#tw forced pregnancy
Text
Black Sun
Simon Riley masterlist
Simon Riley/female reader
5.3k words - AO3
Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Dark and twisty. Explicit sex, dubious consent, forced breeding/pregnancy kink, praise kink, size difference, creampie. Simon is insane about you. Panty sniffing/stealing. Obsessive behavior. Possessive Simon Riley. Alcohol. Reader is prescribed/taking muscle relaxers. Toxic but I think it's sweet. Angst, comfort, emotional hurt/comfort. Tags are for your health, not mine.
Simon never wanted a divorce.
Simon does not consider himself a common criminal.
A war criminal, perhaps. The things he’s done for the 141 would put him behind bar in over fifty countries, and on death row in at least eight. The things he’s seen alone make him eligible for life in a padded room, and that’s if you don’t count the things that have happened to him.
But he’s never stooped to petty crime like this before. Before this mess. Before you asked for a divorce, insisted he move out, demanded time apart.
There’s a first time for everything, he thinks. First time for a lot of things, actually. The first time he actively tried to avoid the divorce paperwork, first time he let his obsession take him this far, first time he indulged in his darkest fantasies, things he wouldn’t even dare whisper about to Price-
The door welcomes him like it always does, squeak gone from the hinges, greased out by his hands in the middle of the night last week, swinging wide so he can silently step across the threshold… into his house. Into yours.
Riley whines in greeting, lowering himself into a play bow, and Simon kneels to pet him, rubbing his between the ears and under the chin just how he likes, before instructing him back to his bed, to keep watch. He’d maul another man who tried to step foot in here, per his training, but his dad- his dad is okay. His dad is allowed.
It’s not that he’s too far gone to recognize the complete dismantlement of your boundaries, it’s that he doesn’t care. The chilling fear of losing you has seeped deep into his bones, fostering the growth of a plan that he knows is not rational, or right.
He knows what he is doing is wrong, but he cannot stop himself.
You are his. His wife. His life, his person, his reason for it all. You’re the sun and the moon and the stars and everything that makes this miserable fucking existence worth living.
He’ll do anything to keep you.
Anything.
So, it doesn’t feel wrong when he stands in the bedroom at the foot of his bed, watching you sleep, twisted up in the blankets, favoring your one side like your shoulder must have been bothering you before you fell asleep. It concerns him, worries him, this lack of improvement regarding your pain, and he wonders if maybe you should be in physical therapy.
It doesn’t feel wrong, when he traces the curve of your ass, perked up in the sheets, as if you’re waiting for him to strip your ratty little sleep shorts down to your knees and shove his cock to your cervix. He wonders if you’d even wake up if he rubbed his nose across the seam of your cunt. You’ve always been a heavy sleeper, through thunder or commotion, you’d stay sweet with your lashes flush against your cheeks, mouth slightly open in a soft snore.
He leans over you in bed, stroking the back of your head with his hand before pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple, something he knows won’t stir you, not with you how deep you’re dreaming, and certainly not with the muscle relaxer in your system.
He is a stealth operator, after all. It’s not like he hasn’t been watching, observing your new routines, the changes to your schedules and habits that have appeared over these last few months. The muscle relaxers, for example, that were prescribed for the strain in your neck and shoulder, that you’ve been taking once an evening for a week and a half, around six thirty. They’re extended release, usually able to keep you mostly pain free through the night, and he’s grateful to your doctor for insisting upon them. For more reasons than one.
He gives you another light kiss before pulling the sheet up around your shoulders, tucking you in how you like. You get cold in the middle of the night, icicle toes usually wandering across the mattress to seek the space between his thighs for warmth, shocking him into a gasp that would elicit a string of sleepy giggles from your mouth. He makes sure you’re comfortable, before slinking onto the second part of his routine.
The bathroom.
Every night, he holds his breath as the medicine cabinet pops open. He hates the anticipation, the fear of what he could discover, dreads the idea of having to start the clock over or worse, swap them for placebo. You never disappoint him though, and he catalogues the perfectly color-coded rows of birth control pills that haven’t been touched in over a month, not since his last op with wicked desire hearting his belly. What a good girl you are.
Before, he would have told you the opposite. He did, tell you the opposite. He told you were good, so good, for taking your pills, for making sure that you were safe for him, that there wouldn’t be any accidents. Guilt would eat at him each time the two of you had the argument, the ‘discussion’, about having a baby, and you would cry with misery staining your cheeks.
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” He tried to tell you, dozens of times, that he didn’t think he’d be good at it, that he wouldn’t like being gone so much, leaving you at home all the time with a baby.
“I love you, Simon. I want to have a baby, with you. My husband. Is that so wrong?” You would cry, and he could feel the weight of his choice breaking you apart, the pressure cracking beneath his skull.
“You… you don’t understand. I- I can’t.”
It’s not why you asked for a divorce, but it certainly played a part.
Something catches his eye when he turns to leave, a wayward item of clothing hanging haphazardly outside of the hamper.
Your underwear.
He plucks the scrap of blue lace and cotton from the edge and balls it into his fist, bringing it to his nose with a deep inhale. It’s sick, the way he needs you, the way the smell of your dirty panties, the honeyed ambrosia of your musk, makes his mouth water like a juvenile. Before he can change his mind, he shoves them in his pocket. He doesn’t usually take things, too aware of potentially tipping you off, but this; this is something he needs.
“Simon, can we please just… can we please just meet up and at least look at these papers?” It’s early for you to be up, on a Saturday, and he frowns at the screen in contemplation. Before, you’d never be up this early. Before, you would have insisted he stay under the covers with you, would have draped your body over his eagerly to convince him, sweetening him to your side with barely a whisper.
“How many weekends do we even get, anyway? This is your first one home in weeks. Stay in bed with me.” And he would, because of course he would. Because there was no place he’d rather be in those moments, curled up in bed, his nose in your hair, watching the rise and fall of your chest just to be sure it was all real, that it wasn’t some cruel dream that would disappear as soon as he woke up.
“You’ve been home for two weeks and haven’t even looked at them.” He grits his teeth, pressing the hard edge of his phone into his cheek. He can’t be divorced if there’s no signature. But you sound exasperated, stressed, and he’s eager to fix it for you, easily agreeing without too much badgering.
“Alright, sweetheart. Alright. I’ll meet you.”
He cannot believe his luck.
You’re nervous. Your hands flitter about, constantly touching the table, the silverware, your sore shoulder, the manilla envelope before finding the stem of your wine glass and tilting it to your lips, swallowing the alcohol over and over without any kind of hesitation. You must not have taken the muscle relaxer.
He's well versed in navigating your emotions, calming you into a relaxed state with a few words or a reassuring touch, and he wants to reach out and take your hand in his, soothe you, tell you that everything is alright but… it would serve no purpose for him tonight.
Sorry, sweet girl.
He sits at the little two top across from you with his arms crossed, watching his lack of interest in the conversation break you down, little by little, until you’re ordering another glass of wine, and then a third, all while he nurses the same glass of bourbon.
The alcohol distracts you, strays you from your course, and you eventually stop trying to try talk about that bloody manilla envelope, leaning to one side a little more than the other in your chair. When you order a shot after dinner is over, he doesn’t protest, just watches your tongue follow the seam of the citrus wedge, dabbing along the spongy white fibers before your teeth dig into the flesh of it, lime juice squirting across your tongue.
He loves you drunk. Loves you sober, loves you tired, or grumpy, or smiling. He loves you anyway he can get you, but sometimes, when you’re like this, your smile sweet like sticky toffee, buzzing and humming, it helps him get away from himself, helps him stay present and lost inside you, swept up in you. It makes him think about the honeymoon, your feet buried in the sand, tucked away in secluded cove, no one around for miles. He fucked you on the beach, fucked you in the ocean, fucked you in someone else’s cabana that day, and you giggled the whole time. Pearly pitched music that wrapped in him the strongest feeling of bliss, skin that tasted like brine and sun, your hand in his on the walk back the hotel, peeking under your wide brim hat every few minutes to press his lips to yours.
“Wan’ one?” He shakes his head, but pulls your hand into his, feeling the warmth of your skin. When you don’t pull away, his blood heats, churning through his veins like fire. “Figured.” You sigh, and then flash him a mischievous, coy grin. Cheeky girl. Think you’re so clever. “Want to get out of here?” You croon, and he smiles indulgently behind the mask.
“Lead the way.”
You’re giggly, excited when he bends you over the table, the kitchen table where you used to eat together, breakfast for dinner when he’d come home, waffles and bacon at one in the morning.
You don’t protest when he slides your skirt down your hips and over your ass, thumbs spreading you wide to reveal your glistening cunt, twitching and desperate.
“My poor girl, has it been so long?” He coos, relishing in the way you moan with your lips on the wood. He knows it has, knows you haven’t been with anyone since the last time he fucked you, months and months ago, on the night you asked for the divorce. “Shhh. I’m here now, I’m gonna take care of it.”
“You have to pull out.” You slur, breath hot, fogging against the finish of the table. “Promise.” He grunts something under his breath, nonsense, but you can’t tell the difference, and when he slides inside your scorching cunt, you howl, breath hitching with the stretch.
Bleedin’ Christ. You’re so tight, so wet, soaked enough that it sticks to the curls around the base of his cock. How could he ever give this up?
“That’s it.” He kisses your shoulder, pressing his chest to your back with his weight, pinning you in place, his hands clamping down around your wrists like shackles. “Squeeze me tight, good girl. Show me-“ Show me how you’re going to hold my come in your tight little pussy once I fill you- comes to mind, but he bites his tongue instead, not willing to tip you off too soon.
To have and to hold. In sickness and in health. For better or worse.
I promise to love and cherish you.
Till death does us part.
Till death.
“Simooon.” You sing, hips start to push back with him, fucking yourself onto his cock, chasing him, chasing your pleasure, mouth half open with the little pants and whines that are music to his ears. He keeps you pinned, flat against the table, fingers between your legs, stroking your clit, shoving you closer to your orgasm, delightfully pleased by the way your pussy pulses around him.
“Come on.” He urges, big hand between you and the table, pressing against your lower belly, still tapping away at your clit, indulging in the trembling of your legs.
“Fuck- fuck, Si.” You cry, clenching down around him with your orgasm, voice breaking.
“There it is… what a good girl.” He hisses, keeping his pace, pushing deeper and deeper until he’s notching himself nearly inside your womb. It’s overwhelming for you, he knows, but he doesn’t stop swirling his fingers around your clit, zapping electric pulses through body.
“Nngh Si. Too- ooh it’s- it’s too much.” You wail, a tear on your cheek, and he nods, nosing above your ear.
“I know. You’re doing so good for me, so perfect.” It’s whispered with a groan, hands stroking your hip, keeping your steady, in place. “Just need a little more, just- just a little, I’m gonna-“
“What-” You ask, more with it now that you recognize the edge he’s riding, the roughness in his voice clueing you in to where he is, but he sends you back into orbit, pressing your clit and working you in circles. “Oh, oh.” Your hips rock, and he moves with the momentum, fucking into you faster, grunting the truth as he speeds towards the cliff, desperate to drive the car over the edge, eager to change the course of his life, your life, his marriage.
“Take it.” He spits, wide palm spread across your shoulder. Everything in him tightens, fire spreading through his veins, pressure rising in his body like a fucking tea kettle, about to scream out a whistle. He’s going to breed you, fuck you deep with his come and put a baby inside you, give you what you want, what you’ve always said you wanted, the thing that made you cry in the middle of the night when he refused.
Well, he’s going to give it to you now.
“Fuck- here it comes.” You rock again, half lost to the world, eyes glazed over in pleasure, spasming around his cock with your second orgasm. He slams into you, burying deep and you keen, fingers gripping the edge of the table, his hips flush with yours like a lock.
And he’ll throw away the key.
You blame yourself for the first time.
You blame your nerves. Your lack of self-control. You drank too much, trying to fight the anxiety that was threatening to spill from your mouth by way of your tongue.
And well, didn’t he just look too fucking good, sitting across from you at dinner. Eyes on your lips. Hand dwarfing the rocks glass. Shoulders broader than a door frame. He put on mass since you saw him last, and you spent half the meal trying not to think about stripping his shirt off so you could inspect for new wounds, new scars, new stretch marks.
And didn’t he feel so fucking good too, bending you over the kitchen table, sliding into you from behind with almost no prep, hint of pain making you see stars, just the way you like it. Fucking you like the man you married, like the man you fell in love with. Calling you his good girl and making you come all over his cock like a champ.
You blame him for the second time.
You could blame yourself, for inviting him over- but your intention was clear. Sign the papers. Discuss the house. Be done with it all and close this chapter. Move on with your life, with both your lives.
But he showed up on the wrong day, at the wrong time, with a bottle of your favorite wine, the malbec. The one from your first anniversary, with a large pizza, thin crust with extra cheese (your favorite) and an order of garlic knots.
“Wasn’t sure if you’d eaten or not, figured I’d pick something up, just in case.” He shrugged, and just like that, you were bereft of words, staring at him with nothing coming to mind. Didn’t you say tomorrow? You stood in the door, blinking, Riley whining behind you, already eager to see his dad. “Sweetheart? You feelin’ okay?” His hand was on your arm, warm, thumb rubbing a circle on the inside of your elbow, and even that small amount of contact, that little trickle of concern, sent you into a spiral, muscle relaxer already working its way through your system, slowing your response time, making your brain a little fuzzy. His eyes shimmered in the porchlight, and you nodded, robotically, feet still stuck in the doorway, until he was prompting you to let him inside. “Can I come in then, get this signing business done?”
You ate pizza and drank a glass of wine (frowned upon considering your medication, but one glass couldn’t kill you, right?) out of regular glassware (a sin, if anyone asked your poor mother) as the manilla envelope sat on the coffee table and practically watched the two of you, oozing with judgement.
You’re supposed to be divorcing. Not cozying up on the god damn couch. Weren’t you the one who told him to find a new place to live? Weren’t you the one who said the two of you wanted different things in life, from it? Weren’t you the one did this, pushed him away, shoved him out the door, told him it was all too little, too late?
But when his fingertips drifted to the top of your spine and then over, like he knew exactly where you were tender, you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into his touch, more and more until he had your back against his chest, strong grip on your shoulder, working your taut muscles with expertise.
His fingers dig deep, groan slipping between your teeth, breathy and low, enough that he’s immediately releasing you.
“Did I hurt you?”
“N-no.” You shake your head, which only makes you dizzy. Probably shouldn’t have had that glass of wine. “Feels good.” He chuckles, and tucks you closer, head tipping back into his chest, eyes half closed. “Tweaked something in m’shoulder a few weeks ago.” For some reason, you feel the need to explain it, to tell him. “Went for a slide tackle, ended up halfway under the girl. And she was a lot bigger than me.”
“You still playin’ in that women’s league?”
“Every Sunday.”
You were so relaxed, so pliable, that you didn’t utter a single protest when he leaned you back on the couch like a doll, pulling your leggings down and off your ankles, sliding your panties away to bury his face in your pussy. You didn’t want to protest, or stop, or get up off the couch, even though, somewhere, in the back of your logical mind, you knew what you were doing was stupid. You knew, that doing this once was mistake, but doing it twice was just downright foolish. It’s just sex though. He can still just sign the papers and go. Who hasn’t had a little runaround with their soon to be ex-husband before the final nail is hammered in the coffin? You’ve never been a saint, after all.
“Lift your hips.” He taps your side, and you do, letting him slide a throw pillow under them, plumping it under your ass for good measure. “Good girl.” You beam, woozily, and he chuckles, face cracking into something that’s flooded with light, something happy, the face of the man who used to be your husband, used to love you, want a future with you, not just endless rotations around the world with the 141 and a sometimes wife that he sometimes saw.
“You have to pull out.” There’s backbone to your words, but it’s brittle, and easily breakable. “You didn’t listen last time, and ‘m still mad about it.”
“I’m sorry, sweet girl.” His lips press against your thigh, and then your knee, trailing up to where he’s got your ankle in his hips. “You just feel like fuckin’ heaven.” You huff. “I will this time, promise.” He rubs your thigh, zinging your skin with a small slap, your yelp teetering off into a moan when he presses knuckle deep into your sopping wet cunt.
“This doesn’t change anything.” You don’t know why you say it, why you’re so compelled to draw the line in the sand in this moment, when you could have said it any time before hand. Or, even better, had him sign the papers like you originally planned.
“I know.” He shifts you, pulling his occupied fingers free to rearrange your legs, folding your knees back against your chest, the position combined with the pillow under your hips practically tilting you all the way back, the angle enough to make you a little dizzy. Your hand shoots forward to latch onto his forearm for balance, little whimper sneaking away from you, making his brow crease in concern. “I’ve got you.” He whispers against your cheek, lips ghosting over yours, plucking a sweet kiss from your mouth before there’s heat grazing your opening. He keeps a hand on your knee until he’s pushing inside, thrusting in one fell swoop all the way until he can’t go any further, punching your cervix with the head of his cock, swearing behind a tight jaw. It’s a lot of stretch at this angle, deeper, sharper, and you squirm, adjusting to the pressure of him splitting you open.
“F-fuu-ck.” Your eyes roll back in your head, off somewhere, somewhere not this planet, not this plane of existence where he’s practically in your belly, slick noises bouncing off the walls of your living room, his knees against the pillow, back sloped for enough leverage that he’s practically fucking downwards into you, bent forward with his chest against yours, torso locking you in place, arms around your head like crown. Or a cage. “Si- fuck. It- it hurts.” you babble, gasping into his neck, teeth dangerously close to his shoulder.
“I know, doin’ so good. Almost there.” You start to melt around him, gentled into it, the patting and cooing and kissing sweetening you soft by the passing second. “Easy love, open up for me.” He pants into your mouth, tongue licking in behind your teeth, invading your senses, your very existence, and it’s so much, too much, but you can’t stop. You let yourself get swept away, mind slipping deeper and deeper every time he thumbs your clit, rubbing a circle around the swollen bud, tapping across it just how you like. “Relax, sweetheart, that’s it.” He keeps bringing you closer and closer to coming, playing your body like only a husband could, plucking the strings that make the sweetest melodies, chords vibrating together until you’re clenching down on his cock, spine curling forward, everything inside of you exploding with a blinding, fiery orgasm that has you crying his name, body shaking underneath him with aftershocks. “You’ve been such a good girl for me.” He murmurs into your sweat-soaked temple, cock sliding out just to push all the way deep again, hips grinding against your ass in a circle. “Haven’t you, sweet girl?” You nod, because yes, of course. You’re always good.
“Yeeah.” You squeak, vowels heavy, eyes heavy, head heavy, everything too thick underneath the weight of your orgasm, his cock lodged inside you, the muscle relaxer mixed with the Malbec, the chagrined manilla envelope sitting on the table, a mere two feet from your prone body.
“I know. I know you have.” The muscles in his arm flex, tendons in his neck becoming more defined, and his movements stutter, fucking you in a frantic, desperate way, wild with some sort of chaotic need. “I’m gonna give you a gift for it. For being so good.”
“You- you-“ You mean to say you what? What do you mean? What are you talking about? But you can’t get any of it out, only able to watch him through half shuttered eyes, admiring the slope of his jaw, the white of the scar on his chin, the drip of sweat in his clavicle.
“I love you.” A big hand holds your hip upwards, steady, pinning you to the pillow, pace turning hungry, unrelenting, his forehead pressed to yours as he bottoms out, trying to fuck you as deep as possible, to consume you, to drown in you, shoving you further and further up the couch. It’s erratic, and insane, and so- so Simon, that the tears dripping down your cheeks feel normal, everything feels right in your hazy, fucked out brain. “I love you.” He tells you again, and his jaw clicks in your ear. “I love- fuck, fuck, I’m coming.”
You should have protested. You should have reminded him of his promise. Should have said no, remember, you did this last time. We talked about this. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Couldn’t even get your mouth to work right, too spun out on him, on yourself, on floating on a cloud, high above your life, like choices didn’t have consequences. You were blissed out on your own bad decisions, sleepy in the cocoon of an alternate universe with your hips tilted on a pillow, where your husband was still your husband, and not some absent ghost.
You didn’t even protest when he gathered you together in his arms and carried you upstairs. Didn’t mind that he got one of your make up wipes from the bathroom and cleaned your face, tucked you in, and kissed you goodnight.
You didn’t mind any of it, until you woke up the next morning and faced that manilla envelope.
You told yourself it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, because in a weeks’, two weeks’ time, he’d be somewhere on the other side of the planet, or hemisphere, or country, somewhere classified, doing god knows what. He’d be gone, and you’d be here, just like always. Just like old times. The sex didn’t matter. It meant nothing. You hardly remembered most it, just clips here and there, the taste of his mouth, the feeling of being so full of him. It didn’t matter, and you repeated those three words in the mirror, four, five times in the morning, intentionally not looking at the gleam of your rings, the wedding band and engagement ring, a fated pair… all alone.
Besides, you could always mail the paperwork. Address it to John. He’d make sure it gets taken care of.
You cringed when you thought about the note you’d have to enclose, the awful acknowledgement of your ineptitude- “Hi John, sorry, but could you have Simon sign these when you get a chance?”
And then, everything changed.
“LT!” Soap shouts over the din of the common room, jerking his head towards the office at the end of the hall. “Price needs ye.”
Price is standing behind his desk, arms across his chest when Simon pushes the door open. His lips quirk, head shaking with a sigh. “You have a phone call.” He motions to the landline, one of the only phones in this entire building, currently off the hook, open line waiting in the air. A phone call? “I’ll give you some privacy.”
When the door shuts, and he’s alone with the phone in his hand, he takes a deep breath, and puts it to his ear. “Hello?” His thumb strokes the silicone wedding band on his ring finger, rubbing it in a circle as he waits for a response. This number is for family members and emergencies, real serious shit, and he’s not-
“Simon?” It’s you. It’s your voice on the other end of the line, wet with tears. His heart stops in his chest, lungs frozen in place, anxiety curling in the pit of his stomach. Your crying always puts him on edge, and it’s worse, with him here, and you alone, everything hanging on the precipice. “Simon? Are you there?”
“I’m here. What’s wrong?” He closes his eyes. Say it. Please. Fucking hell. Please.
“I- I need, I have to tell you something.” You’re still crying, hiccupping with distress, and he wishes desperately that he was there with you, holding you, telling you everything going to be okay to your face, instead of over the phone.
“What is it sweetheart?” He tries to encourage, relaxing back into the chair when you take a deep breath. “You know you can tell me anything.”
“I’m pregnant.” His palm covers the receiver immediately, just in case, and he thumps the top of Price’s desk with his fist, stupid grin stretching his face wide.
“You’re what?” He feigns shock, confusion. “Did you say… you’re pregnant?”
“Yes.” You blubber.
“I thought you were on the pill, sweet girl. I wouldn’t have-“
“I told you to pull out! And I was b-but I stopped taking it, like two months ago. I forgot and after the first time when you were home, after the restaurant I thought, oh well, I had only been off the pill for a month, less than, after being on it for like fifteen years!” You practically shriek in his ear, a mix of sob and hysteria, trying to suck air into your lungs before continuing. “Getting pregnant after being on it for so long just doesn’t happen. It’s almost impossible! So, I d-didn’t worry about it. And then the second time was only like, two nights after that night and I just thought- I thought everything would be fine! I’m s-s-sorry, I’m so sorry.” You’re babbling, gasping, and he rubs his neck.
“Alright, alright. Hey, hey listen,” you’re still crying, voice cracking over the line and his heart breaks for you, guilt swamping him over you being alone. This was not the plan. He was supposed to be home for this part, to be there for you, if it took. “Sweetheart, breathe. You need to breathe.” You struggle through a few deep breaths, nearly wheezing, and he winces each time. It can't be good for you, or the baby, to be stressed like this. “Good girl, that’s it. Nice an’ slow. Good.”
“I'm sorry. I don’t know what to do, but-” You whisper, like you’re telling a secret, and he closes his eyes, imagining you pacing in the kitchen, hand in your hair, on your hip, anxious. He knows you. Knows you better than he knows himself, anyone. Soap, even. He knows, the reason why you’re saying sorry over and over, isn’t because you’re apologizing for getting pregnant, the two of you did that together. Or rather, he did it.
It’s because of what’s coming next.
“I do know that I… I want this baby, Simon. I know you… you don’t want this. That you’ve never wanted it, and that’s okay. I can do this, alone. We’ll still get divor-“
“Stop.” He doesn’t enjoy cutting you off, but he needs to put an end to this talk, this idea that still seems to have a hold on you. “Look, I’ll… I’ll come home. We can talk and, figure out what we’re going to do, okay? You’re not alone sweet girl. I’ll be there.” You’re silent for a moment, a moment that feels too long.
“Okay. You promise?”
I promise to love and cherish you.
Till death does us part.
Till death.
“I promise.”
#peaches writes#black sun#simon riley#simon riley x reader#🥞 anon#🌵 anon#tw forced pregnancy#tw dark and twisty#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#tw forced breeding#cod x reader#cod mw2#female reader#simon riley x female reader#Black Sun by Death Cab
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★ 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 ★
pairing: yandere! yoongi x f. reader
genre: smut || non-idol au || yandere
summary: yoongi just can’t seem to get enough at the way you look at him; he really loves it, even if it’s a mix of fear and hatred.
word count: +4.5k
tags/warnings: ᑲᥙᥣᥣᥡіᥒg, non-con, ᥡ᥆ᥙᥒg ⍴rᥱgᥒᥲᥒᥴᥡ, sᥕᥱᥲrіᥒg, ᥲᑲ᥆r𝗍і᥆ᥒ mᥱᥒ𝗍і᥆ᥒᥱძ, reader is scared to disappoint parents, wealthy!yoongi, he’s brutally mean (which is not cool), sub! reader, dom! yoongi, blackmail, mentions of bribing/corruption in a school & police, he lowkey sadistic
notes: another little story is on the works for jungkook and yoongi, unfortunately, i don’t know when i’ll finish though :’)
༻❤︎︎ ★ ★ ❤︎︎༺
Min Yoongi was exploring his ideas, much into thought about what else he could to make you notice him even more. Every time he would torment you, he would be captured by how stunning you looked, and that was just on you wearing one of the uniforms that was required by the school.
Yoongi knew it was something that he shouldn't do to someone he loved. Despite that, he knew it was his only way to place your attention on him. He didn't really mind doing what he did, he had nothing against you. Yoongi just had a huge crush on you. And you would learn in the future of how a 'huge crush' was a complete understatement. Yet, he found it lovely when you would look around the room to see if he was there. He adored that.
You knew about him, as your bully. The guy who over the year spent his time making fun of you, and the worst thing was no one ever stopped him. His actions repeated daily. Maybe because Yoongi was the happiest person alive when you would only place the spotlight on him. Dared the others to say anything. He knew your main focus was on him as soon as you entered the school building until the moment you left. But you weren't! Not one bit of glee in your body when you knew you had five days ahead of you that would make you want to stay home because of a certain boy.
You hated him, you didn't even know what you did wrong to make him center you and torture you throughout your highschool year. But whatever you could have done, you surely regretted it.
He would constantly threaten you. Telling you threats after threats: "listen or else..." However, you began to notice that Yoongi would always repeat the same threat over and over. That if you told anyone about what he was doing, he would treat you more worse. Of course you had been petrified of asking for help from your peers or professors. You didn't want to get on his bad side even more.
But you started believing that he wouldn't even be able to stand close to you after telling an adult, that a restraining order would do the trick. So you were going to tell an adult, the adult that was responsible of the school, and you did. You had informed the principle on your situation with Yoongi and what did they do, nothing. You waited for them to assure you he wouldn't try anything. But they didn't care, and didn't even attempt to do something about the situation. You recalled calling them useless hags the next day, when you had been spotted again by Yoongi. And yet again, at his reach.
There was other options...
You were too afraid to tell your parents. You didn't know why you would be, your parents would assist you, help you overcome the obstacle of Yoongi bullying you. They would take into consideration that you could not be bullied anymore, you had finally build up the courage you needed in order for you to tell them, today. However, at the end of the day your teacher assigned you to clean the classroom after school. Just the day you really needed to go home, to prepare and relax yourself before breaking the news to your parents.
But it didn't go as plan. The teacher had to leave the classroom and told you to do some cleaning, if you wanted extra credit. And who wouldn't want extra credit, you could still have enough time to prepare yourself, plus your parents wouldn't be home until later.
What you didn't know was that Yoongi had been planning to see you after school and to surprise his lovely kitten.
Yoongi took it far, very far.
You had been cleaning up the classroom muttering some curses to your teacher when you heard the door 'bang' as it shut close. You slightly jumped at the sudden unexpected noise. Quickly turning around, you saw Yoongi, in a harsh tone you told him that the teacher was around, and if he did anything they would definitely find out. You began to pour out profanities at him, making sure to make him understand how much hate you had for him. Shouting across the room that the outcome of anything he did, would surely result in punishment.
Yoongi couldn't hold back, a smile became visible on his lips. He spoke calmly, "I have enough money from my parents to keep the school quiet. Nobody cares of your well being, the staff was easily bribed, they even accepted the first offer I had given."
You cursed at him: "fuck you." Adding that you would tell your parents and that they would take it to the police, he grinned. Your mind was racing with thoughts of how to get out of the situation, out of the classroom.
Yoongi slowly made his way to you, hoping that you would just accept the fact that you were stuck with him. But you sure were stubborn. He had been so close to having you, to only to have you run towards the other side.
You were trying your best not to get stuck between him and the walls. To approach the door.
It was a game of cat and mouse between the both of you. You were the little mouse struggling to free yourself from the claws of the wicked cat.
Finally, Yoongi gave up on being so gentle on you. He had to admit, it was cute: how you tried your very best to avoid him, at all cost. It left him with one choice, his only decision was to tackle you, so he did.
Yoongi did what he had to do.
And so did you. You definitely weren't going to let him take advantage of you. You punched him, managing to get out of his aggressive grip, only for him to yell at you with a harsh tone to come back.
Yoongi and you both knew the truth, you weren't considering to ever come back to him. You were choosing your freedom, still, even if it came with the slight prospect of getting caught by him.
Running out the door with all the desperation you had; the desire to get the hell out of the school, more importantly away from any place that Yoongi was. You raced to find anyone, your mind and heart racing: Where are all the clubs today? They were always here or the staff? Anyone?
There was still that expectation in you, that you were going to get away Yoongi. "There!" You happily annoyed, you had spotted the teacher that told you to clean the classroom, you told her everything about Yoongi in a nutshell, explaining that Yoongi was still trying to do something to you.
Something that you didn't want at all, anticipating for her to hold you and to never let go, until you were safe and sound. And at the end of the day, Yoongi would be expelled from the school, the only way to make him disappear from your life.
To never see or hear about him again.
"Found you!" a voice said from behind. You recognized it right away, of course you did, the only male that called you by that nickname. The same male that had just attacked you.
You quickly stared at the teacher, assuming she would pull you behind her and shield you from Yoongi. You indicated her to do something, gesturing your hands to her.
The tears of anxiety started rolling down your checks, you held back the choked sobs that were daring to come out any second.
She just gazed at you. You waited for her to say something. Anything. You just wanted her to aid you by fleeing you from your situation. Despite what you saw in her eyes: the condolence and remorse. What she said was unexpected, her intense gaze fell to the floor, she whispered to him, "Take her quickly because it's making me feel pity."
That was it, that was enough to break you into pieces.
Your heart ached, your emotions mixed together. You felt completely confused and fearful, the realization had hit you with an unpleasant brunt.
It was always about the money. The wealth.
The teachers followed what the student said, in this case, Yoongi was the student with money all around him, the heir to his family's businesses. Everyone listened to the commands of the rich kid—- the spoiled brat.
They were willing to turn a blind eye for Yoongi's 'ugly' demands.
You were lost in everything, mind racing with assumptions. Your eyes no longer had that gleam of hope in them, that optimism. It was long gone, no one is ever going to help you, neither are they going punish Yoongi for his actions.
Ever.
It was you against Yoongi's power, and that easily managed to get people on his side. You were certain that bribes were flooding the school, the lies that were kept in the dirt for specific reasons. Teachers ignoring stunts, like the ones Yoongi pulled on you, for their very own convenience.
You had completely forgotten of what he had told you earlier, how he had manage to keep the whole staff silent because of how he contributed to the school daily, with of course, the power and wealth he had from his family. You wished that you could've remembered, you would have made no excuse to stop running for the support from a teacher that was on his side, helping him. You should've just ran until you were out of the school, and out of his sight.
That would have definitely guaranteed your safety. Now it was just dissolved. Yoongi grabbed your sides, motioning that he was going to pick you up.
One more. Once more. One chance.
You fought against him, using all the strength that you had left. Begging the teacher to assist you, but you heard her heels click farther and farther away. Till there was nothing to hear, just his footsteps as he carried you away, back into the same direction.
Yoongi brought you to the same classroom that you had just been in. Where it all started. It was ironic that the classroom you were in had been the only class you didn't have Yoongi in. The class that made you feel secure and so sure of yourself.
Now, all you felt was horrified of what was going to become of you.
The room diffused with cries and yearns for someone to get Yoongi off you. You attempted pushing him off, but you were weak, you had used all your stability earlier. You just had to accept it. Yoongi spent that time responding back by muttering that you should 'shut the fuck up' or 'stop moving around'. It was getting on his nerves, he was an impatient man. Especially when it came to you, and dealing with your tantrum, when all he wanted was to fill you with cum.
And with his offspring.
That single thought had fractured any patience he had left. Yoongi couldn't hold it in; his hand straightened in the air as it fell down on your check with a great force. A red-hand mark was in-printed on your face. He slapped you, the action left you trembling. You were breaking down, bawling out completely, you closed your eyes lids shut.
Yoongi felt guilty, he didn't want to take these measures, like hurting you into giving him what he wanted. Exactly to how he just had. But he wanted and needed you at that moment. It was time that you learn his true intentions towards you.
Yoongi grabbed his belt and wrapped it around your hands. He sat on your legs, stopping any movement that you were doing that meant you could have a chance of escaping.
Yoongi saw his reflection on your eyes that were gleaming because of the tears that were pouring out. He had you in his arms. After every "little" debate you two had throughout the year, there you were, under him and ready for him to fuck with. Without no regrets of what he was doing. He giggled, "I've finally got you!"
In an instant your shirt was being unbuttoned by Yoongi, you wished you could swipe his disgusting smirk off his face. Was he really going to do it?
"Stay quiet, it'll be over soon."
Your shirt was grabbed roughly and thrown at a desk, it was exactly your desk. You could see your backpack, it was neatly placed on the corner of the desk, the complete opposite of how you were.
Your hair was messy, your tear-streaked face was slightly red as the batches of tears poured out, the room was overflowing with yelps that emerged from you and constant snickers from Yoongi.
Your legs were on either side of Yoongi, his body separated them so that you couldn't close them shut at all. Then you felt the slight tug at your bra, he unclasped it, and your breasts were let loose for his eyes to devour.
And soon his mouth did too.
His thumbs played with one nipple by pulling it and flicking it, while his tongue licked the other. Yoongi had managed to make you let out a slight whine, it was something you weren't used to at all therefore feeling it for the first time had made it difficult to hold back sounds.
You paid attention to the undergarment that laid on the floor as Yoongi's shirt landed right on top of your bra. His hand snuck into your skirt, "I love your little skirt", his fingers raced against the hem of skirt and soon enough his fingers were rubbing your inner thighs.
His hands were cold and it made you shiver, especially when he was taking your panties off, sliding the material off you on to your ankles and then it was finally off. Yoongi gawked at they thing he desired for a long time, there it was, right in front of him, your pussy.
Yoongi's nose came into contact with your slit, giving it a long lick as he felt the sticky essence from your pussy get on his tongue. One of his hand squished your left breast, his other hand's digits caressed your cunt. In one motion your cunt sucked his fingers in, "Look at you sucking in my fingers", you squeaked at the sudden entrance. Repeated moans left your lips as Yoongi continued ramming his digits into you, he was enjoying every second of the view.
Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled back, your mouth wide opened to release your delightful moans of his fingers plunging themselves into you, your hands gripping onto the belt he trapped your hands in, and the sounds that came where his fingers met your pussy.
And before you could cum, his digits stopped moving and removed themselves. You were groaning at the fact that you felt a tense pain that wouldn't be let loose. You had been too into focus on the release that you failed to notice Yoongi pulling off his uniform, his fingers still wet because of your cunt, leaving marks on his clothes but he didn't mind. All he cared and was anticipating to do was plunge himself deep into your cunt.
To see you moaning, whining, and panting under him, and because of him and his cock. Yoongi would love to see what his mind was visualizing, and he was going to have it. Yoongi sure was spoiled, to have you laid on the floor, your pussy practically begging him to fuck you even though you didn't dare to utter a word.
Yoongi's cock was free as his last pair of clothing was out of the way. His hands spread your legs wider to see your little pussy sulking for his cock to enter you. His hands lifted themselves off yours inner thighs and onto your bosoms. Yoongi pressed them together and held them as he lowered his head to spectate where the two of you would connect.
Yoongi's flushed tip pressing against your folds, he moved his warm head up and down, spreading your wetness on your cunt, he hoped that it would assist in pushing himself in. "I'm bigger than average s-so", he mentioned, wedging his head into your cunt. A low moan slipped out of his mouth, his eyes rested on your expression, which was a painful one. Yoongi felt more blood rush to his cock, he pushed himself forcefully into your crimson walls, "Gosh you're such a turn on!" He groaned out.
A scream ran out of your parted lips and a following cry as well. You were in discomfort, afflicted by the feeling of something inside you, parting your walls apart. All Yoongi could do was be patient and hold back until you got used to his cock filling you up.
Yoongi stayed still, glancing at your stomach which you made you curiosity spark to see what he was so focused on. It was a bulge that showed that his cock was inside of you, it could be seen easily spotted. Yoongi hand reached out, patted the spot, and then pressed down on it. You felt an ache, and shows it by the wailing and the shedding of tears, you had started to get used to it but it still distressed your walls.
A few groans or 'fucks' escaped as he started jamming his cock harder, you still weeped. However, Yoongi had hit a perfect area that resulted in you letting out a loud whimper in return. He pounded into you with his all his force, your back arched in response. The sounds and smell had pervaded the room, your moans and whines or Yoongi's grunts and low whimpers could be heard.
The pace had gotten sloppier as Yoongi was close, you on the other hand, had already cummed on his cock. All you were waiting for now was for him to finish. His cock twitching before your walls were tainted with his cum, and you milked his dick again.
Yoongi thrusted a few more times, he made sure that you weren't on anything and that his sperm was spread throughout your insides enough for it to flourish into something.
He pulled out and pumped his cock a few times before slipping his fingers in your cunt, making sure his cum wouldn't be wasted and would be well kept in your pussy. He chose to ignore the small puddle of blood on the floor, grabbing a tissue in his backpack and cleaning it up, making sure you couldn't catch the crimson red that stained the white tissue. Hiding it in his pocket.
Yoongi was your first. You didn't want to, now here he was fixing you up while you processed everything that rushed throughout your mind. Your cheeks had dried tears on them. The scenes playing over and over in your head. Yoongi had taken your virginity, the boy you hated with your guts.
It wasn't exactly him taking it that frightened you, but the fact that you didn't want it.
"I'll drop you off at your parents, okay." He gripped your hand tightly, trying to gain your attention. You were too silent for his liking, it made him upset. Were you mad at him?
He planned on dropping you off, you had no ride and probably, didn't have the ability to walk home either. And it wasn't something Yoongi would let you do anyways. Yoongi didn't say anything and didn't do anything to you in the car ride. Nonetheless, he gazed from time to time, and if you would have turned to face him, you would have seen the concern in his eyes.
Yoongi was worried for you, he knew it must have been painful for you. He just kept manipulating his mind to believe that he had to do it or he would never be with you. You would never choose to be with him, and he couldn't let that happen.
You didn't tell them, your parents, they weren't even home the moment you arrived. Your mom worked late and your father did too, they tried making so much money, in order for you to live your life and study. Something they couldn't do. So you studied and did your best in everything. From completing every assignment, getting the best grades, and having over 90s in every class. And if you failed, even in the smallest way, you felt like a burden and you were scared of failing them.
So you stayed quiet. However, you forgot to buy something very important, and that mistake would cost you: your future.
You had told the school, they did nothing. So now you felt like no one was going to believe you. Especially since Yoongi had well explained to you that he had plenty of money to keep the whole staff silent, meaning that he had all the money to bribe the police as well.
So the only thing you had left was to keep silent and live on, maybe he won't bother you anymore. He won't follow you, or touch you either. Maybe all along, that's what he wanted. Something to stick his dick in.
Wrong.
Yoongi stayed by your side even more and instead of bullying you, he would only degrade you when didn't listen to him, he wanted you to skip classes to be with him and to keep you away from your classmates. Yoongi switched his seats, he sat next to you in all the classes, whispering to you about gross things, describing things that he wanted to do to you.
A complete nightmare.
On the other hand, you had been sick for days already, throwing up contents from last nights' dinner almost every morning. The only reason that came to mind was the stomach virus that was going around school, thinking that you probably had a weaker defense from sicknesses, so you caught it longer. It was awful.
You noticed that Yoongi had been acting weird around you lately, bringing you stuff, and to proof, bears or little love notes overcrowded your locker, leaving you with predictions that something bad was going to happen.
Soon enough it did.
You were pregnant. With his child.
It didn't make sense to you why you were throwing a whole tantrum, meanwhile he was all cheerful and relaxed, happy to know about this upcoming child. You found out after he specifically told you to take the test in the middle of the night. Yoongi had sneaked into your house, by your room window, after you mentioned you're sickness during the day. Knowing that your parents were a room away, he kept silent, and the first thing you noticed was the pharmacy bag. "You didn't use birth control...did you?" Was the first thing he whispered when both of your eyes met.
A severe panic inflicted inside you, worry that piled onto you: this couldn't be happening. You couldn't be pregnant with Yoongi's child. There was still a slight possibility that it was false.
You believed you weren't, you weren't suppose to get your period until a couple more days. Therefore, you were confident about the negative sign you would face and took the test, now here you are facing the consequences. The two red visible lines showing off the truth, after eight test and multiple pair of dark red lines, it was the same reason you were throwing up in the mornings.
The worst thing was when he told you that the both of you could raise the baby together. However, what angered you the most about his behavior was how calm he was. Especially when he mentioned that you should stop your education, that he could maintain both of you with his money, to become his wife and take care of his children.
What kind of life was that? No, you couldn't, and you wouldn't. You looked for something in your life, a profession that you would love. And that your parents would too. A career that made your parents proud, finishing highschool, heading to college, and later in life, obtaining a great job!
And this child wasn't going to help. Neither was Yoongi.
There was only one solution that came to your mind. You quickly proclaimed 'an abortion', it was the only way that you could actually live the life you wanted. Even as conflicted and horrible you felt for speaking briefly about it, you couldn't help it, you didn't want to have a child at your age.
You were still so young, had so many things left to experience, to do! A life you wanted to take slow and take your time with, every single moment of it, savoring it.
Yoongi observed you at the comment you spurred out. "Tsk- you've got to be kidding me", he studied you, to see if you would apologize, and you didn't. "You're a bitch." Yoongi couldn't believe that you didn't want to carry his child, he would give his everything to have you, but you couldn't do one thing in return for him. It destructed him. "Don't lie."
His words were the usual, and yet it was enough to know that he knew you, probably even better than you knew yourself. Of course you weren't able to do the abortion, but think about it, your future would go down the drain for the life inside of you. There would be not a lot of opportunities, Yoongi had made it clear and set on you being the house wife, no more.
However, the guilt accumulated, now you couldn't even think about the decision. Killing an innocent child, was it something you could do?
"No."
Yoongi held your hands as he blurted out the same word that was in your mind, and if you couldn't do an abortion. The rest of troubles would tumble down on you, like explaining to your parents on how you were gonna give birth to a child in the span of nine months.
——shit——
The small display of affection dispersed, Yoongi's grip compressed on your wrist, forcing your teary red eyes to look at him, meanwhile his own eyes have a glint of amusement in them.
That night was left with you cuddled in Yoongi's embrace, as he whispered 'things' that would make you have brand new batches of tear coat the dried ones on your cheeks, you just wanted to sleep.
In the end, his hand reached to your stomach, patting it carefully, a small peck landed on your forehead. "I love you", he continued telling you how much he loved you and the baby, "and always will." He deliberately tried to manipulate you.
But you knew better, his words were venom to someone's ears. Now you knew better than to fall for his devious schemes.
#bts yandere#yandere bts#bts smut#yandere#tw yandere#bts#bangtan#bts fanfic#yandere x reader#bts yoongi#min suga#min yoongi#yoongi#bangtan smut#bangtangsonyeondan#yandere yoongi#tw forced pregnancy
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hey so i don't see anyone talking abt this (at least on my feed) but diddy is currently being sued for raping and abusing singer cassie.
if it does not affect you, i urge you to read this. her story deserves to be told.
edit: i made a separate post about this, but everyone is reblogging this ver. so i'm gonna put it here.
an interview with diddy's ex, virginia v, has resurfaced due to the lawsuit. in it, she accuses him of abuse as well.
the interview is from 2019. you can read about it here:
tasha k has reuploaded the interview in light of the lawsuit:
youtube
however she's recently been exposed as a transphobe, so i've uploaded an alt link to vimeo in case u don't want to watch hers:
vimeo
please spread the word abt cassie and gina/virginia, these women (along with the rest of diddy's victims) deserve justice.
UPDATE!!
cassie and diddy have settled just a day after she filed the lawsuit:
cassie is 100% valid for settling, i cannot imagine how tiring it would be to go thru the legal proceedings whether or not it was taken to trial.
but it's important that we don't forget. we don't let this die. diddy still needs to be held accountable for everything he's done. that does not go away w forking over 30 ms.
#fuck abusers#bad boy#sean combs#p diddy#diddy#cassie ventura#cassie#tw rape#tw abuse#tw trafficking#tw forced pregnancy#Youtube#Vimeo
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HIII! Anonn requesting the sequel for the Itachi violating little sister fic: *Clears throat*, *speaks into microphone.* YES! It could start slow but definitely happens after he finds out he got her pregnant and starts coming onto her/trynna sleep with her more. Would LOVE it if he noncons his way into making her a willing, brainless bimbo for big bro’s cock. Sasuke’s just (occasionally) watching the disaster happen but always enjoying the show and thinking FOR SURE he’ll say something NEXT time, but next time never comes lol??? Ohh and not to mention will their parents find out what’s going on etc? Will they get strict with her even just after knowing only about the pregnancy? Will they have any suspects in mind??? SO MANY POSSIBILITIES
Seeing as I just received hate for that exact piece of work... *Rafiki voice* it is time! 🔥
*** NSFW ***
*** 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI! ***
*** TW. DARK CONTENT!! ***
Part 2.
⚠️⚠️⚠️WARNING: this story contains noncon, incest, voyeurism, forced breeding and impregnation, and other themes that may not be suitable for some readers. Viewer discretion is STRONGLY advised!! ⚠️⚠️⚠️
It had been almost 6 weeks since the vicious attack itachi delivered to his little sister Y/N, and for the most part, Itachi went about his days as though nothing ever happened. Y/N on the other hand had not been taking it well. Clearly she was traumatized. Every morning she woke up with it on her mind, and every morning it made her stomach twist, and she would find herself running to the bathroom to vomit. Itachi -while he went about his daily routine without so much as a hint as to what took place- did notice his sister's change in behavior, and began to suspect that he might have gotten his little sister pregnant. Although he thought of the real world consequences of that notion, the thought of him having gotten her knocked up with his fertile Uchiha seed made his cock stir. He had to find out for himself before anyone else noticed.
Y/N sat on her bed, studying for an upcoming test when itachi entered her room with a subtle knock on the door frame. She looked up at him, but quickly looked away not wanting her eyes to meet his gaze. "Little sister, I need to talk to you..." He said as he closed the door behind him. Y/N tensed up in nervous anticipation of what may be to come. "What is it Itachi?" She asked seeming both irritated and terrified. He sat down next to her. "I've noticed you in the morning for the last couple of weeks..." He started looking at her. She refused to make eye contact, not saying a word or making a sound, but her cheeks grew red under the weight of his words. Itachi took a small box out of his pocket and slid it toward her. "here. Take this." He said. Y/N looked blankly at the box that sat on the bed between them. "Itachi I-I.. " she stumbled over her words, deep down knowing he was right. There was a very high possibility that he had gotten her pregnant that night. "Do it... Or I'll make you." He said activating his sharingan. Her eyes widened as she saw Itachi's eyes swirl into a deep red. "Okay, okay! I'll take it just... Please Ita-" she replied, assuring him that she would do as she was told as she took the box and stood up.
Y/N entered the bathroom, her hands shaking from nervousness. She took the test and set it on the counter, following the instructions on the box. Itachi knocked and then entered the bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind them. "what did it say?" He asked curiously. "I don't know, it's not done processing yet..." She said softly. The 3 minutes had passed and she reluctantly looked over at the test. "oh my god..." She whispered as all the color drained from her face. She felt woozy. Itachi, seeing her reaction looked at the test on the counter. Positive. Seeing that positive test made a new kind of desire for her growing within him, and he stood her up. "Don't worry little sis. We'll take care of it. Okay?" He said, kissing her forehead making her cringe. "How can I NOT worry itachi?! Y-you got me pregnant!" She said crying into his chest as he held her tight. Itachi lifted her head and forced her to look at him. "Listen to me. You're mine now, understand? I'll take care of the both of you." He replied as he moved her in front of the mirror so she could see herself, and itachi, who stood behind her. He slid his hand slowly along the small pudge in her lower abdomen, feeling his cock stir as he did. "That's mine, and so are you little sis. There's nothing you can do about it now, so you might as well get used to the idea of us being together. God, you're going to look so beautiful round and pregnant with my seed..." She said, his voice heavy with lust as he reached his hand up to grope one of her supple tits. Y/N squirmed in his arms as he fondled her breasts, her nipples hardening under her top as he did. "What did I tell you, little sister? Better get used to it!" He said, his voice more demanding this time. Itachi wasted no time forcing her to bend over the counter in front of the mirror, and before she had any time to protest, his cock was inside of her warm wet pussy. Itachi clasped a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. "Take it sis. You know you like it. Even if you deny it... Your pussy gripping around my cock suggests otherwise..." He teased, his words causing a great deal of shame to rise up from within her. She could at least TRY to stop him, but maybe he was right... Maybe part of her DID enjoy getting used by her big brother. It didn't take long before both of them were cumming together, Itachi collapsing on top of her as he caught his breath. He slowly pulled out of her, and kissed her on the cheek. "You're mine forever little sis. I love you so much." He said as she straightened himself up. "Get cleaned up and you better act normal at dinner. We don't need mother and father finding out about this. At least not yet." He said before leaving her alone to clean herself up.
In the next room, a stunned Sasuke struggles to quickly clean himself up after having jerked his cock off to the sounds of Itachi fucking his big sis in the bathroom next to his room. He felt so ashamed that something so horrible could make him cum so hard, but the sounds of his big sister's cries and whimpers awakened something primal in him every time he heard them. "next time. Next time I'll say something... I swear I will..." He said to himself, as he cleaned the cum off his hand and tried to shake his own shame as he made his way downstairs to join his family for dinner.
A.N: definitely going to keep this one running for a bit. Do I hear a... Part 3??? 👀🤷♀️🔥Also, shout out to the artist @Ratsuki_042 for the art! ❤️🔥
#itachi uchiha#itachi#uchiha itachi#itachi smut#tw. dark content#smut writing#tw dark thoughts#tw.noncon#itachi naruto#uchiha smut#tw.nsfw#tw.incest#tw.dark content#tw.#tw forced pregnancy#tw forced breeding#smut author#sasuke uchiha#sasuke smut
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Monkey Queen is family-oriented.
#sun wukong#yandere sun wukong#monkey queen#yandere monkey queen#comic#lmk#jttw#genderbend#self insert#digital art#my art#tw forced pregnancy#tw manipulation
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hiii I came across your blog and fell in love with your yandere illumi posts!! <3 can I ask how you think it’d be like if reader actually WAS pregnant and forced to carry the child to term?? if ur comfy ofc!!
ahhh thank you!!
tw// unwanted/forced pregnancy, implied noncon, reader depression, reader su1c1de attempts. this is SAD. just SAD. minimum comfort from this. also you have a baby and you don’t like it
this is the worst possible outcome
i try and kinda base reader off of how i would react in that situation, and my reaction would be BADDDD.
the second you realise that you’re pregnant you’re already making plans to throw yourself off the nearest balcony or down the steepest stairs in the manor. unfortunately, illumi is going to account for this. he’ll probably realise you’re pregnant before you even do, and soon enough the whole manor will be “baby proofed”.
there’s going to be butlers following you every step of the way, anything sharp is taken from bathrooms or your bedroom, even illumi has started to cut your food up for you. it’s extremely demeaning and only settles to make things worse.
you’ll start growing quiet as the pregnancy progresses, first out of spite and then out of genuine sadness. as far as you think, you’re truly just a womb to illumi and his family.
illumi will notice how depressed you’ve gotten, but he’s not exactly a comforting person. he’ll monotonously give you compliments, silently hand you bouquets of flowers, and tell the butlers to prepare your favourite foods as though any of those things are what you want.
occasionally, if his worry starts to grow, he’ll allow you outside into the garden for a couple of hours. he’ll even arrange a little allotment for you to plant your own. you might not even like flowers, or gardening, but the distraction is nice. if not, you can still wander the grounds, as though it can give you some illusion of freedom. it doesn’t.
illumi tells you that during your visits to the garden you’re truly on your own; no guards, no butlers, no maids, and none of his family watching. it’s not necessarily true. he’ll be behind you every step of the way, hidden in plain sight. he once believed you’d start appearing happy when no one was around, proving that it’s all a rouse and that you’re fine. he quickly discovered it wasn’t fake when the first time he watched you in the garden you found a bench and cried on it the entire time.
he starts to convince himself that when you give birth to his child you’ll recover, and you’ll love them and feel less lonely.
you don’t.
the birthing is messy, probably due to your stress, and it’s the first time anyone in the manor has seen illumi so nervous. it may not be obvious to you, but to those who have known him his entire life, it is.
you don’t love your baby. sometimes you can’t bring yourself to even look at it. you know that illumi and his family are going to be training it to be as bloodthirsty and murderous as them, so you tell yourself that there’s no point in even bothering trying to grow close with it.
in all honesty, you’re in for a fucking awful time. illumi might get irritated with your lack of love for your child. he might think another will make you feel less lonely. only when you stop talking and stop reacting entirely does he realise that he truly has broken you.
i don’t really enjoy writing about reader having kids because it would be my worst nightmare. literally horrifying. that’s why illumi is so damn scary, he’s having a child whether you like it or not.
if you do manage to get rid of it before you give birth, illumi is going to be fucking pissed. expect yourself to be taken into the basement for a week, at the minimum.
best case scenario for this is that reader can’t have kids. fuck this shit.
i could potentially see illumi turning away from his family and their insistence for him to have a bunch of kids, but only if your pregnancy was that bad. if you almost died during childbirth, i could imagine him being extremely shaken up about it, and may not want to see you that way again. that a very big if, though.
#tw yandere#tw.yandere#yandere#yanderecore#yandere hxh#yandere illumi zoldyck x reader#yandere illumi x reader#yandere illumi zoldyck#yandere illumi#tw noncon#tw pregnancy#tw unwanted pregnancy#tw forced pregnancy#tw forced marriage#tw: noncon#tw suicide#tw suicide attempts#tw su1cide#tw childbirth
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As my first post of 2024, let me ask you...
How would you impregnante/breed me? Would you force me to be an unwilling surrogate? Part of an experiment? Medically impregnated? Tied to an alter surrounded by a cult as some part of a ritual? Maybe medical staff working with a cult to fetilize my eggs or implant me with already fertilized ones?
What would you force me to carry to term? Alien, monster, animal, human or something else.
How would you make me deliver? Restrained, on my back, on all fours, vacuum, forceps, c-section or some other way?
Give me horror/dark/medfet....
#tw forced surrogacy#tw forced breeding#tw forced pregnancy#pregnancy#medfet#dark#birth#fantasy#horror
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Hi! I'm curious about LMK yanderes x reader in a scenario where they have kids, but like after some time passed kids are teenagers and start to date, especially daughters, what would be daddy's reactions? Would reader be able to stop them from making the potential boyfriend dissapear? :3
Wukong, Macaque, Nezha, Red Son, Mk
This took me two days and one church service to finish. My head hurts from the amount of Pepsi I've had.
Support me here
Warning, the following content has disturbing/triggering themes such as; Yandere Themes, Unhealthy/Abusive Relationships, Mentions of past Forced Pregnancy, Stalking, Bodily Harm(Breaking legs), Kidnapping, Burning/Arson, Murder, Mentions the Dugger Family(from 19 Kids and Counting/Counting On), and others. I do not support or encourage these themes or actions, they are merely written fictional events for entertainment. The character(s) depicted within this post are over the age of 20.
Wukong
As I've alluded to this in past posts, Wukong only has children with you so he can have control over you.
But once one of your children starts having a romantic interest?
There's something that snaps inside of him.
He suddenly becomes extremely overprotective of your children, growls are their partners and will tell the love interest he doesn't approve of them dating his baby princess/prince.
If you are able to stop him following after your child while they are on their date, he will be grumbling while you rub his head.
Macaque
Similar to Wukong, something will snap deep inside of him.
"Your- Your boy/girlfriend?"
Will stalk your child on their date, will stalk the romantic interest back to their him, will learn everything about them.
If he finds out that the partner does anything, even something small like not washing their hands after going to the bathroom, he will tell your child they aren't allowed to date them.
It is extremely hard to get his permission to date any of his children.
MK
It will fly over his head when he first learns of it and does the slowest double-take.
Will be like days later when he's shopping as his smile just drops from his face as he goes "Wait hold on-"
Rushes home(after paying of course), barging into the house with tears in his eyes "MY BABY IS DATING?!"
Is actually rather supportive, just makes sure his baby isn't going to get hurt.
OH AND IF THEY EVER BREAK UP THEN THE EX WILL HAVE BROKEN LEGS.
Red Son
Tries his fucking best to keep himself sane.
One the outside, he seems rather cold about the situation. In reality, he has a burning rage regarding.
Better pray for whoever is dating your child cause the moment he even heard his child being upset about something the other did, it's death.
They will go missing, they will be burnt alive, and their teeth will be removed from their body.
"Sorrows sorrows prayers."
Nezha
I don't think Nezha will ever be ready for any of their children to have a romantic life. Emotionally, anyway.
I think Nezha would have a rule where their children aren't allowed to date until their coming-of-age ceremonies(Apparently it's called The Guan Li for men and Ji Li for women and from what I can tell the ages are between 15-20).
Are you aware of the Dugger family? If you are, you might be aware that the father has a quiz the would-be sons-in-law have to do before they can date his daughters. I feel as if Nezha would do this too. However, if there is even one answer he doesn't like then it's a no.
Nezha will insist on sitting through all the dates to make sure their little lotus is safe and happy.
Unlike the others on this list though, if the child expresses to Nezha that they really do like the person and want to date them, Nezha is going to let go and let them date. They watch from afar and make sure their child is safe, but they will let their Lotus bloom.
#lmk#lmk x reader#wukong x reader#macaque x reader#mk x reader#red son x reader#nexha x reader#yandere x reader#tw yandere#yandere#tw abusive relationship#tw stalking#tw forced pregnancy#tw kidnapping#tw arson#tw murder
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Oh god - I’m still stuck on this.
18+ MDNI / explicit sex, dark and twisted themes
I've been thinking a lot about Simon Riley who doesn't want the divorce.
Simon who never wanted to be separated, who hates living apart. Simon, who would drag you to a tattoo artist to get your ring permanently inked to your skin so you could never be rid of him, if he could. He’s been actively avoiding the stack of papers that are waiting for his signature, staying on longer Ops, picking up extra work.
Can’t be divorced if there’s no signature.
Simon, who unbeknownst to you, still comes home. Still pushes open the back door in the dead of night, keeping his steps silent so he doesn't wake you. Simon, who stands in the doorway of your bedroom, his old bedroom, and watches you sleep on his side of the bed in those little, ratty shorts with your ass perked up in the air like you're waiting for him. Like you’re ripe, and ready.
Simon, who checks your birth control every night. Who’s pleased when he realizes this month’s pack hasn’t even been opened, every color coded pill still in place, foil glinting at him in the low light of the vanity.
Good girl, he thinks to himself, shutting your medicine cabinet with a silent click. Getting yourself all ready for him.
Simon, who agrees to meet you for dinner.
"Let's just sign and get it over with. We can catch up, too. Talk about what we want to do with the house."
"Alright, love. Whatever you want."
You're a bundle of nerves when he shows up, seated at a little table in the back, glass of wine already half gone.
Normally, he'd try to soothe you. You've always been naturally anxious, a little dependent, and in a social setting, a little high strung. He's well versed in navigating your emotions, calming you into a relaxed state with a few words or a reassuring touch.
But this time, he doesn't bother. He sits there with his arms crossed, watching you nervously chatter away, one hand flat on a manilla envelope. He stays quiet, letting you go on, watching your hands seek something to do, fingers finding your wine glass over and over.
You drink two glasses of wine before the entrees are served, dangerously close to your usual self imposed "three drink" limit.
One thing bleeds into another. You start to lean a little, in your chair. He nurses a bourbon, you order a shot after the meal.
"Want one?" Your tongue follows the seam of the lime wedge, dabbing along the spongy, white fibers before your teeth sink into the flesh of it, lime juice squirting across your tongue.
“You know I don’t like tequila, but you go on.”
You’re a bit sloppy by the time he gets you home, but still sweet like honey, like you used to be years ago. Before everything changed. Before you asked him to move out.
You’re giggly, excited when he bends you over the kitchen table, the kitchen table where you used to eat together, breakfast for dinner when he’d come home, waffles and bacon at one in the morning.
You don’t protest when he slides your skirt down your hips and over your ass, thumbs spreading you wide to reveal your glistening cunt, twitching and desperate.
“My poor girl, has it been so long?” He cooed, relishing in the way you moaned with your lips on the wood. He knows it has, knows you haven’t been with anyone since the last time he fucked you, months and months ago, on the night you asked for the divorce. “Don’t worry, I’m gon’ take care of you and this neglected little pussy.”
“You have to pull out.” You slurred, breath hot, fogging against the finish of the table. “Promise.” He grunts something under his breath, nonsense, but you can’t tell the difference, and when he slides inside your scorching cunt, you howl, breath hitching with the stretch.
Bleedin’ Christ. You’re so tight, so wet, soaked enough that it sticks to the curls around the base of his cock. How could he ever give this up?
“That’s it.” He kisses your shoulder, pressing his chest to your back with his weight, pinning you in place, his hands clamping down around your wrists like shackles. “Squeeze me tight, good girl. Show me-“ Show me how you’re going to hold my come in your tight little pussy once I fill you- comes to mind, but he bites his tongue instead, not willing to tip you off too soon.
To have and to hold.
“Simooon.” You sing, hips start to push back with him, fucking yourself onto his cock, chasing him, chasing your pleasure, mouth half open with the little pants and whines that are music to his ears. He keeps you pinned, flat against the table, fingers between your legs, stroking your clit, shoving you closer to your orgasm, delightfully pleased by the way your pussy pulses around him.
“Come on.” He urges, big hand between you and the table, pressing against your lower belly, still tapping away at your clit, indulging in the trembling of your legs.
“Fuck- fuck, Si.” You cry, clenching down around him with your orgasm, voice breaking.
“There it is… what a good girl.” He hisses, keeping his pace, pushing deeper and deeper until he’s notching himself nearly inside your womb. It’s overwhelming for you, he knows, but he doesn’t stop swirling his fingers around your clit, zapping electric pulses through body.
“Nngh Si. Too- ooh it’s- it’s too much.” You wail, a tear on your cheek, and he nods, nosing above your ear.
“You’re doing so good for me, so perfect.” It’s whispered with a groan, hands stroking your hip, keeping your steady, in place. “Just need a little more, just- just a little, I’m gonna-“
“What-” You ask, more with it now that you recognize the edge he’s riding, the roughness in his voice clueing you in to where he is, but he sends you back into orbit, pressing your clit and working you in circles. “Oh, oh.” Your hips rock, and he moves with the momentum, fucking into you faster, grunting the truth as he speeds towards the cliff, desperate to drive the car over the edge, eager to change the course of his life, your life, his marriage.
“Take it.” He spits, wide palm spread across your shoulder. Everything in him tightens, fire spreading through his veins, pressure rising in his body like a fucking tea kettle, about to scream out a whistle. He’s going to breed you, fuck you deep with his come and put a baby inside you, give you what you wanted years ago, the thing that made you cry alone in the middle of the night whenever he refused.
Well, he’s going to give it to you now.
“Fuck- here it comes.” You rock again, half lost to the world, eyes glazed over in pleasure, spasming around his cock with your second orgasm. He slams into you, burying deep and you keen, fingers gripping the edge of the table, his hips flush with yours like a lock.
And he’ll throw away the key.
His phone dings with a text, two days later.
“Still mad at you… Can we please meet up about these signatures?”
This became a full fic here.
#tw dark and twisty#tw forced pregnancy#🥞 anon#if you’re out there somewhere#this is for us#simon riley#simon riley x reader#I could write a whole fic#but I prob won’t#could prob be a sassy au honestly#peaches writes
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Ending H (Fear & Hunger) Ch. 6- Promises, Promises
"The texts are badly damaged and stained with a mystery substance... Only some of it remains legible-"
Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Rape/Noncon, Rumpelstiltskin-esque Deal, Somnophilia, Breeding, Forced Pregnancy, Kidnapping
A TALE OF THE POCKETCAT
OR
WHY ONE SHOULD NEVER STRIKE DEALS WITH THE GREEN HUE
CHAPTER ONE
The dark, dank walls of the dungeon of Fear & Hunger threatened to close in around you. There was no escaping the depravity that threatened to consume you with every step that you took. There was no way out for you, so you despaired and you wept. Your suffering was so sweet to all the denizens of the dark… It brought unwanted and uncanny attention to your moment of weakness.
A pair of luminous yellow eyes appeared in the bleak dark before you. A Cheshire grin split the maw of the darkness, a row of sharp, neat teeth shone against an unknown source.
“Ahhh… what do we have here?~” A man dressed in a fine suit- certainly inappropriate for a place such as this!- knelt before you, his curious yellow eyes seeming to shine in spite of the near total darkness of the dungeon. He seemed tall- too tall- yet his affable demeanor had your guard lowering.
“Are you lost, new friend?” You found yourself nodding. This dark was too much for any one person to handle at all, let alone by their lonesome…
“I see, I see…” He mused to him as he nodded. His eyes never seemed to blink or waver from you. It was unsettling.
“It is no fun to be lost in any place and certainly no fun in a place such as this!” You nodded once more, the tears in your eyes threatening to fall down your face. A gloved hand gently catches one of the tears as it overflowed from one of your eyes.
“No tears, dear friend…” His curled forefinger stroked your cheek as he inspected his tear stained glove. “Isn’t it unbecoming of an adventurer like you?”
The question had you pausing. Perhaps it was… but it wasn’t an accusatory question. Merely an exploratory one. You struggled to find your voice, as fear still had a hold on your throat and your heart.
“I… Can you help me…? I- I wish to be free of this place a-and I-“ The masked gentleman hummed softly to himself. He placed his hand in one of his pockets.
“Oh? You would ask help of a stranger you scarely know? We haven’t even exchanged names yet!” He feigned hurt and surprise, something that wasn’t lost on you. You hang your head in shame.
“Chin up, old fellow! This does have an easy remedy…” He chuckled to himself. You nodded eagerly.
“My name is Pocketcat! And yours…?” You told him your true name. You see his eyes light up in recognition.
“Ahh yes yes! Indeed, it could be my old imagination, but have we met before? Perhaps in another lifetime?” He seemed far too eager for your liking but you simply nodded in agreement.
“Oh what a joyous occasion!” He clasped his hands together in glee. His pupils were pinpricks and his mouth seemed wider than it did before. Or maybe it’s just your imagination.
“This is a special occasion indeed…” Pocketcat mused to himself. He seemed to be looking you up and down, his arm shifting ever so slightly in place. It made you uncomfortable.
“For a friend, I certainly would do anything…” You found his face.
“…however even a friend would have to compensate me fairly.” Your heart sank in your chest. You believe to have nothing of worth- likely nothing of worth to him! What shall you do?!
“Oh…? What’s this? Perhaps you have nothing to give… Is that right?” Hesitantly you nodded. You have nothing on you to give him- nothing that he would want. Or so you believe. Pocketcat rests his chin on his other hand and hums thoughtfully.
“Well… this is unfortunate indeed!” He almost seems sad that you had nothing to give him. Yet even as he appears to think to himself on this set of circumstances, his eyes cut right through you and a decision seems to have been made without your consent.
“I, for one, am not the kind of man that forgets what is owed…” Tears well in your eyes once more.
“…though-
-I could make an exception for an exceptional friend.” The words chilled you, or perhaps it was the way his moonish eyes have never left your person in the slightest. You couldn’t help but to feel hope well in your bosom.
“Would you?! Oh- Please! Please, sir Pocketcat!” You clasped your hands together, your lower lip trembling as you spoke. “Please free me from this terrible place!” You begged and you pleaded, an act that had the old cat taking an even greater shine to you than he already did. His mind was already made up, as was yours.
“Chin up, old friend! There is no need for that!” He ushered you to stand and you did so upon his instance.
“I will help you leave this dreadful place.” Again your eyes shine with hope as all the possibilities of your life flash before you.
“...as long as you promise me one thing!”
“Yes, yes! Anything! Anything to flee this place!” He laughs a little, catty and something that has your skin crawling.
“Oh? But I haven’t even shared my proposal!” You didn’t care but he elaborated all the same.
“I only ask of you a simpl-
THE TEXT IS TOO BADLY DAMAGED TO READ HERE.
THE INK APPEARS TO BE STAINED WITH SOME SORT OF FLUID…
ONLY A SNIPPET OF THE NEXT CHAPTER REMAIN.
-always needs to be capitalized on in the end. It was a matter of time and the time had long since come and passed for the debt owed to be paid-
THE TEXT IS TOO BADLY DAMAGED TO READ HERE.
THE INK APPEARS TO BE STAINED WITH SOME SORT OF FLUID…
ONLY A SNIPPET OF THE NEXT CHAPTER REMAIN.
-form was just as he remembered it. He turned you on your stomach with ease and climbed over you. A thrill ran down his spine. Yes, he has waited far too long for this, he thinks…
You would give him the child he sought, one way or another…
Pocketcat pulled down the sheets and raised your nightshirt. You were what he’s been waiting for all these years… As an old friend, you would understand that this must be done, wouldn’t you?
After all… You knew the toll and you accepted it wholeheartedly…
Pocketcat crawled onto your bed and hummed softly to himself. He doesn’t wish to cause you any pain or anguish… After all, he does care so deeply for you, just as you certainly do. He will make this quick, for your sake, he promises silently.
One
Two
Three-
THE TEXT IS TOO BADLY DAMAGED TO READ HERE.
THE INK APPEARS TO BE STAINED WITH SOME SORT OF FLUID…
It was uncouth of him to salivate so but how could he possibly stop? It should have been expected that you would be so utterly perfect underneath him… Perhaps the two of you truly were star crossed lovers once upon a time, in another lifetime. It certainly feels like the truth, with him a top you, snug and warm in your pleasant wetness that seemed to grow with each bump of his hips…
“Yes…! Oh yes, my dear… How I love you so…!” Pocketcat softly cried into your hair. Stiff barbs coaxed a shudder out of you, one that the tall gentleman mimicked as a rush overtook him.
It wasn’t enough.
More-
THE TEXT IS TOO BADLY DAMAGED TO READ HERE.
THE INK APPEARS TO BE STAINED WITH SOME SORT OF FLUID…
“-se stop…”
Your cries went on deaf ears. You reached out for help but it was all in vain. Pocketcat interlaced his fingers with your own.
“Don’t cry friend! It will be all over soon…!~” An empty promise that fell on deaf ears. It didn’t dry your tears and it didn’t cease the pain inflicted onto you, nor did it shelter you from the inevitable pleasure that accompanied your torment.
Deeper and deeper still, you would be filled until swollen. One way or another, you would fulfill the bargain that was struck all those years ago.
Burrs left you raw and stimulated. You were plugged up and filled to bust. He wouldn’t pull away until it had taken hold. Pocketcat purred as he stroked your sweat and tear stained hair.
“So good… So very good… You’ll give me exactly what I seek…”
It would time time and time still, but the Pocketcat would receive the gift that was promised to him in the dank dark of Fear & Hunger. Waiting mattered not to him. He was a patient old cat and some more waiting would do him no harm. At least now he wouldn’t wait all alone anymore…
You will be at his side, heavy with child- his child. When he will be born, you will still be at his side, perpetually swollen with his seed and giving him what was owed over and over again, no matter how much you scream or how often you try to-
THE TEXT IS TOO BADLY DAMAGED TO READ ANY FURTHER.
THE INK APPEARS TO BE STAINED WITH SOME SORT OF FLUID…
Ending H- Promises, Promises
@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine
#fear and hunger#fear & hunger#fear & hunger x reader#fear & hunger ending h#fear & hunger pocketcat#fear & hunger pocketcat x reader#tw dead dove#tw noncon#tw somnophilia#tw forced pregnancy
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ohhh yes def need a part 4 with itachi and preg lil sister 🥺 maybe she hungrily gives him a very needy, messy blowjob, which turn him on so much he face fucks her before creampieing her sweet needy pussy 🥺👉🏽👈🏽 her belly ain’t that noticeable rn but it’s becoming rounder by the day and itachi wans more n more to breed her even tho she’s already pregnant? maybe sasuke starts using her creampied panties to jerk off? 😭plus bonus if sasuke know of sisters pregnancy? sorryyy i just having brainrot of this
The Uchiha brain rot be REAL! which is why my blog exists. 🤣 Totally love it! Ate and left no crumbs! Without further delay, I give you...
Part 4...
*** NSFW ***
*** 18+ MINORS DNI!! ***
*** TW. DARK CONTENT ***
*** TW. DARK CONTENT ***
⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ the following story contains but is not limited to incest, voyeurism, dubcon, strong language, and other topics that some readers could potentially find offensive. Viewer discretion is STRONGLY advised!
Y/N looked at herself in the full length mirror in her bedroom, observing her body as it had began to change. She was beginning to show a little pudgy pouch just below her belly button, and her breasts were so sore and swollen. She ran her hand along the tiny bump in her lower belly, knowing full well that it was her older brother Itachi who was responsible. Something about this turned her on in the most disgusting way, but she couldn't resist her own thoughts. Somehow the taboo nature of the situation made it all the more erotic to her in her hormonal state. Y/N sighed and decided if she had to be her big brother's little fuck toy, why shouldn't he have to suffer too??
After changing into something thin and skimpy, she made her way down the hall to her big brother's room, knocking softly before entering. "Itachi... I was wondering if you could help me with something..." Y/N said leaning against the door frame. Itachi looked up "of cou-" Itachi's words fell away as he saw his sweet little sister standing there wearing nothing more than a thin white top, and a pair of black cotton booty shorts. "something wrong Itachi??" She replies and she closes his door behind him, and slowly walking over to the bed and sitting down next to him. Itachi looked her over, God she looked delightful. He cleared his throat "so what was it you needed hel-" before he could finish his question, Y/N pressed her lips against his, taking him off guard. He moaned into her kiss, savoring her sudden shift in attitude towards the whole endeavor. She breaks their kiss, looking deep into his big black eyes, and without warning, pushed him down onto the bed.
With a hungry Itachi had never seen from her before, Y/N pulled off his pants, his already stiff cock springing out and hitting her in the chin. She wasted no time, and greedily took every inch of his thick cock into her mouth. Itachi's head tilted back and a soft moan escaped his lips as the head of his cock hit the back of her throat. Drool coated his cock and balls as he watches his sweet litter sister choke and gag on his cock like a dirty little slut. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off his cock, gasping as she caught her breath. "All I can think about is knocking you up again. Filling up your sweet little pussy with my potent Uchiha seed. You're going to take this cock. Right. Now." He growled as he was swiftly on his feet and pulling her up off the bed.
Itachi forced Y/N's face down onto the bed, holding her head there as he pushed his aching cock deep inside her pregnant pussy, and she moaned in delight. "Fuck little sis, you're so much tighter now that you're pregnant with your big brother's baby..." He moaned thrusting deep inside her wet cunt, their moans and the wet slapping sounds of flesh on flesh filling the room and echoing off the walls. She couldn't take anymore and her body shivered as her pleasure was reaching its max. "itachi i-i can't take anymore! I-im gonna... Fuck!!" Y/N cried out as her walls gripped and pulled around Itachi's cock, milking every drop of his cum out of him. They both tremble against each other as they come down from their orgasms, and reveling in the afterglow of it all. "Next time sis... Just tell me you're hungry for big brother's cock... I'll feed it to you..." Itachi teased making her giggle slightly. She gets dressed and kisses Itachi before leaving the room. On the way to her's, she passes by Sasuke, his cheeks red and flushed. "Hey Sasuke..." She say as she enters her room, shutting the door behind her. Little did she know that Sasuke was struggling to hide his rock hard cock after listening to their encounter in Itachi's room. He quickly entered his room, shutting the door behind him. He quickly heads over to his bed taking a pair of stolen panties from the day before, his sister's juices still coating the crotch... And his older brother's cum. "Ugh... I have to say something but this... But...." Sasuke's hand disappeared inside his shorts. He would worry about that tomorrow....
To Be Continued...
A.N: I've been out of it y'all but trust me I haven't forgotten about you! That being said, my bad on the spelling and/or grammar errors, I will edit when I can. Enjoy! 🥰🥰🥰
#itachi uchiha#itachi#uchiha itachi#itachi smut#tw. dark content#smut writing#tw dark thoughts#tw.noncon#itachi naruto#uchiha smut#tw forced pregnancy#tw dubcon#tw dubious consent#tw.#tw dark content#tw dark themes#sasuke smut#uchiha sasuke#sasuke#sasuke uchiha
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The Beloved Brood Mare (Demon Primarch Corax x Pregnant Reader)
A/N: This is Roboutian Hersey AU Corax. This guy in this Universe is object MENACE to society. He is essentially Bile, but as a free agent and as a primarch and Chaos aligned. In fact, in that canon they are described as one if not the MOST vile traitor legions. (If you are the AU writer... I am 50% sorry for writing this terrible fanfic for your AU) AND on top of that, this author gives A REASON on why Rushal joined the Night Lords.
Read it Here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10578370/18/The-Roboutian-Heresy
TW: implied forced pregnancy, rape
You arise. You are trapped in a gilded cage, for Warp knows how long. Getting up, you almost tripped over the golden chain around your ankle, it was a common occurrence by now. Even since the experiments... you have never truly gotten used to this body. Everything about you has been altered to aid the process of birthing.
You were essentially if the primarch body was female with none of the sterilization that would naturally occur. Like the Marines that guarded your room, you were an abomination. You could almost remember when this transformation happened. Glimpses of the Demon Primarch, an older Marine with many appendages, and a screaming captive Thousand Son...
You remember passing out and waking up in this new form... it was awkward.. but never mind... your "duties" had to continue. Corax occasionally visited, but it was very rare. Often to ask brisk questions in a white lab coat about the progression of the pregnancy, you answered honestly.. for he could tell if you were lying given the nature of his place...
Looking around your room, it was time... you could often get food as much as requested, but just enough to make it so you could survive the process... you looked down at the swollen belly. Around this time, it would be time for "breakfast". You were often fed a random assortment of ingredients... often to see the effect would have on the fetus.
You had often tried to escape from the room, often killing the Spawn Marines that stood guard outside of your room with contemptuously ease. The furthest you had gone was at least a couple of miles within the tower before you were hit with a neutralizing gas.
Every step you took, you felt the pain in your legs. you felt helpless.. you felt your two heartbeats move faster.. you had not really entered your body this much before... for Lord Corax demanded that you have minimum exercise. However, you felt a sharp pang within your belly. It was kicking again.
Maybe the pain was fake, a phantom feeling of the soul imagining how pregnancy felt like.
Maybe the room had some form of shielding to protect the fetus from what laid on the outside.
The resulted in resuscitation of you in a lab table in which your arms and legs were strapped. You could feel the eyes of many Marines all on you. Struggling you cursed and tired to escape, but the equipment held fast. Your eye adjusted to the dark quickly, until you saw him come into the room. You felt your skin upon the laboratory table, cold and unyielding. The overpowering smell of disinfectant, mixed blood and other gore made your stomach turn. You also noticed your legs were in stirrups with your privates facing the audience.
Lord Corax's face was scared from the years from captivity, You could recall memories of you being ordered to soothe him and tend to his scars. His face held a mixture of contentment and disdain. You could hear others whisper in the long dead Kivharian, and lean forward almost if they were excited what were to come next. Corvus gave close and his statue seemed to dawn over you. He approached you and stroked your hair almost as if it was kind gently. He was in front of you, and he held a syringe within his left hand and a forceps in his right hand. As if he were giving a lecture, He gave you an gentle kiss on the forehead.. before starting to explain the process. You felt something cold enter your private.. you tried to struggle and fight but nothing really changed, then a liquid flowed in. You started to scream and fight even more... but the lecture continued on. even after the process had been done.
You shook yourself out of that feeling and sat down... you knew that your tower didn't have windows. But, given the advanced the state of the pregnancy, he would visit. That was something that you dreaded the most. TO try and entertain yourself you started to sing, of course it was old Imperial tunes that you took to heart. At that moment.... the door burst open and Corax appeared.
Immediately you stopped singing...as he moved almost with a slowness, but your mind being unable to process it it he grabbed you by the arm. "Don't even sing that again." He said, his voice still maintaining that softness... he face was a warped tone of anger.. but then softed as he left go of your arm and forcefully sat you down on the bed. It was comfortable sure, but still.. you knew that in your heart of hearts he was only like this because of the forlorn hope that you could produce functioning Marines with working geneseed...
He started to coo as he stroked your belly.. "I hope that this one is a success.... this is your fifth this year. I do hope that this one lives you to expectations..."- you swallowed a bit before trying to move out of range.. but he followed you. "This one.. I tried to do it more scientifically..." He placed his head down.. "And it is growing far past expectations, I should move you... to a more safer place." He started to touch your hair which your bristled. He paused but chuckled. "Though... your womb is really only used for procreation... it does get boring tormenting them." You tried to move away, but he got up and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. He left almost as quickly as he came. You shuddered, why you?
#roboutian hersey#corvus corax#ravenguard#yandere primarch x reader#yandere primarch#tw forced breeding#tw forced pregnancy
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The Infection I Don't Want
I don't have any words. Don't look at me. In all seriousness, I definitely love the savior trope. I tried to give it a cute little twist. Idia feels funny in this one too. Also sorry if the formatting is weird. I write these in Docs and then I transfer them to tumblr and for some reason in this fic's document I used Amatic SC and I have bad vision to begin with. No clue why I love torturing myself. Dividers by @/cafekitsune. This fic gets a little heavy. If you start feeling unwell, stop reading. I won't take it personal, promise.
This fic is aimed towards afab readers, but uses they/them pronouns. Mentions of periods and wombs. I may have been a bit less impersonal with this one, but the reader doesn't go on my weird love rant that I have in my self-insert Idia fic so there is that.
This fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. TW for mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, DIY abortion which could also be read as miscarriage, I guess, abortion, Idia is incredibly mean in this and possibly OOC, Ortho being unintentionally creepy, parasites, sort of misogyny relating to periods, shock collars, electric shocks, captivity, implied forced marriage, implied forced medical procedures. PSA: don't try anything the reader does in this fic. It's an excellent way to get sepsis, and you don't want that, I promise.
Part 5 of the Pants on Fire series.
You don’t want to admit it, but a bit too much has changed about you. In the past few weeks, you’ve noticed plenty of things, but the largest and most blaring was that your period never came. Before when you would have it, Idia would sulk and pout, acting like you were bleeding on purpose, throwing a heating pad and a blanket and a pillow and the necessary products at you so you’d be comfortable in your distress. He kept talking about figuring out some technology to rid you of that pesky trait, and you really can’t think of anyone who likes having a period, so if he had, you wouldn’t have fought him on it,
It’s too late for that now. For the last few days, you’ve been waking up early and vomiting. The smell of Idia’s favorite noodles makes it worse. Your poor tummy is constantly roiling, and you can hardly keep anything down. Ortho has been staring at you incessantly. You think he’s being annoying, really, and Idia’s been getting on your last nerves as well.
Today, you woke up, vomited, and just sat in the bathroom for a moment, coming to terms with the fact that you could very well be pregnant. You feel conflicted. On one hand, you don’t want to talk or think about this. You’re stressed enough as it is. On the other hand, you absolutely don’t want this. You don’t want this creature in your stomach. You know it's there. You can’t feel it, but how often can you feel something before everything goes absolutely wrong? You can’t.
But it’s unimportant. A knock comes at the door and you scramble to your feet, flushing the toilet and rinsing out your mouth before opening the door. It’s Idia. He gives you a look and starts stripping, turning on the shower and handing you a hair tie.
“You look sick. What’s wrong with you?”
“O-oh, I… I don’t know. I feel fine.” You’re not sure how to tell him, so you lie. Maybe you won’t have to tell him. You pull his hair into a bun and he hops into the shower.
You stand there for a moment and he peeks his head around the door at you, “What are you doing? You want to join me?”
“Huh? Oh, no. Just thinking.”
“Go see if Ortho can get you some aspirin or something so you can start acting normal again.” He mutters.
You leave. It’s fine. Idia’s dorm room is always cold. He keeps it like that on purpose. If you’re cold and he doesn’t provide much more than these stupid skimpy pajama sets that are cute but are also thin, so you’re more likely to cuddle up to him or wear his hoodies. At least he has good taste in that.
You don’t really feel like undertaking the task of looking through his closet, so you take a seat in Idia’s gaming chair, which is still warm from him sitting in it, and sigh, laying a hand over your belly. He said that Ortho was here, but he must be out getting breakfast, since you didn’t immediately hear his high voice shrilling in your ears, “Good morning!”
You like Ortho just fine. He’s not your ally, but being around him is better than being around Idia. You wished he’d been gone for longer. You sigh and your head begins to hurt, “Hi, Ortho.”
He giggles a little and puts down the takeout bag, smiling as he turns back to face you. And then he just stares, chartruse eyes boring into you.
“Ortho, is there a problem?” You can’t hold your tongue about this any longer. You have a headache and honestly you just want to take a fat nap and let the world, small as it has become for you, deal with itself.
Before he can respond, Idia strolls out of the bathroom, lazily greeting Ortho, “Hey, Ortho.”
“Hello!” His voice is just so grating. You want to throw something.
“Mmm.” Idia glances at you, walking over and nudging your shoulder with the back of his hand, like he’s shooing an animal, “Go lay down.”
“I don’t-”
“Did you ask Ortho for-”
“Would you stop interrupting me?” You snarl, turning to look at him.
He stiffens ever so slightly, then hunches down and digs through the takeout bag Ortho brought in, “Are you acting like this because you’re on your period?”
“Did you really just ask me-”
This time, it’s Ortho, not Idia, who interrupts you, “Oh, they won’t be having a period for a while.”
Idia freezes. You freeze. Ortho goes back to what he was doing, humming as he makes the bed. Idia turns to narrow his eyes at you, his eyes sliding down to look at your midsection and feet, and his eyes roll back into his head and he’s hitting the ground. Maybe if you cared more about him, you’d check to make sure that he was fine, but as it is now, you don’t really have the energy or wherewithal to do so. You rush into the bathroom and cower near the toilet, like there’s a tornado or something outside. You’re distressed.
He doesn’t know it, but Ortho just vocalized the actualization of all your fears, the culmination of your meager existent, all rolled up into this… this parasite in your stomach. You swallow your incoming hysteria and make a decision. You’re going to get up. You’re going to get a change of clothes. You’re going to take a shower. And you’ll be fine. You’ll figure this out. You always have before. You’ll do it again.
When you exit the bathroom, Ortho is blowing air into Idia’s pallid face, and Idia is groaning. You ignore the pair and go to the closet. You grab a change of clothes, the rabbit-themed set of pajamas, you walk into the bathroom, you turn on the water. About as soon as the stream hits your back, you’re screaming. Sobs break from your chest like a hammer going into ice, smashing its way out despite every effort you make to keep it together. You’ve barely got the peace of mind to quickly wash yourself, and when you exit- the water is cold, too cold for comfort- you dry. You feel twitchy, after crying so hard. You tug on the spaghetti strap shirt, the bunny face stretching against your skin, and then you’re staring at the hanger.
You remember reading something, a long, long time ago. You were far too young to be reading this type of thing, the gorier parts of feminism and women’s rights, but… you remember a passage. The wire twists apart easily as you remember the story. A woman, desperate to be rid of the parasitic growth in her womb, just as desperate as you are now, used a wire coat hanger to remove it. It’s been so long that you can’t remember how it ended for her, but you remember the rest very clearly. The bent end, no longer crooked after you bent it, slips into your opening so easily. You can barely feel it. then the door opens, you freeze, and you hear Ortho scream.
“Idia!” He yells, and there are footsteps and a moment of silence.
You look up at Idia’s honey-colored eyes that are glued to the wire hanger sticking out of your body, see the way both of the Shroud boys are looking at your current unfinished action, see the slow spread of crimson into Idia’s long hair, starting at the tips and spreading like, well, like fire, to the roots. There’s that familiar three-tap warning, and then you drop the hanger, clutching at the collar as the strongest shock you’ve ever felt hits you like a truck. It’s worse than the time you didn’t want to hang out with him, worse than the times you’d stray too close to the door. It forces you to your knees, sets your body into convulsions that shake the twisted hanger out of you, makes you foam at the mouth.
Somewhere under your anguish, you think you hear Ortho robotically say, “BPM reaching critical levels.”
The current stops and your body stops convulsing, relaxing so hard that your world, small as it has become, goes black. When you awake, you’re reliving a distant memory: you’re bound, hands and ankles, on the bed. You’re dressed again, one of Idia’s hoodies draped over you like a blanket, and Idia is just staring at you, holding your collar. He looks pissed, but his hair isn’t red, at least. He’s noticed you’re awake, but he’s not saying anything. He turns slightly in his gaming chair and throws the strap of leather on his desk, the wiring fried. There are holes burnt into the leather, and Idia stares at it blankly before he starts typing away on his tablet, his own voice coming through the device.
It sounds about as burnt out as the shock collar looks, “I bet you feel pretty bad, huh?”
You don’t dignify that with a response. It doesn’t matter to him, since his fingers fly as he keeps typing away.
“You’re a fucking moron. Only someone stupid would try to-” He doesn’t finish the sentence and hits the desk, standing up and pacing. You can’t see him, but you can hear him panting.
You try to de-escalate, sort of. The shock collar isn’t around your neck anymore, but you really don’t need him to work himself up again, “The word is ‘desperate.’ I don’t want… I don’t want this. This thing growing inside of me, I don’t-”
“You’re not the only one with a parasite.” His voice is quiet but seething. It breathily cuts through the air like a knife, aiming for your soft parts, “You just have the privilege of being able to get rid of yours comfortably.”
“Really? So you putting this thing in me isn’t as bad as I think it is?”
He paces back into view and you notice something missing. Someone missing. You lift your head a bit to look around and Idia takes a heavy seat at his desk again. This state is rare. It takes him a while to relax when he gets like this, but you’ve only seen it aimed at others, like that time his account got temporarily banned because one of his party members was hacking. At least that had an easy solution for him- you’ve never seen him grin as much as when he had the poor guy swatted and watched through the CCTV cameras around the poor fool's house.
“We’re going home. I’ll fix your little problem twofold, since I’m the only competent one between the two of us.” He types out, his recorded voice not lagging once.
“What? And what do you mean you have a parasite?”
He doesn’t look at you, but you think you see him wipe his cheek with his sleeve, typing with only one hand, “Ortho is gonna come back with some burn cream. I lost my temper and you got hurt. Not that you didn’t deserve it.”
“I didn’t deserve any of this. I asked you if you had a condom.”
He doesn’t respond to that statement, instead typing, “I don’t love you. You know that, right? Love is for the idealistic masses, those who aren’t capable of keeping their feet on the ground. You’re just someone who has taken up a space in my mind. So the solution to yours won’t be permanent. Seven knows my parents will be getting on my case about providing them an heir eventually.”
“So I’m just here for eventual marriage security?”
Idia doesn’t respond. Ortho strolls in, placing a tube on Idia’s desk and goes out of your line of sight, seemingly to tidy or something. You don’t really care. He’s not your ally. He’s never been.
Idia sighs, then goes back to working on something on his desk. You don’t know how much time passes, but he loops it around your throat and unties you. It’s sitting a bit lower on your neck, just against your collarbones. There’s a three-tap warning, but no shock afterward. Just the flat look on Idia’s face.
“I should start calling you ‘baby’, kitten. It’d be so much easier for you to understand your position.”
“That’s not funny.” You say, “I never asked you to bring me here.”
Idia shrugs, “Well, I don’t think of you as a pet. With the way you act, you might as well be a pest.” He grins, sharp teeth on display, “Maybe I should put out some glue traps… or start dosing you with raw garlic and ivermectin.”
He starts laughing, and you feel your eyes well with tears. You tell yourself it's the pregnancy hormones. Idia laughs harder at your expression.
“Aw, kitten, I’m just teasing. Come sit with me.”
“But I-” That three-tap warning from your new collar cuts you off. You stand up and start walking the two steps between the bed and Idia’s desk. When you reach your hands towards the collar, it zaps you. It’s quick and not too painful, but it gets you moving towards Idia. When you take a seat on his lap, he leans to bury his nose in your hair, a thrilled noise escaping him. He drops the burn cream in your lap.
He just watches you as you unscrew the lid and reach for your neck. There’s a three-tap warning again- bzz bzz bzz- but you ignore it. The second your fingers barely graze your throat with the cream, you get zapped, short and swift, but uncomfortable enough. You drop your hand and it goes away. When you look up at Idia, he takes the cream from your other hand and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, using his free hand to click into one of his many tabs for some anime streaming site.
“Good. It works.” Is all he says.
As he dabs the cream onto the electrical burns on your neck, you have to blink away the despair again. It’s settled over you like a blanket, eaten holey by moths and worms. Every move you make is accompanied by tentative fear, a worry that Idia will do something awful if you do certain things. You never once considered it would go this far, though. Ortho drops something onto Idia’s bed, a hefty-looking luggage set, and Idia pays him no mind as he tucks away some clothes. You don’t want to admit it, but you don’t want to be around any more people under Idia’s thumb, whether they know it or not.
#twisted wonderland#tw: dark content#disney twst#tw: dark themes#tw: yandere#yandere#tw captivity#twst#dead dove fic#dead dove do not eat#wire hanger#tw abortion#tw pregnancy#tw miscarriage#tw shock collar#tw periods#tw misogyny#tw accidental pregnancy#tw forced pregnancy#tw forced marriage#implied#yandere idia shroud#idia shroud#twst idia#twisted wonderland idia#idia x reader#afab reader#tw afab reader#tw self destructive behavior#tw unsafe abortion
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