not human, which is no surprise since he isn't either, but the shape and texture are mesmerizing. It brings to mind the myriad of 'alien' cocks you've seen on Tumblr.

It shares the same hue as him, but it's noticeably softer than his actual skin. Veins course through it, thick and prominent. Small ridges and nodes decorate it from the top to the bottom, causing you to swallow hard at how slick and warm it seems. The only human aspect about him is the large testicles that hang imposingly underneath his cock.

You peek up at what he's looking at and can't stop the soft gasp from passing through your lips. It was you. Your face on the pornstar, getting fucked roughly by a guy from your planet. Lost in his own world of desire, he remains oblivious to the sound of your gasp, thrusting relentlessly into the device. Unable to control yourself, your hand slips beneath the waistband of your pajama shorts, gliding past the barrier of your panties, and delving into your dewy, swollen folds, slick with your arousal.

Your lower lip disappears between your teeth as a soft moan escapes you, your fingers tracing the outline of your engorged clit. With a delicate touch, you roll it between your fingers, steadying yourself when your knees start to buckle. Your fingers trail past your clit and to your slobbering entrance, hot and clenching against your middle and pointer fingers.

Slowly you ease your fingers into your dripping pussy, eyes sliding shut for a moment as the thickness enters you. You weren't overly sexual when it came to normal living, you didn't really masturbate and most definitely didn't have time for men or sex toys. At the most, you'd rub one out or try a finger or two but that was about it.

You try and imagine that he's behind you, that his thick cock is pummeling into you. Your hands fail to provide the same pleasure, leaving you agitated as you watch his hips move with urgency. Giving up, your fingers leave your cunt with an erotic pop and go back to your sensitive clit, rubbing, pinching, and patting at it.

Your teeth try and stop your lewd moans of pleasure from escaping but you can hear the wetness of your pussy loud in your ears, feel your arousal dripping down your thighs and onto the floor. His thrusts speed up, his claws dig into the padding of the device and he shoved himself inside it once more before roaring out his release.

You had never been able to reach orgasm on demand, not even the commanding voices of men on PornHub instructing you to climax. But the feral, animalistic noise of this alien spilling his seed? It made your knees buckle and your pussy convulse. It was the most powerful orgasm you had ever experienced.

Thighs twitching, you couldn't hide the deep moan that spills past your pretty little lips. The Yautja's head snaps up and he withdraws his cock from the machine, his cum trickling down his thick shaft. Your cheeks are flushed as you rise hurriedly, running down the hall on legs weakened from your orgasm. You locate the room almost instantly and step inside with a sense of anticipation.

Ahn'thu walks over to the broken door ( as it never fully shut ), and opens it completely, his breath finally steadying. He lets out a small sound of confusion before squatting down to examine the tiny pool of cloudy liquid at the entrance.

His fingers dipped into the substance, and a delightful warmth enveloped them, catching him off guard. Raising his hand to his face, he took a deep breath, his body responding with a pleasurable purr to the sweet and slightly spicy scent that wafted from it. Unable to resist, Ahn'thu sensually sucked on his digit, feeling his cock twitch and precum drip.

The taste delighted him, urging him to dip his fingers once more and savor the intoxicating flavor. Standing, he heads back into the room and slips on his clothing. Exiting, Ahn'thu locates the h'dui'se, following like a hound. Unsurprisingly, he finds himself outside of his room. As he enters, he's overwhelmed by the captivating fragrance that surrounds him, suffocating his senses.

The sound of his clicking sends shivers down your spine, causing your body to tremble beneath the soft covers. You instinctively place a hand over your mouth, feeling the warmth of arousal smear across your flushed cheeks. Your thighs clenching tightly together, clit still pulsating from the intense pleasure just moments ago.

Ahn'thu notices your movements but he doesn't confront you, he doesn't want to scare you even more than you already are. With an angry trill, he exits the room, realizing how difficult it is to be in your presence when the scent of your desire lingers in the air, clouding his senses. He seeks solace in another spare room, far away from the intoxicating allure of your essence.

As your eyes flutter open, you find yourself in a state of uncertainty. The absence of windows on the ship leaves you clueless about the time it's what you assume is the next morning. Stepping out of the room, you make a conscious effort to push yesterday's troubles from your mind and begin to explore. Intrigued, you cautiously peer into each door, hoping to find him.

The ship is far too silent, calm– it's only you here. A frown forms on your face, and a sudden surge of fear grips your being. The thought of being stranded alone in an alien vessel, unaware of its destination or potential dangers, sends a shiver down your spine.

As you stumble upon the pristine white room, the very same space where he tantalizingly fed you with succulent fruit, a delicate gasp escapes your lips. Hastily, you scuttle inside, emitting a hiss of discomfort as you accidentally collide with the table, your eyes gradually adapting to the surroundings, discerning its form.

A wave of bewilderment washes over you as you frantically seek out the refrigerator, emitting a low grunt of frustration as you unexpectedly collide with it, as if it materialized out of thin air. With a glimmer of delight, the refrigerator door glides open, revealing a mango, a tantalizing gift from Earth.

You exit the room after searching for the door and head out into the hallway. Without a knife, you're unsure of how to eat the fruit but choose to bite into it, sucking and nipping at the skin until it's cleaned and pulling it from your mouth. As you continue your exploration, you stumble upon the familiar room from the previous night. A surge of desire courses through your veins, causing your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. With sticky fingers, you gently push open the door.

A hum of delight fills the room as you bite into the fruit again, the juice spilling down your chin and neck. You'd have to ask him where the bathroom is if he even had one. Your gaze catches sight of a nearby table, and you delicately place the mango upon it, savoring the opportunity to lick your fingers clean. Slowly, you walk towards the machine, eyeing it.

The remnants of his cum, mingled with his perspiration, have been meticulously wiped away, a part of you wishes it wasn't so you could taste him. As you compose yourself, your moistened fingers glide over the buttons, leaving behind traces of your touch.

The words displayed on the screen remain an enigma, but the images depicted hold your gaze captive. Among them, one bears an uncanny resemblance to your alien. Another portrays a man, while a third portrays a woman. With trembling limbs, you succumb to your curiosity and press upon the image.

The machine instantly illuminates, its intricate mechanisms gliding back and forth at a deliberate pace. A gasp escapes your lips as you instinctively retreat, your heart pounding fiercely within your chest. As the video commences, you find yourself captivated, fixated on the scene unfolding before you. The alien thrusts into the human woman with a primal intensity, their bodies melding together.

Her face is twisted with an unapologetic, wanton pleasure, her eyes rolling back into her skull, and a trail of drool cascades down her chin as he ravishes her. Despite her apparent state of blissful abandon, she begs for more, tooting her rear up, arching her back, and pressing her petite hand against his sculpted abdomen. His low rumblings aren't as deep as your alien's yet they still ignite a pulsating ache within your pussy nonetheless. With flushed cheeks, tousled locks, and quivering thighs, she surrenders herself to his every whim.

You bite down on your bottom lip, drawing closer, fixated on the sight of him disappearing inside her. His size may be slightly smaller than your alien's, but you pause, questioning when that creature had become yours. When did you become comfortable with this arrangement?

The thunderous growl signifies its release, cum painting her insides. The woman appears fatigued, yearning for rest, yet enveloped in an intoxicating pleasure. A shuddering sigh escapes her lips, but she remains helpless, succumbing to moans as he resumes his relentless thrusting.

Your hand ventures downwards, fingers coated in a sticky residue, caressing your throbbing clit nestled between moist folds and layers of fabric. You're firm in your movements, taken aback by the immense pleasure that engulfs you.

Biting your lip, your hand ventures beneath the fabric of your shorts, gliding past the delicate barrier of your panties, until it reaches your throbbing, weeping pussy. The succulent juice from the mango you had earlier coats your sensitive clit as you rub and pinch at it. This time, you abandon all inhibitions, allowing your moans, soft pants, and whimpers to fill the room and your eyes flutter shut.

The sound of her moans intertwines with the rhythmic slapping of his hips against her round ass, becoming the only melody that matters. With your other hand, now free, you trail it up your body, your fingers finding solace on your breasts, expertly pinching and teasing your nipples, mirroring the pleasure the woman is experiencing. The newfound ecstasy consumes you, causing your thighs to tremble uncontrollably, and give out as a desperate whine escapes your lips, your hand drenched in your cum.

An electrifying chill dances along your back, prompting you to rise abruptly. Fingers dart across the buttons, bringing the video to a halt and returning you to the Home Screen. The sensation of not being alone lingers in the air. Withdrawing your hand from your shorts, a glistening trail of desire is left on your stomach and you gracefully exit the room, snatching your mango as you go. Your astuteness guides you effortlessly through the labyrinth of halls, swiftly finding the room.

You let out a gasp as you collide with him, feeling his hand encircle your waist, his knee pressing against your soaked thighs to steady you. Ahn'thu gazes at you, his head cocking as he spots the fruit in your hand. He goes to question you but the warm trail of wetness on his leg makes him click in question. Then the smell of your arousal hits him like a freight train and he growls lowly, almost throwing you over his shoulder and taking you like a beast in heat when your cunt clenches.

In a nimble and tender manner, he elegantly withdraws from your presence, his eyes captivated by the luminous sheen of his leg in the artificial white light. Your human cheeks are adorned with a blush, and from behind his mask, he can perceive the frantic beat of your heart, racing at an exhilarating pace.

The mask translates your soft words. " You're back."

Ahn'thu had set off to pursue the bad blood and had triumphed, bringing back his head as proof. He clicks before typing on his gauntlet, not wanting to startle you too much. "Went to hunt." You bob your head up and down, swallowing thickly. The silence lingers uncomfortably, prompting you to offer him the mango, with the same hand that had brought you pleasure not long ago.

With a swift motion, the Yautja unfastens his mask, causing your eyes to eagerly scan his face. Your breath catches in your throat as he gently seizes your wrist and brings it to his mouth, bypassing the fruit. His mandibles unfurl, revealing their impressive expanse, while his forked, purple tongue sensually caresses your fingers.

A knot of desire intensifies in your belly, and you observe with furrowed brows and tightly clenched thighs. He pulls away and locks eyes with you, tilting his head inquisitively. With flushed cheeks, you swiftly withdraw your hand and head into the room.

In the depths of his being, Ahn'thu is acutely aware of your want for him, as the heady scent of your desire hung in the air, thickening with each tantalizing lick of his tongue against your delicate fingers.

Perched upon his seat, the colossal Predator's thoughts spin like a tempest. Merely moments ago, he stumbled upon the lingering evidence of your delectable mango-drenched fingers upon the Pleasuring Room's machine.

The air was thick with your intoxicating arousal. Intrigued, he delved into the archives of recently viewed videos, only to be taken aback by the unexpected sight. It was of a Yautja and Ooman-di, which hadn't been what he was watching yesterday.

Ahn'thu swiftly made his way to the Pit, reviewing the camera footage, rewinding time, and selecting the Pleasuring Room. He cocks his head when you first enter the room, setting down your fruit and heading over to the machine.

You tap haphazardly and become slightly startled after finally choosing a video, the same one that had recently been watched when he checked. Initially scared, you gradually became captivated by the video, moving closer.

A deep growl emanates from his throat as your hand disappears beneath the fabric covering your lower body. Arm moving relentlessly, and thighs shaking. The Yautja can feel himself growing harder as you find your release, the lewd sound of your wetness filling the air. With a slight pinch of your nipple, you climax, causing Ahn'thu to grasp the arm of his chair to prevent himself from rushing to you.

He reaches to replay the video, intending to watch it again while stroking himself, but he accidentally rewinds too far to the moment he had used the device. Switching the camera to the view outside the door, he pauses, enhancing the video quality and zooming in slightly.

At the door stands your delicate human figure, observing him while you indulge in your own pleasure. Ahn'thu aligns the videos next to each other and emits a satisfied purr as you reach your climax at the same time as him, legs buckling.

He remembers hearing the pretty sound of your voice but didn't realize that you had been touching yourself to him. Ahn'thu watches the two newfound videos and strokes himself to completion, cum painting his body. He can't stop himself from heading to his room where you await with glistening thighs.

Lying sprawled on the bed, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, carrying away the remnants of earlier embarrassment. You had never been so driven by sex before but the thought of an Alien taking you against your will, fucking you mercilessly while you cried from pleasure, had consumed your every thought since you boarded the ship.

Your self-restraint has vanished, as you slide your hand into your shorts for what feels like the umpteenth time. Your swollen clit, already firm and pulsating, eagerly awaits your hard and rapid strokes.

The sound of heavy footsteps in the darkness sent a jolt of awareness through your body. You stiffen, your nipples hardening, and pussy tightening into a clinch. You can hear the breathy, deep growls of the Yautja in front of you. Can hear the deep inhales it takes of your scent. How long had he been there? When had the door opened? You're unsure but accept it with a little reluctance, tensing as his hot breath fans over your face. There's the distinctive sound of a blade being unsheathed before your top is cut open, leaving your breasts to spill out.

“A-ah! Wait, what are yo— mph~” Your breath hitches into a moan as the alien's scalding mouth descends upon your left nipple. His hand ventures boldly between your thighs, seeking out your wet, warm pussy beneath the delicate silk of your shorts.

With his thumb, he applies pressure to the throbbing bundle of nerves beneath the material and rubs at your clit. His teeth softly graze your nipple, sending a surge of pleasure coursing through you, coiling into a tight knot deep within your abdomen. Your hips buck uncontrollably, the waves of ecstasy building until you cry out in bliss as a powerful orgasm crashes over you. This sensation, unlike any self-induced pleasure, is intense, overwhelmingly pleasurable, and leaves you feeling incredibly sensitive.

A scorching inferno engulfs your entire being, setting your senses ablaze. As the Alien materializes before you, your mind spins with a heady mix of anticipation and arousal. His hands, resembling those of a primal reptile, explore the landscape of your body with a possessive hunger, his fingers delicately pinching and tugging your sensitive nipples.

His commanding presence now hovers above you, his large, dome head nestled against your bosom, as his mouth hungrily claims your areola, a dark, sinuous tongue gliding sensually across your taut nipple, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations in its wake, his teeth tantalizingly graze the puckered flesh.

“No, no more!” Tears well up, pricking the edge of your lower lashes, as you defiantly shake your head. Drool escapes your mouth, cascading down your chin, while your feeble hands weakly attempt to push him away. Your hips involuntarily buck as the Predator's hand stealthily slides into your shorts.

A surge of slickness drools from your pulsating core as he expertly parts your folds, effortlessly locating your swollen clit. The coarse yet drenched tips of his fingers expertly manipulate your sensitive nerves, eliciting a chorus of moans and writhing movements. Your hands desperately clutch his wrist, your hips convulsively jerking and twisting in response.

His serpentine tongue finally grants respite to your tender nipple, but instead, it ventures closer to your ear. The gravelly, otherworldly timbre of his voice commands you to cum, causing you to shriek as an intense climax engulfs you. Your entire being convulses as he persistently stimulates your hypersensitive clit.

Only when you emit soft whimpers and desperate pleas does he cease his assault. As your lungs gasp for air and your thighs quiver, you regain your ability to breathe, your eyes widening when you notice the bulging, pulsing thickness of his cock nestled between your calves.

“Please, no. Too big” You whimper softly, trying to roll over onto your stomach and crawl away from him. Ahn'thu ignores your feeble resistance, grabbing your thighs and turning you back onto your back. He spreads your legs apart, bending them towards your chest to expose your messy pussy. With a hungry look in his eyes, he rubs his cock against your wet folds, coating himself in your arousal.

A sense of shame intertwines with an intoxicating thrill, coursing through your veins. You had been wanting to feel his cock deep inside you, to bask in the delightful heat of his cum cascading upon your quivering walls.

With a gentle nudge, the head of his pulsating shaft teases your throbbing clit, and you shudder, biting your lip. The Yautja is well aware of the challenge that awaits, as your tight and seemingly untouched pussy appears small and snug. Your plush lips part, forming a perfect 'o', while the room is filled with the sweet and genuine symphony of your moans.

Lost in the throes of ecstasy, your eyes roll back, providing him with the perfect opportunity to thrust forward, filling you completely with his long cock. The whimper of pain that escapes your lips only intensifies his desire, causing him to jerk involuntarily within you.

Your head writhes against the furs as your lips part to take in a breath, shaking your head once more, palms resting against his toned stomach to push him out of you. “A-ah, s’too big. Take it out!” He goes silent, stilling inside of you, eyes flitting over your tear-soaked face. His chest rumbles in a purr and your pussy clenches deliciously around him.

At the feeling, Ahn'thu's body becomes restless, unable to remain still. Your velvety walls, sticky and warm, possess an irresistible hold on him, refusing to accommodate his size. He watches with awe as your figure arches, your breasts swaying and jiggling with each vigorous thrust.

Already you're fucked silly, the thickness of his cock grinding mercilessly against your g-spot as you find yourself cumming hard and long. Your fervent cunt tightens and throbs around him, leaving a creamy ring of cum on his length.

"More." You sob dumbly and shakily reach down and spread your folds open, watery eyes locking with him and tucking your lip into your mouth, rivulets of drool dribbling down your chin. As the Yautja thrusts into your eager pussy relentlessly, you release a soft whimper, surrendering to the ecstasy that consumes you. The alien's monstrous cock, unlike anything you've ever experienced, fills you to the brim, stretching you in ways you never thought possible.

Your body quivers uncontrollably, yet you strive to regain composure, your breaths heavy and labored. A surge of pleasure electrifies your hips as a teasing finger brushes against your throbbing clit before vanishing. Another finger traces a tantalizing path along your inner thigh, skillfully finding your clit once more, tracing rough figure eights upon the bundle of nerves. Waves of pleasure crash over you relentlessly as your pussy convulses sporadically, each orgasm more intense than the last.

Ahn'thu lets out a primal roar as he spills his seed into your awaiting cunt and keeps it there, maneuvering your body into a mating press. The hot slosh of his cum filling you have you orgasming again and you whimper out his name, back arching. The Yautja looks down at your worn-out form and purrs softly, gently resting his forehead against yours. As your breathing steadies, you drift off to sleep in his arms. He keeps you like that, ensuring his seed finds its place within you, determined to impregnate you with his offspring.

2K notes · View notes

aft3rhrs · 3 months

Text

— pastel pink ღ

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: forbidden romance, step!father au

warnings: dead dove, yandere, pseudo incest, cheating, age gap (the reader is always 18+!), corruption, porn, cnc themes, mentions of masturbation, choking, dub con, fingering, daddy kink, rough sex, humiliation, praise, dirty talk, allusions to sadism & masochism, multiple orgasms, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut), creampie, aftercare

*use of the words “rape”, “abuse”.

masterlist

Namjoon used to think that you didn't quite understand the consequences of playing with fire. It was not surprising, after all, considering your young age. You were but an inexperienced cub compared to the wolf that raised you, not yet having grasped the unbridled nature of all things wild.

Sooner or later, though, inching too close to the flames was bound to get you burned. Somewhere in the darkest depths of his heart, Namjoon craved to inflict the pain of the heat on you, mark his territory with a swirl of scars.

Wasn't every father's daughter his most precious gift? Pretty like a doll, with a heart that had flowers and thorns tangling through it. A bricked, bleeding house that welcomed no intruders. He wanted nothing more than to keep it safe.

It was those protective instincts that had always kept him in check, tamed, in constant agony over something he could never have.

Until tonight.

Until it turned out your doe eyes and the pastel pink of your bedroom were misleading lies; and you yearned for the burn of the fire, simply too afraid to dive into its scorching depths.

And what was his duty if not to help you experience life, fulfill all your soul's desires? With immense love and a guiding, fatherly hand, now stuck in between your soft thighs.

"Is this what you like?"

The hoarse whisper made you clench. You whimpered in response, your eyes growing warm.

"No."

You knew it was pointless to lie; he could feel you soaking his fingers, pulsing around their thick girth. But it was too much handle, and the filthy video playing on the screen made you want to shrink.

"Yeah," Namjoon coaxed, breathing into your ear. "You like watching old men fuck their daughters? Like watching them abuse their good little girls?"

Relentless, he pumped the digits in and out of your poor cunt, and the tears overflowed, a dangerous combination of the shame and the orgasm rippling through you. From deep inside your tummy, all the way through your spine, prompting your thighs to tremble on top of his.

What a stupid mistake; to lie down and let your eyes flutter closed right after coming. You weren't even sure when you drifted off, your laptop barely shut, still resting by your side. Namjoon came into your bedroom to check on you, tuck you in and turn off the light, as he'd done a hundred of times before.

The website on the screen caught his eye.

Dreams were safe; reality was different. No one was ever supposed to see this side of you. Especially not the man whose name was stamped all over the walls of the private, forbidden rooms that took up the space in your head. Not the man you looked up to, respectable and smart, all warmth and dimpled smiles, with such deep, kind eyes behind his pristine glasses.

Not Namjoon.

"Fuck," he cursed softly, one arm curled around your waist, grounding you. "That's it..."

Hips stilling, you attempted to catch your breath. Dizziness washed over you. You've never felt this good before; and perhaps a part of the reason why was that you were doing something very bad. The thought of your mother coming home still lingered at the back of your mind — no longer an imminent threat, the bullet dissolving in the haze of the bliss, though its existing chill persisted.

This would be quite a sight for the poor woman to witness; her husband's fingers buried deep in her only daughter's cunt, legs spread wide open on his lap. The lewd porn playing on your laptop only served as the final nail in the coffin.

You winced as Namjoon slipped out of you gently, disoriented. Your legs felt like jelly, but his hold on you was secure, your only safety net.

He stood up, lifting you with him. He didn't try to lead you back to your bed, instead placing a large palm on the small of your back and pushing forward.

You let your cheek rest on the cold surface of the desk, trying to ignore the dirty sounds of sex coming from the screen. Maybe it was the emotions muddling your brain, but you couldn't move, helpless as an animal with their leg caught in a trap.

In spite of the carelessness on your part, you've never imagined Namjoon reacting this way. You'd thought he would have been disgusted, concerned — embarrassed at the very least — and the topic would never be brought up.

Yet here he was, unzipping his pants, about to fuck you on the same desk you occupied to complete your homework every night. In the same room that used to be adorned in plushies and fairy lights, saturated with all of your innocence.

It was different than any taboo feeling or thought you might have entertained in secret; the forbidden fruit no longer a fantasy, but a sin weighing down on the palm of your hand, ripe for the tasting. Its only price was being cast out.

Namjoon caressed your ass, the foreign sensation causing more slick to dribble down the apex of your thighs.

"Such a good slut," he breathed.

The word whipped through you, leaving your skin stinging and lungs emptied of air. He hasn't addressed you with anything but respect before; in fact, you didn't think you've ever heard him use such vulgar language.

You clenched, as though the degradation chipped away at your brain, dumbed it down to a blissful void.

"No," you whined out in protest; of what, you weren't sure anymore.

You felt his hand lock around your wrists.

"Yeah, you are," he cooed. "You're my little toy, and toys get played with. I may be too old for that..." he slid your underwear down your thighs, "but you're not, are you, baby?"

A shiver ran through you, arousal mingling with a tinge of fear the moment he leaned over you, his chest resting firm against your back.

"Don't you want daddy to play with you?" He whispered, flooding your nape with goosebumps. "Seems to me that you do."

This wasn't the Namjoon you've grown to know; this was something different, sinful and ravenous. The rattle of the cage was nothing compared to it being set loose, claiming ownership over you, corrupting and consuming.

But you were wetter than ever, slick flowing like honey and coating the heated, swollen tip of his cock as soon as it pressed against you.

Namjoon was faring no better; his collar open and tie loosened, shirt wrinkled with the memory of your fingers grasping at it. All of his self restraint was gone, the cracked lock broken and the dented cage empty.

You did that.

He had a wife, a job, a good reputation. He worked hard to achieve success, however, the path laid out before him has always looked rather bleak without you in the picture.

And any doubts that troubled him in the past went up in the flames the moment he peeked at your laptop. Of course it was him you longed for, his cock you needed in your little pussy. You were daddy's perfect little girl, all too aware of your purpose. To be ruined and loved and owned by him.

His hand encased your neck, a grip that instantly made your head tingle. He pulled you up, letting you sink into his chest. His breath tickled your ear, and the girthy cockhead pushed against your slit once more, leaking.

"Why are you shaking, baby?" he inquired, sliding his free hand up your stomach. Palm wide open, only to close around your breast and squeeze. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

No. Yes? No. It was so wrong. You shook your head, like that would change anything; turn back time, conceal the truth, get you out of trouble.

Namjoon chuckled.

"It is," he husked, plush lips brushing against the shell of your ear. He moved his hips, rubbing himself against your nub teasingly. "You wanted daddy's cock, just like all these dirty girls on screen."

He eased his hold on your throat, but his hand remained around it; a reminder that he was in control.

Your head was swimming as more oxygen rushed in, but it made almost no difference. His words, his touch, they had a hold on you too, squeezing your lungs, making your clit throb beneath his touch.

"Wanted to be mine..." his tone mellowed out to silk, seductive and light. "Wanted to be my pretty, little angel, and take it behind mummy's back, hm?"

Eyes teary and barely open, you gasped.

"Even better if I just make you take it, right? You won't have to feel so guilty, and you can still slobber and cream all over it."

Your knees were close to giving out, wetness gushing obscenely onto his thick length. As if he could sense it, Namjoon tightened his arm around you, lifting a hand to wipe away the tears that fell.

"Oh sweetheart," he shushed, "see? Daddy knows what you need. Your eyes are wet, but your pussy is wetter. Bet it's tight, too. Tighter than your mother's."

He palmed his cock, at last positioning it back at your small entrance.

"Not that I ever wanted hers anyway."

It seemed your soul left your body the moment he sank in, and he swallowed all of it with his kiss. Any remnants of your thoughts, integrity or coherence; all swiped away with the lick of his tongue and the delicious stretch that left your cunt clenching and insides churning.

The noise he let out sent a thrill through you. He broke the kiss, broke you, his gleaming eyes hooded and adoring, staring deep into yours. Time seemed to fizzle out of existence.

Then he thrusted.

"Fucking whore."

A croaky whisper, followed by a moan you barely recognized as your own.

"I tried to stay away, but my baby just had to be a fucking whore. Couldn't help wanting daddy to rape her."

You shuddered, breath caught in your throat and hand clutching his bicep.

There was no going back, and at this point, it didn't matter. At this point, exposed and full of him, you ached for more; and like a good dad, Namjoon was there to cater to your needs.

He pulled out, only to slide back inside the velvety heat, pleasure bursting and simmering through. No more teasing; just shivers, and long, deep strokes that made his balls slap against your skin.

His breath fanned your neck, unsteady, edged with soft groans. He barely fit inside you, but your pussy took him so well, as though it was always meant to be his.

The way he fucked you drowned out whatever porn was still playing on your laptop, long forgotten, nothing compared to the depravity happening right in front of it. He pounded into you harder, keeping a steady pace. The desk began to thud, repeatedly hitting the wall behind it.

"Like that?" He mumbled into your cheek, his thumb lazily rubbing your stiff nipple. "Right there?"

He required no verbal answer. Not when you were so soft and pliant in his arms, the rush taking over. Still, he enjoyed the way you squirmed at the questions, eyes closed and luscious lips wide open, making the most heavenly little sounds.

He wasn't going to last; there was no time to waste, besides, the simple fact that your warm, wet hole was taking his cock — raw — was enough to push him close to the edge.

Desperate, he took a hold of your jaw and turned your face towards him. His lips were an inch away from yours, the intimacy of it tender and aching, like a bruise.

"Say, 'thank you, daddy,'" he murmured. '"Thank you for fucking my tight, little cunt.'"

You responded with a mewl, your muscles tensing along with the knot in your tummy.

"Gonna—"

Namjoon groaned. Too out of breath to finish the sentence, too fucked out, you let yourself go limp as he pummeled into you.

"Come?" He suggested, wanting to laugh at how quickly you nodded, but your walls were getting so tight only a moan came out. "Fuck. Good girl, making daddy so proud." His forehead touched yours, as if he could get any closer. "You deserve a reward."

The moment you clamped down on him, he muffled the cry that broke through with his lips, crashing them into yours. He kissed you hungrily, tongue and teeth, reaching the peak of his limit as your cunt quivered, effortlessly massaging his cock with the convulsions. He couldn't resist its pull sucking him in, trapping him in place to do what it was made for.

He groaned loudly, letting his seed spill as deep as it would go, letting you see stars right there on the ceiling; like the glowing stickers he used to put up there for you, just an old father and daughter tradition. Your eyes rolled back, and it had him gritting his teeth, grinding into you until you couldn't stand, and his own legs barely kept him up anymore.

He panted softly, gulping as you melted into him, both of his arms hugging your waist. Slowly, the heat was receding, and in its stead serenity crept in.

It was quiet when he washed you up, his hands gentle, wiping the mess in between your thighs and the sweat off your brow. Dressed in a clean shirt and underwear, you climbed under your blanket. Beyond sleepy and sated, your heart still felt heavy.

The edge of the mattress dipped as Namjoon sat down beside you, extending his arm to cup your cheek. Only then did he meet your eyes.

"I love you."

He's said it to you before, but it felt different now. It was different. And it made him hesitate, reduced his voice to a whisper.

"You're the best thing... that's ever happened to me. That's never gonna change. You know that, right?"

You nodded, wondering how in such a messed up situation a few words could feel so comforting. Perhaps it was because they were coming from him. Would that always be enough? Will it feel the same when you wake up in the morning?

Namjoon bent down to press a lingering kiss onto your temple, coaxing your eyes to shut.

"Don't worry about anything, okay? Just trust me, baby. And get some rest."

You relaxed, acknowledging the request with a small sigh. He watched you fall asleep, stroking your hair, trying not to dwell on how much he wished he could stay. At least he'd be able to get into bed before his wife came home.

In the darkness of his bedroom, he settled into the cool sheets, his glasses set aside and clothes neatly folded. He heard the front door unlock, the keys jiggling, and closed his eyes.

Time to sleep.

Time for a change of plans was awaiting him tomorrow.

taglist 💌: @baalsgurl1913 @httpsbts @hoseokshobagi @pynkgothicka @art-3-miss @sweetempathprunetree @blueberryarchive @messyjk @themochiverse @minyoongiboongi @chimmisbae @crisle19 @bangtans-momma @get-that-brain-working @babycandy111 @mother2monsters @whipwhoops @svnbangtansworld @ane102 @stellalovesstarss @jksteponme @httpjeonlicious @iceprincessviviane

#dead dove #yandere bts #namjoon x reader #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #namjoon smut

624 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 12 days

Text

I wanna do my own writing challenge but I am also a jokester and a buffoon, so...

Ghoul's "King Killer" Challenge (inspired by @391780 and @glitterypirateduck)

I want to see people kill König in absolutely insane and convoluted ways. I'm gonna be honest this is for the König lovers as much as the haters, you cannot tell me you love a character if you're not willing to explode them in your mind just a little bit.

Rules:

Please be 18+ to participate and tag me @ghouljams in your post. I'll put all posts onto a master list. Please tag your fics appropriately, and please no suicide or rape, these are meant to be comedic deaths.

This can be angst fic or this can be a background death in a different character fic, I just want that man dead. And most importantly I want it to be in an incredibly convoluted and stupid way. I'm providing what I call "dumb ways to die" prompts but honestly if the spirit moves you or you have an idea fucking go for it.

There's no real time limit on this but I'll give y'all June 16-23 as the golden zone.

"I want that man dead"

The second known case of spontaneous human combustion

Death rolled by an alligator

Eaten by hampsters

Fell out of bed too hard

Someone stuck their finger in his gun and it exploded looney toons style

His phone battery exploded while he was calling someone

Bit by a rabid animal

Turned into goo

Hit by a t-shirt canon

Tried to pet a bear

Testing a stab proof jacket gone wrong

Attempted to drive a fork lift

Tried to outrun a train

Attempted to rescue a chicken from a well

Tried to disassemble a grenade

Insisted he could literally walk on water(couldn't)

Snake coiled around his shotgun and ended up pulling the trigger

Attempted to demonstrate "unbreakable" glass

Tripped and fell into concrete

Shook a soda can too hard and it exploded

Fell out of a roller coaster seat

Ate a peach pit and got cyanide poisoning

Vicious mockery but in real life

Ate expired food

Tried to climb an electric fence

Smoking near blasting powder

Hit by a meteor

Attempted electrical work himself

Anal gone wrong

Anal gone right

Osha violation

Was watching the eclipse while driving

Sat too long in a sauna

Fell down stairs

Choked on own spit

Lawn chair balloon flight into controlled air space

Circus performance gone wrong

Attempted karate

Easily preventable causes

Flying hammer

"Be quiet silica gell packet, can't you see I'm starving?"

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing"

"You're not going to shoot me, you would've done it already"

"I saw someone do this in a movie once"

A legless lizard crawled somewhere it wasn't supposed to

Spiders

That evil bunny from Monty Python

Driving with both feet

Fell in a wood chipper

Attempted sword swallowing

So so bad at blowjobs

Overheated

The hubris of men

Too many pillows on his bed

Met a cryptid

Weather related accident

Walked into a pole

Falling piano

Siphoning gas

Bee sting

Mosh pit accident

Not wearing a helmet

Not watching where he's going

Fell in a hole

"Looks safe enough"

Antagonizing the crows

Ghosts

Cow tipping gone wrong

"No little german boy don't go in that cave"

Microwaving something

Rube Goldberg Machine

Dinosaurs

Time Machine

Shrink Ray

Building falls on just him

Dog farts (those things are deadly)

Crafting gone wrong

Jumanji

Cuteness Aggression (The cute thing is aggressive)

Vampire

Werewolf

Ink poisoning

A dog wags too hard and hits him with their tail

Slipped on a banana peel

Choking on a life saver candy

Electric car explodes

If none of these strike your fancy feel free to come up with your own convoluted and silly death for the man we all love (or love to hate)

#ghoul speaks #cod writing challenge #writing challenge #konig #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #könig cod #könig call of duty

179 notes · View notes

stellar-constellations · 3 months

Text

Star Patient: Chapter 4 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), and possibly more.

Inaccurate canon-timeline (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 11,018 words

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, current chapter, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (in the works)

"Andy."

"Hey Andy, wake up..."

"Andrew."

"Andrew, wake up!"

Andrew shot awake, before letting out a hiss, clutching his head as it pounded terribly. He cradled his head, before turning his attention to his bedside, where Ashley stood.

"What are you doing here?" Andrew questioned, still holding his head. "You manage to worm your way in here that quickly after getting banned?"

"Hospital security sucks." She hummed. "That, or they just hire any idiot off the street."

"Maybe you can get a job here." Andrew commented sarcastically, earning a half-hearted glare from his sister. "But you still didn't answer my question. Why are you here?"

"Well, how are you healing? Are we ready to get out of here?" Ashley questioned, sitting down on his bedside, the uneven distribution of weight on his bed causing his injured legs to shift, making him wince.

"I don't know..." he hissed between his teeth as pain shot through his legs and head. "I think it'd be best for me to stay here until I can walk again. We have no where to go when I heal up, and the nurse said I'd have to be bedridden for a few weeks to make sure my legs heal and get strong again." He spoke. "I bet there's probably going to have to be physical therapy too for my legs, so I can walk and crap."

"Ugh... healing broken bones takes too long. I feel like a kid watching their grandpa die." She groaned, physically deflating.

"What's the rush?" Andrew questioned. "We're out of our old city, and it's not like anyone's following us anymore."

Ashley had a look on her face, a flash of hesitancy appeared on her face, gaining Andrew's immediate interest. "I just... I had a dream last night, from the demon, and..." she paused, looking away as she thought what to say.

"And...? And what?" Andrew questioned, prompting for her to go on.

"Ah, never mind." She huffed, a little frustrated. "It's not something you can help with, being bedridden and all."

"Are you sure?" Andrew questioned, seeming concerned. "You can tell me—"

"Don't worry about it, Andy!" Ashley smiled, plastering on a fake smile. "It's nothing too big. So, how are the nurses and doctors treating you?"

"Good..." Andrew muttered.

He was concerned about Ashley's strange behavior, but he knew that if she didn't want to talk, she sure as hell won't.

"They're all fine... Some of the nurses and doctors here are pretty weird, but the one nurse that takes care of me seems pretty nice." Andrew explained. "but, she works in the pediatric branch so I don't see her much." Andrew quickly added, hoping that his lack of time and attention to the nurse would save him from another argument between the siblings.

"A nurse? Is she pretty?" Ashley questioned, keeping up her innocent smile.

Andrew knew this trap very well. He opted to look away from her eyes, staring out the window at the daylight outside.

"No..." he lied. "I wouldn't say that."

"Really? Even with her pretty (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair?" Ashley questioned.

When did Ashley meet (Y/N)? Ashley had never been in the hospital during the night, so there's no way she met her inside the hospital.

"How did you know what she looked like? Did you meet (Y/N)?" Andrew questioned, curious as he turned his gaze back at Ashley.

"I knew it..." Ashley muttered, a distasteful expression on her face.

"What?" Andrew questioned, confused.

"Don't worry about it." Ashley spoke, standing up from the bed's end, the small movement causing Andrew's legs to hurt a bit. "I'm gonna go grab food. I didn't get any on the way here. I'll see you later, Andrew." Ashley smiled.

Before Andrew could open his mouth, Ashley walked out of his room, exploring the hospital as she avoided the nurses and security guards who could recognize her. She was able to snatch a scalpel lying in one of the empty doctor offices while a nurse was cleaning the exam table, headphones in her ears as she blasted music. Quite unprofessional really, but it helped Ashley get a weapon that was actually useful rather than an empty handgun.

She shoved it in her pocket and waited around the hospital for hours, changing her hiding spot every now and then. She made sure to stay in the pediatric branch, the branch Andrew said that pretty little nurse worked in. In one of her hiding spots, two little boys were rummaging around before they discovered her.

The two had been looking around for their parents after escaping their hospital rooms, Ashley figured due to them calling out “Mom! Dad!” in the hallways. They got to her hiding spot and opened the white curtain she was hiding behind, looking to see if their parents were behind there (kid logic, it makes no sense).

Before the two could scream, Ashley quickly covered their mouths with her hands.

“Don’t be brats now, stay quiet.” She hissed.

They looked at each other, then her, before nodding. Ashley looked hesitant to let them go, but she didn’t want to be discovered, so she moved her hands from their mouths, wiping her hands on her shirt.

“Are you a ghost?” one of the kids whispered.

“No.” She answered, her expression a mix between boredom and displeasure.

“Are you a nurse?” the other questioned.

“No.” Ashley scoffed, her tone almost sounding offended that they had the audacity to say that. “Like I’d work with kids."

“So, who are you? What are you doing here?” one of the blond boys questioned.

“I’m playing hide and seek with one of my friends.” She lied. “Leave, you’re gonna give away my hiding spot.” She huffed, grabbing the curtain and closing it to shield her from view.

Before the kids could ask to play too (having already forgotten their parents), they heard footsteps, followed by a voice.

“What are you two doing?” a female questioned, her shadow being seen through the curtain.

Both of the boys jumped, letting out squeals as they turned to look at her. Ashley grabbed the scalpel she stole out of her pocket, holding it tightly in her hand. Whether it was the she was looking for or not, she’d kill her if she gets discovered.

“N-nothing! Just… playing!” one of the boys spoke nervously.

Good… Ashley thought, smirking.

“I’m Tom, that’s Jerry.” One introduced themselves.

“Like the cartoon?” the nurse questioned.

Funny. Ashley thought sarcastically, rolling her eyes at the joke.

“Um… yes?” one of them spoke, hesitant in their answer.

“Well, it sure matches you both, since you sneaked out of your rooms.” The nurse commented. “Who are you talking to?” she questioned.

Ashley’s grip on the scalpel’s handle tightened, wiggling her shoulders to loosen up a bit in case the nurse got too curious, getting ready to kill her.

“Come along now.” The nurse spoke.

Ashley watched the two small shadows walk away from her hiding spot. The nurse stayed for a second, keeping her attention on the curtain, before she guided the two boys away from her. Ashley peeked her head out of the curtain, seeing a nurse with two little boys walking away. The nurse had (h/c) hair, but Ashley couldn’t see the color of her eyes.

Damn. Ashley thought. I think that was just my target…

She couldn’t be certain per se, but it was certainly the best description so far.

Well, it’s not the end of the world. In fact, it’s probably for the best. If she killed the girl in this hospital, not only could she get medical assistance from others in the hospital if something goes wrong, but it’d be a pain in the ass to hide the body somewhere here too (not to mention the security cameras). If someone died in the hospital, they’d check the security cameras and find Ashley, then Andrew would be in trouble too since Ashley walked in his room and he was left unharmed.

If she can’t kill her in the hospital, she’d just kill her at home. She can just hitch a ride in (Y/N)’s car, it’s really not that hard. Ashley can just follow the girl out of the hospital and either threaten her with the empty gun (not like the nurse would know) or she can just unlock her car depending on her car’s model.

Ashley made sure to follow behind (Y/N) for the rest of the night. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait too long. After rushing out of the staff room, she ran to the elevators. Ashley took the chance to rush down the hallway and slide down the hospital staircase railing, reaching the elevator’s lobby. She followed (Y/N) out of the hospital lobby, following her to her car.

(Y/N) unlocked the car and hopped in the driver’s seat, Ashley timing opening and closing the door from her the back passenger side on her right. (Y/N) buckled her seatbelt, turning up the radio to a random jazz station this late at night and sitting in her car, thinking in silence.

(Y/N) seemed to be muttering to herself, this combined with the radio on allowed Ashley to situate herself onto the car floor, away from (Y/N)’s vision. Maybe if (Y/N) wasn’t so upset, or maybe if she drove in silence without the auditory distraction, she would’ve noticed Ashley behind her; but she didn’t.

Ashley decided not to kill (Y/N) at the moment. If (Y/N) died, they’d crash and Ashley could potentially die or be hospitalized; which would give her a one-way ticket to jail after they examine (Y/N)’s body and realized she didn’t die from the crash.

(Y/N) kept muttering as she drove, seemingly annoyed. Ashley was a bit curious of what she was so upset about (Penelope’s potential crush for Andrew, she was upset about) but Ashley stayed quiet; it would be pretty stupid to say “hey, what are you muttering about?” when you snuck into your victim’s car to kill them.

The drive wasn’t too long, but to Ashley it felt like an entirety. When the car stopped, (Y/N) turned off the radio and stayed in the car for a few minutes, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she stared into space absentmindedly. She finally let out a sigh, then unlocked her car and hopped out. (Y/N) locked the car and walked to her apartment door on the first floor outside, opening the door and shutting it behind her.

Ashley undid the car door lock on the inside, popping up the lock button and carefully exiting the car (after a small heart attack from the inner lights of the car turning on once she opened the door). She made sure there were no people in the parking lot, then she shut the car door behind her and ran up to (Y/N)’s apartment.

Ashley walked up to the door, carefully trying the door handle to see if it was unlocked. It was.

This is almost pathetic how easy it is…

Either the work day tired her out, or she really has no common sense or street smarts.

Ashley slinked into the apartment, the house pitch black. (Y/N) didn’t even bother trying to light up the house, now this was starting to get almost sad.

Ashley crept carefully through the hallway, using her hands to guide her through the dark. Ashley made it to an opening that led into the living room, the only source of light being the window that showed the sun starting to rise.

(Y/N) was on her back as she laid on her couch, staring up at the ceiling silently, no thoughts seeming to go through her mind.

Okay, now this is depressing. Very depressing. Ashley almost felt a little sorry taking her life; or, what was left of it really, which wasn’t much it seemed.

Ashley carefully walked past the depressed nurse, finding her kitchen. Ashley decided she didn’t want the scalpel anymore and she traded it for a long kitchen knife instead, 8 inches long with a sharp, pointy blade.

She held the knife as she explored more of the house, finding (Y/N)’s room. The room was probably the most decorated of the house, with small plotted pants in the window (surprisingly alive, a comparison to their soon-to-be-dead owner). Her room wasn’t decorated much, having a dresser, a closet, a bookshelf of books, a bed, and a desk. Her walls were pretty plain, and she barely had anything on her dresser to hold other than a multimedia center on it.

Even her bedding was a plain grey, but there were colorful soft plushies that covered the bed to brighten up the room.

Ashley’s unsure if that’s childish or even more pathetic, needing plushies to replace humans? That’s just depressing.

Ashley was starting to doubt if it was even worth killing this woman, her life is already pathetic enough as it is. Ashley even contemplated if someone would even miss her. For now, Ashley hid behind the bedroom door and waited for (Y/N) to walk in… whenever she decides to stop sulking on the couch. . .

(Y/N) laid on her couch, staring at the ceiling pathetically. She couldn’t be bothered to think, or even recall her day. Days and week just all just seemed to blur into one now. If one of her patients told her this is how they felt in life, she’d be considered and talk with Doctor Ryan about scheduling an appointment with a therapist; but (Y/N) had been living like this since she was a child. It doesn’t affect her as much as it did when she was a child.

Being alone doesn’t hurt anymore.

I need to get up and shower… (Y/N) thought.

She turned on her side, staring at her reflection in her TV. She looked pathetic curled up on the couch like that.

She wanted to get up and get ready for deal, get rid of all the germs and hazardous matter that was stuck on her clothes and skin, but walking to the bathroom just seemed like a challenge.

She groaned, pausing a few seconds, before getting up from her couch and sluggishly walking to her room.

I just need to shower, eat a meal, then sleep. I should be feeling better tomorrow. She thought, telling herself the same lie she’s told herself for years.

She walked down her hallway, a plain hallway. It was nothing but bare wall, just about as empty as she felt here alone. She had no paintings to put up (and deciding what she’d hang up would be too much of a struggle). She didn’t want to hang up any of her awards or accomplishments, they held no meaning if her parents couldn’t see the victory or praise her for it. She had no family pictures, and even if she did, she wouldn’t have felt pride about the woman that would stand in the frame—not herself or her mother.

She let out a soft sigh, maybe she should get a pet? Sleeping in a bed covered with stuffed animals doesn't really make loneliness any better, just makes sleep more comfortable. Pets are great for depression too! But it'd be so bothersome trying to choose one, yet alone have time for it... maybe she could just get her a reptile, something that can live inside of a habitat and won't need much care; be independent and uncaring to touch, unlike her own needs.

She opened her bedroom door, flicking on the light switch. She stepped inside, rummaging through her drawers for a comfortable set of pajamas. Ashley stood in the corner, watching (Y/N) from behind the open bedroom door, before she decided to take her chance.

She carefully crept behind (Y/N), a kitchen knife in hand, one she stole from (Y/N)'s kitchen since Andrew wasted all the bullets in her gun when he shot that hitman in the park. She was a little nervous, it’d be her first kill without Andrew or the help of her demon friend.

As much as she’d like to give (Y/N)’s soul to the demon, this felt more like a personal kill. Surely the demon wouldn’t mind too much if Ashley gave them a dead body instead of a living person.

Ashley raised her knife in the air, planning to hit (Y/N)’s neck. She’d rather make this quick, they’re in an apartment complex so there’s neighbors around; she’d rather not have anyone hear what’s going on.

Before Ashley could plunge the knife down, (Y/N) turned around, her clothes in hand as she looked at Ashley. Her eyes widened, surprised, before it trailed to the silver blade in her hands.

“…Hey?” Ashley smiled, feigning an amused smile to hide the nervousness she felt in committing this act alone for the first time.

“Are you… trying to kill me with my own kitchen knife?” (Y/N) questioned, recognizing the blade almost immediately.

She even looked a bit annoyed that Ashley had the audacity to kill her with her own knife, her own money and cooking utensil being used against her. That’s indeed a bit frustrating once you push away that fear, recognizing you’re about to die.

“Uh, yeah?” Ashley confirmed. “Are you gonna fight, or is this gonna be—“

(Y/N) quickly grabbed her bottle of perfume before Ashley could finish her sentence, spraying Ashley in the eyes.

Yeah, not easy, it seemed.

“Fuck!” Ashley hissed, squeezing her eyes shut as she swung her knife rapidly in the air.

(Y/N) was trapped between Ashley and the dresser, trying to avoid the knife before it slashed her forearm. (Y/N) took the chance, using her dresser for leverage as she placed her foot on the dresser for a boost, smashing her shoulder into Ashley’s chest, pushing her away.

Ashley stumbled on the ground, the knife laying next to her as her eyes stung from the potent citrusy perfume. (Y/N) rushed past Ashley, but Ashley heard her steps and reached out. With luck, she successfully grabbed (Y/N)’s leg and tripped her, resorting in her falling right next to Ashley.

“Fucking bitch.” Ashley hissed venomously, feeling for her knife through her blurred vision.

She felt the cold blade, reaching a bit lower and grabbing the handle, keeping a strong hold of it. She kept ahold of (Y/N)’s leg as she stabbed her calf, hitting bone.

A terrible sharp and tingling sensation shot through (Y/N)’s leg, seeing white for a second as the pain caught up. (Y/N) let out a gasp, verging on a scream, before Ashley raised the knife once more, plunging it in a spot near the first wound.

(Y/N) reached back and kicked Ashley in the face a few times, resulting in Ashley letting go of (Y/N)’s foot. Ashley groaned, standing up from the ground as (Y/N) clutched her leg, knowing it wouldn’t be wise to try and stand up in case of any tearing or excessive bleeding. It’s not like she could run far now.

Ashley stood over her, tears in her eyes as she did her best to see through them and fight the stinging. They both glared at each other, needing no words to show their distaste in one another.

“I wouldn’t have to do this if you would’ve just stayed away from Andrew.” Ashley spoke, glaring down at her.

“Not my fault he prefers me. Maybe if you weren’t so obsessive and insecure he could somewhat tolerate your sorry ass.” (Y/N) retorted, a pained smile on her face to piss Ashley off.

“You’re one to talk.” She chuckled. “Must be real nice to come home alone, pathetically lounging around lazily.”

“I’m lazy because of hard work. What do you do for a living other than blowing heads and giving it?” (Y/N) chuckled at her vulgar comment (one with lack of evidence, but it wasn't supposed to be a fact), a smile on her face as she observed Ashley. “Doesn’t take much to use that mouth of yours, considering how big it is from all that big shit you talk.”

If Ashley wasn’t mad now, she was absolutely livid now at (Y/N)’s insult. She bent down and grabbed a fistful of (Y/N)’s hair, grabbing a fistful of it as she dragged (Y/N) up. (Y/N) stood on her one leg, keeping any weight off her injured one as Ashley glared at her.

“I can’t wait to kill you. I’ll even bring your head to Andrew so he could see how pathetic you look with your eyes rolled back and tongue hanging out. Hell, I think I’ll cut that tongue out after I’m done with you, that way you can’t bother the devil with it.” She hissed.

“You gonna eat it after? Have your own tongue-action with me since you’re so jealous?” (Y/N) chuckled. “Or would you rather that with your own brother? That’s pretty disgusting, if you ask me. Mommy and daddy didn’t give you enough attention so you had to resort to your own brother.”

Yes, because (Y/N) definitely had a healthy relationship with her parents to say that...

“I would never eat you. You’re too salty, and that’s not just your attitude too.” Ashley smirked. “After I cut your tongue out and take your head to Andrew, I’ll give your soul to that demon for some vision, then I’ll dump your body in some alley for some homeless man to use.”

“Demon?” (Y/N) questioned. “Of course you’d have connections with demons.”

“What can I say?” Ashley smiled as a stabbing sensation hit (Y/N)’s stomach. “I get around.”

“Yeah…” (Y/N) groaned, a pained chuckle escaping her. “I can tell…”

Ashley took the knife out of (Y/N’s stomach, going to plunging again, but (Y/N) quickly used her nails and smashed them into Ashley’s eyes, kneeing Ashley with her injured leg since she couldn’t use her healthy once because she’d just fall once applying pressure to her injured leg.

Ashley let out a short scream at the feeling. Ashley tumbled backwards as (Y/N) followed, using her weight to hold Ashley down as Ashley thrashed about. Ashley tried to stab (Y/N) again, but (Y/N) grabbed her wrists, the two of them struggling for the knife.

“Let go!” Ashley shouted, one of her eyes covered by (Y/N)’s sharp thumb.

“You first!” (Y/N) retorted, knowing very well the both of them wouldn't give up as she moved her other hand to the knife, now having both of her hands to try and fight for the knife. (Y/N) ignored the stinging in her forearm from earlier’s slashing.

(Y/N) was able to grab the knife from Ashley’s hands after a bit of a struggle and a few small cuts on the finger. She held onto the blade tightly as Ashley tried to keep (Y/N)’s wrist steady. It was proven fruitless as the first stab hit Ashley’s chest, hitting bone. Ashley let out a choked sob, pain pooling out of her mouth and chest.

(Y/N) scoffed, a bit annoyed at Ashley's struggle. If Ashley would just keep still, it wouldn’t hurt as bad. She was willing to make it quick, but Ashley’s squirming and thrashing around was only making her miss.

“Stop moving.” (Y/N) hissed, using her injured hand to hold Ashley still by her neck.

(Y/N) struck the knife down again, stabbing Ashley’s sternum. And again, she stabbed her chest, over and over as Ashley let out pained groans and small whimpers, doing her best to claw (Y/N)’s hands. Her hands weakened, her protests and strangled breaths shortening as her pulse weakened under (Y/N)’s hold while (Y/N)’s pulse and breaths only quickened, as if Ashley was giving her own life to her.

She kept stabbing...

She kept stabbing.

It was like she couldn’t control her hand, like she had no thought other than the echo in her ears.

Stab…

Stab.

She didn’t stop until her hand was soaked, too wet to hold the knife right. She realized she had been stabbing all the way down to the hilt, eight inches that was repeatedly stabbing into Ashley’s chest.

(Y/N) paused, staring down at Ashley’s face, both faces void of emotion and thought.

I did that. She realized.

A sick turning sensation lurked in her stomach, making her realize she was stabbed in an vital point. She dropped her knife, groaning as she hissed. She got up off Ashley’s dead body, crawling her way to her bathroom, making sure not to get any blood on her carpet. It would've been better for her if Ashley just kept the knife in her stomach, keeping the wound plugged in, but unfortunately Lady Luck seems to avoid (Y/N) any chance she can.

She opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a med-kit. Well, that’s one thing useful about being a nurse, you’re always prepared at home.

She opened the kit, but paused. She couldn’t just open up her stomach and stitch up the insides, but if she goes to the hospital like this she’d definitely get questioned. (Y/N) groaned, mulling over what she should do.

She didn’t mean to kill Ashley. Well, she did in self-defense, but she didn’t mean to do it so cruelly. It was almost like second-nature to harm her.

But she deserved it, didn’t she? She hurt Andrew, (Y/N) remembers that. Ashley made him jump, she’s the one that broke his legs and gave him internal bleeding in his head. (Y/N) made not know much about Ashley, but she knows how manipulative she is. She remembered hearing Ashley screaming at Andrew the first day she met Andrew. She remembered Ashley accusing Andrew of all the crimes he did; of course, he committed them, but she helped too, so she was still at fault.

The Graves siblings, even their name is fitting. Two siblings who put others in their graves, and now one is in their own.

(Y/N) couldn’t go to the police, not with this. It was self-defense, maybe with the intent of third-degree murder, a spur of the moment, nevertheless it was to protect herself even if she did get a bit carried away. She surely can’t just blame it all on stress or childhood neglect, she’d be a hypocrite.

She always refused to let her past get in the way of her future. The love she didn’t receive from her parents, she gave to herself. The support she never received from her parents, she gave to herself. She earned all her awards, her scholarships, her jobs, her money all on her own without any support, encouragement, or financial aid from her parents.

Her mother didn’t believe she could be a nurse. Her mother never really had any faith in her, but her mother never did stick around her long enough to bother learning who were daughter was.

“You’re far too apathetic and antisocial for that sort of thing, they'd be scared of you.” Her mother would say. “All you care about is yourself. You’d be fired within the first week for neglecting the kids..”

Ironic coming from her.

Her father didn’t want her to be a nurse either, not for pediatrics or adults.

“It’s just not a good idea. You’re too sensitive for such things. You couldn’t survive watching kids die everyday, that’s such a depressing job.” Her father would say. “You shouldn’t be a nurse in general. Adult men take advantage of caring nurses, it doesn’t help that you’re so... weak? You're just too innocent and pretty for that kind of work! It’s best you find something else. Do something that makes you happy!”

Yeah, she totally refuse to let her past get in her way... Her apartment was as void of color as her. She slept with plushies to cope with her loneliness. On bad days, she has no friends to call or parents who'd listen to her vent, so the stuffed animals listen to her instead. She doesn't ever have energy to eat or shower or clean, the only reason she does all those things is to keep herself somewhat healthy so she wouldn't draw any attention from others. She wouldn't want to be a bother to them over some measly emotions. She's dealt with depression practically her whole life, why suddenly indulge in change if it might worsen her condition.

She doesn't want to be happy, that would involve having to put energy into changing herself and her lifestyle, and all she wants to do is spend her energy hopping into bed and sleeping. She wasn't one to care for herself, she liked making other people happy.

Kids made her happy. Medicine made her happy. She loved working with kids, caring and nurturing for them like they were her own. She liked being the reason a kid could walk again, or talk, or play, or smile. She liked helping children, giving them the help they needed. She liked being able to change their lives, catch those early signs and prevent them from becoming herself; someone absolutely miserable, depressed, and hating herself. Hell, the only reason she hasn't killed herself was because she doesn't want to be a bother to other people.

She liked medicine. She liked studying medical advancements, all the new machines and inventions and vaccines and diseases and all! She liked learning about it all; medical procedures, illnesses and disorders, psychology facts, disorders, injuries, hell sometimes medicine could even dive into philosophy!

Medicine and kids made her happy because it was what she lacked as a child. She liked being a pediatric nurse, she liked giving kids the chance to receive help early on so they could be functional adults in life, so they couldn't end up like (Y/N); a mother who couldn't care about her, a misguided father, money being towards bills and education, no relationships or genuine connections or friendships with people, and no joy in life other than sleeping her days away. As a nurse, she could catch onto early symptoms for kids and be able to address the issues before it worsen; whether it'd be physical or mental health, that's why she's studying to be a pediatrician now.

But she can't be a pediatrician if she goes to jail. This act of self-defense was far too cruel and grotesque, the judges wouldn't believe that it was for self-defense, far too homicidal and beast-like with how she basically just slashed Ashley's ribcage open. No, she wouldn't win that court case at all. She'd lose her job, and she'd probably never be able to work in medical field ever! She needed to do something.

She put the med-kit back into her cabinet, instead she took off her shoe and grabbed her sock, plugging up her wound with it. Yes, it was very gross and she felt like gagging at this, but it was to insure she wouldn't bleed out. She had been stabbed in her stomach with an 8-inch knife, so no doubt there would be internal damage she couldn't patch up on her own. She used her other sock to plug in the hole on her right calf, plugging the wound up until it was stuffed despite the pain she felt digging her fingers into the wound. She put back on her shoes without her socks and stood up from the ground

She quickly got to work, grabbing two large black blankets. She wrapped up Ashley's body in both blankets, ensuring the blood wouldn't drip everywhere, and she dragged the body to her car. She put the body and knife in her trunk and limped back into her house, quickly mopping up the mess using hydrogen peroxide on her floors to completely get rid of all the blood. She put her phone on her charger at home, leaving it so the police couldn't track her location on her phone in case anything happens. She got in her car and drove, going further and further out of the city until a good distance away, going to the woods. She got the dead body and knife out of her car, dragging it a good ways into the dark woods before dropping it.

She couldn't leave the body in her apartment, and she couldn't just drop it off somewhere in the city when her DNA was under Ashley's fingernails when Ashley scratched her. She left the knife here too, she didn't want to keep a knife she almost got murdered with, and she didn't want to keep it as a trophy for her crimes either. Here in these woods, this is where the police will least likely find her and the murder weapon, at least for tonight. Tomorrow, (Y/N) will return and dig a grave for her, or maybe she'll luck out a wild animal will feast on her. Even then, nobody will probably miss her other than Andrew.

Jesus, what is she gonna tell Andrew? She can't just say she killed his sister! Even if he's a runaway criminal, she's one too now! He's probably not against murdering her, even if he doesn't like her better than the other nurses. I mean, she killed his sister, so it's only natural for him to kill her?

But, his sister was just a runaway, she was a criminal! Maybe there's no police looking for them, but still! (Y/N) was a nurse, she's saved plenty of lives, surely taking one can't be that bad? Especially if she took a wrongdoer's life?

Before she could turn around and walk out of the woods, she stopped, pausing. She had this nagging feeling to check Ashley’s pockets. It was like a gut instinct (or perhaps literally being gutted earlier) that told her to check. She got on the ground, undoing the blankets and checking Ashley’s pockets to sate this desire. She first found a gun in her waistband. (Y/N) took the gun, popping out the magazine to check how many rounds there were.

None, empty. Either Ashley found this gun with no bullets, or she already used them.

(Y/N) did some more digging and found a scalpel, a hospital scalpel from her work she could only assume. Perhaps Ashley was planning to kill (Y/N) with the small blade, before deciding to steal her kitchen knife instead. The bigger the better, right?

Finally, she looked in Ashley's pockets once more and found something in one of her pockets. Some black and red occult looking charm.

She remembered Ashley mentioning how she’d give a demon (Y/N)’s soul in exchange for a vision. Is this their charm that keeps them in contact, or in a contract together? Whatever it was, (Y/N) felt like she should keep it in case it was indeed something to a demon; she didn’t want it going into the wrong hands (as if she could talk). (Y/N) shoved the charm into her pocket, keeping the gun and scalpel now that it had her fingerprints, before turning around.

Did you see this coming, Ashley? (Y/N) thought, resisting the urge to let a smug smirk form on her face.

She limped back out of the woods, hopping into her car and hiding the two weapons under her car seat away from view. She turned the engine on, speeding to the hospital and going ten above the speed limit. It wasn't good for her to be out for so long. She could live with her leg being injured so long as she didn't bleed out, but her stomach could definitely develop to internal bleeding, if not already due to how big that knife was. On her way there, she tried thinking of an alibi. This is a knife wound, so it's mandatory for the hospital staff to report this incident to the police. The police are going to ask her questions about what happened and such. (Y/N) doesn't want to come clean, if she does, her whole life would be ruined! She'd lose the only thing she has in her life that she genuinely cares about; her job. If she loses her job and education, she'd be completely lost in this world with absolutely no passions or interests, she might just develop an interest for putting herself in a grave instead and take her life.

She thought about her alibi, before cooking up a shitty one. It's the only one she has for a time like this. She can just say that she was driving to the small local store near her apartment complex after work (thus explaining her hospital scrubs), and when she walked out, she was harassed by a man so she fought him and escaped, then drove to the hospital to get medical assistance. She could say she didn't recognize the man, and that he wore a mask so she couldn't see what he looked like. The store she was thinking about just had their cameras stolen a week ago and they have't bother replacing them yet, so there would be no camera footage to confirm or deny this accusation. Her apartment complex is on a bad side of town too (the rent was cheap there), and their camera footage must not be any higher than a quality of a Nokia, so it most likely didn't catch Ashley sneaking into her apartment, or (Y/N) dragging something out out her apartment. Maybe she can pull this off!

Sure, it's a bad excuse, but what else does she have? This is the best she can come up with on short notice, especially with no witnesses (which is good), along with no camera footage to protect or challenge her word. They'd just have to believe her because what else can they do? She's obviously injured! People in big cities get stabbed all the time and sometimes the assaulters get away with it, maybe she can do this too!

(Y/N) got to the hospital entrance and quickly made sure to do a check in her car to make sure there was no DNA of Ashley's. She hopped out of the car and brushed off any dirt or hair or such on her, making sure her gun and scalpel were hidden under her car seat, before limping into the hospital lobby and getting inside of the ER waiting room.

The receptionist sat doing work on her computer before her eyes trailed to (Y/N).

“Are you okay?” they questioned as (Y/N) held onto her stomach, applying pressure to the sock.

“I got stabbed in the stomach and my calf. I’ve been bleeding for quite a while, I reckon I’ll pass out soon.” She explained.

The nurse nodded and handed her the paperwork to complete. (Y/N) always thought paperwork in the ER was stupid, but it was to help identify the patient and their insurance and all that important information; even in the brink of death, you need to do work. Pathetic, really. It truly does show something about society, whether it's for your own good or not, even if your writing is alienated due to all of your blood on the paper or your blurred vision making it hard to concentrate.

(Y/N) sped through the packets of papers and agreements, doing her best to not bleed onto the paper or the hospital chairs (why are the chairs made of cloth instead of leather anyways? At least leather can be washed easier).

(Y/N) gave the papers to the receptionist, who accepted it and gave it to one of the doctors at the back room. (Y/N) sat down and waited for a doctor to call her name. Her stomach and leg hurt badly, it hurt to breathe and to walk, and her wounds just kept throbbing, spilling more blood and soaking up her temporary sock-bandages. She’s definitely going to throw away these socks…

The hospital’s bright LED lights hurt her eyes, giving her a headache. Or maybe the headache was from blood loss? Who knows really, it just hurt to sit here and wait.

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait too long before a nurse called her name. They helped her stand up from the chair, leading her to their office in quick fashion. They placed her down on the operating table, asking if she could remember her name, age, where she was, who the president was, etc.

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N), 22 years old. I got stabbed in my stomach by a knife, along with my right calf and a laceration on my right arm.” She informed the nurse as they put on medical gloves.

A trauma surgeon came in with a tray of alcohol wipes, a medical needle and thread, a medical stapler, and syringe of anesthesia. (Y/N) resisted the urge to groan, she didn’t like needles, but she understood it would make the surgery much easier for her and them.

(Y/N) rolled up her sleeves hesitantly, feeling self-conscious about the old scars on her wrists despite the more important matters at hand. The surgeon ignored her scars as he gave her the shot.

The surgeon pulled up her shirt to show her stomach as the nurse cut a hole on (Y/N)’s pants for her leg, making her remember the make-shift bandages she had.

“I had to use what I had to stop the bleeding, so I used my socks.” She spoke for her lie.

She would’ve said more, but she decided it was best not to in case she accidentally messed up her alibi. She opted to stay quiet, waiting for the anesthesia to take effect so the doctor could begin the quick surgery.

When you wake up from surgery or an accident, you’d expect to see bright light, instead she only saw a dim light peeking through. She opened her eyes, waking up and looking around her.

There was a curtain next to her, the white curtain had a slit and moonlight poured out, barely lighting the room. Her left arm was hooked to a IV, the needle sticking into the crevice of her elbow. The needle was slowing flowing blood into her, causing her to shudder at the thought of a needle stuck inside her.

Her eyes trailed down to her right arm, seeing her arm covered in bandages. She picked up her sheets, seeing her leg was covered in bandages too. She moved her hospital gown up, seeing her stomach was covered with a medical patch and medical tape to hold it in place.

This is probably going to take some time to heal. (Y/N) thought, resisting the urge to groan.

How fun, she’s going to spend weekend off here in the hospital. Either that, or she’ll stay home bedridden.

There was a soft knock on her door, before it opened, showing one of the doctors from the emergency department of the hospital. She had never met any of the doctors or nurses here, they’re always busy and on their feet running around.

“Ms. (L/N)?” he questioned, smiling.

“That’s me.” She nodded. “Hello, sir.”

“Hey! Have you just woken up?” he questioned, a clipboard and pen in his hand as he walked over to her bedside, standing over her.

“Yes.” She confirmed.

“Okay.” He commented, then cleared his throat. “So, you’ve been asleep for 18 hours. Usually anesthesia wears off in a few hours and you would wake up from some pain, but you stayed asleep for quite some time.” He spoke, flipping a page threw his papers clamped on his clipboard. “However, you could’ve been exhausted given you hadn’t slept because you were working earlier. Your medical history could’ve also helped contribute to that—hypersomnia and all.”

Yes, the condition she’s almost positive her mother gave her. Being locked in that small room as a toddler really did affect her sleep patterns and routine. There wasn’t much to do in that dark room other than cry, watch old cartoon re-runs a thousand times, and sleep—she chose the latter.

“Yeah, sorry.” She muttered, not sorry at all but still feeling the need to apologize.

“No worries. So, we did report your case to local authorities since it was a stabbing; you should know, hospital procedure and all.” The doctor spoke as (Y/N) nodding, knowing very well the protocol. “Great. So, there’s actually some officers here to question you about the incident. Are you fine with that?”

She nodded, ignoring her nerves that went haywire at the thought of talking to the police. So soon after her crime too!

“Okay, so before they come in. Let me explain to you really quick what’s going on.” He spoke, clearing his throat. “So you’re going to stay overnight, well more so over day since it’s 3 A.M. but we’ll look after you. So we stapled up your small intestine, and we stapled the skin of your stomach so that it wouldn’t rip or come undone in a large area like stitches would, along with your right calf. Your right arm has stitches due to how tight the skin is along with how deep the wound was. After two week, you can come back and we’ll remove the staples off your stomach and the sutures. For the next two weeks, you need to eat soft foods and liquids such as soups, breads, puddings, all that."

“That sounds fine.” She nodded.

“Sweet. So, before they come in, is there anything you want or need? Like, do you need to use the bathroom? Or are you hungry or thirsty?” he questioned.

“No, I’m fine.” she politely denied.

She’d rather not drink or eat anything, she felt like throwing up at the moment. She really didn’t feel like getting up and walking to the bathroom with an injured foot at the moment.

“Okay. I’ll let the officers in.” The doctor nodded, writing a few notes on his clipboard before heading towards the door.

He opened the door and used his hand to call the officers over. He left the door open as the officer walked in, a female and a male, who walked to (Y/N)’s bedside holding a notepad.

“Hello, Ms. (L/N), right?” the female smiled. “I’m Officer Jenny and this is my partner, Officer Dixon. We have a few questions for you.”

“Nice to meet you.” (Y/N) spoke, flashing the officers a polite smile.

“So, you’ve been admitted into the hospital for a stabbing, correct?” Officer Jenny questioned.

“That’s correct, ma’am.” (Y/N) nodded.

“When and where did you get stabbed?” Officer Jenny questioned.

“Well, I got stabbed in my stomach by a knife. When I fought them off, they slashed my right arm and they stabbed my right calf.” (Y/N) explained, mentally going over her words carefully as Officer Dixon wrote the information in his notepad.

“And when did this take place?” Officer Jenny questioned.

“Well, it was last night when I got off my shift. I work here at this hospital actually in the pediatric branch.” She added.

She was about to go on about her grocery store alibi, but paused. The timeframe won’t match. She took forever to get to the hospital after the stabbing so that she could clean her apartment, dispose of Ashley’s body, and finally get to the hospital. She can’t use the grocery store alibi since not only would be make no sense for her to get stabbed someplace where the cameras are coincidentally shut down, but none of the store employees would mention seeing her when they get questioned by the police, and it wouldn’t help that she decided to drive to the hospital bleeding instead of telling the store to call 911 or herself calling 911.

Her alibi is unreliable now, so she needs to quickly act now and change it while acting normal and resist hesitating. The officers’ body-cams would catch their interaction and it would be evaluated by licensed psychiatrists, looking out for any holes in the story, for how her words flow, her vocal patterns, her body language. The alibi is now a death trap.

“After my shift, I drove back to my apartment and went on a walk in a park. Perhaps 7 P.M, so it was dark because of it being November and all.” She explained. “The park was Pacific North Satellite park.” She added, a park not too far from her apartment complex.

“I didn’t bother changing out of my work scrubs because I was just going to shower when I got back to my apartment, and I had left my phone on the charger at home. I was walking down the path listening to nature when I heard footsteps in front of me. Someone came up to me with their hands in their hoodie pocket, a black hoodie.” She explained, lying her way through the story. “They walked past me and quickly slashed my right arm… and… they grabbed my arm and stabbed me in the stomach with their knife… and then when I tried to get away… they knocked me down and stabbed my right calf.” She spoke, pausing her words every now and then to appear distressed as she faked reliving the moment. "I ran back to my apartment, plugged up the most severe wounds with my socks, and drove to the hospital since it wasn't too far and I didn't have my phone to call the police or ambulance. It was late at night, so there wasn't anyone around to ask for help, and I didn't want to be trapped in my apartment in case they decided to follow me...

“Do you know who they were? Or did you catch what their face looked like?” Officer Jenny questioned as Office Dixon’s blurred, hastily writing down everything he heard.

“No.” (Y/N) shook her head. “They had a black hoodie with their hood up. They had grey jeans too. They were perhaps around 5’6 tall…” she lied. “I’m unsure of their gender, but I think they were male.”

The most common description of a killer, or stereotypical when comparing to Ted Bundy or Jeffery Dahmer. With so little information, it’d be pretty hard to try and identify someone, especially someone who doesn’t exist (but of course, only [Y/N] knows that).

“Do you think there could’ve been a specific motive or something you provoked?” Officer Jenny questioned, her question almost making (Y/N) scoff.

Provoke? Provoke? How the hell could I have provoke them? (Y/N) thought, almost forgetting her alibi was still a lie.

Sometimes she can even lie to herself with how scarily believable her lies are.

But even if this mysterious murderer she made up didn't have a motive, did Ashley have one? It made her wonder, did Ashley really kill her because she was hated her being Andrew’s nurse? Even then, how the hell did she find out who she was, or even why? Ashley had never seen (Y/N) and Andrew together, at least not without her knowledge.

“No, ma’am. I’m unsure why, and I don’t believe I provoked them.” (Y/N) answered.

�� “Is there any other information you’d like to tell us?” Officer Jenny questioned.

“No.” (Y/N) answered.

Short and sweet, it’s best to leave it all like this.

“Well, if you ever remember anything or have any questions, make sure to call the department.” Officer Jenny spoke. “If we find any information or such, we’ll give you a call.”

“If we find who done it, do you want to press charges?” Officer Dixon questioned, causing (Y/N) to pause and think.

“No. The process is too time-consuming, besides, I doubt they tried to kill me without a reason.” (Y/N) spoke.

Everything happens for a reason, after all. It’s logical to believe so.

(Y/N) had never believed in fate or destiny, she had always believed everything happens for a reason. She hated the belief of something out of her reach trying to control her or her life. She’d rather choose what she wants to do, not something like fate. (Y/N) believes what she sees, so she doesn’t believe anything that isn’t backed up with facts or evidence.

Ashley tried killing (Y/N) for a reason, she said it herself. She'll take the dead woman's word on it since it came from her mouth.

“I wouldn’t have to do this if you would’ve just stayed away from Andrew.” Her words rang in (Y/N)'s head.

The audacity of some people, does Ashley truly believe she can control who Andrew sees? It’s not like there was anything wrong with Andrew and (Y/N)’s relationship, they were simply nurse and patient, nothing more and nothing less. Who does Ashley believe she is trying to control Andrew? She doesn’t have his heart, his brain, his body, his thoughts, his mouth, his eyes. He could do whatever he pleases and Ashley shouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

Well, she can’t now. (Y/N) thought, holding back a chuckle.

"Are you sure, miss?” Officer Dixon questioned, surprised.

“I’m sure. Maybe they had a bad day or something.” (Y/N) shrugged.

“But you don’t just stab anyone on a bad day, this could be serious.” Officer Jenny spoke, her voice a little harsh compared to her gentle treatment earlier.

Officer Jenny seems to not like having a killer run around, or have about zero clues.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” (Y/N) sighed. "I'm very tired and I wish to rest.

“The town next to us, they had a killing in a park too. The victim was a man, he was shot, multiple bullets in his chest.” Officer Jenny spoke quickly, hoping the information could bring some details out of the injured woman. “You happened to be a park too, perhaps this was the same guy! We need as much information as we can. Please miss (L/N), we’re relying on you.”

“I’m sorry, but I truly don’t know. I don’t have anymore information to give to you.” (Y/N) sighed.

Officer Jenny’s face hardened as Officer Dixon closed his notepad.

“Very well. We’ll contact you in case we find any details.” Officer Dixon spoke, nodding his head down in respect and farewell, before telling Officer Jenny with his eyes that it was time to go.

“Get well soon, miss…” Officer Jenny sighed, walking out of the room with her partner.

Well, I forgot that part… (Y/N) thought, letting out a breath of relief.

The park killer from the next door town, right, how could she forget? The victim was a man was found dead on the sidewalk, a clean knife nearby him, no fingerprints. The man had a hood, sunglasses, and gloves; a strange attire to walk around in at night, especially the sunglasses part. He died with six bullet wounds in his chest, the news said. The murder was actually a few days ago, maybe even a week ago. Nevertheless, (Y/N) could bet it was Ashley and Andrew. Ashley had that empty gun on her, which was now under (Y/N)’s car seat.

(Y/N) turned her head to the window once the police left. She reached over and opened up the curtains, looking up at the stars, or what she could see. Light pollution in the city is a major pain, you can’t even enjoy nature now thanks to humans.

(Y/N) looked at the lights outside of the window, it’s the only thing semi-interesting to look at in a hospital bed. She didn’t want to turn on the TV, she knew it was all just re-runs of family-friendly movies like High School Musical or the local news. Unfortunately, hospitals don’t really have any good channels to watch.

It’s only for one day. (Y/N) thought.

She just had to deal with this for one day, then she could get back home and sleep. Despite always being so tired, she liked to work. The time she’d take to heal would feel like torture to her. Her depression made her feel a sense of worthlessness doing nothing, so being bedridden is just going to throw her in a depressive state. Usually she’d just get up and work overtime when she feels like this, but she really can’t if she’s injured.

Even though she has a reason to be lazing around in bed all day, she's not very happy about it. It's at times like these she wished she had some sort of entertainment in life, or at least friends, people she considered real friends. She had acquaintances growing up, but they just never really did it for her.

The people she hung around with was only for school, she never bothered hanging out with them outside of school that way she could focus on her studies. Besides, they weren't important people to her, she only talked with them because they had conversed with her first, and it gave her something to pass time with at school. She always did have that closed-off demeanor, it surprised her whole family when she decided she wanted to be a pediatric nurse, and later a pediatrician.

(Y/N) stared at the window in deep thought, thinking.

Maybe she could call her dad. The last time she called him was a month ago, to which she had to leave a voicemail... she never did receive a call back. And after that, she called on her birthday four months... to which she's still waiting for a call back.

Well, maybe he's just busy. He has a job and a life outside of his daughter, surely he'll call back eventually. She figured.

If she had her phone on her, she'd call and leave another voicemail for him to let him know he's okay.

Wait, what's the point in calling? She's fine, and she hadn't called him of her condition, so what's the point in calling and telling him that she's still alive? Even if he did answer, what will he say other than a "that's good. I'm glad you're okay. I have to get back to work now."

If there's no point calling her dad, then there's certainly no point in calling her mom, for obvious reasons.

(Y/N) groaned, hitting her head back against the pillow, before letting out a pained whine. Her head pounded terribly, followed by a slight ringing in her ears and a second of her vision blurring. Her right arm shot up to help soothe her head, before she let out a hiss, the movement of her arm causing a sharp pain to shoot up it.

"This sucks..." she complained, a pout making way onto her lips.

Before she could wallow in her sorrows any further, the door opened, gaining her attention. She turned her head, seeing a familiar man in a wheelchair.

"Andrew?" she questioned, surprised.

"Hey." He greeted, flashing a smile at her.

(Y/N) internally cringed at the sight of him, not that he was bad-looking or anything, but she wasn't expecting to see him so soon after what she's done.

"What are you doing here in the emergency department?" (Y/N) questioned, not bothering if the question sound a bit rude or not; she'll just blame it on the headache if he asks.

"I heard from the nurses that you got injured." Andrew explained, rolling his wheelchair up to her bedside.

"A nurse told you I was here?" (Y/N) questioned, confused.

Well, that's against hospital policy, giving away patient information like that to just anyone. It made her curious who from the nightshift had the audacity to tell him.

"Who told you?" (Y/N) questioned.

"Eh, I don't know. That nurse I had before you." He shrugged his shoulders carelessly, not bothering to remember the name. "It was something something. Started with a P. Maybe it was Pen, or Penny? Or was it Nancy? It doesn't really matter."

"Penelope?" (Y/N) smiled, almost giggling at his poor attempt to remember the nurse's name.

Right, makes sense. Penelope was Andrew's nurse before (Y/N), and Penelope seems to see (Y/N) as a friend, so she probably questioned Doctor Ryan where (Y/N) was. Doctor Ryan must've been informed as soon as he entered the office, considering he wasn't going to be able to teach (Y/N) for a few nights until she got better.

However, she felt a little happy that he couldn't remember Penelope's name (especially after [Y/N]'s little jealous episode from earlier at the thought of Penelope and Andrew being together. Obviously because she just enjoyed having Andrew as a patient, nothing more).

"Yeah, maybe that was her name?" he hummed, not bothering to think back if it was actually that nurse or not.

Yes, it was Penelope, he might not bother to remember her name, but he remembers her face from earlier when he and (Y/N) had gone to the staff room and Penelope was acting strange. He also remembered how tight and uncomfortable she had done his bandages on his broken ankles, much different compared to (Y/N)'s soft hands and nurturing personality.

"She shouldn't be giving away information like that." (Y/N) sighed, chuckling softly. "But thank you for coming."

It was a little heartwarming to know at least someone cared about her. Even if her parents did, at least her co-worker and close acquaintances did, even reserved patients such as Andrew were worried about her!

"So, what brought you over here? Did you have a question, or perhaps you need your bandages changed?" (Y/N) questioned, observing his body up and down to see if there was anything out of the ordinary or if he needed any assistance.

"No... I just... wanted to see for myself, I guess..." he muttered, looking away from her eyes as he resisted the urge to squirm under her gaze. "I heard you got hurt pretty bad, so I got curious..."

"You sure you didn't just miss me?" she teased, trying to brightened up or at least lightened the mood into a more comfortable atmosphere.

"Don't get ahead of yourself." He chuckled, her words succeeding in her goal as they both smiled at each other.

His smile softened, his eyes glazing over, seeming to be lost in thought. He seemed unsure of himself, before he just sighed.

"So... what happened?" he questioned. "If you don't mind me asking."

Her own smile faltered, doing her best to remain neutral and not puke her guts out as visions of stabbing Ashley's lifeless body took over her mind, hearing each explicit and disturbing wet splash as her hands slowly started to coat with blood from how violently she was pushing her knife into Ashley's chest, down to the hilt.

"I got attacked..." she spoke vaguely, clearing her throat awkwardly as she kept her eyes on him to see if he would believe her.

"Do you know by who?" Andrew questioned.

"No." She spoke quickly, internally cringing at how defensive her tone sounded.

Andrew's gaze hardened, his intuition not believing her. Of course he wouldn't believe her, living with Ashley basically his whole life had practically made him become a human lie detector. Before he could speak about the matter, she spoke up.

"Can you check on Hailey for me please? She was a bit down earlier today, surely you can cheer her up for me? Just don't mention my current condition to her, please." (Y/N) requested, sounding more of a pathetic demand and excuse to get him to leave her alone.

Andrew looked hesitant to leave her, before he sighed, nodding his head. "Yeah, sure..." he grumbled.

"Thank you." She hummed, giving him a false smile.

They had a moment to themselves, silently staring at each other, before Andrew turned his wheelchair around and rolled out of the room, closing the door behind him. (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief once she was alone, glad to have avoided the tough subject.

Maybe she'll tell him one day, once she gets to know him better and can be certain he wouldn't kill her for it.

She ignored the pain as she squirmed into a comfortable position to sleep in. She needed the rest, and sleep is the body's natural way of healing after her. Her eyes trailed to the curtains, watching the cars on the road zoom past the hospitals and watching as some lights started to shut off, night owls getting ready for bed too just like her.

She'll call her parents as soon as she gets out of the hospital, even if they've probably not heard the news or care about it, she still wants some sort of closure from her parents. Maybe they'll even take pity on her and stay on the phone for a bit, ask how she's doing, or what she's doing now.

Sounds like a plan. (Y/N) thought, closing her eyes as she ignored her body's pain, waiting for sleep to overtake her.

I know there hasn't been much of any Andrew and reader moments, but chapter 5 will have plenty, these past chapters have just been plot and character-development and such!

My next series will be a Yandere! Hitoshi Shinso x Yandere! Fem! Reader, so keep watch for that!

To the Ashley fans, I'm sorry for what I've done.

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for request!

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, current chapter, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (in the works)

145 notes · View notes

jaylaraye47 · 2 months

Text

don’t ever tell a male SA survivor; “You’re supposed to enjoy it”

don’t ever tell a male SA survivor; “You’re a boy, you can’t get raped.”

don’t ever tell a male SA survivor; “that doesn’t count.”

don’t ever tell an SA survivor; “What were you wearing?”

don’t ever tell an SA survivor; “Did you close your legs?”

don’t ever tell an SA survivor; “They’re family, they wouldn’t do that.”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “I don’t believe you.”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “I know them, they wouldn’t do that.”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “You’re supposed to enjoy it.”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “We’re you leading them on?”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “We’re you rude?”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “You’re an adult, toughen up.”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “it doesn’t count.”

don’t ever tell a SA survivor; “it’s your fault.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “but you don’t act like it.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “But they seem so nice.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “They’d never do that.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “She’s a girl, girl’s don’t abuse.”

don’t ever tell a male DA/GA survivor; “Boys can’t be abused.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “But you have no scars.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “You’re just making things up for attention.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “you should’ve just fought/yelled back.”

don’t ever tell a DA/GA survivor; “It’s your fault.”

don’t ever tell an attempt survivor; “that’s selfish of you.”

don’t ever tell an attempt survivor; “I’ve had it worse/i know someone who has it worse.”

don’t ever tell an attempt survivor; “that doesn’t sound like an attempt.”

don’t ever tell a POC; “you’d be way prettier with lighter skin.”

don’t ever tell a POC; “but you don’t look american?”

don’t ever tell a POC; “you should try skin bleaching.”

don’t ever tell a POC; “oh, are you in a gang or something?”

don’t ever tell a POC; “but your skin is so light, you can’t be colored.”

don’t ever tell a POC; “can you give me the N word pass?”

don’t ever tell a POC; “your hair is distracting”

don’t ever tell a POC; “go back to where you came from.” [whoever says this, i live in your walls]

don’t ever tell an albino; “you’re white, not black.”

don’t ever tell an albino; “so are one of your parent white or something?”

don’t ever tell an albino; “you’d be prettier if you were normal.”

don’t ever tell an albino; “oh has anyone tired talking you limbs or something” [i will hunt whoever says this]

don’t ever tell a child; “you should take care of your siblings.”

don’t ever tell a child; “he hits you/is being rude because he likes you”

don’t ever tell a child; “you have to hug them!”

don’t ever tell a child; “it’s your fault we’re divorcing”

don’t ever tell a child; “you’re too old to be doing this.”

don’t ever tell a child of divorced parents; “it’s your fault”

don’t ever tell a child of divorced parents; “pick a side”

don’t ever tell a child of divorced parents; “did you ever consider that you should’ve stepped in?”

don’t ever tell a child of divorced parents; “well if they never got together in the first place, they wouldn’t have had you”

you never know what a person is going through and don’t you dare shame a person for something they can’t control.

if you say any of these things you’re disgusting and you need to not only get educated but stop being a dick.

keep in mind that i am aware that these prompts don’t apply to everyone of a certain minority. But this is me teaching to simply be kind and pay respect and mind to a person’s experiences, minority, etc. there are multiple prompts that can be added but I will refrain to using those out of respect, and also due to censorship.

137 notes · View notes

zproblematic · 29 days

Text

So, I enjoy reading everyone's DP x DC prompts and stories! Very fun! And a recurring thing I see pop up is Clark getting dragged for not reacting well to Connor's existence, especially juxtaposed with Danny and his relationship and reaction to Dani.

I've also seen stories that have Danny specifically say that he entirely understands why Clark reacted like that and he doesn't feel it deserves condemnation or comparison to his own.

Here's the thing. I feel like the more accurate opinion on the situation would be somewhat in the middle of these two.

Because here's a very important fact to keep in mind. The circumstances behind them being cloned, the relationship they specifically have with the person cloning them, and their own lived life experience, which dictates how they perceived the situation, are different.

Danny is cloned at 14. He has a contentious relationship with Vlad who generally seems to want Danny as a son/heir, but there are times we see Vlad acting more like an annoying uncle than an outright villain. Danny has at this point gone through a myriad of traumatic things, including his own death, all within the span of a year.

Also keep in mind Danny is 14, his perception of what is happening is "Guy who is obsessed with my mom wanted me as a kid so badly he tried to make a version of me in his lab". Which is, so far as we are ever told, largely the goal here. Also, Danny has no exposure to the concept of clones or evil duplicates or anything at this point.

And then you get to Clark. He's a grown man near/in his 30's. His relationship with Lex is almost strictly antagonistic, and Lex is frequently actively attempting to either kill Clark or turn public opinion against him and get him publicly lynched. Clark has a rather stable and consistent life for someone in his situation, his parents are still alive and supportive, he's got Lois who is aware and supportive, he's got the Justice League at this point meaning he's got people he can connect to about his daily life. He's rather settled into heroism, didn't start it until adulthood and that was fully a choice he made, it has little effect on his civilian life most days.

Clark being so old, also his long-term relationship with Lois, paired with his understanding of subtext and human nature, means his perception of Connor's existence is drastically different. "Lex stole my DNA and made a child with both of our DNA against my knowledge and will". And here's an important thing to note. Connor technically isn't a clone, he's technically a petri-dish grown child with Lex and Clark as the parents. What does that sound like to you? Because to me it sounds like "Connor is functionally a product of date-rape from the man I hate most in the world as he keeps trying to kill me". Clark also has had multiple exposures to the concept of at least evil duplicates/ surprise family members, what have you.

So what do I think would actually happen here? 1) Danny acknowledging that no, Clark had no responsibility at all for Connor's existence, and had no requirement to act as a parent/family member. 2) However, Clark did have a responsibility to Connor as a mentor and teacher in gaining control of his abilities. Even if it was by getting his parents to share their experiences of raising him with someone else who was caring for Connor. Also, his active dehumanization of Connor was insanely inappropriate and uncalled for, as well as presenting doubt if he's actually equipped for diplomacy with the wider universe.

#dp x dc #danny phantom #clark kent #dani fenton #connor kent

86 notes · View notes

jean0farc · 7 months

Text

#!! - 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑼��𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑹𝑰𝑴𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ; ᴀᴄʜɪᴇᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ

CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER TWO - CHAPTER THREE

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: smut.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Griffith X You (fem! reader)

𝖈𝖜: RAPE/NON-CON.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊:

Finally finished the fic after months of procrastinating.

This fic is not proofread or beta read.

Don’t try this at home, kids!

….And some rape down there. I don’t condone any of this irl (no shit). It is to note that it is part of the story’s progression and I only intend to explore such dark elements like the series always intended to do so in canon.

The “don’t like, don’t read” rule applies here. Kindly heed the tags one more time before proceeding.

“Griffith…I…” you paused as you caught your breath. You were failing to fake self-confidence at this point in time, your legs shaking as you could only watch yourself give into the fear that made its way through your head and heart.

“I…wasn’t expecting your presence here…I….”

Griffith’s eyes narrowed in response, letting out a low hum. He was getting closer this time, giving you less time to react and run for your life.

You took a step backward, pressing your hands against the dresser for some support. You knew you’d hit a dead end the way you clumsily hit the wall, groaning softly in response. You waited and waited for a sign to attempt running past Griffith and escape the palace with all your will’s might. You still had your bathrobe on, which made you partially vulnerable to him, but you didn’t care. You just had to run away from the man who has been invading your personal space.

“Worry not, princess. I came not to disturb your slumber. What I ask for is one simple thing that I believe you and I could share. If I’ll allow you to do so, that is.” Griffith said.

“Who are you to tell me what to do with my Kingdom? This is my lair, as bestowed by my father before me. The fact that you’re trespassing does not make you worthy of seeing me at my-“

Your words were cut off by Griffith, his cunning tone making itself clear in the dead silence. “And who told you that this kingdom was entirely yours? Remember, your induction to queenhood was only taken into consideration because of your father’s sudden death. Besides, it’s not as if you have any experience in leadership whatsoever.”

“Are you underestimating me?” you asked, slightly annoyed with his attitude.

“Why, of course not.” Griffith said as he took brisk steps forward, making it almost impossible for you to escape. “Want to know a secret?”

You nodded in response.

“I killed your father.” Griffith said, shamelessly. He walked three steps forward, caging the both of you within a small distance.

“You son of a bitch! Why….why would you do such a thing?! My father has been-“ you were interrupted once again.

“I had to do it. There could only be one way to test as to whether Midland is fit to be led by a Queen all on her own…..and turns out, the ‘Queen’ in question has no experience.” Griffith said.

“How dare you insult me in my own palace!” you exclaimed. “I’m leaving!”

“Not when you’re barely dressed like that.” Griffith smiled deviously. “Now…..come here….”

“What….what are you implying?” you asked, attempting to charge your way to the exit of your bedroom. “N-never mind….I’m fucking leaving.” As you charged your way to the exit, you felt two hands wrap around your waist from behind. No, it was too late. Griffith caught you. Pulling you backward, he lifted you to your own bed and started stripping down until he wore nothing but his Behelit.

You attempted to escape once more, only for Griffith to pin you down to the bed and press his lips into yours. You fought against the sheets and turned your head to break the kiss, but your attempts were rendered futile as it only prompted Griffith to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Griffith kissed you harshly, and it frankly felt like kissing an untamed beast cornering its prey. You never knew Griffith was ...quite an expert at this, his mouth slightly nibbling at your lower lip everytime he retreated.

After finally pulling away from you, Griffith latched his face onto your neck, positioning himself next to your right ear. “Give yourself to me, Princess. After all, your Kingdom….will soon be mine.”

“No…NO!!!!” you exclaimed.

“A little stubborn, are we?” Griffith asked, tilting his head. “Well, it’s not like you’ve stood a chance. We’re taking off this one, okay?”

You kept tugging at your bathrobe’s ‘belt’ to keep it away from the filthy man on top of you. “Griffith, I don’t want this, please…..”

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Too stubborn.” Griffith said, his touch growing angrier as he grabbed your bathrobe by the waist, curling his hand to a fist. Using his other hand, he slid a sleeve of the wardrobe off your shoulder, revealing your bare shoulder and right breast. Griffith dug right in, his lips kissing your hardened nipple as he engulfed his mouth to suckle it whole. While doing the do, he used his right hand to slide off the other sleeve of your bathrobe, exposing your other breast and stripping you down to your naked form. Griffith pulled away from your nipple, impressed with how he rendered the Queen of Midland helpless under his touch.

“Mmmm……what a pretty little thing you make, just for my kingdom.” Griffith let out a satisfactory hum. “This will be a rather fun time showing them who’s deserving of the throne.” Next thing you knew, Griffith was about to go down on you, positioning himself around the area of your waist.

“Don’t resist, Princess. Now, be a good girl and spread your legs wide open.” You hesitantly obeyed, up until Griffith grabbed you by your inner thighs, spreading them wider and raising them. Finally, he slipped your legs up his shoulders. It felt dirty having someone’s face right up your pussy, especially since this was your first time. Your mind wandered as you closed your eyes, hoping everything you just witnessed was just a dream. But no, it wasn’t. You fought against Griffith’s clutches, tugging at his hair and pushing him away.

But this just prompted him to dig right in, lapping at your fluids as he used his hands to part your lips for better tasting. You muffled a moan from the pleasurable feeling, covering your mouth with one hand. Griffith’s tongue worked you in fast, yet practiced motions—the tongue moved swiftly and curled just the right amount to send you shivers down your spine, earning muffled whimpers from you.

Granted, vibrators didn’t exist in the Medieval Era of Midland, so you might as well indulge in that feeling of someone’s tongue right up your pussy.

Griffith withdrew from eating you out for a while, his breathing and humming loud enough to send you goosebumps. “Mmmm…. You’re already this wet from a little kissing and heavy sucking. I wonder how it would be like to have you sing while having myself fully inside you, to have you clench around me while I slowly take what’s rightfully mine.”

“L-let go!!!!” you screamed. “I don’t want this!!!”

“You’ll take whatever’s been given to you, Princess. After all, you’re something…..” Griffith said, strict and unwavering. “Magnetic.”

Griffith moaned as he dug right back in, his tongue hovered over your clit. He started tracing small circles in a slow pacing, which left you impatient and begging for more. You tugged into his hair trying to fight him off, but as previously stated, you were left with no defenses against his strong grip.

“Griffith!!! Oh God…..!!!! I’m gonna…..!!!”

The feeling gave you that guilt, guilt for enjoying this man’s advances on you, and guilt because you just couldn’t believe your sense of authority was being challenged by a man of common birth.

But Griffith refused to stop. No, he didn’t stop suckling at your clit gently to give you a break. Griffith was merciless in the bedroom, leaving you with no choice but to accept the fate you’ve been accustomed to.

“Agh! Griffith!!! Stop….!!!!” you moaned out loud.

Griffith’s tongue kept going, and it wasn’t long before he inserted two digits inside your entrance without warning. He just didn’t care. His tongue slowly picked up the pace, speeding up and finally making you reach that sweet, sweet climax you’ve been waiting for. You fucked back subconsciously against his tongue, riding out your orgasm until it was ready to subside. After coming down from your high, you suddenly realized Griffith was looking down at you icily with his bright blue eyes, his body towering over yours despite lying down in bed.

You were screwed. What was about to happen next?

“Hmmm…..perhaps you are ready to take all of me. I’m going to fuck you so good you’d actually forget being the Queen of Midland.”

“No…..NO!!!!” you exclaimed, attempting to get up and reach for the door. You were stopped dead by Griffith once again, leading him to push you back to the mattress and grabbing you by the legs. Spreading them wider, Griffith let go of your legs, only to stroke his length before initially inserting it in your entrance. Slight precum formed through a pearl-like shape at the slit of his cock, adding lubrication to the process of entering you. Before you knew it, Griffith made efforts to adjust and bury his length within your vagina, though you ached in retaliation.

“Aghhh!!! It hurts! It burns! Let go!”

“Hush, princess. I know what I’m doing.” Griffith said as he spread your legs open for a better view. He adjusted himself by taking slow yet sure steps in burying his length into you, filling you to the brim. You were at this point begging to be freed from his grasp, though your fainting strength was no match for him.

Placing his hands on your wrists, Griffith pinned you down and started thrusting his hips in a slow, yet ambitious pace. You bit your lip to hold back your moans, but it was all for naught. You let out a small “uh” while he rocked in and out, sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air as he leaned closer to your ear to speak.

“You don’t stand a chance against ruling Midland.” Griffith muttered at an intimate distance from you.

“What…..Huh…..?” you whimpered, your breasts being grabbed as it bounced from Griffith’s thrusts. “What….do you me-ngggh!” you grunted, trying to resist him by trying to get up. “I owe you nothing! Just please, let me rule my Kingdom in peace! I’ll do anything…..anything….but this…..!!!”

“Surrender your pride, little one.” Griffith said as he caught his breath. “I want you to dream of this.”

As a means of defending yourself, you attempted to grab Griffith by the hair to pull and tug on it roughly. However, your efforts to distract Griffith failed. You had to take responsibility for what had to happen next, and it was all because Griffith wanted a taste of your kingdom.

“I have every right to follow my dream, princess. And I want you and your kingdom surrendered to me. That is the pinnacle of achieving my dream.”

“You’ll…..you’ll never…..have my kingdom…..” you fought your way to speak in the midst of denying the pleasure Griffith gave you.

“You’ll take whatever I deem right to give you, princess. After all, your kingdom and this body will be mine.” Griffith said.

You screamed as loud as you could that the servants and every guest would hear you. The walls were soundproof, but you didn’t have a choice.

“Please!!!! I don’t want this! Please get off!!!”

“You do know screaming out for servants to assist you won’t do your kingdom justice, right? Mmmmm…..”

Right on the dot, Griffith stopped thrusting, pulled out, and aggressively flipped your body over that you were facing the bed. With one fell swoop, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pinned your head to the pillow to muffle every moan and protest you had up your sleeve. Without warning, he repositioned himself right up your entrance, taking you from behind.

“This is a far better idea to keep your mouth shut and do as I say.” Griffith commanded.

“Mmmmmhhhh…….mmmmhhhhh!!!!”

The sounds of lewd clapping resumed, Griffith’s cock milking every last bit of your pussy’s juices with fervor. There was no turning back now, and he was truly getting at it, without any form of warning or informing you of any discomfort felt. It was like Griffith only cared for his own pleasure and never left crumbs of remorse for your wellbeing. This left you scarred—physically, emotionally, and most significantly, spiritually.

“Mmmmmm……I’m getting quite close.” Griffith smirked as he leaned forward. “What are you going to do about it, princess? Squirm? Run away?”

Your eyes widened at his remark, your body telling you to escape as he was nearing his release. You certainly did not want to carry his child, nor want to do anything with the monster who pounded on you animalistically.

“Noooooo!!!!!!” your voice protested while being muffled by the pillows where your head rested.

“As I said, you’ll take whatever’s been given to you. Now….”

It wasn’t long before your body betrayed you. You felt your climax approaching despite being against the thought of Griffith fucking you. Subconsciously, you fucked back, trying to get Griffith’s cock deep in you before you could feel his fluids leaking straight from your soaked cunt.

Three.

Two.

One.

Your moans and grunts filled the pillow, adding to its warmth while Griffith bit down your neck out of extreme pleasure. His thrusts sped up as he began to feel ropes of cum shooting itself inside you before pulling out. And the feeling was mutually GOOD. You let out a groan as your muscles relaxed, Griffith moaning as his cum began to leak out from your newly filled cunt. You were soaking wet and drenched in sweat as Griffith stayed inside you for long.

You were now marked as his. You didn’t know what to do at this point as you were deflowered after your coronation day.

“Sleep well, princess. Provided you are to raise a child from our time together, just let me know. We can build a kingdom where you could rule by my side.”

You couldn’t respond, which prompted Griffith to flip your body back to lying on your back. It was truly a tiresome night, filled with intensity and passion as Griffith stole everything from you.

You just never stood a chance.

Your eyes suddenly admitted defeat, staring up at Griffith as he looked down at you with a look of an angel. He was charming, so to speak, but heavily dedicated to what he promised to achieve.

And he achieved it.

He achieved his dream.

#griffith x you #griffith x reader #berserk griffith #yandere griffith #griffith berserk #griffith #berserk anime #berserk manga #berserk x reader #smut #berserk #fanfiction #x reader #yandere x reader

303 notes · View notes

sincerelyy-youres · 8 months

Text

Imagine getting fucked while being held at gunpoint.

TW: Rape, Non-consensual touching, Read at your own risk!

This has been in my mind for quite a while, actually.

You just woke up from a deep slumber, and immediately, you remembered everything that happened to you. How you were forcefully pulled in a back embrace, trapping you in big arms, and the suffocating smell of chloroform in a handkerchief that they forced in your mouth for you to inhale. You didn't even get to defend yourself, or to cry for help, or to scream, because your captor was just so powerful than you could ever handle.

You felt absolutely pathetic, laying down in what kind of platform they decided to put you in, hands tightly tied with a rope that you felt your wrists bruising from its texture. It made you confused why they only tied your hands and not your feet, but you brushed it off as their mistake, and your chance at escape. And you wished you were right.

Unfortunately, you are wrong.

They appeared in front of you, as terrifying as they could be. The light in the room illuminated their face but the look in their eyes screamed that of possesiveness and satisfaction. You shivered in fear and asked what they wanted from you, or what did you do to them, but they only responded with a sigh as they ran their gaze all over your body.

As if they were in a daze, they layed their hands on your chest, and slowly traced their hands from your chest, to your tummy... then to your cunt. Their hands stayed there before pressing their fingers somewhere in your cunt's dip, then they rubbed. Disgusted, you struggled to break free from the ropes that is tying you down, even attempting to sit down, but they immediately overpowered you with just one hand while their other is pulling down your undergarments.

They unbuckled their belt, and pulled out their shaft. You continued to struggle as they put their member inside you, immediately filling you up, prompting you to scream. You cried in pain as they moved in and out inside you, not giving you time to adjust, you kicked and struggle as they kissed your neck, the sounds of absolute pleasure and satisfsction coming out of their mouth in between their whispers of vows of love and oaths of loyalty.

But instead of giving up and accepting your fate, you kicked harder, cried louder and struggled stronger against the harrassment being done to you. But just as you were so persistent in defending yourself, they were getting quite tired of holding you down. Eventually, they reached out for a gun just beside the platform they layed you down in, sitting down, they pressed the tip of the gun in your head.

"Stop struggling or I will fucking kill you"

You held your breath, the look in their eyes is so serious and determined that it made you horrified. Assuming that you were being obedient for once, they continued where they left off, trying to reach their high as they pressed the tip of the gun harder in your head while they leave marks on your neck.

And all you could do is cry as you bite your lips in disgust of yourself, when you started feeling the pleasure building up in your insides.

#yandere #yancore #yandere x reader #yanderecore #x reader #smut #kpop smut #anime smut #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #yandere fic #yandere oc #yandere danganronpa #sincerelyy drabbles #sincerelyy txt

170 notes · View notes

ukrfeminism · 2 months

Text

Experts and lawyers involved in sexual offence cases in Britain have warned that suspected rapists are evading justice by claiming to have a rare sleepwalking disorder that causes them to engage in sexual activity while asleep.

They said there had “definitely” been cases where guilty people had been found not guilty, and warned of the potential for further miscarriages of justice – and harm to the public – without more robust challenges to “sexsomnia” claims put forward by defendants.

The warnings come after an investigation by the Observer uncovered a rise in the use of “sexsomnia” as part of defence cases in criminal trials. It found 80 cases over the past 30 years where defendants accused of rape, sexual assault or child sexual abuse claimed to have been sleepwalking or suffering from sexsomnia at the time.

But while there were only occasional cases in the 1990s and early 2000s, the analysis reveals at least 51 in the past decade and eight in the past year alone. The figures are likely to represent only part of the true total, with many not publicly reported. In about 60% of cases where sexsomnia was part of the defence, a not-guilty verdict was returned, the Observer’s analysis suggests. Overall, the average jury conviction rate for rape was 58% in England and Wales.

Charges against suspects have also been dropped by the Crown Prosecution Service before they even reached court after defence lawyers raised sexsomnia behind the scenes. One law firm advertised how it “kept pressure” on the CPS after it decided to continue with the prosecution of a wealthy client charged with sexual assault. The charges were dropped before the case went to trial.

Dr Neil Stanley, an independent sleep expert who has provided expert evidence in trials where sexsomnia was raised as an issue, said that while some claims of the condition were undoubtedly genuine, others were not.

“It is being used cynically,” he said. “There are cases that are in the public domain where it is clear that they’re just chancing their arm. Because, of course, if it is sexsomnia, you’re found not guilty. Judges haven’t a clue. Juries haven’t a clue. So it’s worth a try.”

Stanley said attempted use of sexsomnia by defendants had “massively skyrocketed” in recent years and that such claims were very difficult to definitively disprove – meaning often “just saying, ‘I don’t remember. It could be sexsomnia,’ is enough”.

He said the current system was failing victims – and true sufferers of the condition – and called for reforms including more robust challenging of sexsomnia claims and a less adversarial approach to questioning expert witnesses, so they could provide more nuanced responses in the courtroom.

“The law seems not willing to admit that there’s a strong likelihood of miscarriages of justice. And given the severity of the offence, we should be very certain of having checks and balances in place so we take as many precautions as possible to stop miscarriages of justice,” he said. “In terms of sexsomnia, that is not happening.”

He added: “I know in my heart of hearts that there are cases where guilty men have got away with it. And that cannot be a legitimate consequence of the system. The system has to change.”

Sexsomnia is recognised in the DSM-5 diagnostic manual of psychiatric conditions and is a type of parasomnia, a disorder involving abnormal sleep behaviour. Sufferers engage in sex acts while in non-REM sleep. They might have their eyes open but will have no awareness or memory of their behaviour.

If a jury decides that an accused person was in such a state – known as “automatism” – when they committed an alleged offence, they will be found not guilty. But while lab tests and partner histories can be used to try to establish whether a sexsomnia claim is genuine, sleep experts and lawyers say the system is open to abuse because uncertainty in the science means it is impossible to say for sure whether someone was or was not suffering from sexsomnia.

Many of those successfully pleading sexsomnia in court had no known history of sleepwalking and no formal diagnosis. Other cases involved defendants performing a complicated series of actions in unfamiliar settings, which experts said were less typical of genuine sexsomnia.

In about a third of the cases, the defendant was under the influence of alcohol or drugs, and some were very intoxicated, but sexsomnia was cited as the primary factor behind their behaviour.

Sometimes, just a mention of the condition in court appears to sow a seed of doubt that can contribute to a not-guilty verdict. In one rape case, two expert witnesses said evidence for the defendant having sexsomnia was “weak” but that they could not categorically rule it out. The jury subsequently acquitted the man.

In at least one case, a man who avoided a rape prosecution after claiming to have sexsomnia went on to attack again. Joseph Short evaded charges in 2011 after saying he had no memory of an alleged rape. He was later jailed for 15 years for another violent attack. And a man convicted of strangling and beating his partner was acquitted of raping her and another woman after claiming to have been suffering from the condition.

Allison Summers KC, a barrister and head of Drystone Chambers, who has represented three clients who used sexsomnia as a defence, all of whom were acquitted, said the increase in defences using the condition could be in part because it had historically been “underdiagnosed generally” and that there were some “very genuine” cases.

But she said the presence of alcohol complicated things – “are they using the sleep defence to cover up what has happened?” – and that there was an issue of defendants “trying it on”.

“I think there are probably [defence lawyers] running these cases on fairly spurious evidence,” she added. “Juries are strange creatures and I suspect sometimes they give the benefit of the doubt when they shouldn’t.”

Summers said it was for defence counsels to investigate such claims and for prosecutors to robustly challenge them, but that this did not always happen: barristers instructed “rubbish” experts or failed to get relevant histories, or prosecutors did not properly interrogate claims in court. “It comes back to laziness and a lack of understanding,” she said.

Sexsomnia has also been used by defence teams in an attempt to discredit victims. Jade McCrossen-Nethercott, 31, from Croydon, is taking legal action against the CPS after it dropped her rape case days before it was due to go to trial after expert witnesses said she had sexsomnia.

McCrossen-Nethercott said the conclusion was made by an expert instructed by the defence who had never met her, and was based on her answers to a 15-question survey. “It was plucked out of thin air,” she said.

The CPS has since “apologised unreservedly” for its decision to drop the case and said “the expert evidence and defendant’s account should have been challenged and put before a jury to decide”.

McCrossen-Nethercott is now calling for “robust, rigorous and consistent” assessment of sexsomnia claims “across the board”, including a “thorough assessment, bed partner histories, extensive polysomnographies”.

“It has to be taken seriously to protect victims from being told they have it without significant evidence; to prevent perpetrators claiming they do when they don’t, but also for genuine sufferers, to prevent them being wrongly convicted,” she said.

Dame Vera Baird KC, the former victims’ commissioner for England and Wales, called for safeguards to be put in place to protect victims and the public. She said sexsomnia was being seen as an “escape route” by some defendants and that in cases where it arose, prosecutors needed to be consistent in applying for sexual risk orders, which can be made regardless of whether someone is convicted if they are deemed to pose a danger.

Such an order could require a person to warn future partners, or others sleeping under the same roof, about their condition, or face prison.

Baird, a barrister who was previously solicitor general and a Labour MP, said increasing the use of such orders might also deter people from using sexsomnia as a “get-out-of-jail card”. “A person who says, ‘Oh dear, I raped somebody without knowing it,’ is a danger to the public and cannot be left simply acquitted,” she said.

A CPS spokesperson said prosecutors always “robustly challenge legal defences when contrasting evidence is available” and that sexsomnia was no exception. It said any decision to drop a case in response to a claim of sexsomnia “must now be approved at the most senior level” and that victims always had the right to seek a review. However, it said it did not record data on how many cases had been dropped due to sexsomnia claims by the defendant.

The Ministry of Justice said the government had taken “decisive action” to ensure rape victims got justice and that “the validity and credibility of a defence” was for the courts to decide.

Claire (not her real name), a complainant in a recent case where the defendant was acquitted on multiple counts of sexual assault after claiming to have sexsomnia, said the verdict had a “devastating” effect. She said the man did not deny the acts took place but said he must have done them while asleep, and that he had never sleepwalked before, had no formal diagnosis, and had had “no tests done”.

The woman, a mother from Lancashire, said the process had left her “baffled”: “It’s like they’ve said, ‘Well yeah, he might’ve sexually abused you numerous times but he did it in his sleep, so it’s OK. So you’re just going to have to get on with your life and deal with it and he’s got away with it.’ It’s like they just took his word for it. There is nothing to stop him from doing it again and just saying, ‘I was asleep’.”

#articles #mvawg #radblr

71 notes · View notes

aris-ink · 1 year

Note

can you do a drabble for yandere!jungkook x female reader where the reader has rape fantasy and asks jungkook to act the fantasy one day? (they're in an established relationship) and a touch of breeding kink✨ will be great. btw if you aren't comfortable writing the first kink then you can completely ignore this.♡

this is literally just cnc, a theme I've dealt with before and something that does require consent in the first place. so, yes ofc baby, thank you for asking though, ily <3 also, this... is a bit longer than a regular drabble

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance

warnings: con noncon, dom/sub dynamics, mentions of safe words, role play, hints of fear kink (threats, allusions to kidnapping), some knife play, manhandling, degradation, impact play (face slapping), hair pulling, implied sadism & masochism, choking, outdoor sex, rough sex (including oral), breeding kink, creampie, love love love, aftercare <3

It was a fact well known, truth be told; angels shouldn't wander around on their own in the dark, where twisted things tended to lurk. Yet somehow, here you were.

"Hi."

The greeting was murmured right into your ear, and you knew you were screwed.

It was past midnight and your shift ended over an hour ago. Too cold and tired to keep waiting for Jungkook, you gave up and started making your way home on foot. He'd lose it if he found out. He'd never let you go anywhere alone at this hour; but for the first time, he didn't pick you up right after work or answer any of your calls. And now, you were stuck in a dimly lit lot, devastatingly silent and empty save for the few cars parked there, with a muscular arm snaked around your waist and the sharp edge of a knife grazing your throat.

You could barely swallow, frozen in spot as the man's nose brushed your cheek, his chest firm against your back.

"Out for a walk?"

Caught off guard by the cold steel against your quickening pulse, you didn't really register the question. There was a possibility he could cut you up if you moved just an inch, and it was almost like he was teasing you with the threat. He gave your waist a squeeze, then nudged the back of your knee to coax you to move forward.

"Don't feel like talking, huh?" He sounded amused, though his voice was low, prompting a shiver as his words vibrated through your ear - and then through your core. "That's okay, I wasn't interested in talking either. I'm sure we can find some other good uses for that cute little mouth."

Left with no choice, you let him lead the way. It was naive of you to think that things couldn't get any worse. As you forced your legs to keep going, you were hit with a realization that made all the blood drain from your face. He wasn't steering you towards some dirty alley; or even towards the door of his car. He was steering you towards the trunk.

Your skin seemed to be crawling with static when you stopped before it, initial shock fading and alarms blaring through all your systems. He clicked it open with ease, inching the knife away from your throat. As if he needed it in the first place. You were all alone out here, and he was so much stronger than you. That much was obvious.

Your nails dug into his arm with unexpected harshness. You threw your head back in an attempt to slam it into his. He managed to dodge the blow, though - quite effortlessly, too - and your attack ended just as quickly as it began. It only earned you a surprised grunt, and a punishing yank at your hair that made your mouth fall open with a cry.

"Don't fucking test me," he hissed. His arm tightened around you roughly. "You'll be the prettiest good girl for me-" he whispered against your ear, "or you'll be the prettiest missing girl in the news. Your choice, baby. Yeah?"

The ground felt like it dropped from under your feet, liquid fire pooling in your tummy, making it sway along with the scenery around you. It was impossible not to notice how hard he was already, like he's been waiting for an occasion to pounce on you for much too long. His heavy pants warmed your nape, proving the gentler demeanor from earlier to be an act that was quickly unraveling the more you resisted him.

He pushed you inside, and your hands started to tremble, knees feeling weak. You didn't even get to turn your head back to glance at him in time before he shut the boot, plunging the cramped up space into darkness.

There was a few bumps in the road; you felt each one, exploring the smooth leather all around you. Mostly to familiarize yourself with your surroundings; but also to try grounding yourself and soothing your racing heart. The ride didn't seem long. It was hard to judge, though, when you were so pumped up on adrenaline and the air around you felt way too hot.

After all this, you had been right to expect to arrive somewhere deserted and unknown. As the trunk began to lift up, you were greeted with the bite of cold, night air and a masculine silhouette set against the moonlit sky.

He wasn't even bothered waiting until the damn car opened fully, giving you zero chance to take him by surprise again. He buried a tattooed hand in your hair, slapping the other over your mouth, both pushing you down with powerful force. In a knee jerk reaction, your own hands flew upwards to push him away, smacking against whatever they could reach; his arms, his shoulders, his chest. However, the strikes just seemed to bounce off of the thick muscles, doing little damage. It was pathetic how easy it was for him to overpower you, climb onto your chest, even with how you trashed under him. His fingers trapped your wrists, his crotch too close to your face, eclipsing the view of the woods behind him.

And yet despite all that, it was no easy task to unzip his jeans. Both of his hands were unsteady, partly from the arousal twisting through him, partly from your stubborn attempts at ripping your own hands out of his grasp.

Clenching his jaw, your assailant momentarily gave up on his pesky zipper. A loud crack pulsed through your entire skull, leaving your cheek sore and stars dancing around your eyes. He slapped you so hard the impact whipped your head to the side, then did it again. It was just enough to make him groan; just enough to give him the split second he needed to free his hard, aching cock and push his hips forward.

"Open," he snapped shakily, gritting his teeth when you started shaking your head, refusing him access to your mouth.

Taking advantage of his size, he shifted abruptly, imprisoning your arms beneath the weight of his muscular thighs.

And just like that it was game over.

One hand wrapped around his cock so he could aim better, one wrapped around your precious, little neck. He could feel a pulse beating from both sides, precum weeping from his flushed tip, dripping down your collarbones, your eyes dilating from the sudden lack of air.

It was the first time your gazes locked since he grabbed you in the parking lot. You looked so beautiful under him. Unable to help it, his hips kept thrusting forward in desperate need of friction, the wet head of his cock rubbing into your lips. A series of shallow, shaky breaths followed the motions, and he paid no mind to the mess he was making of you. In fact, the image only spurred him on. So did how impossible it was for you to get away from his raging hard on, no matter where your head turned.

At last, you gasped for air; and the moment you did, he groaned so loudly. Your throat was released and instead stuffed with his cock, fat and throbbing and way too long. It made your muscles constrict, instantly prompting you to choke. To him, though, it was the perfect fit, and he could have sobbed from the relief. The hooting and rustling of small, nocturnal creatures stirring in the bushes and the twisted branches of trees was utterly drowned out, replaced by the obscene, sloppy sounds of him rutting into your face, and the guttural moans fleeing him.

"Agh, fuck-" mindlessly, his fingers searched your skin, the rough pads pressing into your cheeks, squeezing, before burying in your hair again to tug at it.

He barely allowed you to catch a breath. Your lungs burned, thighs clenching and cheeks stained from tears. It was not mercy, but the tightening in his gut that made him stop abruptly, pulling out of your abused mouth. He left your throat and cunt aching and your head spinning, goosebumps breaking all over your arms.

"Fuck," he trembled as you coughed, leaning an arm above you. His cock twitched in front of your face, and even though you were the one being deprived of air until now, his chest heaved just as hard as yours. "I almost came."

He puffed out a laugh, looking down at you. His eyes were so dark, flashing with a dangerous desire that your cute, panic stricken expression had sadistically prompted to be voiced.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he cooed, squishing your cheeks. "I won't leave you empty."

The words turned your knees to cotton. You whimpered, shaking your head from side to side more vigorously, but he was already climbing off you and grabbing you by the arms to flip you onto your stomach. Heels on the ground and your upper half still stuck in the trunk of his car, you felt like a ragdoll, weak and quivering under his control.

You gasped when his hand sneaked in between your legs, two long digits stroking you through your underwear. He gasped too.

"What a good, little bitch. Fucking soaked. I'm going to ruin you forever, baby."

Your tummy twisted up so hotly you whined, terrified you were going to come. And he barely touched you. The mortification of it was enough for you to try squirming away, but it was futile. He didn't care about your inner dilemmas or how many times you'd come. All he cared about was getting his cock into your sopping cunt.

And that was what he did. Pulling the ruined cotton halfway down your thighs and plunging inside you, stretching out your warm, tight hole. Pounding into you so suddenly you shrieked, a reaction that thrilled him to no end. And unlike you he was not ashamed to show it, moaning into your ear. It felt like he's branded you from the inside, and you couldn't do anything about how much you clenched around him, the pleasure searing and so different from anything you've ever experienced before.

"So close," he breathed, "fuck, you gonna take it? Gonna take my cum like a good girl?"

You whined, still shaking your head, even though you were tightening more at his words, massaging him like a little toy, made just for him. He fucked you harder, as though he was determined to prove to you that you were going to do exactly as he said - and cream his cock while you were at it.

"Yeah, you are. You'll take everything I'll g-give you, fuck. Gonna take my cum every night until this pretty, little cunt is nice and bred. A-all mine, yeah."

You shivered, muscles tensing and mind numbed out, wiped clean of anything but the impending orgasm making you sweat and tingle all over.

"Oh, baby likes that?" The strained question came out as another moan. "Yeah, you do? You gonna be my little cumdump? Oh god - fuck! -"

You weren't sure if you heard more praises or insults, or both as he came, or if the ones from earlier were still simply floating around in your mind; turning it into a haunted house, a ruin, where the ghost of his presence would forever remain. Just like he promised.

Your vision swam and your cunt began to spasm around his cock, sucking him in greedily. He helped you ride out your high with hard, deep thrusts that made you cry. It felt so good, and even better when he started twitching inside you, pump after pump of hot seed filling you up.

Despite the uncomfortable position, he stayed inside you for a while, waiting for the tremors of your orgasms to pass. Mentally needing to feel you close just as much as you needed him while they did.

You squeezed his hand after a moment. He reacted immediately, giving it a tender squeeze back and lifting himself off you.

The ride back home was comfortably quiet. Despite having checked up on you already, he got you into bed and washed you with a warm cloth, taking the opportunity to examine your skin for any marks or cuts. You seemed fine, your eyes fluttering closed at the gentle touches appreciatively, a soft hum escaping your lips.

"Baby," he murmured, his free hand moving to cup your face. "Stay with me. I'm almost done."

You tried to open your eyes, finding Jungkook already looking at you. He kissed your forehead, then put the cloth away, somewhat vulnerable and careful in his approach towards you.

"Was it too much?" He asked quietly, almost like he felt guilty.

Frowning slightly, you reached out to touch his cheek.

"I know my safe word, Jungkook." That didn't seem very reassuring, so you quickly added, "And the taps, too."

He trusted you; of course he trusted you. He had no doubt you would have let him know had you wanted him to stop at any point, but he couldn't help himself.

Since meeting you, Jungkook had learned a lot about himself. He started into the shadows and dug through his insides, trying to find answers to questions that made him lose sleep. But no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find any. Among the blood and the guts and the bones, he couldn't figure out why. Why did his love have to be all consuming, with teeth and claws that longed to tear into you just so he could feel your heart in his hands? Just to feel that he owned it; like some kind of wild, vicious beast. He always tried so hard not to let the intrusive thoughts win, to control his impulses when he touched you. Scared to death, he'd often slow down, the cold flood of questions in his head putting out the heat in his body. Did he go too rough? Did he take too much? Why did he always need so much?

It wasn't until you gathered up the courage to speak up one quiet night that everything clicked into place, and Jungkook found the disturbing noise in his soul settling down into serene warmth. Maybe he was some twisted, sad thing that didn't quite belong anywhere but in the shadows. But shadows couldn't exist without light, and you were his. A beautiful, lonely angel.

How discriminatory of heaven. There was just no place for you among the righteous if your halo happened to be broken. It didn't matter if you weren't the one that damaged it; god never did take responsibility for the cruelty of his creations.

But as long as Jungkook's own heart was beating, you never had to worry about anything - or anyone - ever again. All beasts protected what they owned.

He leaned his forehead on yours, searching your eyes for a moment.

"Do you think I'm-"

"No," you whispered, already knowing what he was going to ask. "Do you think I am?"

That was different, Jungkook thought, offended by the mere suggestion. No matter what the world thought of you, to Jungkook you were the only good he's ever known.

"No," he answered immediately. "You're perfect."

Not messed up. Perfect.

With his pyjamas on and teeth brushed, he slipped into the bed, arms locking around your waist. He was tired of overthinking. In the end, nothing outside of this room really mattered, as long as what you had worked for you both. And as far as Jungkook was concerned, looking down at your peaceful face right next to his; it worked.

Your leg slipped in between his thighs, head snuggling into his chest, even in your sleep.

Yeah. It worked.

#welp anyways #yandere bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts reactions #bts yandere

395 notes · View notes

tennessoui · 5 months

Note

hi kit i swear to god someone sent in 35 from the prompt list for 'one of them is trying to get the other off of drugs' but someone must have deleted the ask from your ask box.

oh no! who could have done such a thing. after i already wrote 3k for this prompt and everything!

(but in seriousness i KNOW someone sent me that prompt i just can't find it rn!!! but i enjoyed writing this so much it really literally could be the first chapter of a multi-chapter fic......we'll see)

(also this is what i wrote for the same prompt from a few years ago)

35. one of them is trying to get the other off of drugs

(3k) (warning: non con drugging/attempted date rape drugs used -not by main characters)

Obi-Wan’s got a heavy mind most days. Heavy heart too, but it’s been a while since he checked in with that part of himself. Mind’s easier.

Right now, he’s mostly annoyed at the cantina crowd, but that’s a most days thing too. After all, the cantina’s in the middle of the spaceport, best watering hole around. Only watering hole around, really, and it gets him all sorts of people walking through his doors.

Some days, he really wishes Linell’s hadn’t closed, mostly so he could send the roughest looking folk that way instead. He doesn’t care much if smugglers decide to get wasted at a bar before hopping in the cockpit of their ships, but he doesn’t necessarily want it to happen at his cantina.

Mostly because when smugglers get drunk, they get rowdy. They get dangerous. They get handsy.

And Obi-Wan’s not under any sort of illusion here, he knows what sort of cantina he runs, knows the crowd it attracts, knows no one’s ever gonna bring their youngling past the doors—knows that no Jedi is ever going to stop in for a drink.

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to allow for that sort of ruckus. The Temple raised him better than that, for whatever that’s worth. They instilled a pretty solid understanding of morality in him at a young age; then the AgriCorps gave him an appreciation of organization and tidiness that even after two decades away from it all, he hasn’t managed to shake.

It makes for bad business anyway, to allow the rougher-looking crowd to linger in the back corner, swat at the passing serving girl, call out harassments to other customers. And perhaps this wasn’t the life Obi-Wan thought he’d have, but it’s the life he does have. And he’s in no mood for his cantina to go under as well because of morons like Chak Tuuel getting too drunk and causing a scene.

It was easier four years ago, Obi-Wan has to admit. It was easier to keep a tight hold on his cantina when he could openly use the Force to pull patrons off of each other, push one back to his chair and spirit the other to the far side of the room. It was easier when all it took to convince a pirate that he’d be better switching to water was a well-placed Force command.

But the rise of the Empire saw the criminalization of Force users, even ones who can’t be called Jedi, like Obi-Wan.

It’s been bad for business, the Empire has. That’s the only thing Obi-Wan cares about, the only reason he has to hold such hatred in his heart for the emperor. It has nothing to do with the massacre of the Jedi, the fall of the Temple. It’s because it’s bad for business. That’s all.

Now he has to be ten times more discerning about who he lets into his cantina because he has to actually reason with them now. On more than one occasion in the past four years, since the Fall of the Temple, he’s chopped off a patron’s hand. Arm. Whatever.

That’s also bad for business in general, though it’s not as if he can actually get into much trouble for it, considering he owns this cantina. And it’s the Outer Rim. Anything goes.

His eyes survey the cantina as his hands busy themselves making a drink for a rather quiet patron at the bar. Most likely a businessman of some sort, given how often Obi-Wan’s seen him come in and out.

It’s rather late in the night, as much as there is a night at the spaceport. The cantina’s full of the usual sorts, and the place is loud. There’s a group of five men in the back, dressed like smugglers. Obi-Wan has been watering down their drinks for the last two rounds, but they’ve yet to notice. Their eyes are ravenous as they look around them. Most of them are big, all are human. There’s one small one amongst the pack, and it’s him that Obi-Wan’s eyes stick to.

There’s something about him. Maybe it’s the way he holds himself, tense and with his shoulder hunched. Maybe it’s because of how smaller he is than the companions he’s chosen. Maybe it’s because he’s so pretty.

Even from all the way across the cantina, Obi-Wan knows the boy is pretty, can see his pale pink lips and dark golden curly hair. He doesn’t look like the sort of person who tends towards the crowds of pirates and smugglers that populate the back corners of Obi-Wan’s cantina. He looks out of place, misplaced.

Sith’s hells, Obi-Wan probably looks more like a smuggler than this boy. Even the scar across his face, through his eyebrow and trailing down his cheek does little to make the boy look dangerous. Even his outfit—a black cloak on top of other, darker clothes—cannot make him look as dangerous as the men around him.

But they had come in as a pack, the boy in the middle of them. It had been the boy who had talked with the serving girl, Challa, who sat them. It had been him who’d ordered the first round of drinks.

The Force is screaming, a loud reverberation of a warning filling up his head and making the beginnings of his headache twenty times worse.

If someone dies tonight in Obi-Wan’s cantina, Obi-Wan is going to make Challa fill out the flimsiwork. It would be what she deserves for allowing this crowd in.

A moment before Obi-Wan looks away, the boy looks up from his drink and catches him staring. His face freezes as it is, held tight as he looks at Obi-Wan looking at him. For a strange moment, it looks like his eyes flash gold before they fall away, attention grabbed by the kid next to him.

Obi-Wan’s own attention is claimed a moment later.

“Whatcha looking at, boss?” the second bartender on shift asks, resting their arms on the counter beside him. “You look mighty disgruntled.”

“So you thought adding yourself to the situation would help,” he says automatically, caustically as he turns away from the group to stare at his employee. “Naturally.” “Naturally,” Saak agrees with a pointy smile. “I’m a saint.”

“Hm,” Obi-Wan says, even though he quite likes working with the twi’lek. These days, Obi-Wan keeps much close to his chest—especially his affection.

“That’s not an answer to my question,” Saak points out, looking back out at the cantina. “Who’s caught your eye? Because me and the crew in the back have a bet going about if you’re ever going to take someone home.” “I don’t mix business and pleasure,” Obi-Wan says, eyes staying resolutely away from the boy’s table.

“See, that’s part of the bet,” Saak says, easy as anything. “We don’t think you have pleasure.”

Obi-Wan frowns and turns to look at them fully. “What.”

Saak shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once, and I’ve worked here for three years. You don’t come out with us after work, you throw out every comm sequence customers leave you-–and trust me, I know there’s been a lot, you never mention anyone at home. In your personal life.”

“I enjoy a healthy amount of privacy,” Obi-Wan snaps, clenching his fists tight on the towel between his hands before he carefully tosses his irritation into the Force.

He understands almost immediately that his anger isn’t even at Saak for prying or at his employees for gossiping.

It’s because he knows Saak is right. Not about—well, not about abstaining from sex, as Obi-Wan gets a rather sizable amount of sex at any given time. But about the distance. The lack of pleasure. Even the sex doesn’t light him up the way it did when he was seventeen, fresh from leaving the Agricorps and setting out across the stars. A consequence of age probably.

“Hey,” Saak’s tone changes, turning from cajoling employee into something much more concerned. “That table in the back, look—I don’t think that guy is doing alright.”

Obi-Wan snaps out of his thoughts instantly and looks at where Saak’s gesturing.

He knows before he even sees them that it’s that Force forsaken table in the back.

And Saak’s right, shit.

The boy Obi-Wan had been staring at looks—looks rough suddenly. His head is reclining back onto the body of the man beside him, eyes half-lidded. He’s flushed a flattering red, lips parted and stained an even darker color.

He could just be feeling the effects of the alcohol he’s been consuming for the past hour now, but it’s the way his companions look at him that has Obi-Wan rounding the bar and crossing the cantina. They look hungry. Eager. Anticipatory.

In the Force, the boy’s muted presence has become fuzzy. Muted.

Of course the moment Obi-Wan turns his gaze away from the group, they drug the boy. It suddenly seems so inevitable that it’s almost funny. Of course this was going to happen.

“What did you give him,” he demands as he reaches the table. The anger licking at his chest is new. Useful. Righteous.

One of the smugglers, the one next to the boy, tosses him a sleazy grin, wrapping his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “No need to kick us out, mister,” he says. “We were just leaving.”

“Yes, you were,” Obi-Wan nods sharply. “Without him.”

The smuggler’s grin slides off his face. “He came with us.”

“You drugged him!”

The boy in question looks up at Obi-Wan as much as he can with his eyes half-way to shut. “Oh,” he says. “That’s what it is.”

His voice is slow and deep. A byproduct of the drug?

He blinks at him in syrupy slowness, and his eyes are tawny. Why had Obi-Wan thought they were blue from across the cantina? They shine golden now.

Something about his eyes, his face, the way he’s looking at Obi-Wan makes his thin sense of control snap. “You will leave now,” he commands, Force reverberating through the words, so strong that the smugglers stand to attention immediately, repeating the order mindlessly.

Even the boy struggles to obey, pushing up on his feet in drunken surety.

“Not you,” Obi-Wan snaps. The boy sits back down like his strings have been cut, a sigh of relief at the release.

It’s entirely too orgasmic to be appropriate.

And the way the boy looks up at him is entirely too trusting for someone who’s just been drugged by his companions.

“I hope you have another form of transportation off here,” Obi-Wan says with a sigh. “I imagine you will not want to travel with them tomorrow.” “I’ll kill ‘em,” the boy mumbles, letting his head fall back.

“Sure, kid,” Obi-Wan tells him. He looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone kill a man, but he’s also not entirely sure the boy would appreciate him pointing that out. He looks like a kid who’s decided to try and play outlaw.

This is what happens to kids who try to play outlaw, he thinks dispassionately.

“Not a kid,” the kid says.

“Sure, kid.” He’ll need water. Obi-Wan grabs at his chin and forces his eyes up. His pupils are so dilated it’s hard to even see what color his irises are. Paired with the flushed cheeks, the poor coordination, and the slurred but cohesive speech, Obi-Wan’s pretty sure he knows what sort of spice they used on the poor kid.

And the comedown is legendary for how rough it is.

Obi-Wan barely resists the urge to sigh. It’s even harder to resist the urge to scream.

He hates the men who laced the boy’s drink. He hates Challa for letting the group of men into his cantina, thereby making this his problem. He hates Vynny for crashing his speeder and forcing Obi-Wan to cover his shift while he recuperates from the loss of both legs.

And he hates the fucking ghost of the Jedi Order for instilling in him the importance of doing the right thing.

“You’re coming home with me,” he says, unable to stop himself from sighing.

The boy blinks at him. “If you touch me, I’ll kill you too,” he warns, but his eyes are still much too trusting. “Slowly.” “Noted,” Obi-Wan snaps, reaching down to fish the boy out of the booth. “And when you’re sober again, you’re going to be paying for the entire tab you and your lot racked up.”

The boy pouts, even as he allows Obi-Wan to drag him to his feet. “What if I let you touch me instead?” “I don’t want to touch you,” Obi-Wan says. “I want the credits.” The boy giggles and presses his face against his neck. Obi-Wan waves to Saak behind the bar, gesturing to the boy and then to the doors, trying to convey I’m going home to take care of this absolute youngling because I am a better person than you and you need to take care of my cantina and lock up behind you and no, this does not count as taking a customer home with me.

Saak gives him two thumbs up, so Obi-Wan is hoping that means the message has been received. It had better be received.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asks as he navigates out of the cantina. Thank the Force, his own cruiser is close. The boy is heavier and bigger than he’d looked amongst the rest of his group. Firmer and more weighted with muscle. And Obi-Wan is no waif, but he doesn’t care to lug around a man who is actually, well. Taller than him.

“Vader,” the boy mumbles, nuzzling into Obi-Wan’s touch. “Why do you feel so good?”

“It’s the spice they gave you,” Obi-Wan mutters. “Makes touch feel good, makes you…want.”

“Oh,” Vader says, rubbing his face against Obi-Wan’s neck like a cat. “I don’t want it.” “Me neither, kid,” he assures him, propping him up against the side of his ship so he can unlock it and key in the code to have the ramp descend.

“Good,” Vader says. “Keep touching me.”

Obi-Wan bites his lip so he doesn’t tell the kid that he doesn’t take commands, not even from imperious little boys who sound as if they’re very used to being obeyed.

It adds more evidence to his theory that Vader is some spoiled rich kid looking to rebel.

“What were you even doing with them?” He mutters as he drops Vader into the seldom-used co-pilot seat of his ship. “Not the sort you’d want to hang around with, are they?” “Bellion,” Vader replies loosely, waving a weak hand. “As’ —assign—assignm’nt.”

It takes through takeoff for Obi-Wan to realize what he’s said. “The Rebellion? You were on an assignment for the rebellion?” Vader makes a noise and turns his head to look at him, eyes almost shut. “Bellion,” he agrees, before promptly passing out.

“Huh,” Obi-Wan says.

Of course he knew that there was a rebellion against the empire, that they were building in both power and numbers as the years grew. He’d even flirted with the notion of joining it himself, but he’d always stepped back. The rebellion was too close to the Jedi. And the Jedi had made it clear that they did not want him.

Why would the rebellion be any different?

When he’s entered hyperspace, he looks over at the boy who has turned his head away from him, exposing the long lines of his neck.

He really is quite beautiful, for better or for worse.

The boy shifts, restless. He pushes himself further into the seat, leaning back and spreading his legs. Obi-Wan would wonder what he’s dreaming about, but before he can, the boy’s cloak shifts.

And there, on his hip. The handle of a lightsaber.

Obi-Wan is moving before he can help it, stepping over to Vader’s side of the ship quietly, eyes glued to the ‘saber.

It’s been so long since he’s seen one. He never got to hold his own. Never made one himself.

But here is one now, on Vader’s hip. Vader is a Jedi. A Jedi!

It is part greed, part agony, and part disbelief that makes Obi-Wan reach his hand out and carefully detach the blade from Vader’s belt.

The boy does not even notice, except to push his hip up further at the ghost of Obi-Wan’s touch.

It’s a heavy weight in Obi-Wan’s hand, and he takes a moment to just—look at it. It’s darker than he would have crafted his own, sturdier and longer too, as if Vader wields it with two hands. He probably does—Obi-Wan still remembers his forms, remembers each stance down to the footwork. Vader has the body to be a formidable Djem’So user. Or Atari. Obi-Wan had favored the latter when he was an Initiate.

Vader is a Jedi. Perhaps—perhaps in the morning, after the spice is out of his system, he can tell Obi-Wan about the Temple in its final days. Surely he was not there, Obi-Wan doesn’t know how anyone could have survived the massacre, but he must know. He does not truly look so young that he would have been an Initiate. He must have been a Knight.

Perhaps Obi-Wan will tell him about being raised there. He can share in his pain, if only a little bit. After all, Obi-Wan spent thirteen years of his life at the Temple. The Jedi will always hold a part of his heart. He has never before wanted to admit that, but now—Vader is a Jedi. He would understand.

Obi-Wan’s mouth is dry as he drops his gaze back to the saber.

He wants suddenly, terribly, to flick it on. To hear the buzz of the ions of the blade. To see the color of Vader’s kyber crystal. He wants to take pleasure from the sight of it, the enduring symbol of it, of the Order.

He knows he should not. He knows he has no right to it. If he were meant to hold a lightsaber, his life would have worked out in thirteen thousand different ways.

But—Vader is asleep.

And no one would have to know.

If just for a second, Obi-Wan allowed himself to give into his want.

He flicks it on and then almost drops it from the sheer surprise he feels as it powers to life in his hands. Because the blade is not green. It isn’t blue. It isn’t even purple, like he remembers Master Windu’s being.

It is a sickly looking red.

It is not a blade of a Jedi.

Obi-Wan flicks it off and tucks it back onto Vader's belt. Then he sits down in the pilot's chair once more, head spinning and heart racing.

And he directs the ship to drop out of hyperspace to his homeplanet anyway because---well. What else can he do? He'd promised to take the boy home and see him off the spice.

The fact that the boy is---is a Sith does not change anything. It cannot.

#asks #prompt fill #obikin #vaderwan #anakin is going to wake up and be like aw why is he being so distant and grouchy #and obi-wan is going to be like i cant believe im helping someone who probably helped murder my family #but then vader who has not experienced kindness from strangers before #keeps coming back for more kindness from this grumpy stranger #this is like #non consensual adoption of a grumpy bartender au #or something lmao

76 notes · View notes

gasolinerainbowpuddles · 8 months

Text

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 🎃💦 ∘₊✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟚 ✧₊∘

|| ︶꒦꒷𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥꒷꒦︶ | main masterlist ||

@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

Day 2: Frottage, Sexual Frustration, Virginity

𝐀 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

| PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x FEDRA!Comandante Veracruz | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 973 (yay I did it!) | CONTENT: frottage, power dynamics, degradation, Sir kink, failed attempt at sexual coercion, dark!Joel | SYNOPSIS: What happens when a FEDRA officer working his way up the command ladder makes the grave error of crossing Joel Miller?

Joel’s heaving breaths echoed roughly in the brick alleyway. The coarse scrape of the FEDRA officers back against the jagged wall should’ve been the loudest thing unless they wanted to get themselves caught and censured.

“Stop makin’ so much fuckin’ noise,” Joel grunted as he thrusted himself into the cradle of hands that enveloped his cock against the other.

Both tips were steadily weeping precum, and Joel was going to be furious if his partner couldn’t keep it down for long enough that they could both get their release.

“I’m–uuhhhhnnn, I’m f-fucking… AHH,” Veracruz groaned, picking up the pace of his hips as he fucked himself against Joel’s cock faster.

“If you don’t shut your goddamn mouth, I will break your jaw and shove my cock in there to make you quiet,” Joel warned.

Veracruz panted and smiled as he tilted his head against the wall. His thrusts never faltered. “Not when you need my security clearance for your little smuggling trips,” he taunted back.

Joel’s hand barely covered the span of Comandante Veracruz’s throat, but he had enough purchase to get his point across. He began squeezing hard and watched as the smug look slipped from his partner’s face.

“I’ve killed better men for much less than what you’re messin’ with right now,” Joel snapped. He slammed his hips forward until their bodies were flush. “So I suggest you keep those hands real tight while I fuck ‘em, or I’m gonna have your ass so wrecked your dumbass FEDRA buddies are gonna be askin’ you all week why you’re walkin’ and sittin’ funny,” he seethed.

“Fuck,” he gasped. His cock twitched at the thought.

“Fuckin’ pathetic,” Joel sneered when he felt the bodily response to his threats. “You wanna give me ‘n Tess a hard time, try to fuckin’ blackmail me into suckin’ your dick, and now look at ya. Tryna act like you’re still in control.”

Veracruz’s nostrils flared at the challenge. He had in fact intended for this to go differently. Possibly coercing a handjob or blowjob out of Joel. Maybe getting Tess involved the next time. He’d made the rookie mistake of underestimating Joel Miller, simply because he was about 15 years older and weaker than Veracruz himself – or so he’d thought. His lips pursed with the disgrace of having been bested.

Joel openly laughed in his face. “Little boy wants to play war general, huh? Thinkin’ he’s got the biggest dick to swing.”

Joel’s thrusting picks up pace as he grabs two rough fistfuls of hair on either side of Veracruz’s head, mussing the gelled back and neatly combed style. He winces at the manhandling and bites back the choked whimper of pain – a last ditch effort to salvage what little ego and self-respect he had left after his botched effort of dominating Joel.

Joel’s brow furrows in pleasure. Thwarting Veracruz’s attempts to blackmail him and Tess was always going to happen, but he hadn’t expected the nice addition of blowing his load all over some too big for his britches FEDRA prick who no doubt had successfully conned, assaulted, raped, and god knows what else to other residents in the QZ who found themselves in his sights.

“Get on the ground,” he snaps, yanking the fistfuls of hair downward.

Veracruz moans at the pain but does as he’s told. He’s already way in over his head. He should’ve listened to his fellow unit officers when they cautioned him against fucking with Joel Miller or his partner Tess. He should’ve heeded their warnings that Joel wasn’t the type of guy to take threats lightly, and he certainly wasn’t the forgiving type.

Hands splayed in the dirt to keep himself upright, Veracruz glances up to find Joel’s face a mixture of fury and ecstasy. He’s jerking himself quickly with his free hand leaning against the wall.

“Don’t fuckin’ move,” he snaps.

“Yes, Sir,” Veracruz nods, slipping too easily into the honorifics that FEDRA drilled into their soldier’s heads when addressing their superiors.

“Fuckin’ pathetic,” Joel jeers with a dark smile. His mouth opens as his face contorts. He leans over Veracruz and watches as his cum drenches his face and hair. He pumps himself until he’s completely empty and tucks himself back into his jeans.

“Wipe it up across your face ‘n fix your stupid fuckin’ hair with my cum, you worthless piece of shit,” Joel snaps.

Veracruz swallows hard and rubs his hands on his face. He works Joel’s cum through his hair and smooths it down like he does every morning.

“Good as new,” Joel taunts with a nasty grin.

He bends at the waist to leave his departing words. “I’m not even gonna warn ya about tryna fuck with me again. You already know I won’t hesitate to fuck you on all fours and blow your brains out from the back when I’m pumpin’ ya full of my cum. But if I hear even a fuckin’ whisper of you tryna get in the way of me ‘n Tess’s business, I’m gonna make an example outta you for all your other

FEDRA buddies. We clear?”

Veracruz nods curtly and tries to control his breathing. He’s still rock hard and hasn’t come yet.

“Yes,” he replies quickly.

Joel tilts his head expectantly, the twisted glimmer in his eyes letting Veracruz know this man had a much darker past than he’d ever know. He understands what Joel wants from him now.

“Yes, Sir,” he agrees quietly.

“That’s what I thought,” Joel murmurs. “Have fun washin’ me outta your hair tonight, you useless cumrag.” He draws up a swell of saliva and spits it directly onto Veracruz’s face. He turns and walks off without another word.

Veracruz wipes it from his face and uses it to finish pleasuring himself, spilling onto the ground with a pitiful whimper.

#kinktober #Joel Miller x Comandante Veracruz #Joel Miller #Comandante Veracruz #pedro pascal characters

123 notes · View notes

propertyofwhitney67 · 4 days

Note

yandere-ish f!reader having dol-typical trauma (sa/rape) nightmares and waking up kylar for comfort

I’ll always protect you

M!Kylar x F!Reader

Closed Prompt Event: Nightmares & Comfort

Words: 772

Tw: nightmare, Rape/noncon, violence, victim blaming?

Note: One of the more fucked things I've written. Starts out really rough with the nightmare.

Their touch felt real, the cold ground, the sound of water dripping, the smoke billowing around their figure and invading my lungs all felt so real and it only got worse. I started to believe it was all real, that I was back in that godforsaken cell. The revolving door of people assaulting me, the lineups, the dancing, the filming, the hunting…I’m reliving it all over again.

The large figure was shrouded in darkness, I couldn’t make out any defining details. Their hands wrapped around my throat, choking me and forcing their cock into my cunt. I couldn’t breathe and everything hurt. I tried to claw at their neck, but it had no effect. They laughed at my pathetic attempt to save myself, letting go of my neck and pinning my arms above me. I had no way to defend myself, no way to stop them.

The only thing that could be heard was my sobbing and the squelching of my abused cunt. They dug their nails into my skin, laughing at my pain. “I know you’re enjoying this, your tight cunt doesn’t lie.” The stretch of their cock was painful and I wanted nothing more than to disappear. It was all too much.

Closing my eyes and trying to dissociate, I thought of Kylar saving me from this horrible place. Him killing every last one of these sick fucks, burning this place to the ground. I held onto that hope as the figure above me grunted loudly and came. “Good girl.” He pulled out and left me there on the cold ground, taking a picture of my abused and leaking cunt before leaving me alone in the cell.

Eventually I crawled across the ground and onto the thin bed I was provided with. I curled up in a ball and continued to sob, wishing it would all end..

I woke up with a start, sobbing and terrified. My body was in fight or flight mode, and I chose the latter, jumping out of bed and hiding. I curled up into a ball in the corner, trying to make myself as small as possible. I didn’t know where I was, my nightmare-or was it real? Did I pass out on my thin mattress and get sold off, or was it all truly a nightmare? Just a figment of my imagination, or the horrid reality I live?

Something or someone in the bed moved, the sheets rustling. A body quickly shot up, frantically searching the bed and then the room, finding me in the corner. The person moved so quickly that I didn’t have a chance to move or defend myself. The small figure wrapped their arms tightly around me, holding me close. “My love?” The voice sounded familiar, “A-Are you ok?” The figure asked, stuttering.

“Kylar? Is that you…?” I asked quietly, afraid I was wrong. I hoped it was him and that I was safe, that it was all just another horrible nightmare. That Kylar would hold and comfort me. He always knew how to make me feel better, feel safe…

The person cupped my face, wiping away tears with their thumb. “I-It’s me, you’re safe.” Kylar whispered, “You’re safe h-here with me.”

I broke down again, sobbing and clinging to him. “I-I…” I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, just choking on my saliva as I tried to breathe.

Kylar picked me up with surprising strength, carrying me to the bed and placing me down. I continued to sob as he got in next to me, pulling me onto his chest. I wrapped my arms around his waist and cried into his chest. He petted my hair, doing his best to soothe me. “They’ll never touch you again.”

I looked up and sniffled loudly, tears still running down my face. “You promise?” I wiped under my dripping nose, “You’ll always protect me?”

He stared into my eyes, “I promise I’ll always protect you, my love.” He didn’t stutter once, leaning down and kissing my forehead lovingly. “I’d do anything for you, my love.” He’s always done his best to protect me, to keep me safe from the horrible things in this town. It hasn’t always worked, but this time it is. I haven’t left the manor in months, and I’ve never felt safer. Sure the nightmares still come, but he’s always there to scare them away. “I love you more than anything.”

His words comforted me, sure he’s said it all before but it brought me comfort to hear it again. “I love you too, Kylar.” I leaned my forehead against his, smiling through the tears. “I’ll always love you.”

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

27 notes · View notes

jokeringcutio · 1 year

Note

Could u please do reader x joker 2019?

Reader protects Arthur (before he turned into joker) from when his sign was taken and she beat the kids up and he won’t ever forget that moment. But now,Arthur turned into the joker, he returns the favour by saving her from bad guys?

And when he saves her, he walks elegantly towards her 😫✨ and says “I missed you, doll” 🫣🫣🫣😭✨

Title: Savior Fandom: Joker 2019 Pairing: Arthur Fleck (Joker) x Reader Rating: Mature for safety. Warnings: Violence, (attempted) sexual assault, Crude Language, Clown beating, Blood, Murder. AN: I wrote two versions of this. A sweeter tale, after which I realized the prompt specifically said that the Reader beats those bad boys up – so I rewrote it. Now I really struggled with how the Joker saved the Reader in this. I’ve written several different scenarios, but none of them felt right. In the end, I decided to base it on personal experience and went along with something that happened to me and frightened me a lot while I was in university. And that was passing this certain school and the young men that tried to sometimes sexually assault you there. It never went as far as in this fic, though, thank the lucky stars. But I had to push the situation a bit more to get a more satisfying end to their lives >D

Be warned, the boys in the second part try to attempt to rape the reader (I won’t go as far as clothes being torn off etc, but they do try to drag her into an alley and scold her).

So if any of this triggers you, please, do not read and hold out for the sweeter fill of this prompt that I will be posting later on <3

~ Savior Fill : I Can Handle Myself ~

The boys ran past you with such haste, it was as if a train passed you. You followed them with your eyes, frowning, and inwardly cursed how rude they had been to nearly trample you on their way past you. But you didn’t have long to think angry thoughts, because a man rushed by, clearly in pursuit. A clown, you thought, eyes now wide. A clown with a green wig cap adorned with curly fake hair and ridiculously big shoes. It must make his steps that much harder. How did he manage to keep up, you wondered.

“Hey, stop them!” the clown shouted. But the boys were shouting back profanities and crossed the road. The clown was nearly hit twice by a car as he followed. One glance around you told you that no one had bothered to run after them. Though some people stood and watched, most seemed to ignore the weird scene. You didn’t hesitate a single moment, though, and ran.

It had been hard to cross the road, but once you were on the other side, you came to a halt and your eyes darted from side to side. Where had they gone to? Then you spotted the clown as his feet slipped from the pavement and he caught himself with his hands. He’d nearly fallen but scrambled up to his feet again before he dashed into one of the alleys. He disappeared out of sight, but you had memorized the spot and made your way over to it as swiftly as you could.

At the entrance of the alleyway, you stood still to observe something you had hoped you would never see. Five teenagers stood huddled around the clown. His bright yellow sign lay scattered upon the floor, broken as if smashed against something. The man was quiet but conscious. You could see how he tried to shield his body from the incoming blows. And your mind went haywire.

You didn’t even register how you moved in on the boys, you suddenly just stood behind them. One high kick was enough to hit the first one on his shoulder. The tall teenager turned around, clearly confused, but you gave him little time to retaliate. Instead, he met your fist eye-first, and stumbled backward, nearly tripping over the clown’s shivering frame.

At this point, the others boys had noticed your presence and they stopped their assault on the man. Instead, they turned to you. Eyes all dark and glowering, teeth shown. Like rabid dogs, you thought. But there was no time for thinking now.

You held your arms up in front of your face, hands curled into fists. A little hop to your step as you sprung side to side like you’d seen boxers do on the television.

“How about it, boys?” you whispered. You had wanted to sound cool, but something in your voice broke. It didn’t come out sad though, just a little husky. The boy whom you had dubbed their leader because he was taller and seemed to be the one to take initiative took a step closer to you. His eyes widened at the sight of you.

“Leave the clown alone,” you demanded, then ducked when the anticipated attack struck you right after. The boy’s knee was up to hit your chest, but you had seen it coming and darted out of its way. A fist was launched at your face, but either by sheer luck or good reactional skills, you managed to block it with your arms.

The move seemed to surprise the boy as much as it did you, because he took a second to recover before he tried to hit you again.

The others boys now joined in, the clown forgotten behind them. They inched closer to you with fists raised until a second boy launched himself at you, and all of a sudden, hands and legs were swung in your direction like a flurry.

You didn’t manage to dodge all of the blows, but you made a lucky move when you crouched down to avoid them, then kicked out your leg. Your foot hit an ankle, and one of the boys fell, taking the boy next to him with him by accident. With two down, you sprung up again and hurdled yourself at one of the remaining three. It was one of the smaller ones, an easier target. You tackled him to the floor in a tight hug, then let go of him the moment he lay down. Seated on top of him, you smashed your fist against his cheek, a blow that pushed his head into the dirt and the crumbling asphalt below. Then you moved off of him.

Just in time, it seemed. The two boys who still stood rushed forward to you. In a fit of panic, you reached next to you. The road was littered with garbage that had been torn from the many uncollected garbage bags, and your hand closed around something sharp. What the hell was it?

It didn’t matter. This was your life you were concerned about. With eyes closed, you flung the sharp object away from you, only to hear a gasp come from the boys. Had you hit one of them?

But when you opened your eyes, you saw they were unharmed. But they were gasping at something, eyes raised to the sky. You looked up to see your shot had cut one of the electricity cables that hung above the alley. The cable dangled dangerously above your heads, a crackling sound and sparks erupted from the cut end.

“Come on,” one of the boys then shouted, “Let’s go, let’s go!” The boy still on the ground jumped up to his feet. Blood seeped from a gash on his cheek. He threw you an accusing glare, but made no comment, before he turned away from you and the dangling electricity cable, then ran off.

The other boys followed until you were left alone in the alley. Alone apart from the shivering clown.

You ignored the cable above your head, as you did the shouts of someone in one of the apartments who was cursing that their television had stopped working. Hurriedly, you crawled over to the hunched form of the man, and then slowly bent over him. He kept his hands between his legs. Must have taken a few hard kicks to the balls, you thought. You felt pity for him.

If only you could have chased them off earlier. If only you could have spared him this fate.

“Hey,” you carefully started, your hand on the man’s shoulder. He didn’t shrug your hand away, but he did flinch when you first touched him. But then, as he heard your voice, his eyes opened and he looked up at you. Your heart nearly stopped beating, because the eyes that locked with yours were the brightest green you had ever seen. So pretty. Accentuated by the clown’s makeup and his hair, certainly, but ever so beautiful.

You could have asked him then if he was okay, but that would have been a superfluous question. Of course he wasn’t. He was beaten up, and bruised, his sign shattered. There was nothing you could do to help his bruises, you knew that. But perhaps there was a chance to bring him comfort, to soften those mental wounds he must have received so they wouldn’t scar as badly.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, again. Your hand slid to the man’s white-painted cheek.

He smiled.

You’d nearly forgotten the man you had once saved. The mysterious clown who hadn’t given you his name and hadn’t accepted any offers to help him. It had been as if he was scared of you. The way his shoulders raised when you spoke to him and how he avoided looking into your eyes. You had caught him looking at you though. Whenever you looked away his eyes would be upon you, and there’d be awe within them. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real.

But that was months ago.

When you met him again, you were on your way home. This particular street led you past a community college building, a place where young men often loitered about, hands in their pockets, leering at you when you passed by. You’d gotten used to the whistles and the comments. You thought it was normal until one of your fellow female students pointed out that they never called after her.

Passing this street didn’t always make you feel safe, so when you were particularly tired, you’d go the long way around to the train station. But today, you wanted to take the shortcut. A choice you instantly regretted.

“Oi, pretty girl,” one of the boys wearing a hoodie, hands in his pockets like they usually had, shouted the moment he saw you. He came heading your way, a weird lilt to his step. You instantly knew this wasn’t going to be okay. “Oi, come here,” he said.

Behind him, a friend of his emerged out of the shadows of the building. A crooked smile upon his face and an evil glint in his eyes. “I think you have a little time for us, don’t you?” the boy said.

Two more friends emerged and you quickly scanned the area. Somehow, you were all alone. No other students were behind you, just in front, but they had just rounded the corner and were long gone.

The streets seemed empty as it was already getting late. The setting sun shone over the street tiles, making them shimmer. With hands flexed, you made to turn around, but the first boy managed to corner you.

“Uh-uh, I don’t think so,” he said. You wrinkled your nose in disgust when you saw he had grabbed you by the arm. His grip was tight and unpleasant. You started to feel scared for being surrounded by these young men who clearly wanted a thing from you that you were unwilling to give them. “Here, baby, don’t be difficult. Now, you’re gonna be good to me and my friends?”

You flinched, certain of one thing. You were not going to make this easy for them.

With as much strength as you could muster, you pulled your arm back sharply. An attempt to bring your arm back to your belly, but the boy’s hand remained attached. It hadn’t worked.

With gritted teeth, you flung your knee up to aim at either his chest or his balls. You hoped to hit the latter. But once again the boy was too swift. He used your own arm to block the attack, which hurt darn much. You winced and bit back a cry at the pain you felt. Stupid, you thought. You probably had bruised your own arm.

Another attempt from you to twist out his hands, but the second boy gripped your shoulders from behind and forced your body still. You cursed, loudly. “Let go of me,” you said as loudly as you could. “Let go, or I’ll scream.”

This threat instantly triggered a third boy to cover your lips with his palm. “You try and fight back bitch, and we’ll fuck your cunt into a bloody mess.”

With eyes wide of shock, because how dare they scold and denigrate you like this? You noticed how the four of them started to drag you into the narrow alley next to the building. An alley, you knew, would mean the end of it. Because how many people passed this street? And how many of them would think to look in that alley on their way? Your chances to escape would be zero to none.

No, your mind screamed. No, this can’t be how it goes. This can’t happen to me.

You struggled with all your might, even if it were hardly possible to move within their arms. All it earned you was a hard whack against the head, and a kick against your shin. More bruises, you thought, panicking. You had to get out.

Just before they could pull you into the alley, you had the mind to bite the boy whose arm had circled around your shoulders and who covered your mouth in the hand. He cried out. Then suddenly his hands were gone, and he fell face-first next to you. His head inside the alley. His body was limp.

You looked at him confused. Had your bite done that? But then a second boy, this time to your other side, called out. A high-pitched yell of pain. Arms flailing, he fell down to the ground as well, leaving only the two boys behind your back.

Their hands let go of you, and finally you were able to turn around. There they stood, both boys with their backs turned to you. Their attention all upon a new man who had appeared behind them. A man in a red suit, stylish, if not for the many spots upon it. Had he spilled coffee, you wondered at first. But no, it would have been a lot of coffee. The spatters were too many and too far apart. Then what could it be?

The man stood face down, a cigarette held between his lips and fingers, the tip glowing. You could not see his face, but something about his posture seemed familiar. Like a distant memory was awoken upon the sight of him. You’d seen this man before, but where?

His other hand rested inside his pants pocket, lazily, elbow hooked. Nothing about him indicated what had just been done, so you didn’t notice it at first. Not until he blew a small cloud while the cigarette left his lips, and he finally looked up at you all. You saw the paleness of his face. Not natural, but made by makeup. Familiar, you thought again. But it couldn’t be him, could it? The blue triangles near his eyes. The green tangled hair.

This man was dressed as a clown, you realized. A clown you’d seen pictures of before on the television, and on the wanted posters all around the city. A villain recently sought after by Wayne and the authorities.

The Joker.

No wonder you had thought you recognized him. A man known to be ruthless. Cold needles spread all over your spine and you froze up with fear. You knew you had to go, to escape, to run fast and as far as you could before he ended your life like had the lives of so many others. His reasons were often left unknown. Not just Wayne’s men had been murdered, dozens more.

But then your eyes turned to the two boys on the floor and you realized the clown must have a gun. Red had started to spread, leaking from the chests of the boys down onto the street tiles below. Their clothes were stained with the red liquid that was now rapidly spreading.

They’d been shot.

Then the stains on the clown’s suit weren’t made by coffee at all. They were blood as well.

You looked up again in fear, eyes wide. But the Joker’s gaze was not upon you. It was fixed firmly upon the boys in front of you. His hand rested lazily in the pocket of his red pants. Probably where he is hiding the gun, you mused.

“I think you have something of mine there,” was all Joker needed to say for the boys in front of you to start stumbling backward. What was it? You wondered. What did they have? What had you found yourself entangled in? Their screams echoed throughout the alley as they turned on their heels to run. They made it past you, into the narrow street, but only made it in several paces before one by one, they were shot in the back. Cowardly, you thought, but they oh-so deserved it for what they had tried to do to you.

They fell forward, their bodies slumped. You didn’t know if they were instantly dead, or if their life was slowly slipping away from them. You didn’t care to watch. Instead, you turned your head back to the Clown Prince of Crime, a title given to him by the most ruthless and the most influential of all men in Gotham.

The Joker stood where he had been standing. The only change was his now raised arm, a smoking gun aimed at where the boys once had run. Your heart nearly stopped of fear, and you hardly dared to keep your eyes upon him. Surely, he would shoot you next. Whatever this was, whatever this had been, he would probably assume you were part of the group. Had they stolen something from him? Did he want it back enough to kill them for it? Why should he spare you?

With your eyes averted, nearly closed while you trembled in fear, you heard his steps upon the tiled street. His soles slipped upon the glistening tiles, still wet from the rain earlier today, before the sun had started to peek through the clouds.

You heard how he walked towards you, taking his time, a cigarette in his hand, still burning. Then he brought it to his lips and took a long drag before he exhaled slowly. Little clouds of white swirled up from his lips to disappear into the early summer sky while he tilted your head with one finger, forcing you to lock eyes with his own.

They were the purest green you had ever seen. It was within that instant that you recognized him as the clown whose life you had once saved. Eyes that had once been filled with terror and disbelief, but had been ever so green that they had drawn you in. Eyes that had once looked at you as if he could not believe you were real. The gaze in them was the same. That look that told you he had a hard time believing that you existed.

But why?

This man had once been hunched over, frightened for his life, trembling. But now it was you who was in his place. And something in his gaze softened. You saw the recognition in his eyes and thought he must have spotted yours.

His fingers upon your chin tightened. The way he studied you while he moved your face with his hand, tilting it from side to side as he took you in the sight of you, made something in his eyes change. His gaze became more intense, darker.

Then his head dipped forward and his lips were planted against yours. The taste of bitter smoke and something unique to him invaded your senses. It felt pleasant. Unexpected, but heartwarming. A butterfly rose in your chest and wanted to fly, hot flames licked the insides of your belly. And this man had done all that with just one kiss.

And then he withdrew, but his eyes remained focused upon your lips. As if he was hungry for more, a craving you shared with him. He seemed to be catching his breath, his chest moved rapidly up and down, while his fingers finally slid free from your face so he could place his hands on your hips. You placed your hands on his chest and looked up at him, lips parted in a silent sigh, a quiet invitation for him to kiss your lips again. The Clown Prince of Crime happened to be your very own clown.

“I missed you, doll,” he murmured, voice hoarse and low. He had no idea how much you had missed him. "I think you'd be a lot safer in my arms, don't you?" he hummed, and you didn't think to go against him.

The newspapers reported you missing the very next day.

#Come on #Have your happy ending with the murder clown #he is sweet to you #Arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x you #prompt fill joker 2019 #joker 2019 #bad ass reader #running off with an evil clown #running off with a clown #anon answered #an: you went willingly with him of course

240 notes · View notes