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knowyourplace-fool · 5 months

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Bully gojo and shy oc !! Who always torments you and humiliates you. Makes you do all his works and you do out of fear. You don't question him and feels smug . He tells how he hates you( but actually he likes her a lot but he doesn't confess because ypu keep rejecting every guy so he thinks you don't accept him either) and tells you that you are just a burden on this earth but then you get into an accident and don't come to scl for a week. Gojo doesn't know what happened to you and can't find out cuz you don't have frnds either. After a week you come to schl with a bandage to your head and a fracture sling on your arm. He gets worried and clings onto you and tou lash out for the first time telling him that he got what he wanted and he could be happy now. He gets angry and kidnaps you and fucks you🙃

-> omfg YES! gojo is such a bully

-> sorry for any mistakes!

⚠️: NON CON, Kidnapping, Mean!Gojo, physically, mental and emotional abuse, manhandling, bullying, biting, groping, size difference

-> THIS IS REALLY DARK AND FUCKED UP PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !

All you’ve ever done is mind your own business

Sure, you don’t have many friends but that doesn’t really bother you

You enjoy being independent. Your grades are high in the air, your part time job in your school is more than enough for you to live comfortably. (In this universe, inflation doesn’t exist)

You don’t really talk to anyone, not even family. Whole bunch of drama happened, and they were toxic so you ended up leaving them for university.

Everything seemed to be going as planned until a 6’4 menace walked into your life.

Gojo Satoru was your typical frat boy and the star of the university’s basketball team.

Some may even say the Golden Boy of your university. He was smart, athletic, had a good reputation among the professors and just with people in general. Not to mention, he was ridiculously handsome. Man literally had girls fighting over him.

You’ve seen him in the hallways but never actually interacted with him. He was in a few of your classes but luckily, you guys never were put together in a group.

Until today. Your prof is running a lab and gathered the smartest students he knows to do it for him. It’s kind of a two in one for him, the lab gets complete and you guys gain some experience.

Anyways, the group consists of you, Satoru and his friend Suguru and some other nerdy people

Now unlike Gojo, you already sorta knew Geto. He was really friendly and kind towards you so you were kind of excited to be working with him.

A few days into the lab and Gojo has a sudden fixation with you. Well he always had, but this lab is letting him work closely with you and it’s making his obsession worse.

You’re stupid if you think that Gojo Satoru hasn’t kept on eye out for you. Every time you walk by him in the halls, he gets a hard on just by catching a whiff of you. The cute skirts and the pastel closet you have drives him over the fucking edge.

It takes every cell in his body to resist the urge of grabbing ur wrist, pulling u into the janitors closet and fucking you absolutely dumb and stupid.

You look so cute and innocent, like a little bunny. And god, you are just an easy target to corrupt.

So, Gojo plans a party. A party on the following Saturday after your lab is complete because he knows that you’ll be free.

His plan is to get you to come, keep you company, get you a little hammered, then get a feel of your pussy. Simple plan.

It’s now up to Geto to get you to come to this party. And of course, for his best friend, he’s 100% on board with his plan.

All goes well in the lab and in your final days of completing the report, Geto asked the big question.

“Satoru and I are throwing a party tomorrow. If you’re free, we’d love for you to come. You can bring anyone you want.”

You blush. Party? Your first party? Your brain breaks out in celebration because as much as you liked to spend your weekend relaxing, you also have a severe case of fomo. (Fear of missing out)

Your eyes lit up, saying yes on the spot in excitement. The following day, you went back to your dorm and tore your closet apart, looking for a nice dress. You settled for a blue, body con, summer dress. (despite it not being a party dress but who gives af bc it’s summer)

The next night, you got all dolled up for the party. You made arrangements with Geto to pick you up. He made it on time, looking handsome in his all black fit with his hair in a bun.

You were excited… for nothing.

There was a party (a lit one), but you realized a little too late that your social skills were next to non existent. The whole time, you felt out of place. So you stood in the corner, drink in hand and watched others dance and interact with each other.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

You turn your head only to be faced with a bright blue eyed man, the one and only Gojo Satoru.

“I guess partying is not my thing.”

“Oh come on, come with me.”

He grabbed your hand and headed towards the beer pong table

You and Gojo were a team and surprisingly you two worked perfectly together

The alcohol in your system made you flush, and you found yourself loosening up a bit and having a bit of fun.

Gojo’s plan seemingly was rolling out perfectly. You were a bit drunk, so he took you back to his room to “sober up” (but it was just an excuse to get u alone so he can fuck u but u don’t know that)

Now listen, Gojo got rizz alright. So imagine the look on his face when he went in to kiss you and you slapped him so hard, his face turned the other way.

“I’m not some whore you can use for tonight. I was genuinely having a good time with you, I don’t know why you had to make it sexual.”

You felt like crying. Is this what all guys think about?? Sex?

You get off the bed and head towards the door before you’re pulled back and thrown on the bed

“Satoru, stop! I want to go home.”

And just like how you did with him, he slapped you. Much, much harder.

He didn’t say anything, he just had this look in his eyes that could honestly kill. He took a hold of your wrist with one hand and let his other roam and touch your body.

He pulled your dress up, revealing the lacy, white, underwear you wore. You were a teensy bit wet, not because of him but maybe the alcohol? Or his best friend?

You don’t know, but Gojo thought the wet spot was because of him.

“Tch, saying you don’t wanna hook up but you’re fucking wet f’me.”

He pulled you closer to the head board, reaching out to his night stand and pulling out,,,, cuffs?

“Wait wait wait wait!” You say in a panic. You squirm to get your wrist free but once you feel the metal snake around your wrists and the click afterwards, you were doomed.

Your dress was ripped off by him. Your panty was somewhere on the ground and he easily took off your bra by doing the same thing he did with your dress. You laid nude under him, against your will.

As you can imagine, the night went terribly for you. You weren’t a virgin but it had been a while since you had sex (all the way back in high school) and really it was your first time with someone so experienced.

The next morning, you woke up with him cuddling you from behind while his lanky legs were intertwined with yours

You somehow managed to escape his grip and sneak out of the house before anyone could notice. You did have work, but decided to call in because of… well for obvious reasons.

On Monday, you dreaded to go to school. But with midterms coming around the corner, you couldn’t afford to miss a lecture. You dressed in baggy clothes and took a different route to class to avoid Satoru.

The day was going alright until you had to go to the library to pick out a few books to help you on an assignment.

While you were reaching on your tippy toes, someone behind you grabbed the book which made you quickly turn around. Your eyes meet his bright, blue eyes.

“You’re avoiding me now?”

The anger that overcame you in that moment was indescribable. You wanted to scream at him, hit him, threaten him or somehow bring him down, but you couldn’t.

“Did I fuck you mute? Answer me.”

You took a deep breath in and said, “leave me alone”

“Why? What, you think you’re too good for me? That I don’t have enough worth to fuck you? Is that what it is?”

He grabbed your cheeks with one hand and squished them together, pushing you back against the bookshelf in the process. He was holding you so hard, you couldn’t move.

“Listen to me, you slut. Don’t get our roles mixed here. You’re literally a piece of shit next to me. You hold no value in this world. If you died, no one would even think twice about it because no one gives a flying fuck about you. You think you’re soooo fucking special or something. You think you’re too good for everyone. Well you’re not. You’re just a broke whore, with no friends, no family, no hobby— nothing.”

He roughly let’s go of your face that you nearly fall to the floor. You tried your best but couldn’t help but cry at his words. Gojo swings off his backpack, grabs a note package and hands it to you.

“This assignment is due tomorrow at noon. I haven’t gotten the chance to start it because of basketball. So you’re going to do it for me cause you’re a worthless, bunny that has nothing else to do after school hours. And before you think about handing in something stupid, take a look at this.”

He pulls out his phone and in a matter of 10 seconds, you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

A video. Of you. Getting fucked by the Gojo Satoru. It’s evident that you’re crying but it’s easy to cover it up with an “excuse”. Your face held a horrified expression.

“P-please, delete that! Please, I’ll do it but please just- just delete the video please!”

“No, not until that assignment is handed in and I have to get 100% on it. If it isn’t handed in or I don’t receive 100%, this will be leaked to everyone in a matter of minutes. I’ll post this shit everywhere with your full name on it, got it?”

You felt like crying and throwing up at the same time. This felt worse than a nightmare. This felt worse than dying even. “Okay, I’ll try my best but I don’t know if I can get-”

“If you don’t get 100 on this assignment, I’m leaking it. I don’t give a shit. I already showed Suguru— sick bastard got off to it, and I’m sure many more will too if you don’t score 100.”

He picks up his backpack and leaves while you stood in distraught. The following night, after work, you immediately started on his assignment. You saw the assignment date and it was assigned 3 weeks ago. He wants you to do 3 weeks of work in 15 hours.

Somehow, you pulled through the night. Researching the best you can on the internet and trying to make it as best as you possibly could. You were able to send him the file at 11:30am so he could skim through it and hand it in.

You ended up leaving early for the day so you could go home and get some sleep. When you woke up the next morning, your nearly dead phone kept ringing over and over.

You pick it up and see hundreds of notifications on various social media’s and a few iMessages

Your thumb clicked on one of the iMessage notifications and there was Satoru’s name with the following message:

“I told you, only 100%”

Below the message was an image of his mark

A 98%

You swipe off of iMessage and open Instagram and boom

Hundreds of new follower requests, numerous dms and clicking of Gojo Satoru’s story, was the video of him blowing your back.

You checked Snapchat and there it was on his story too. You wanted to die. You wanted to dig a hole and bury yourself alive than live another day in this situation.

Later that day, you had received an email from the dean’s office regarding a “very sensitive and confidential” meeting that would be taking place tomorrow.

You had an idea of what it might be about but hope and prayed to god that it wasn’t what you were thinking.

But to your luck, this meeting was regarding your sex tape and how there is no longer a spot for you on the dean’s list or team.

Your whole world was crumbling apart. You spent your whole life to get to where you are today, only for him to ruin it in a matter of 12 hours.

You left the building slowly, still deeply thinking about what you could’ve done to prevent this. How stupid you are to go to that party and slap the Gojo Satoru.

“Why is this happening to me?”

All of a sudden, everything goes black.

You wake up in a hospital. Your head felt heavy and your arms was twitching. You look around and see… no one. The nurse catches a glimpse of your eyes and quickly walks in to check on you.

She explains that you were in an accident and that they tried to get in contact with an emergency contact but you hadn’t stated anyone. You stayed at the hospital overnight so they can monitor your brain activity and fortunately they were able to discharge you the next morning.

You took the rest of the week off from school and Gojo Satoru was losing his mind. He had spammed called you from various numbers but you weren’t answering your phone at all. He went from his usual mean insults to angry insults to pleading for a response back.

He doesn’t see you until Monday, with a bandage around your head and your arm in a cast which is also in a sling. He nearly runs to you, wanting nothing but to embrace you.

And he does. Holds onto you tightly, inhaling your shampoo until you knee his in the balls.

He immediately drops down and you completely lose your cool. “Don’t fucking touch me! I hate you! You ruined my life! You’re not allowed to touch me after you forced me to have sex with you and shared the video with the entire campus! You got what you wanted Satoru! You stole everything from me! Broke my entire world, burned my hard work down! Made me feel worthless! And now you want to act all concerned?! I hope you rot in hell!”

You ended up going home for the day, otherwise another headache would’ve set in. You took a quick lap before getting up and getting ready for work because those hospital bills weren’t going to pay themselves.

You had the closing shift and although working with one hand was quite the challenge, you desperately needed the money.

After closing up, the walk to your apartment is about 10 minutes away. Everything was going fine until a car quickly pulled up next to you, two men sprung out and shoved you into the car before you even had the chance to react.

One of them had his hand over your mouth while the other held your legs together.

You were blindfolded and tied in the car and after a while the car came to a stop and you were carried out.

You were thrown on the floor and when the blindfold was removed, you were met with his eyes again.

You immediately started crying. You were afraid and quite frankly exhausted of everything that’s happened over the last week.

“Please. I’m sorry. Just let me go. I’ll never ever bother you again. I’m sorry.”

You plead and beg but you hear his belt unbuckling. “Please! Please, I beg you Satoru! I’m sorry! I can’t- I can’t do it again please!”

You were left unheard. He threw you on the bed and tied your limbs to the bed. One of your arms was already in extreme pain and the other arm was starting to hurt too because of how tightly he tied you.

Every ounce of hope drained from your body when you felt his cock push into you. He pushed your head into the mattress and fucked you hard, like there was no tomorrow. Your tears soaked the mattress. Sweat, tears and snot covering your puffing face.

Satoru went on for hours. Abs glistening in sweat, his arm veins popping out because of how hard he was holding you. Not to mention his cock was coated with loads of cum.

You were passed out by the time he finished with you. Your body shaking on its on, cum dripping out your cunt and marks/bruises left all over your soft skin.

Hopefully his bunny learned her lesson.

#tw: dark fic #tw: noncon #gojou satoru x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk smut #bully!gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut

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plutoswritingplanet · 2 years

Text

White Rabbit (Peter Ballard x Female!Reader)

PART 2

a/n: how close can i get to writing monsterfricking before being called a monsterfricker?

Warnings: NON-CON (nothing too explicit, but still, be warned, be safe), bathroom-donging (once again), extensive use of a 80′s rock song as a plot device

Summary: Vecna’s Curse finally comes to take what’s his. Only thing is, he doesn’t look like the monster your friends described.

Edit: Y'all are actually insane for giving this fic so many notes. There will be part two, most certainly, after the finale comes out. I will tag everyone in notes and in my askbox. With peace and love, what the fuck

There is a clock, ticking inside your head. It's sound filling every crevice of your brain, seeping into every fiber of your being, rattling every bone in your body until you're unable to move. You know what it means, you've seen what comes after it. The mutilated corpses of a cheerleader and that press kid are burned into your consciousness. Then, Max, floating above the graveyard, her blue eyes rolled grotesquely into the back of her head.

You haven't told anyone, as the team runs around Hawkins, looking for any clues that could help them stop Vecna's Curse.

Speaking of which, you are yet to see the abomination causing your imminent demise. It terrifies you to your very core, but under that overbearing feeling, there is another one. Curiosity. Danger feels heavy on your shoulders, and you love it, the thrill it gives you. Besides, shall things go south, you have a recorder by your side, "White Rabbit" by Jefferson's Airplane recorded on a small cassette, ready for trouble. "You can do this", is a mantra you've been telling yourself for hours now, you can survive.

The Wheeler house is lively with worried chatter, parents lamenting over their kids, in trouble again, and with the Hawkins Police nonetheless. You're sitting in the living room, head hanging low, fingers pulling at the hem of your shirt, which is currently covered in stains of various origin. Moss, mud, some blood, although you don't know where it came from. All the fault will undoubtedly fall on your shoulders. Being the only adult on scene, the only one getting caught. You curse under your breath, thinking of your friends, old and new, currently stuck in the Upside Down. Leaving you to handle everything else on the surface.

It has been a hassle, the interrogation. You got put into a stuffy room with Officer Calahan, who was strangely excited at the prospect of potentially locking up a bunch of kids, for whatever reason. It won't happen, obviously, but you're not here to break his bubble. He asks you questions with an aura of sarcastic authority, giving you patronizing nods, whenever you answer. You want to punch him, not only because your friends are currently in mortal danger, and you could do so much more to help them, if he'd just let you out. There is also the sound of a ticking clock, coming from behind his back, and the suspense drives you insane.

And a spider. Fat and dangerous, it traverses the expanse of the man's shoulder, but when you blink, it's gone.

- Can I use the bathroom? - you ask, voice barely containing all the emotions you were feeling.

The Officer looks at you, startled, as you had just interrupted another one of the monologues. He blinks, as you turn your head, and blinks again, processing your words.

- Yeah - he sounds dumbfounded.

Before the man can say anything more, you bolt out of the room, to the corridor basked in warm light of the ornate chandelier. The ticking is louder here, seemingly just a smidge away from your ear, and slowly, as if not to startle the hallucination, you turn your head left. There, on a cream wall, where normally a lovely family photo of the Wheeler's would hang, you find a round face of a grandfather's clock, staring back at you. One hand comes to life, lazily sliding from one minute to the other, a rusty clank of the mechanism filling your ears. There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, as you force your eyes away from the clock.

The world spins around you, as you fall through the bathroom door, closing it behind you. Your hands shake, as you reach for the recorder, fingers fumbling around the headphones you hastily pull over your ears. One click later, and a familiar base enters your brain, the sound of the clock barely recognizable beneath the drums.

- One pill makes you larger - you mutter under your breath, leaning heavily on the sink.

You try to control your breathing, focus on the steady rise and fall of your chest, still muttering the lyrics, like a prayer. The feeling persists, however, and you begin to sway in your place. The mirror shows your disheveled reflection in an almost mocking manner. Hair is sticking to your sweaty face, there are tears framing your eyes, and you're ghastly pale, worryingly so. Unable to focus, you close your eyes, shutting your eyelids tight. trying to block out everything but the music. Specks of light dance beneath your eyelids, and you try to follow their irregular paths, anything to bring you back.

Yet, that ticking sound is persistent, almost impatient. Waiting for the song to end. And with a click of finality, it does. Your heart jumps to your chest, as silence finally engulfs you. Your right hand flies to the Cassette player, fingers immediately finding the rewind button. Your eyes stay shut, as you listen to the whirling of the tape. And the ticking, always the ticking. Finally, it stops. A breath of relief shakes you.

- Don't play it again.

Your eyes fly open, as you give a startled gasp. The bathroom is empty, only your wracked figure reflected in the mirror. But something is wrong, you can feel it at the base of your neck, where the hairs stand up on guard. It doesn't feel like the Upside Down, doesn't look like it too, and yet, you can't shake the ever present sensation of indescribable dread.

Slowly, your fingers skim the play button, the plastic ridges dig into your skin, as you press down.

Then, something catches your hand. Delicately, like it's holding a flower.

You nearly scream, thrashing in the bathroom, turning harshly towards the shower, nails digging into the porcelain edge of the sink. Empty. Nothing.

Your heart stammers out of your chest, blood rushing through your ears in a suffocating display of panic. And the clock keeps ticking.

You're terrified now, properly. Screw all feelings of curiosity from earlier, you're pretty sure you can live without knowing. And so, even more feverishly, you fumble with the recorder, finally hitting the play button so hard, you nearly break your finger. The drums start again, and as the base joins it, you fall to your knees onto the floor, breathing heavily with relief.

- God - you sigh - Why me?

- Why you, indeed...

His voice is barely audible through the music, but you still feel it crushing through your skull. Your body freezes, as you glance up from the floor. There, just centimeters from you, stands a pair of white shoes. At least you think they're white, as the image keeps flickering in and out of existence, like a glitch on a homemade videotape. Your eyes drag up, over slender legs clad in white pants, white shirt tucked into them. Then, you finally see him. An angelic face looking at you from above. Beautiful, blue eyes, sharp features and lovely lips, all surrounded by a halo of blonde waves. An angel, truly.

You blink, and his image shifts out of existence just for a second.

- Who are you? - your voice sounds foreign in your ears, barely recognizable over the music

The man smiles a gentle smile, before kneeling down in front of you. His hands slowly creep towards yours, cradling them in a hold that is so warm and comforting, you want to melt into it without question. His eyes are so incredibly blue, it takes your breath away. And yet, despite the whirlwind of emotions, you can't stop staring into them. The man lifts your joined hands towards his lips. There isn't even a ghost of a breath, fanning your knuckles, as he places a kiss onto the bone. His image shifts again, violently, and a new feeling of slow dread creeps up your spine.

Then, a shadow passes through him, the kind facade falling into something much darker, much more sinister.

- I'm your worst nightmare - he smiles, teeth on full display, sharp and pointy.

You try to free your hands with a yank, but he holds them close with little to no force, eyes leaving your face in favor of studying the way veins move beneath your skin.

- I have many names - he says, his voice is calm and melodic - Henry - his lips brush the outside of your left wrist - Peter - a swift kiss is placed onto the tips of your finger - One...

He lingers for a bit at the juncture between your thumb and your pointer, and you still feel no breath coming from him.

- Although, the name your friends have given me has a nice ring to it - he looks up, capturing you again with those blue eyes of his.

- Vecna - your voice comes out as a mere whisper, one you can't even hear amongst the song, slowly, but without stopping, coming to an end.

Suddenly, the man stands up, and you feel yourself being pulled up to your feet as well. It's not gentle at all, and you nearly trip, before finding your balance. Faster than you can comprehend, the man turns you around, so you're facing the mirror. You can see him fully now. He's almost a head taller than you, slender and elegant. Not at all the monster you have imagined, not the one Max told you about. He peers at your reflection, towering over you in his clean, white clothes.

- My name means very little to me now - he says again, hand coming up to tuck your hair behind, exposing your neck to him - I am very particular about the names of my victims, however - another smile has you shaking, as his wondering hands press slightly on your pulse.

You can't move, your legs feel heavy, like someone tied them down with rocks. Your heart is beating so fast, you can feel it in your throat, where his fingers drum delicately over your skin, to the beat of the song still keeping you alive.

- Chrissy - he hisses into your hair - Sounds sweet like candy, and in a way, that's how she tasted.

A shiver wrecks your body, as images of the Cheerleader's body flood your mind. Her eyes, sucked into her skull, her limbs in disarray.

- Fred - you can feel his hands on the insides of your arms, fingers dragging over your veins - Intelligent, although slightly tart, like unripe apples.

Your head starts to spin, breaths escaping you in quick puffs. They found Fred in the middle of the road, alone, abandoned, mutilated.

- Patrick - he dips his head into the crook of your shoulder, nose sliding up, towards your ear - Stern, but full of life, reminded me of walnuts.

"When logic and proportion, have fallen sloppy dead" the singer wails, and you know, your time is coming to an end. A small whimper escapes you, as slender arms encircle your frame, pushing your back into his body.

- Max - there is a spark of rage at the mention of your friends name, one, he catches in your reflection with a raised eyebrow - Strong, youthful, like mint. When I heard your name amongst thousands, I knew, you'd taste wonderful.

Your entire body starts to writhe, as the man gives your neck a long lick of his tongue, starting from your shoulder, up to the back of your ear.

- Oooh - he laughs to himself, as you watch him in the mirror, still unable to move - There is some kick to you, I can tell. Like hot peppers.

He dives down again, placing open-mouthed kisses to your feverish skin, teeth just barely scraping your pulse point.

- A name like this should be savored. This guilt you feel should be savored.

"Feed your head" the woman sings, the song swelling in your ears, so close to the end, you start to shake. As if on cue, the man slowly reaches up, his fingers tangling themselves into your hair, as he pushes them under your headphones. It takes one move, for the plastic to fall from your head, clattering to the ground.

Your eyes meet in the mirror as sudden silence engulfs the both of you. There is a victorious smirk playing around on his lips, as his right hands starts to twirl your hair around his finger. He rubs the strands, like he's sampling a fabric, bafore bringing them closer to his nose, and taking a long whiff of air.

- ...Or maybe cinnamon - me sighs, eyebrows scrunching together.

- Are you going to kill me now?

Again, images of broken bones and mutilated corpses fill your mind, you can almost imagine the wet cracking.

The man laughs, stepping away from your trembling body for just an inch, the loss of his body behind you makes you sway in place. There's this weird flickering glitch running over his figure, intensifying for a moment. He takes a long breath, you can see muscles work under any visible sliver of skin, and as he relaxes again, his form stabilizes.

That is when you realize, what you're looking at isn't real. He isn't real. This angelic, terrifying boy is just an illusion, a hallucination, meant to lull you into a false sense of security. And it almost works. Almost, because as you focus more on his eyes, they seem to become less blue, and more milky and veiny. More like a monster.

- Guilt is a fickle thing - his voice is lower, more raspy than before.

His head dips down behind you, and he plants a wet kiss to the base of you neck, teeth scraping against your skin in a way, that wrenches a whine out of your lips.

Your stomach churns with a feeling sitting too close to arousal, as his large hands begin to explore your body further.

- It never leaves, not truly. And you have so much of it. - a hand digs itself into your hip, then slides up, leasing the edge of your shirt.

- Stop.

He doesn't, fingers creeping under the fabric, squeezing the soft tissue there.

- You're supposed to protect your brother, but he keeps getting hurt on your watch. How many bones does he have to break? How many times have you failed him?

Tears spring to life in the corners of your eyes, as you try to turn away from your reflection. He's faster though, and grabs your chin, forcing you to look back to the mirror. Then, he cranes your chin to the side, forcefully, so that your face is closer to him.

- Those kids you've taken under your wing, I will devour them all, and you'll watch - he seems unmoved by your sobs, whispering the words into your wet cheek - Your father, poor father, never had the chance of seeing how much of a disappointment you really are.

His lips are soft as he kisses your tears away, tasting the saltiness with a grin. Like a chef, proud of his most delicious meal.

- I see it all, sweetness - the hand digging into your stomach climbs up, over your ribs, stopping just short of the underside of your breast.

- Please... - a choked sob escapes you, as your body tries to free itself from his iron hold.

- Shhh - he shushes you, you can't feel his breath on your lips, when he gives you a chaste kiss.

For that matter, you can't feel anything, that would suggest you're being held by a living being. There is no rise and fall to his chest, no smell, no heartbeat.

His form starts to flicker yet again, and suddenly, you feel something definitely not human sliding and swirling behind you. A constantly moving mass holds you in place and instinctively, you screw your eyes shut. You don't want to know how he looks like in reality, mind focusing back on the angelic man from before. Now, you can feel him breath, a low rumble starts in his gut everytime he inhales, like a beast ready to pounce.

- It takes - the voice coming from behind you is gruff and monstrous - A considerable amount of strength to keep this image in place.

Slowly, with every word, the man's voice comes back to the normal, melodic tone. The shifting mass on your back seizes its movements, and slowly, you allow yourself to crack an eye open.

Blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and a halo of blonde hair stare back at you in the mirror's reflection. He gives out a small chuckle, shakes his head slightly, and bends down to take another long sniff of your hair.

- There's no need for you to see my real form - he mutters into the crown of your head - After all, it's not your fear I'm after.

His hands move with unexpected speed, as the both slide upwards, under your shirt, to cup roughly at your breasts. The sound you give out is pathetic at best, as this sliver of friction sets your whole body ablaze.

- It's your guilt - he forces out through his teeth, giving your breasts another sharp squeeze.

Before you have the time to actually understand the implications behind his words, you body is being pressed forwards. The ceramic edge of the sing digs painfully into the meat of your thighs, but the feeling is swallowed completely by a slender hand worming it's way into your pants.

Your entire body rocks back and forth, as the man, Peter, Vecna, plunges two long digits into you without warning.

You feel a raw whine climb out of your throat, as you clench around his fingers, hands flailing at your sides, looking for any sort of purchase. He lets you lean on him completely, one hand massaging your breast, before abandoning it in favor of gripping your pulse.

He works you steadily and greedily, pulling sounds out of you, you'd have never imagined were possible. It feels sick, your stomach tightens into a growing coil, as the rythmic pumping shakes you to your bones.

- I...please - your words come out slurred, as your vision swims around your head.

He chuckles, seemingly unaffected, and presses his thumb down on your pulsing bundle of nerves. The sudden jolt of pleasure wrenches a scream out of you, one, he swallows, forcefully craning his neck, and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss hurts, plain and simple. His lips, despite being pillowy soft, bite into yours with force you've never experienced in your life. Then, teeth appear, raking abused flesh, tongue forcing it's way into your mouth. It's too much, the whole thing starts to feel less like a nightmare, and more like an execution.

Your lungs scream for more oxygen, the tightening in your stomach accompanied by the sharp pain in your chest. And just when you truly think, this is how you are going to die, something entirely unexpected happens.

"One pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small"

The song enters your brain like a dose of adrenaline, waking you from your stupor. Immediately, the hand toying with your insides, retracts, leaving you unfulfilled and disappointed. The emptiness carries, as his mouth detach from yours. You can't open your eyes, you refuse to do so, too overwhelmed to see.

- Remember this - the man says into your ear, his words slowly being drowned out by music - Remember this feeling, when I come for you again.

With that, you're being released, your limp body falling down onto the floor, where you're met with gentle hands of your friends cradling you.

- Jesus, we though you were a goner! - Lucas nearly screams in your face, as you try your best to focus on the kid's features.

- Yeah! You were flying under the ceiling - Dustin shoves a finger up, and your glazed eyes follow, looking at an unidentified spot above your head.

- Why didn't you tell us? - Max is gripping your shoulders so hard, you're sure it will leave a mark.

The kids, your kids, look at you with terrified faces, as you try to stand up, bones heavy, muscles trembling with unresolved tension.

- Didn't want to worry you guys...

It's a weak excuse, and right now you're not even sure if it's true. Dustin mutters something about you being an adult idiot, and in your heart you can't disagree with him.

- Just - Max slowly let's go of your arm - Keep the headphones on.

With that, the gang makes their way out of the bathroom, you following right after them. The coil in your stomach dies down, and with it, new, overbearing feeling arises in your chest.

Guilt. Crushing guilt of wanting something so wrong you can never recover from it.

And beneath the familiar drums, and the voice, and the guitar, you hear a gentle sound of a ticking clock.

#peter ballard x reader #peter ballard #stranger things #vecna x reader #vecna stranger things #001 x reader #henry creel x reader #001 stranger things #henry creel #my writing #tw: dark fic #monster #i dont support child murder but i do support men being pretty so here you guys go

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red-writes · 1 year

Text

Enji Todoroki x Reader

Summary: With your marriage arriving so soon, you and shoto needed to gain the approval from his father but with his approval came the old todoroki tradition: the father must sleep with the child’s future partner

Warnings: dub-con/non-con, forced sex, fucked up family dynamics, step-cest (reader is enji’s soon-to-be daughter in law)

Red’s notes: I’ve had this in my drafts for uber long and it’s so fucked up yet so hot I couldn't not share

You’ve heard little about your soon to be father in law from Shoto. Little hints about him were sprinkled throughout your conversations over the years—but nothing important or noteworthy was ever shared. Having no information about the man you were about to meet was, for the lack of a better word, scary. Enji Todoroki. His name was shroud in mystery. Shoto could go on and on about his mother, brothers and sister. But when it came to his dad, not much was said.

Shoto seemed restless on the drive over. His jaw clenched, thumbs tapping away at the steering wheel. It threw you off, knowing that your usually stoic and calm fiancé was so nervous. Even now as you sat on the couch waiting for your father in law’s arrival his leg was bouncing up and down anxiously. Anxiety was a virus, it spread so easily and infected anyone nearby. Fear that lie dormant in your gut before began to bubble, you could feel the bile rising in your throat as the only door in the room opens.

You heard several pairs of footsteps walk in and your head rose to look at who entered. It was all of the Todoroki siblings. A sigh of relief escaped you as fuyumi, touya and natsuo join you on the couch.

“Nervous?” fuyumi asks, her face genuinely concerned and you let out a nervous chuckle, “Like you wouldn't believe, Sho doesn't tell me much about my almost father in law so..”

Touya, who is seated next to Shoto shoves him playfully, “Jesus baby bro, you're scaring my sister in law” he jokes and Shoto says nothing, eyes still planted on the floor. Natsuo mumbles something under his breath before getting up and leaving the room. It seems as if no one else heard with the way fuyumi and touya carry on about how they wish mom could meet you. It seemed like you were the only one who heard Natsuo.

you should be scared.

The topic of marriage arose and fuyumi casually mentioned how she tied the knot a few years back and touya did as well mere months ago.

“Is marriage an important family value or something?” you ask fuyumi and she hums thoughtfully, “I wouldn't say that, our family is more traditional than most, before a certain age we must get married” her clarification only makes you more confused.

“How come Natsuo isn't married then?” you wonder, the room is quiet, the air is stagnant somehow it feels as if gravity is pressing down on your very soul at that moment.

“He doesn't want to follow tradition.” Shoto states simply. You're turning to face him, you're eager to know more.

“What could possibly be so frightening about marriage?” You say, voice lighthearted and curious.

“It’s not tradition he's afraid of, it’s dad” touya says, fuyumi glares at touya from across the couch and at that very moment the door is opened rather harshly. The handle bangs against the wall and the jarring sound makes you jump. There he is. That monster of a man is standing in the doorway, arms folded in front of his chest as he walks over to where the two couches are settled.

He takes a seat in the one in front of you and the three todoroki siblings stand and bow, you fumble to follow behind them, your bow was late and sloppy while theirs was clearly organized and practiced. Enji Todoroki looks a lot different than you imagined. His hair was short and spiked upwards, blue eyes beady and cold, his frame muscular; outcome of having trained it up for years.

“Shoto, I’m glad you decided to come, I’ve missed you my son” Enji says, his voice gruff and deep. It sends chills down your spine.

“Father- there is much I want to say to you..” Shoto begins and Enji allows him to continue speaking, “I simply came here as a formality, I just wanted you to meet her, not for the ritual to take place” he says and you're confused, head turning to Shoto for some answers.

formality? ritual?

“If you think you intend to leave here without it taking place, you're mistaken.” Enji says, he stands and walks around the couch, his large hands rest on your shoulders.

“E-excuse me, Mr.Todoroki, what is the ritual?” you squeak out, you're sure if he was in front of you, you'd never have the courage to ask.

“Shoto, what the hell? You didn't even tell her about it before coming here?” Touya says, voice raising at his younger brother.

“I was trying to protect her..” Shoto whispers and that terrifying gut feeling you have is back, it gnaws away at your stomach until it twists into knots, you feel sick.

“The ritual, is one which takes place every todoroki wedding, to truly become a member of the Todoroki household you must become one with the name itself, to do that one must give themselves over completely to that names original owner” Enji says, his hold on your shoulders is released as your mind tries to desperately make sense of the words.

“What..I don't..”

“Put simpler, you must conjugate with me.”

“Dad please...I love her..” Shoto begs and Enji huffs out an amused puff of air.

“This is the only way, if you want to be married, then you’ll do as the tradition says”

Enji walks around the couch and stands in front of you, he holds out his hand and you place your smaller one in his, Shoto’s fingers run through his hair and pull on it anxiously. Enji slowly walks with you out the room. He takes you to a room that seems oddly placed compared to the others. You’re confused, you want to find shoto but his grip is so strong it silences any thought of rebellion instantly. He unlocks the door and inside is nothing, the room is completely empty except for a single bed.

You’re completely unnerved. He let’s you go and shuts the door, he sits on the bed and pats the space next to him, encouraging you to sit. You do.

“Mr.Todoroki...I...I’m scared, what’s going on?” you ask, your eyes glued to your hands that stay perfectly folded in your lap.

“We’re going to have sex” he says straightforwardly and you lift your head slowly, waiting for him to say it’s a joke. But he doesn't.

“But- I’ve alway had plans on saving myself for Shoto...o-on our wedding night, I don’t want to disrespect your traditions but..I won’t have sex with my fiancé's father” you state, voice gaining a little bit of confidence at the end.

He grips your chin in his hand, your eyes meet his and the look in them makes you want to run and hide, he isn’t a man. He’s a monster.

“My dear, the moment you stepped foot in my house was the moment you lost your right to choose.”

A knock on the door makes you jump as the Todoroki siblings file in one by one. Shoto is last, his hair is messed up as if he’d been pulling on it relentlessly, his eyes are red and his cheeks are visibly wet.

“Sorry..y/n I’m sorry, but this is the only way” Shoto whispers and he turns around, defacing you as his siblings approach where you're sitting and begin undressing you. Shoto flinches as he hears your screams of struggle and panic. He can feel his heart sinking into the depths of his gut and tears fill his eyes once more. You fight desperately to keep your clothes on but they tear them off of you, leaving you in nothing but underwear. Your eyes begin to water as you cover yourself up with your arms, trying to hide as much as your body as you can.

“Now now, you should know who I am and what I’m capable of, surely you don’t think hiding yourself with those twigs you call arms will stop me” Enji gloats, narcissistically parading about his own strength. He tears your arms from in front of your chest and pins them above your head. The Todoroki siblings tie your hands with a dark red rope that feels itchy and rough against the skin on your wrists.

Enji pries open your legs and leans down to be eye level with your pussy. The man’s serious face is enough to still your writing for a bit as he hums. One of his thumbs pulls at the lip of your cunt, exposing more of the sensitive flesh to the man’s beady cerulean eyes. His thumb presses down against your clit and you jump, a soft mewl escaping shamefully from your lips at the sudden touch.

You hear a thud and see Shoto leaving the room and disgust for yourself fills your gut and all of sudden you could hardly breathe. You in took and exhaled shaky breaths and fuyumi takes a seat on the bed next to your head, she shushes you and pets your head softly.

“It’ll be okay..shh don't worry” she says in a soft voice with a gentle smile and you look past her with tear filled eyes to see Touya standing against the wall with a hard-on pressing against his pants.

“Please..help me I-fuyumi please” you beg and she presses a kiss to your forehead. Enji begins rubbing circles over your clit and your hips raise off the bed, against your own will. You shake your head back and forth with small pleas falling from your mouth as the coil of heat tightens in your tummy and just as you’re about to cum he pulls away and you whine. He chuckles,

“Silly girl, don't you know you're only meant to cum for your husband?”

You hardly get what he means but even so, the fact that you were going to cum just from having your clit played with a bit by the father of your soon to be husband was extremely humiliating and taboo, extremely taboo. And yet, here you were, cunt slick with your own arousal, pussy clenching anxiously around nothing as the desperation, the need, to be fucked was eating away at your morality.

Enji shuffled out of his pants and suddenly you felt a wave of anxiety pass through you. You peered down from between your legs and saw the monster that was his cock resting between your folds. It was huge. Thick, with veins lining the shaft. The head of his cock was cherry red and angry, it leaked a few drops of pre-cum from the slit and you could feel the bile once again rising in your throat. The previous haze of arousal you had simmered down into a deduction of pure horror. You squirmed. Fat globs of tears and snot running down your face as an attempt to stop what was happening. But your movements were meaningless as he pressed the head of his cock against your weeping cunt and pushed in. You yelled. You screwed your eyes shut as he pushed in until he was fully seated inside of you. It burned and it hurt, felt like being torn apart. You yelled out for Shoto. You screamed his name as his father began roughly fucking you, not minding the calls of his son.

After a while however, you cried not because of the pain but because of the pleasure. His cock was so thick he had no need for precision because he seemed to hit every spot that managed to melt your mind into a puddle of goo. Shamefully, your cries turned into ones for “Enji! Oh gods! Enji fuck me harder!” and less for your beloved Shoto.

It felt sinfully good, sex with your fiancé’s father, the thought alone had your cunt squeezing down on the girthy cock like a vice. Your vision was blurring from the tears that began form in your eyes, every thrust he made rocked the bed into the headboard. Slick drooled from your cunt and formed a pool under your ass, the head of his cock brushed against your g-spot with every thrust and you couldn't hold back the desperate plea to cum. Enji hissed as he announced the arrival of his own orgasm. You were teetering on the edge right as he came inside of you, leaving your cunt throbbing and unsatisfied as he pulled out. He stood up with and walked around the bed to untie you.

He kissed your cheek,

“Welcome to the family.”

#tw dubious consent #tw: noncon #red writes— ੈ♡˳#enji smut #enji x y/n #enji x reader #enji x reader smut #tw: dark content #TW: Dark fic

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enqmind · 6 days

Text

Well, this took a while. But we're here now and that's all that's important.

Ghost/Female Reader WC: 1.1k 18+ content

Warnings: Suicide attempt by reader, gaslighting, manipulation, Local Manc has worst possible reaction to a suicide attempt, ~*self indulgence*~

Reader notes: Thin enough to fit into a standard bathtub, light enough to be lifted from a standard bathtub by Ghost, mentally ill, pale enough for noticable blushing (feel free to ignore), atheist (ffti)

One Man's Treasure II

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He didn’t turn the big light on when he carried her into his living room. He didn’t need to, the floor clear of any clutter to trip him up.

He didn’t turn it on after he lay her on the sofa and went to grab a towel. The light of his own bathroom spilling into the room was enough, he thought.

Enough to wrap her in one of his big, barely used, towels.

Enough to clean and bandage her wounds.

Enough to blot the blood and water from her hair.

She huddled into him for warmth and comfort and he did not deny her.

How could he? For now he was her shepherd, guiding her until she went to the hereafter.

In the dim and dinge, it would be easier for her to accept the reality of her situation.

So he kept her in the dark.

---

She stirred against him a few hours later. Wincing against the low light and putting a hand to her head.

“Head hurt?” he rumbled.

She froze and peered up at him. Blinking in confusion.

“You’re… no. There’s no way.” She pulled away from him and rubbed at her face. “I keep fucking it up, there’s no way it worked this time.”

“How many times?”

“Four or five.” She looked ashamed, wrapping herself up in her arms, like she’d done in the bath. “Skill issue, I guess.”

He watched her. He could see that forlorn hope dancing in her eyes that he was real. That she’d actually managed it this time.

He put a hand on her shoulder.

I am real.

“I thought if I did it in the bath, maybe I’d drown if I fucked up again.”

He tilted his head at her.

She looked at him, eyes widening.

Relief played on her face again, battling with misery.

“I drowned?”

“Was the bottle full when you started?”

Relief won, a smile breaking out on her face.

“I did it,” she whispered, a hand reaching out and grasping his jumper. “It’s over.”

On some level he felt like he should be angry at that, like he’d been trained to be by an uncaring world, but it was hard when she started crying.

“Thank you,” she sniffled, “I know it’s your… job? Or whatever, but thank you.” A watery smile. “I feel a lot better not being alone right now.”

She removed her hand and pulled the towel tighter around herself, covering up her skin.

Her head must still be throbbing from her hangover.

He stood.

“I’ll get you some water. Drink it, then sleep.”

She nodded, resigned.

“Some last solid rest before my trip to hell. That’s very kind of you.”

Ghost turned to stare at her.

“What?” he barked. “You're not going to hell.”

Why would she? What could this small, sad looking woman possibly have done to deserve that.

She frowned, “are you sure? I’m an atheist and I killed myself. You have to admit that it’s not looking good for me.”

Both of those things were so desperately inconsequential that he found himself chuckling.

“You’re not going to hell,” he repeated. A sly smile formed under his mask. “It’s so much worse. You’re stuck with me.”

She stared back at him with wide eyes and a gently agape mouth.

“Oh.”

He turned away and went to the kitchen, leaving her to stew in that horror for a moment.

It seemed to sink in as she took the glass from him and drank from it.

He sat next to her again, arm stretched out on the back behind her. Watching her mouth as she drank.

She had a pretty mouth.

To her credit, she didn’t flinch away from him. Instead staring blankly into the middle distance as she drank.

It was as she neared the end of the glass that the silence was broken.

“Is- is that your face?”

“It’s a mask. What people expect.”

She nodded and finished her drink.

“Okay.”

He pulled the glass from her hands and put it on the floor.

“Sleep now?” she asked, eyes wide as she looked at him. The towel pulled tightly around her again.

He slipped his arms beneath her and pulled her up against his chest as he stood.

Her eyes widened even more.

Oh, he must be sc-

“Gosh. You’re really strong.” She looked awed, mouth pulling up into a cute smile.

Ghost found himself taken aback.

“You’re not that heavy.”

“At that angle I am.” She stared at her fingers, weaving them together, and was that a blush? “The mechanics being what they are, and all.”

“You like strong men, huh?” he murmured as he carried her to the bedroom.

Her blush deepened.

“I admire the hard work and discipline.” A quiet protest, as she was placed on the bed.

“‘Course you do.”

“I do!”

He dug around in his drawers, pulling out two sets of pyjamas. One with long bottoms and one with drawstring shorts.

He put the shorts set on the bed.

“Sure. You change into those and get under the duvet. I’ll be right back.”

“Um.” Her meek call stopped him in the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“Are we going to share the bed?”

Of course they were. There was only one in the flat.

“Yeah.”

“I could sleep on the sofa,” she offered.

That was a stupid idea.

“No. You need a proper night’s sleep.”

Her nervous expression intensified.

“It’s just, um-”

“Sleep.” He walked over to her and crouched so they were eye to eye. “You need sleep, and that’s what you’ll get. Nothing else.”

She searched his eyes in the dinge.

“Okay.”

He nodded.

He found her curled up under the duvet when he got back. Towel neatly folded on top of the chets of drawers, bra and knickers on top of it. She must have believed him.

A gentle touch on her shoulder earned him nothing.

Out like a light. Good.

He moved to the other side of the bed and climbed in.

Sharing a bed with another person wasn’t something he’d done in a long time. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to sleep. That would be annoying, but he’d cope.

He turned onto his side and looked at his bedmate’s sleeping face.

She was smashing her face into the pillow, mouth locked in a grim line and eyebrows slightly furrowed.

There was no way she was dreaming yet, her eyes remained stationary under their lids.

Soon they’d start dancing, and he’d watch. Just in case she needed him again.

---

Movement against his skin woke him.

His eyes snapped open, hand reaching for a weapon.

A head of messy hair filled his vision, and an arm around his chest stymied his reach.

The light creeping under his blind illuminated the situation, his neighbour pressed up against him.

It felt… quite nice, actually.

She tilted her head to look up at him, the words on her lips falling away with shock.

He looked curiously at her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“What’s the matter?”

“You… look just like my neighbour.”

Shit.

#cod fic #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x oc #tw: suicide attempt #tw: suicide #tw: dark fic

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the-witty-pen-name · 2 years

Text

Edward Nashton (The Batman) x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

College AU

Warnings: Stalking & other creepy behavior, Manipulation, Incel/Misogynistic Mindset, Alcohol and other substances, Descriptions of Smut and Masturbation, Cursing

As usual, this is unedited and if there are any tags or warnings I may have forgotten to include, please let me know.

THIS IS AN 18+ STORY WITH DARK THEMES, PAY ATTENTION TO WARNINGS AND MINORS DNI

You’re so sweet. Soft and warm, and everything that just clouds his focus. He’s memorized every curve, and the natural sway when you walk into a room. It’s like sunshine when you smile, and he notices the way they gravitate towards you. Of course they do, they all do. He’s not naive enough to believe he’s not the only one who wants to be near you. It’s effortless, the way people are drawn to you. But it’s in vain, every time, polite rejections that leave people somehow liking you more. You’re loyal, such a good girl for him, because you know you’re his.

His first impression of you was stereotypical. He pegged you to be another daft popular girl who has clawed her way to the top of the social ladder. Superficial and dumb, being able to use your looks for everything. His observations of people and their trends led him to assume, which he regrets. Somehow, you break the mold, everything he’s observed about social hierarchy out the window. It’s infuriating at first, because you’re just so nice- like god just made you out of a small piece of heaven. Fuck, and you’re so smart.

The first time you interrupted the professor in lecture to correct him (politely, of course- a sweetheart) he thought it was puzzling. You were puzzling. A challenge to figure out, to open up slowly and unravel. It started out innocently, just the sheer curiosity gnawing at him. You were a mystery, and he needed to satisfy that curiosity that was becoming more and more bothersome.

It’s easy to find your full name on the professor’s class roster, all he needed to do was pretend to have questions during office hours. The dimwit goes to get coffee and he’s able to sneak a peak at the list without disrupting anything on the desk. It goes perfectly. And one search on Instagram takes him to your page easily. Except it’s a good damn book dedicated Instagram. Irritating, honestly, but he applauds you for keeping your actual account private, which is the second account in the list of suggestions. It’s dumb that you can’t zoom in on profile pictures.

For now, he settled on lurking at the bookstagram, as you called it in the bio. Cute. That night at home instead of working on his other projects, he stayed up reading each of the long captions you’d written out reviewing each book you had read. Some of them he recognized as ones that were very popular, others were classics, some graphic novels, it was a rather eclectic mix of genres. He liked that. No non-fiction though, he made note. Interesting. He can’t blame you for that.

Once he worked his way through your page, he ends up ordering a few of the titles on Amazon. He’d usually opt for the library, which he used for some other titles you said you liked that he placed holds for. But to get started sooner, the two day shipping was a godsend. He figured he’d have one with him in class, keep it on his desk, carry it around campus with the cover outward, an attempt to catch your eye. Strike up a conversation, figure out something else about you.

He also found himself wanting to read some of these just because of how your posts made them sound. However, his main motive was to use them as a prop in an attempt to have an excuse to talk to you. He would lure you in to him, so he doesn’t have to go out of his way. It’s more natural this way. You’re the social butterfly, fluttering around being outgoing and sociable while he was the quiet one. The mysterious, reserved one. It makes more sense for you to reach out to start that first important conversation than him. And with a copy of a book you rated five stars in hand, he thinks it will work out just as he would like to.

He’d document your schedule as close as he could manage. Observe your daily routine, where you go, when. That way he can plan where he can run into you. Running to the campus coffee cart between classes for you to see him casually reading Madeline Miller or James Joyce or Ottessa Moshfegh or Fredrik Backman something else you’ve read that’s just popular enough to not make you suspicious.

Edward is very good at being invisible. It’s not even something he needs to try at. He’s gone his whole life being naturally ignored, dismissible. He can hide in plain sight as he marks down the time in his journal when you are leaving your third and last class of the day. He sits at the picnic benches outside the dining hall that are on the far side of the quad. From here, he can see almost all of the main campus. It also helps most of the building are comprised of large windows. He can watch you in your dorm building, right up to your floor until you disappear behind your door.

It’s up to him to imagine the rest of your routine as he walks back to his own dorm. The things you do when your doors are closed and you realize you’re alone again, your roommate spending the night with that quarterback boyfriend of hers.

He imagines everything. The way your backpack thuds and how you kick off your sneakers and leave them haphazard on the floor by the door. Your bra off in one fluid motion and tossed into your hamper without even having to look to see if it went in. You sit at your desk, and feed the pet fish you aren’t supposed to have. Naughty girl. You get started on your work right away. Getting the tedious chore out of the way so you can surrender yourself to your bed. Most people just give in to that temptation right away. Not you. You opt to sit incorrectly in your chair, and change from one obscure position after the other (that’s why your back hurts by the way, darling) until you’ve written your last discussion post and submitted the last paper. Then, you enjoy yourself. He imagines you might love your routines. He can put himself right there on the bed, paperback book folded in his hands that is ignored, because he’s so focused on you.

You’re someone whose routine involves a lot of walking back and forth. From the bathroom, to your dresser, to the bathroom again, to your vanity, to your closet, until you’ve successfully paced around the room enough times to spark the carpet. He’ll tease you, his own routine more carefully constructed and requires much less products- although he can imagine himself adding more once you share with him the things he should be doing.

You’ll walk around in your favorite little pair of pajama shorts- or better yet you might steal his boxers to sleep in. Paired with his shirt, and he’s enraptured with the way your chest strains the material. He thinks you’d look really cute with the towel wrapped around your hair fresh out of the shower, walking around the room brushing your teeth desperately looking for something that is never in the right place. Then the towel strewn over your desk chair and he watches intently as you care for your hair. And the way you apply lotion head to toe, and the way the sweet scent of it fills the whole room. You’d get shy when you finally notice he’s been looking at you. It’s so fucking cute. He can hardly stand not holding you when you look at him that way.

He’s probably screwed himself, not thinking about the side effects of using a scented lotion until after he’s finished, but he can’t even find it in him to care right now. His heavy breaths fill his room, and he needs to clean himself up. It’ll be fine. It was worth it, he thinks, to have something that smells like you to allow him to slip into his little fantasy. His whole room smells of strawberry and brown sugar, and he just wallows in the way the empty feeling in his stomach just makes him yearn for you. That time it all felt too fucking real.

His mind almost scares him, how the imagines he conjures up can become like memories. He knows they are a figment of his imagination, but sometimes that line between his false memories and his much more depressing reality becomes more and more blurred the more he dreams of you.

It finally happens the next time he’s outside having his lunch. He’s sitting under a tree in the quad, occasionally taking bites of his sandwich but the book he’s reading is taking up the majority of his attention. He’s gotten lost in the pages, and he doesn’t even remember the rest of the world exists until a shadow steps in front of the sun, blocking the light from hitting the pages he was engrossed in.

“I loved that book,” a voice says. He can hear the smile in your tone. You’re actually acknowledging his existence. He needs to give himself a pep talk before he can even bear to look up and face you.

“I o-only just started,” he says sheepishly, looking down- adamant on staring at a blade of grass in front of him.

“Cool,” you reply, “You need to tell me what you think of it, okay? See ya, Eddie.”

Eddie? No one in his life has ever called him Eddie. He detested being called Eddie until this exact moment. He hated the nickname, always thinking it was childish and demeaning. But not when you say it. It’s so sincere, and so nice the way the syllables fall off your lips. Just you. You are the exception to his disdain for it. He’ll be Eddie for you- your Eddie. Loyal, devoted, head over heels for only you Eddie.

He thinks about all the ways he wants to hear you call him that. In-between laughs, slapping his arm playfully when one of his jokes makes you laugh. A lighthearted chastising, your head tilted in skepticism as he tells you about all the elaborate plans he’s made for the future. A choked sobbed in surprise and excitement when he gets down on one knee. A breathy, whispered moan in his ear when he’s fucking you gently, pulling you apart, or a scream out in ecstasy when you’re begging him to let you cum- shit. He places the book on his lap, and pretends to check his phone while he waits for when he can get up. He groans at how painful it is, to not be able to have you now like how he wants.

It’s not like he makes it a habit to follow you. Sometimes, it’s a pleasant surprise when it happens all on it’s own. However, more often than not, it’s not up to chance. It’s a calculated, meticulous plan to execute the ideal rom com meet cute. You deserve that. The movie perfect romance where he, the right guy, magically is ushered in under quirky circumstances and somehow the meetings turn into feelings.

This is too Pretty in Pink, the god awful frat party in this huge house on campus. He still can’t believe he got in. But as luck would have it, roommate’s quarterback boyfriend needed a few passing assignments to keep from failing Calculus. And with that, Edward Nashton has somehow managed to score an invite to the biggest Halloween party of the semester- and of course, you’d be one of the many attendees. However, you don’t need an invite. You’re expected. These are your friends and you run in their circles. Also, any girl who shows up on this doorstep tonight is going to get in without a fret- no invite or name drop needed. He on the other hand needs to convince the two surly guys at the door he got an invite from their surly friend and after a while of back and forth they reluctantly let him in.

He’s elbow to elbow with tons of sweaty, gyrating strangers as he tries his best to navigate the house. The stairs, the hallways, every room is packed and the flashing lights also obscure his vision. There’s a deejay in the common room, the speakers blasting electronic music are making the floor vibrate. He is so out of his element, but he’s here for you. Because he’s a good boyfriend to you, and he goes places he doesn’t like but that makes you happy.

He’ll gladly hold your bags when you go shopping. He’ll think about everything you find important. Color, texture, finding the perfect things… he will wander with you for hours until you’re happy. He’ll absolve any worry. He will never tell you the rather poor shape of his finances at the moment, but it’s not important. Anything you want, he’ll let you just charge his card. You’re worth it.

Book stores. He knows how often you frequent them from the time you spend together, and the library- based on the barcodes on the pictures you post on your Instagram. He’s even got your card number memorized. He’ll bring you there, find a corner and just read together. You seem to be more into contemporaries, it will be a good balance. He tends to favor more classics himself but he’ll appease you and let you tell him about whatever book you just read- cover to cover, fuck spoilers. He just wants to watch the way talking about it excites you.

He hangs back, just resting his back against the wall. He still hasn’t seen you yet, but he’s content to wait, you too have all night. He watches as people dance and try to yell over the music. The flashes from cameras make his eyes hurt. He’s never observed a more self-absorbed crowd. They chug down whatever mystery concoction they have in their red cups and he hopes that you know better than to trust whatever is in there.

There’s puffs of smoke from a girl in leather pants and basically a top that might as well be a bra as she passes around a joint for her and her friends to share. It stinks up the whole house, and he just knows he’s going to reek of it. He looks down at his phone, trying to pretend he’s doing something. Anything to make himself look indifferent and not at all desperate and out of place. He’s not sure how well he’s doing.

You’re holding a can of something. You’re a smart girl to choose something here where you can break the seal yourself. You hold it in a way where your palm covers the open top as you let your friend weave the two of you through the crowd, giggling amongst yourselves. You look radiant when you’re like this. Happy and carefree from letting just a little bit of your inhibitions down. You work so hard, you deserve a little bit of fun. He just wished it wouldn’t be places like this. He doesn’t understand how everyone here can just keep to themselves when just you passing through the room disrupts the atmosphere. You smell like peach body mist, and it just hits him back against the wall when it wafts by him.

“Hi Eddie,” you giggle as your friend drags you past. You offer him a friendly smile, and hold up your High Noon as a wave he thinks. Either way, he couldn’t care less. You look so beautiful, and you smiled at him. You’re happy because of him. You’re happy he’s here. His chest puffs up slightly in pride, and he can feel himself naturally stand up a little bit straighter.

“I finished the book,” he calls after you, instinctively reaching into the inner pocket of his coat to take out his copy- to give you his annotated copy. By some miracle, you hear him. He can see your eyes light up, and you signal to your friend to go on without you.

“Did you like it?” you ask excitedly, shouting over the music, leaning in closer to hear him. His breath catches in his throat and he’s not sure he can muster up enough air to answer. He finally manages out a yes, and you look confused- clear you can’t hear him. “Let’s go outside!” you say over the music and point towards the kitchen. He gulps and nods, following your lead.

Crowds just seem to naturally part for you, and your presence is met with hellos and other greetings. You smile, and acknowledge each person who acknowledges you and you just make it look so effortless. He trails behind you closely, trying hard to not stare. You push open the back screen door, and there’s a small back porch. You’ve clearly been here before. He wonders what has brought you back here. A fight, a messy breakup, just needing air, or maybe it’s the stress you must feel being so obligated to make appearances. Either way, it’s a special place, and he’s so honored you’re sharing it with him.

“Much better,” you note, the sounds of the party muffled. “So you liked it?”

“Y-yeah,” he fumbles trying to take the copy out of his coat. He somehow manages to hand it over to you. “I uh, thought you’d want to look through my notes.”

“Cool,” you smile, “Definitely. Thanks.” You tuck it under your armpit, opting to give him your full attention. “What was your favorite part? Ah, none of my other friends are readers and I’m desperate to talk to someone about it!”

His brain short circuits when you say the words ‘I’m desperate’ out loud and he pretends to clear his throat. You also said ‘my other friends’ which clearly implies Eddie is a friend. That’s it? That’s okay, he tells himself. Good girls like you go slow, and he knows that you’re worth it.

“I really loved- uh, I underlined it,” he begins, and gestures to the book. You hand it over and he mumbles a small thanks, pushing his glasses up. He flips through the tabbed pages, and searches until he finds the right page.

“The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd – The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.”

He looks up, and the way you are looking at him has him convinced you know. You know that quote pulled every single thought that he ever thought of you and put it there in black and white. The way he feels the tension between the two of you rise as a silent lull clouds gently over the two of you- like you’re the only two people here. Every painful reminder of the false memories he conjures feels like they are slipping away, and his mind is ready to make tangible ones with you- memories he can feel, and experience with all his senses.

“That’s one of my favorite passages too,” you muse, and he nods. He’s sure his face is as pink as your top that he’s just noticed how it fits so snugly around your chest just oh so perfectly- fuck are you even wearing a bra?

“Yea- uh..” before he’s able to even respond, the screen door creaks open and someone calls out your name. The interruption seems to startle you both slightly.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” the guy says poking his head out. Muscular, tall, backwards hat and a tank top with arm holes that almost reach the waist of his… ah, camo cargo shorts. Seriously, sweetheart, where do you even find these people? Oh, a mouth breather as well…

“No it’s okay, Chris, um,” you force a smile, and take a step back from him. Your attention now focused on the frat boy who looks like he’s trying his hardest to spark a thought by rubbing his two final brain cells together. “This is Eddie,” you say, introducing him, “We’re in a class together. We were just talking about a book we both read.” He purses his lips together and forces a closed lip smile toward this other person.

“Eddie, this is my boyfriend Chris.”

Boyfriend.

The large doofus has the audacity to just jerk his chin upwards as some form of acknowledging Edward’s existence, before he steps out onto the porch to press a kiss to your lips, and Edward feels like his entire world is just going to collapse in on himself at any moment.

How could you have a boyfriend? You made no attempt to see him these past weeks, or Edward would have seen. How could this major fucking road block not have reared it’s ugly head until now? You have a boyfriend, and it’s not looking like he’s going anywhere the way he’s snaking his arms around you from behind. You wiggle out of his grasp, not comfortable with the PDA which he can appreciate at least.

“Nice to meet you,” he manages to stutter out before sliding the book back into the inner pocket of his jacket. “I’m gonna be heading out soon anyways so-”

“It’s so early though!” you pout, “It’s too bad, but we’ll hook up at the next one, yeah?”

You have no idea how you’re able to take his breath away. It gets lodged in the back of his throat and he feels his cheeks redden. He knows what you mean, nothing sexual or physical by any means, but fuck- he could swear you do this on purpose. Your little innocent phrases with double meanings, and your suggestive stares, and just how fucking sweet you are.

“Y-eah, f-for sure,” he blushes, making his leave heading down the back stairs. He cuts across the back yard to his dorm building to call it a night.

You’re right that it was early, but there was no point in sticking around that cesspool of a house if you were just going to be tongue tied with that fucking guy for the rest of the night. He’d rather not see that. He needs to devise a new plan. A way for you to realize you’re wasting your time with this loser, and to realize that your Eddie has been there this whole time- patient and just ready to worship you if you only let him.

#edward nashton #Edward Nashton x reader #the Batman riddler #paul dano characters #Edward Nashton x reader smut #the riddler x reader smut #Edward Nashton x f!reader #tw: stalking #tw: dark fic #ed nashton #Ed Nashton x reader #Paul dano riddler #Paul dano riddler x reader #college au #reader insert

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juxtaposedmusings · 1 month

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Draco Malfoy had the perfect plan: use Polyjuice to turn into the Weasel, infiltrate Gryffindor tower, and steal the memories implicating his father. But the Golden Girl had to ruin everything by kissing him. Now Draco's developed a strange addiction for bushy-haired know-it-all mudbloods, and nothing but the best will do. - Brand New World by NinaBinaBallerina

#dramione #dramione fanart #brand new world #ninabinaballerina #tw: dark fic #dramione fic rec #my art but nina's fic!

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thewriterowl · 8 months

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When her brother was stolen away to become the consort of the growing Mandalorian Empire, Leia knew her fate would be forever changed...she just had not expected it in such a way, nor in the appearance of a large Mandalorian in blue.

Pairings: Leia Organa/Paz Vizsla, Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker

Tags: Dark, Dom/sub Undertones, Switching, Kidnapping, dub-con, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Crack Relationships, lots of sass, BAMF Leia Organa, Paz is a Simp

Sorry for not a Sunburst update but I got a surprising special request! The anon wanted to explore a sequel to Little Bird but with the focus of a pairing of Leia Organa/Paz Vizsla.

Please heed the tags and warnings! They wished for a dark one-shot of this couple! It will not be for everyone (and I know not everyone wants to read crackships or M/F--but this was honestly so much fun since it was so different!) but I would love to hear from those who are interested what they think!

Hope you enjoy and see you next weekend for Sunburst!

#star wars #the mandalorian #paz/leia #dark #tw: dark fic #paz vizsla #leia organa #m/f #dinluke #something different!#fanfiction #updates

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boundinparchment · 11 months

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State of Perfection

“You are quite an extraordinary creation. Do you know what that makes you, android?” Dottore leaned closer to you, his breath hot. He spoke with malice, his eyes that of a predator as his smirk widened into a cruel, vicious smile. You realized, too late, that he had already swooped down and seized his prey. “It makes you mine.” Dottore/Female Reader. Reader is an android of her own making. Dead Dove; Do Not Eat. Contains non-consensual sexual acts and explicit content. Only on AO3 here.

#dead dove: do not eat #il dottore #dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #il dottore/female reader #dottore/female reader #yandere elements #tw: r*pe #tw: noncon #to prevent people from stumbling across this randomly the story is only on AO3 #tw: dark fic #tw: dark content #yes I am going to hell for this

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lovedeathalice · 2 years

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❦ 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ❦

All fics are Fem!Reader x Eren

𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

(Discontinued)

- Last updated: 7/19/2022

<– back to main

#tw dark content #yandere eren x reader #eren smut #eren x reader #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaegar #eren yeager x y/n #yandere eren jaeger #yandere aot x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger #gina's pinned 1 #stalker core #stalker #tw noncon #tw: dark fic #dark fic

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knowyourplace-fool · 2 years

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Just thinking about mafia au w/ platonic yandere! Carla and Grisha. Carla thinks you’re a good fit for her son bcuz you’re smart, pretty, well mannered, cute (shy) ect. Plus, you’ve known eren all your life (jaeger’s are your neighbors).

She knows that Eren has a crush on you but you guys became distant (mainly Eren’s fault cuz he got along w/ popular kids). But Eren has feelings for you and starts to feel jealous when he see’s you hanging out with another guy.

Eren torments you during your last year of high school then continues on during summer break then college. He’s so afraid of losing you, so he asked his mother for advice and she said “get her pregnant so she can’t leave you.”

Eren wanted to get married first so while he was taking advantage of you, he threatened your mom’s life and told you if you don’t marry him, he’ll have her killed. You agreed and got married but you asked eren to wait a little before starting a family.

A year goes by and you’re still taking birth control. It became your main priority to not get pregnant. Eren was starting to become frustrated because the Mafia needed another heir bc after Grisha would be Eren and after Eren would be reader and Eren’s kid.

So Carla advised him to forcefully get you pregnant. She switched your pills while you guys weren’t home and told Eren to wait a couple days. You were still taking your pills, so when Eren hinted that he wanted sex, you gave in.

After he came in you 3-4 times, he told you that the birth control was switched out and you’re gonna be pregnant with his babies. You started to freak out and cry but he didn’t care and continued.

I just love the idea of platonic yandere!Carla. She will give anything just to make her son happy.

I know it’s kinda long but I love you and you’re work so much! Keep it up!!!

I love this idea sooooooo much!! Yandere Eren and Yandere!MIL!Carla are just *chef’s kiss*

-> sorry for any mistakes

-> thank you, bb! You’re so sweet and I loooove your brain❣️

-> ummm I know I disappeared but next week I’m completely free so I can write more yandere eren 😛

⚠️: NON CON, KIDNAPPING, BABY TRAPPING, nice!fem!reader x bully!jock!mafia!eren, virgin!reader, Yandere behaviour, molestation, slapping, verbal and physical abuse, dacryphilia, size kink, breeding and bondage

You were born and raised in a small town.

Everyone knew each other and for the most part, it was very safe.

You and your mother lived in a nice, quiet neighborhood.

Your mom works in the city, so most days it’s just you.

Your mother couldn’t afford to put you through school and pay the bills/rent in the city since she’s a single mother.

Your father is god knows where. You’re not even sure if he knows that he has a daughter. Your mother had never spoken about him and you figured it must be a touchy subject for her.

Since your mom was hardly around during your teenage years, the Jaeger’s (your next door neighbors) sorta took you in.

You were very close with the family since you’d grown up with their youngest, Eren.

Eren was your first friend and crush. When you guys were young children, he was friendly, brave and protective. That’s why you developed feelings for him. But as he got older, he changed. He became a total asshole and you’re very glad that you kept your feelings to yourself because now, you don’t like him at all.

His family on the other hand was great. Zeke, his older half-brother, was smart in every subject and often helped you with your homework. Carla, his mother, would always invite you over for dinner and even sewed you a summer dress because she thought you’d look gorgeous in it. His father, Grisha, was also very welcoming. He was the town’s doctor, so if you caught a cold, he’d come take care of you like you were his own.

Once you got into highschool, Eren pretended to not know you. It hurt a little, but you soon got over it after you’d made a couple of new friends. Anytime you saw Eren in the hallway, you would give him a friendly smile but he’d give you a dirty glare in return. Eren began spreading rumours about you and how you were a little obsessed with him when you were younger, and after hearing that you stop interacting with Eren completely. You even managed to slip out of doing group projects with him (which he’ll never admit out loud, but damn it hurt his heart sm).

Fast forward a bit to your sr. year of high school (at this point, both of you are 18), Eren’s behaviour took a turn for the worst. He’d notice that you’ve become friends with a sweet nerd who was in your computer class. You guys began hanging out at lunch and sometimes even outside of school. You were even comfortable enough to invite him to your home where you made dinner and watched movies together.

You began developing romantic feelings for the guy but before you could confess, Jaeger stood in the way. The both of you were cuddled up on your couch until the doorbell rang. You got up, thinking that it was your mom but when you opened the door, it was a sweaty Eren with a stern look on his face. It looked like he’d come back from football practice, but what the hell was he doing at your house?

“Eren, is there something wro-”

“Whose fucking car is parked on your driveway?”

When you don’t respond right away, Eren invites himself in while you quickly follow behind. “Eren! Eren, what’re you doing?” You wished you would’ve listened to your guts that were screaming at you to stop him but you didn’t, and you watched Eren beat the crap out of your crush. Your crush ran out and jumped into his car, not looking back. Now it was just you and him alone.

“So this is what you do when your mother’s not home? When your mother’s in the city, working her fucking ass off, you bring boys home to whore around? Fucking disgusting, Y/N. If I was your mother, I would be ashamed and embarrassed. You low life, fucking whore.”

You broke out into tears and bowed your head in shame. You didn’t even do anything with the boy, yet Eren’s words got to your core and made you feel sick to your stomach. He walked out of the house and things haven’t been the same between you guys. Eren became ruthless towards you. Before, it was verbal bullying but now it was turning physical. Eren decided it would be fun to push you into the lockers or trip you down the stairs, or pour water on you during lunch. Things started to spiral out of control fast and you couldn’t wrap your head around it.

Suddenly, Eren sits next to you in every class you have with him. Whether you’re in the front or back of the class, he moves close to you, wraps his arm around you so that he could fondle with your breast, while his other hand worked it’s way under your skirt.

It continued on like this until you graduated. Summer break rolled around, you’re afraid to leave your house because of Eren. There’s a gentle knock on the door — so gentle that you’re convinced it’s your mother. However, when you open the door you’re shoved to the ground and you hear the door lock. “Eren? Hey, what are you-” he proceeded to drag you to your room, where he ripped your panties off, does the bare minimum foreplay and shoved his thick cock into your virgin cunt. He hand slap onto your mouth like tape, muffling your cries and screams that were turning him on. “Tch, so you really were a virgin.”

You sobbed against his palm and tried to wiggle out, but Eren’s grip was tight. Both of your wrist were pinned down on the mattress by one of his hands while the other pressed down on your mouth, making it hard to breathe. The rest of your body was no match against Eren’s much bigger and stronger body. The sound of his heavy balls clapping against your ass and the bed creaking filled the room, as well of his low grunts and your squealing. As much as he would’ve liked to stay and cuddle, he had plans with Armin to play video games so he left a $50 bill for the after pill and took off. You remained on the ledge of the bed, shaking and crying while he cum flowed out of you.

Unfortunately, this becomes a routine for Eren. Except now, he was providing you money for birth control. No matter how much you beg or plea, he always gets his way. You feel disgusted afterwards and swear that you’ll do something about this, but the straight truth is, you can’t. Eren’s father is the only doctor in town. Eren could easily slip out of the accusations with the help of his father. You and your mother are already struggling financially, so there’s no way you could afford a lawyer. You just have to keep your mouth shut and take it until he gets bored of you.

Which never happens. Soon after first semester starts, Eren forcefully slides a ring on your finger. You’re then taken to a office where marriage papers are presented. You’re shaking while holding the pen so Eren guides your hand to do your signature. All you could think about was the night before and how Eren took advantage of your sore state and threatened to kill your mother if you didn’t marry him. He described the gruesome way he’d kill her and you poor, little ears couldn’t take it anymore so you agreed. Now, you’re officially a Jaeger.

You somehow convinced Eren to not have kids yet. You thought it was because he was pitying you or JUST MAYBE was being understanding that pregnancy is hard on a women’s body, but no. He didn’t want to have kids just yet because he wanted to fuck you over and over before filling you up with his children. However, after your one year anniversary, he wanted to try.

His mother advised him to get you pregnant as soon as possible so you couldn’t leave him. This opened up a whole new light for Eren and he’s grateful to have a mother who understands him and his desires. Having children with you would bond you to him for life. No matter how much you run, or if you file for divorce, it won’t change the fact that he’s came inside of you and at one point you were swelled up with his baby in your stomach. This image of you carrying his baby, all knocked up just for him drove him crazy.

Carla helped Eren out a bit. She bought pills that looked similar to birth control, but were actually vitamins. She told Eren to switch your pills out and wait a couple days so that you have a higher chance of getting pregnant.

Eren did just that, and surprise surprise, it worked perfectly. You took your pills without looking twice at it. About a week later, Eren insinuated that he wanted to have sex and you simply complied.

It was rough (like usual) except when he was finally close to cumming, he began mumbling in your ear about how pretty your gonna look, all round and swollen with his baby growing in your womb. He continued rambling about how you were going to be the greatest mom and he’s gonna be the greatest dad, and that both of you are meant for each other.

He then attacked your neck, placing hickeys all around while you freaked out in his embrace, begging him to stop and questioning him about what he means by “knock you up.” You were on birth control, he’s out of his mind, you thought.

Oh boy, we’re you wrong. Third round rolls around, you’re overstimulated and crying at this point while Eren continues to pleasure himself only. His cum is leaking out of you, dripping onto the floor, however Eren didn’t think it was enough.

Rounds after rounds of having sex (and you passing out here and there) he cums in you one last time, whispering right in your ear about how he changed your birth control to dupes and now you’re surely gonna be pregnant with his baby

You broke down crying, unsure on what to do or rather, what can you do?

Eren baby trapped you and now is training your little one to be the next leader, just like his father did to him

And don’t think that Eren will only get one kid out of you

Carla and Grisha will be on babysitting duty while you and Eren are on baby making duty (even though you don’t want it)

But you really don’t have a choice because no one goes against Eren Yeager

#tw: dark fic #tw: noncon #eren jaeger smut #eren smut #eren yeager smut #yandere aot #yandere eren #aot smut #attack on titan smut #eren yandere #bully eren #possessive eren #eren x reader smut #eren x fem!reader #omg I forgot about this in my draft😭😭#but heyyy I’ll try to b more active

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plutoswritingplanet · 2 years

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Ptolemaea (Peter Ballard x Female!Reader)

a/n: this one’s dark you guys, based loosely on the song “Ptolemaea” by Ethel Cain

Warnings: NON-CON (for real, proceed with extra caution here), AU-ish, Rainbow Room donging, fluorescent lights being used as a metaphor for a broken mind

Summary: Out of all the days you could’ve chosen to be nosy, it had to be today. And just like that, you fall straight into a spider’s web, one, that has been in the making for quite some time.

There's blood smeared on the walls of the Rainbow Room. And the floor, long lines cut through vibrant colour. There are chairs and tables thrown around the place in disarray, some broken beyond repair, splinters and bended metal reach towards the ceiling in a grotesque display. Children's toys litter the place. There is a toy truck sitting by your foot, one of the wheels is missing and there are tell-tale specs of blood on the yellow plastic. Your eyes shift from a pile to a pile, your mind blank as a canvas, never quite focusing on any object. It takes a lot of strength, trying not to see the corpses.

You've been here before only a handful of times, usually restricted to your office, safe between the shelves filled with medicine and your cold, metal desk. This place, whatever happened here, was out of your limits, and you've learned a long time ago, that the key to surviving working in Hawkins Laboratory, was not asking any questions. And that self-imposed rule worked pretty good for you, that is until you've met Peter.

A guard, like all the others, maybe a bit less muscular. But what distinguished him from the rest, was that he seemed nice. Plain and simple. He would smile at you, ask about your day, even joke with the children sent to your office. He made the place feel a bit less like prison. And before you knew it, you were growing a huge, forbidden crush. Between the coffee breaks spent on talking, or just sitting in comfortable silence. The small touches far from cameras, where his hand would brush yours. Those slivers of contact occupied your brain for days on end.

You were aware, he was manipulating you. After all, you went through years of nursing school, you weren’t dumb. The way he would worm information out of you. How are the patients? What happened at training? How he would offer a smile and a kiss to your cheek for some medicine. You didn't mind, though. Those interactions were harmless, and what hurt could he really cause with some ibuprofen? A small way to indulge yourself in this constricting hell-hole, was all it was. Harmless, no feelings involved.

That is what you thought until this very moment. Because as you look ahead at all the carnage, all the small bodies you've helped before, you remember him telling you, not to come to work today.

- How is it, that everyone chose this particular day not to listen to me? - he wonders out loud, his voice melodic and low.

His hands are bloody, you can see red dripping from his fingertips. There are crimson specs climbing the entire length of his body, some finding purchase on his white trousers, white shirt, some decorate his pale cheekbones, some make his blonde hair matted in places. How is it possible, that he still looks beautiful, surrounded by all this tragedy? It shakes you to the core, how he seems to fit like a puzzle piece between the mutilated bodies. Like he's used to this, like this is normal to him.

Then, he takes the first step towards you, gracefully, like a cat.

Your eyes stay planted firmly on the yellow truck by your shoe. His silhouette moves distorted in the small reflection on the lacquered plastic, and as he comes ever closer. You start to shake.

Your ears train on the soft buzzing of the lamps overhead, slipping mind trying to find anything for purchase. Anything that would drown out the amassing of thoughts threatening to spill at any given moment.

- Look at me.

You can't. You know exactly what depths his blue eyes could pull you into. How they could make you believe anything, for example, that this isn't clearly his fault. How it's all an accident, and the man you grew close to wasn't a child murderer.

- Show me your face - his voice is soft, pleading, like all those times he's asked you to smuggle him some pills, for headaches, he'd say, and kiss your knuckles.

When his fingers touch your chin, you jump. Whole body being wrecked by an overpowering shiver. He doesn't let go, though, pushing your chin up until you're forced to relent. His touch is warm and wet on your skin. You know why, but you can't think about it. The buzzing of the lamps grows louder, mind latching onto it greedily.

- What did you do? - your voice sounds pathetically weak, so close to breaking.

He studies your face for a moment, blue eyes flickering between your scrunched eyebrows, falling momentarily to your trembling lips. Then, his hand moves, fingers rubbing your chin delicately, thumb sneaking up to the corner of your lips, where he presses down hard enough to feel your bottom teeth. Somehow, you don't feel the least bit comforted by his touches. Quite the opposite, it feels like he's checking inventory, before committing to a purchase.

- I did what I had to do, to make us free. - he replies in a low voice, sounding so obvious, like you're stupid for even asking.

To his credit, he doesn't try to hide himself under the disguise of innocence, showing you exactly what he has become. A monster. World swims around you, the reality of what happened, what will happen, hitting you all at once. Finally, you can smell the blood, iron taste invading your mouth with every breath. Nausea reels its ugly head in, and you start to struggle in his grasp. Your arms flain at your sides, weakly grabbing into his wrist, his arm, fingers gripping the white fabric of his shirt.

- All those kids - you're mumbling under your breath, eyes glazed over, unseeing - I've held all those kids, helped them...

Peter doesn't say anything, watching your meltdown with a mix of curiousness and utter indifference. There is a small body on the floor behind him. Shoved up to the wall, laying amongst pieces of broken glass. You'd recognize that lithe form anywhere, and the realization wrenches a sob out of you. Now, Peter is quick to move, his arms encircling you fully, tugging your face into his chest. For a moment, rage overtakes you, but Peter holds you close, taking in your outburst with impossible patience.

- Not her - you sob into his white shirt, as he grips your shoulders - Please, I though you wanted to help her...

Again, he stays silent, placing his chin on the top of your head. This embrace is anything but comforting. His long limbs tighten around you, subduing your spasms. Like a fly caught in a spider's web, you thrash and twitch, until there is no more fight left in you. And he, relentlessly, holds you close, the beating of his heart even, breathing calm and calculated.

- She didn't listen to me - he finally states, words whispered into your hair - This is what happens, when people don't listen to me. But you will, won't you, sweetness? You will listen.

You're not sure how long you two stay in this position. It must've been a while, because he lets you go only when you finally stop crying. When your wrecking sobs subside, so does everything around you. There's only the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, nothing else, both around you, and inside. What else is there to do?

Everyone you cared about is dead. Everyone except for him, your damnation incarnate.

- We were supposed to escape - he speaks, but you can barely hear him, there's someone's blood on your chin - All three of us. Make the world bend to our will, finally free from this place.

Pretty words whispered by pretty lips into the crown of your head. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see someone's small hand, sticking lifelessly out of the rubble. The buzzing grows stronger in your ears.

- But this is alright as well - he finally concludes, hands finding their place on your shoulders.

He leans back to look at you, and you're shocked to find something so utterly human behind his blue eyes. His expression is hopeful, innocent even, in the way he smiles at your blank stare.

You find there's no point in fighting. There's no one to fight for anymore. Eleven, the sweet girl, lies lifelessly behind him, and you don't find yourself worth the hussle of trying to get out. So, you stay, frozen by fear. The fear men like him bring upon a woman like you.

- I know, you're just a human - you try to ignore the implications of his words.

You're getting quite good at this. Ignoring. Eleven's leg is bended unnaturally, broken calf staring at you from behind his back.

Peter raises his finger, still coated in thick blood that begins to dry into a flaky mess. Despite your best efforts, you flinch, when he pushes one digit into your cheek, so hard, the gums on the other side start to ache. Then, mesmerized by his own art, he drags the blood across your face, down to your jaw.

- But I can protect you now - he says it like a vow, and in any other case, it would feel reassuring, romantic maybe, if you'd let yourself indulge in this fantasy.

- I can take care of you - his voice dips low in his throat, and you watch his Adam's apple move under pale skin.

It doesn't fully register in your brain, what is about to happen. That is until you see him sink down to his knees, his hands sliding the length of your body, stopping at your waist, where he fists the material of your skirt.

- Wait - your voice is weak and hoarse, mixing with the buzzing of the lamps in a cacophony of sounds - Not here...

Peter sees you, sees your mouth open, and yet, he remains indifferent, as he leans forward. Your whole body tenses, when his pink lips make contact with your lower abdomen, hidden from him behind layers of fabric. Despite that, you can feel him, the warmth eminating from his body in waves.

- Let me take care of you - he whispers into the flesh of your thigh.

Your body shakes, when he reaches around your hips, fingers finding the small zipper on your skirt, undoing it slowly, before dragging the garment down. His slender hands abandon your hips, in favor of massaging your legs. Idle fingers press down gently, squeezing your muscles, one after the other, until he reaches your calves.

Then, showing no mercy to your fragile mind, he looks up at you, capturing your gaze in an iron hold of his blue eyes. You can't look away, never could when he looked at you like that, pupils blown wide, mouth slightly open. His eyebrows raise in tandem with his hands, climbing their way up your legs.

Gently, as if handling a cracked glass, he begins to take off your thights. The stretchy fabric rolls easily off your skin, and when it reaches the floor, he helps you lift your feet to step out of them.

Your shoes are placed neatly to the side, along the nylon stockings. He even takes the time to unroll them, and fold them with care, placing them on the already folded skirt. And every second he spends indulging these small rituals, you feel yourself grow weak with anticipation.

It makes you sick to your stomach, the way your guts twist at the image of him, down on his knees handling your belongings with such patience and care. Especially given the circumstances of those actions.

Finally, he refocuses on you, eyes lingering on your underwear just long enough to make you understand, what's going to happen next. To your credit, your first reaction to him, leaning in closer, is to reach forward. You're not sure for what, if it's to push him away or to push him closer, but he doesn't let you decide on either. Your fingers barely touch his hair, and his hand seizes your wrist, grip hard enough for you to understand the warning. Then, he looks up, plants a chaste kiss to your knuckles, and lets go.

His other hand starts to kneed your thigh, your hips, until you're swaying in place. Then, with one final look, he closes in, kissing your clothed sex without as much as a warning.

The sensation feels foreign, subdued by cotton and lace. It's a small figment of what is about to happen, another shot at manipulating you right where he wants you. You congratulate yourself in your mind, there's still something of you left inside.

Breaking away after making a considerable wet patch, Peter finally settles for the main course, nails dragging across your skin as he pulls down your panties. He's much less careful with them, stuffing the fabric into one of your shoes. Then, he turns back to you, looking up with those baby-blues of his.

You want to look away, you really do, but your efforts are futile, as seems to be the theme of today.

- Peter - last ditched effort, swallowed, like all your other words by the ever-present buzzing of the lamps.

His mouth is on you in record speed, hands manuvering your body to his liking. He starts slow, licking long stripes, spreading your legs further apart.

Then, when you let out your first involuntary moan, he changes tactics, circling between fast and sharp licks at your clit, and long sensual ones, that make your head swim. Your hand flies out to his head, clawing at his scalp and waves of pleasure make your body rock in place.

It's too much, the feeling of his fingers digging into your flesh, his mouth on you, and that goddamned buzzing. Your legs start to tremble, balance leaving you in an act of betrayal. Before you can truly let yourself get swallowed by bliss, you fall, knees bucking under you, sending you forward.

Peter catches you immediately, chin glistening and eyes wild. He looks over you, searching for anything out of place, the expression on his face so close to caring, you almost believe him.

- I can't - you pant out, words slurred - I can't stand on my own.

- My silly girl - he huffs out, lips pulling into a smile that is anything but comforting.

You know that winning sparkle in his eyes just sealed your demise. This is you admission, after all, that he does need to take care of you, that you are too fragile of a human. For a brief moment you wonder, if this was planned as well, perhaps made specifically to convince you of his devotion.

His arms hold you tight, as he helps you kneel next to him, the cold floor grounding you in reality. This should be enough, you think, enough of a demonstration.

You think wrong, and Peter straightens himself before you, wiping his chin with the outside of his palm. Then, he dives down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that nearly chokes the breath out of your lungs. His tongue worms its way into your mouth, and you moan at the taste of your own arousal.

His hand dips down, between your legs, the intrusion making you jump in place. He tests your wetness with his fingers, rubbing your folds until he lets out a satisfied hum. With a gasp, you feel him push you down, carelessly, onto the cold, hard floor.

Your body obeys, boneless, spread out in the middle of the room. In the middle of the carnage. The fluorescent lights stare at you, their buzzing hurting your ears and stabbing your brain. In any other scenario, you would've heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone. Such awareness requires too much sanity, and you're on a rather short supply as of late. Then, he appears, looming over you like a shadow. His face is gentle, despite the sharp features, surrounded by a halo of blonde hair.

It takes your breath away, him on top of you. You've imagined this exact moment many times, during moments spent alone in your room, but never like this. Never polluted by the reality of the situation you're in. Because the man above you isn't the sweet Peter from your dreams. He's a monster. And you're not laying in the privacy of your bedroom. Your in the Rainbow room, where the smell of blood lingers.

As if reading your thoughts, he leans down and kisses your cheek. Then, nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. His lips suck gently right behind your ear, and the sensation makes your body writhe beneath him.

- I won't hurt you - he whispers into your shoulder.

Liar, you think, and scrunch your eyes, as he enters you smoothly. There's a bit of a painful stretch at first, your muscles tensing, heart beating faster. Soon enough, the unpleasant feeling subsides, leaving you with a sensation of fullness. Still, he doesn't move, instead, kissing your forehead until your eyebrows relax.

- Open your eyes, sweetness - he pleads, you've heard this tone of voice before, and just like then, it works.

The light blinds you, as you force yourself to look at him, at his angelic face focused solely on you. Only then does he start moving, slow and deep, enough to make your back arch on the floor. Then, when he deems you ready, he picks up the pace to his liking.

Your hands flail at your sides, desperately trying to find something they can hold on to. You opt for his shoulders, nails digging into his soft skin with every thrust. It feels good, jolts of electrifying pleasure wrench staccato moans from your throat.

Yet, the buzzing of the lamps persists, and as you steadily climb towards your own peak, your head feels like it's about to explode. It's too much, everything is too much. The electric sound filling your ears, the blood, the weight of his body moving on top of yours.

You close your eyes again, and refuse to open them, despite his hand coming up to grip your chin.

- Open your eyes - now there's no trace of that gentleness from before in his voice.

- The light - you hiss out, teeth rattling as his hips slam into yours with little consideration - Hurts. Make it stop.

His other hand bites into the meat of your thigh, pulling it higher, over his waist. The new angle nearly makes you scream, the tenstion in your muscles reasy to snap at any moment.

- Open - he forces out through his teeth.

You're not going to risk his rage, so you do. You open your eyes and hiss at the light, the buzzing attacking your ears tenfold. The grip on your chin shifts, as he positions you, so you cannoth look away from him.

Then, his other hand reaches back, towards the ceiling, fingers sprawled in a grotesque display. You yelp as the lamps shatter, all at once, sparks flying.

The room falls into darkness, blessed silence washing over your senses. And in that darkness, you finally let go, unraveling with a voicless scream, one, he immediately dives down to swallow whole. He lets you ride your high, never letting go, until finally stuttering in his pace, and bringing himself impossibly closer. Then, everything stills.

You're too tired, too notice when he removes himself out of you. Beads of sweat fall from your forehead and mix with tears that appeared, you're not sure when. Soon, you will notice the ache lying on a hard floor unavoidably causes, but for now, you allow yourself to rest.

You've had enough.

Peter shifts his weight off of you, but you can still feel his presence nearby. His body is hot, as he lies down next to you, listening to your heavy breathing. One arm reaches over, tugging your messy hair behind your ear.

- I am never letting you go - a promise and a threat, one you will worry about later.

After all, despite his wrong doings, despite the unforgivable things hanging over both your heads like an executioners axe, he did make it stop. What more could you ask from a man like him?

#peter ballard x reader #peter ballard #stranger things #vecna x reader #vecna stranger things #001 x reader #henry creel x reader #001 stramger things #henry creel #my writing #tw: dark fic #killed eleven for my smut fic guys happy pride

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sorrownotsexy · 3 months

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Hii y'all !!

I'm ☠Sorrow☠

What happens in Tumbly stays in Tumbly

Very violently in love with my Bif, the slashers, the cod boys, and many more

I do a lot of yapping and that's what the blog is for

I will smooch mutuals and spam likers

NOT a serious blog all for fun and getting the brain worms out

stuff will get dark sometimes so caution

#Leatherface #Thomas Hewitt #Bo Sinclair #Vincent Sinclair #Lester Sinclair #RZ Michael Myers #tf141 #Los Vaqueros #slashers #numetal #angst #TW: DARK FIC #dead dove do not eat

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enqmind · 2 months

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Fic!

This is what happens when you've recently read baby trapping fics and then have a conversation about what foods you can't eat around taking certain medications.

Soap/Female Reader WC: 1.4k 18+ content.

Warnings: Baby trapping, manipulation, tampering with contraceptives, tampering with food, technically poisoning, misuse of a dietary supplement. Noncon, despite containing no actual sex (because baby trapping).

Reader notes: Implied to dislike marmite, probably isn't Scottish, dislikes masks (not a covid denier. they just make her uncomfortable).

Gothmet

Johnny has been cooking a lot lately.

“Trying to take after your compatriot?”

He’d laughed at that.

“I think you’ll find I don’t hit my Boiling Point quite so fast, love.”

You suspected he’d last five minutes in food service, since you’re not actually allowed to explode the sous chef.

But as a home cook? Oh, he was passable.

His latest creation was squid ink ravioli filled with an avant garde bacon and nigella seed concoction.

It was interesting, but good was a different question.

“Do you like it?” He asked, puppy dog enthusiasm radiating off of him in waves.

“… I don’t know,” you confessed. “It’s certainly interesting, but I’m not sure one way or the other.”

You half expected his face to fall, but instead he looked thoughtful as he took a considered bite.

“Aye, I see what you mean. This’ll take some workshopping. You willing to be my taste tester?”

You grinned at him over your wine.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“And that is my top priority, after all.”

He didn’t seem discouraged by the half hearted kick under the table, especially if his enthusiasm for ‘dessert’ was considered.

His new culinary interest expanded to baking.

The next day he presented you with a zebra cake with the highest contrast you’d ever seen. The chocolate stripes were almost jet black.

“I got some o’ that ultra Dutch processed cocoa to try making my own oreos. Ordered one of them special biscuit cutters too, but it hasn’t arrived yet. So I decided to make a very accurate zebra cake.”

“You ordered one for bourbons too, right?”

“What do you take me for, hen? Some kind of godless heathen?”

You raised your hands placatingly.

“Just making sure, Johnno. Gotta check to see if you’ve been replaced by a sexy doppelganger every now and then.”

He squinted at you.

“Yeah, well. You’ll get your bourbons. With bourbon cream, mind.”

“Always trying to ply me with something, aren’t you?”

He looked scandalised when you laughed.

Within the week he had those biscuits ready for you. True to his word the bourbons had bourbon cream and the orefauxs (as he called them) had Baileys cream. Both were as black as the devil’s bottom.

“I might need a new wardrobe soon if you keep this up,” you joked between mouthfuls.

“Ah, I’ll just help you work it off. Or just buy you a new one.”

The look you gave him might not have been as withering as you’d hoped, but he seemed to get the message.

“I’ll try to bake you something healthier next time.”

Something healthier meant a coal black loaf of bread.

“It’s a black bread,” he said cheerily, “it’s got rye in it. Thought might as well go the whole hog and added some activated charcoal to make it as black as you like your coffee.”

It was with a heavy sigh that you turned your eyes to him.

“I can’t eat this.”

His face did fall this time.

“Oh. You allergic to rye? Or are you afraid I’ve slipped some marmite in?”

“My marmite take is neither here nor there. The problem is that I’m on the pill and activated charcoal can make it not work.”

“Oh, shit.”

He looked so crestfallen that you felt even worse.

“Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s my fault. Shoulda considered that.”

You tore off a chunk and slathered it with butter, just to see him light up a little.

“Well, I guess half a loaf over a couple days can’t hurt too much.”

His grin was blinding.

“Ah, but what am I gonna do with all this spare activated charcoal? I cannae eat it all meself.”

You gave him a grin of your own.

“Could live up to your callsign and use it to make soap. Good for the skin and all that.”

“Ah,” he said sagely. “So that’s why they kept showing me that melt and pour stuff. I was starting to think I’d have to assassinate Bezos for knowing too much. How’d he even find out?”

You chuckle as you eat your chunk of bread.

“It’s really good,” you mumbled, delight rendering you mannerless.

Johnny puffed up with pride.

“I’ll try a different colourant next time. Still got that squid ink, after all.”

“How is recipe development, by the way?”

“Can’t complain. I’ll have another plate for you in a couple o’ days.”

“I look forward to it!”

In the meantime you were working your way through the biscuits, cake and that half a loaf.

The second round of ravioli was divine. Exactly what was different was a question, but if Johnny was going to continue to be a magician in the kitchen then he was allowed a few secrets.

He joked that this was the way to your heart, and he wasn’t far wrong. There was something about a handsome and rugged man cooking for you that was so very seductive. So less ‘way to your heart’ and ‘way into your knickers’.

His culinary adventures continued with a squid ink version of the bread (still delicious, barely tasted different) and so much chocolatey goodness.

Despite previously thinking such things impossible, you liked chocolate as much as the next woman, it was getting more than a bit much.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take a break on the old chocolate,” he reassured you over some jjajangmyeon. “I’ve got a few more ideas up my sleeve.”

He bought you a pie.

It was rectangular, but certainly a pie.

“I thought you said you made buns?”

“I did hen, a bun at least. This is a black bun, it’s traditional around Hogmanay.”

When he cut it open you could see why it was called that.

The filling was dark as a moonless night and chock full of dried fruit.

Granted, you were a bit leery, but you gave it a shot and were pleasantly surprised.

“This is good. Remind me to come ‘round yours for New Year’s.”

“It’ll be an invitation, not a reminder, lass.”

You grinned, even with currents stuck in your teeth.

The next thing he bought you was fudge.

You were more dubious about this one than the pie.

“Why is it black?”

“It’s liquorice flavoured. Me mam asked me to make some, thought I’d let you try it too.”

Maybe you could deal with the dried fruit, but the liquorice was a bit much. All sorts were one thing, but this flavour and this texture? It was weird and gritty and didn’t go. No thank you.

“Well, you win some you lose some,” he grinned, “they can’t all be winners.”

The liquorice might not have been, but the black sesame seed mochi certainly was.

“It’s good in a porridge too, they use rice starch to thicken it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Porridge without oats? Do your countrymen know you’re speaking such blasphemy?”

“Aye, aye. Fair point. You keep this schtumm and I'll work on some fusion cuisine so they don’t burn me in Parliament square.”

It took a few days, but the proper black sesame seed porridge was welcome. You’d been feeling a little under the weather lately.

“So what do we call this? Scorean? Kortish?”

“Please stop.”

“You’re no fun.”

Johnny pouted.

“Oh right. Before I forget; what happened to that soap making? Or am I just not getting any?” It was your turn to pout.

“Ah, I decided to go cold process. So it’ll be ready when I get back from deployment.”

You nodded.

“Do you want me to bring some down when I come pick you up so we can throw it at Simon? ‘Cause he’s gonna need it with that fucking mask he’s always wearing.”

Johnny’s eyebrow’s rose.

“I still don’t get why you hate it so much.”

“I swear he’s making faces at me under that thing.”

“Really?” He asked dubiously.

“I just don’t like it. He gives me a weird vibe.”

Johnny looked affronted.

“Hey-“

“Because of the mask. Hated it during the pandemic, too. I’d last three minutes in Japan in the winter.”

“I’ll take you in the summer then,” he smiled softly, placated.

You rolled your eyes affectionately.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

As ever, it was with a heavy heart that you saw him off the next day.

He did leave you with some treats to tide you over. Another black bun, some biscuits (chocolate was back on the menu) and a box of lovely dark parkin. Altogether, it should last most of the time he was away.

It didn’t.

You stress ate most of it when you found out you were pregnant.

#tw: dark fic #tw: baby trapping #tw: food tampering #cod fic #call of duty x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #dead dove do not eat

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sofreddie · 2 years

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Release

Summary: Fresh out of the cryo-chamber and on the run, Soldier Boy takes a moment to appease his Alpha.

Characters: Alpha!Soldier Boy x F!Russian!Beta!Reader

Warnings: NONCON, DARK!FIC, A/B/O Dynamics, Mugging, Angst, Derogatory Language, Smut (Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Creampie, Knotting), Assault, Injury to Reader

AFG OMEGAVERSE: ALPHA/BETA (@afgomegaversebingo)

ANGST: MUGGING (@anyfandomangstbingo)

WC: 931

A/N: So as soon as that cryo-chamber opened my mind screamed Feral Alpha, Alpha, Werewolf, I dunno…all kinds of crazy (and yum). But I also feel SB is NOT a good person. Also, Google Translate. ALSO also...it's fiction. Don't @ me!

Soldier Boy ran as fast as his body could carry him, his muscles still waking from being unused in the cryo-chamber for so long. His muscles burned as he pushed himself forward, his stomach aching from the release of his powers. He had no idea who those people were or what they wanted, but he had to get out of there and fast. He was sure that whatever they wanted, it wasn’t good.

He burst through a heavy metal door, finding himself suddenly outside, the cool night air breezing over his skin. He stopped to take a deep breath, the smell of iron and fire and blood from within the building slowly dissipating from his nostrils, replaced instead with crisp, cold air and the smell of industrialization. His head snapped back to attention as he heard shouts from within the building, reminding him of why he was running.

He took off once more, sticking to the shadows, trying to avoid any passing cars, lights, and people as he slithered into unfamiliar passageways. His body protested, but was quickly adjusting as it usually did. But he still felt on fire. He stopped once he felt he was a good distance away, leaning against the cold brick wall in an alley as he caught his breath. His blood boiled, his sense of smell heightening with every waking moment. He flexed his hands, closing his eyes and trying to get a grip. His rut was quickly waking too, growing with urgency to a point he knew it wouldn’t be ignored.

The scuffle of feet drew his attention once more, his head snapping towards the sound. Under the one diming light of the alley he could see a woman, stood alone and lighting a cigarette. He was enraptured for a moment, taking in her scant clothing of a design and style wth which he wasn’t familiar. Along with the tendrils of smoke, her scent trickled to him and he breathed deeply.

She was a Beta, of that he was sure, and his body was further enticed. He could smell her perfume and the mix of several men about her, as well as the slick that was ruining her underwear. He grunted disapprovingly, knowing she was likely a prostitute, which would explain the scents. She was pretty and petite, the kind of woman he would have fucked and left behind many times in his day. His body began to respond, having been without such pleasures for far too long.

He grunted lightly, moving swiftly and grabbing up the woman before she could even figure out what was going on. He spun her towards the wall in a flash, her cigarette dropping to the ground and burning slowly before being put out as it collected the dampness from the ground, its sizzle heard in the emptiness of the night.

She screeched as he pressed her body into the wall, his body pressed against her back, “Pozhaluysta, ne!” she begged and Soldier Boy scowled. He held her hands together with one of her own against the brick wall, his other hand holding her hip tightly as he ground his growing erection against her.

“Pozhaluysta, pozvol' mne uyti! Pozhaluysta!” She whined and pleaded, trying to fight against his grip, which only angered him further. She didn’t stand a chance against his strength, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

He released her hands, pressing her harder into the wall as he moved the hand around her throat, squeezing tightly as he spoke deep and low in her ear, his hot breath puffing against her skin, “Shut up with that Commie shit.”

He roughly and quickly moved his other hand from her hip, his fingers dipping between her legs and finding her warm folds. She bucked against him with a whine, her thighs clamping against the intrusion of his hand. Her desperate pleas continued but he tuned them out, his mind set on one singular goal.

Smirking, he shimmied her skirt up to her hips, ripping her panties off and shoving her harder into the wall. He grunted, nipping at her neck and demanding her submission as he thrust harshly inside of her. She screamed, the intrusion sudden and unwelcome. He was relentless, tuning out her sounds, focusing only on his need for release. He fucked her hard, his grip brusing on her as he held her steady for what he gave. The night air carried her cries and his grunts and growls as he used her to service his own end.

He bent his knees, both hands finding her hips and bending her further as he pounded her hard and fast, the slap of their skin echoing off the brick. The dim yellow light that cast over them made her skin look sickly, but he didn’t care, his impending orgasm within reach.

With a fierce growl and deep plunge, he came hard, the breath punched from him as he finally satiated the pleasure his body craved. His knot popped but quickly deflated, a skill he honed in his finer days, allowing him to minimize the time he had to be connected to any one person. Once done, he withdrew, letting the sobbing girl fall to the ground, her knees now covered in dirt as his cum dripped down her thighs.

He huffed, his shoulders rising and falling as he stepped back from her. The sounds of shouts and pounding feet quickly approaching told him it was time to go. He reached down, grabbing up the purse she had dropped in the altercation, digging through it and deciding to take it with him, not knowing what he might need. With one last glance at the weeping woman at his feet he scoffed and grinned, running down the alleyway, taking a turn and determined to lose his trackers.

FOREVERS:

@lyarr24

@hobby27

@kazsrm67

@maliburenee

@440mxs-wife

SOLDIER BOY:

@akshi8278

#release #alpha!soldier boy x beta!reader #alpha!soldier boy #soldier boy #the boys #tw: noncon #tw: dark fic #dark!fic #afgomegaversebingo #anyfandomangstbingo

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