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thehighladywrites · 3 months

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- “if it is so wrong, why does it feel so good?”

pairing: stalker/perv!azriel x reader, nesta, elain and feyre mentioned

summary: stalking and perving is azriel’s favorite activities. What happens when you finally drop the oblivious mask and confront him

warnings: dark content, stalking, perving (on literally everyone), breaking and entering, stealing panties, az having a darker side, getting turned on by your fear, az eating you out, reader being bold and hot as fuck omg,

amara’s note: okay this is very short bc it’s my first time writing a dark fic. Also i hope you like it and pls read the warnings.

Azriel knows he is some sort of sick freak. He knows he should resist his sinful glances at Feyre when she's cozied up on Rhysand's lap. He flexes a little extra just to spark Nesta's desires, fully aware of her fantasies. And as for Elain, well, let's just say he's playing a forbidden game of spying while she bends over to plant her greens.

Azriel's is extremely aware he shouldn't be harboring forbidden desires or indulging in the secret pleasure of stalking someone as seemingly innocent as yourself.

Azriel, the ultimate mastermind, keeps everyone guessing. Who would suspect the quiet, brooding and publicly respected spymaster to be a closeted perv and sick stalker? It's his most guarded secret hidden beneath the intimidating exterior.

Little does Azriel know, you're fully aware of his perverse behavior—his wandering eyes and spying shadows. It surprises you that no one has figured him out yet; after all, it seems quite apparent, doesn't it?

You don’t miss his lurking shadows following you around for hours. A regular fae would’ve missed it but not you. You’ve grown accustomed to him and his ways. You know him better than anyone else and you definitely know of his stalker tendencies.

Azriel believes he's smooth, avoiding outright ogling. Instead, he strategically glances at you during training with Cassian and while sharpening his weapons, subtly appreciating the way your body moves.

Pervert azriel walks up to you, complimenting your form, claiming while it’s good there’s something you need to fix. You don’t mind if he needs to grab your waist while fixing your pose right? And of course you’ll excuse him if he accidentally brushes against your boobs and ass. I mean he just wants to help you perfect your form!

He watches you walking through Velaris from the shadows, always hiding one of his shadows with you. He tells himself that he does it for your safety. Who knows, you might be attacked and he needs to be ready.

He absolutely doesn’t want to hear how much of a hypocrite he is for also stalking you in the safety of your home aswell.

Azriel steals your panties, silently breaking into your room as he looks through your drawers, skimming through the collection of panties. He promises himself it’s the last time, though he’s made the same pledge seven times before.

Azriel's stalking tendencies lead him to roam through your belongings, touching everything to become familiar with your world. He goes to your vanity, picking up your perfumes, and indulges in the forbidden pleasure of smelling the one thing he desires most—you.

Lying in your bed, his head on your pillow, he starts shifting in the sheets, inhaling more of your scent. He revels in the trespass and wrongness of being in your bed, knowing that you might catch a hint of his own scent lingering there, a twisted thought crossing his mind that it could confuse, frighten, or even arouse you.

His cock swells at the thought of you scared, heart beating fast, trying to place who the scent belongs to.

He looks around and finds one of your shirts on the bed and picks it up to his nose.

Then he does the one thing he swore he would never stoop to. He pulls out his already hard cock and strokes it while inhaling your scent from the shirt.

—

He has timed you and learned your schedule hence why he now knows that you’ll be in the shower for the next twenty minutes, giving him the perfect opportunity for his perverse activities. He’ll pick up the laciest most intricate pair, keeping it in his room as some sort of trophy with the other stuff he has taken from you. No one can enter into his room anyways, it’s safe…

Pervert Azriel looks through the little crack in your door as you stand there posing infront of a mirror while wearing pretty much nothing. A lacy little lingerie set as you touch your body, hands traveling all over your tits, waist, ass then up through your hair as you spin around, admiring yourself.

You know Azriel is standing at your door, he isn’t really all that subtle with his hand down his pants as he jerks off at the sight of you.

It’s almost enough to make your eyes roll back into the back of your head, fucking gods, he’s pathetic.

You wanted to fuck him for the longest time. He could just ask you to fuck and you’d say yes yet here he is thinking he’s slick as he pervs on you. Even with all that in mind, there’s a sick, twisted adrenaline rush spreading through your body at the thought of the esteemed and highly respected spymaster doing something so dark and wrong like this.

“I know you're there, Az. Come out,” you say, a wicked smile forming on your face as you plot to utterly humiliate him.

His entire body freezes and Azriel cautiously emerges from the shadows, realizing he's been caught. You maintain that mischievous grin, ready to unleash your plan. The air thickens with anticipation as the confrontation unfolds.

“Az?”

He looks like he’s about to jump out of the nearest window as he looks at you through the mirror.

“Yes?”

“Why are you such a disgusting little pervert? Here I am trying on some clothes and you’re just perving on me. How do you think that makes me feel? I mean I could be super afraid and you wouldn’t have any remorse? Who does something like that?”

Azriel's face heats up at the mocking question, flushing as he tries to respond.

“Az, I asked you a question,” you assert, walking over to him. His embarrassment is palpable as he apologizes, rambling about not knowing what came over him, begging you not to tell anyone.

You already know the answer, and a knowing smile plays on your lips as he seeks forgiveness.

“You’ve done a very bad thing, Azriel. Bad people deserve to be punished. You of all people understand that, right?”

Pushing him back onto one of the sofas in your room, you creep closer, leaning over to whisper. Looking down at him, you place your hand on his cheek, letting your nails dig in a little.

“I think you deserved to be punished.”

Azriel's heart raced, fearing exposure for his hidden activities. Was this it? Would you punish him by revealing his actions to everyone?

Before he could plead for forgiveness, you stood up, walking back to your bed and beckoning him over with two fingers.

As he approached, ready to sit, you extended your leg, placing your foot on his stomach, halting him in his tracks..

“Not so fast,” you assert, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “The bed is reserved for me. You can kneel on the floor.”

Azriel complies, gracefully sinking to his knees. His gaze meets yours, his beautiful eyes revealing a mixture of submission and desire.

“You’re going to eat my pussy. If you manage to make me cum, I won’t tell anyone about your disgusting behavior, understand?”

He couldn't believe what was unfolding. Was he really about to taste you? About to experience the fantasy he'd daydreamed about every single day? He nods, but a disapproving tsk follows.

“I need more than a nod, Azriel. Do you understand?”

A quick, “Yes, I understand,” escapes his lips.

You can't help but smile at the swiftness of his compliance.

“That’s good. Now, I’ll be taking off my bra and panties and they’re very expensive and new so they better not go missing.”

Azriel affirms his understanding and then proceeds to drool over the way you slowly strip infront of him before you spread your legs and tell him to start.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge as he dips his head down to run his tounge up and down your slit, tasting you before playing with your clit.

You gasp in pleasure, letting out moans as your hands find their way to his hair, urging him to keep going.

Azriel’s hands dig into your thighs that are currently smushing his head. He decides to let you continue, telling himself that if he dies like this, he'd go down as the happiest person in history.

“T-that’s it, right there.”

A breathy moan escapes your lips as you feel two of his fingers enter you. Your hands grab his dark soft hair as he started pumping his fingers, relishing at the way your soaking cunt is squelching and squeezing him.

You whimper at the way his thick fingers strecth you out then curl against that secret spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You start to slowly fuck yourself on them, eager for more of him.

“You taste even better than I imagined, fuck.”

His desperate voice only spurred you on.

It doesn’t take much longer for that feeling to build up in your stomach, the tight cord eventually snapping. You squeeze and throb around his fingers as you cum hard, letting out whines and mumbles.

Azriel helps you ride out your high, memorizing every facial expression in case this is the last time you ever let him this close again.

He pulls out his fingers and lick them clean then goes back and licks your pussy clean.

You let out a giggle at the sight before you, casting him a look of fake sympathy as you pull yourself together.

“Well, look at that. Seems like I’ll be keeping your secret after all. I mean, what a shame to loose such a good little pussy eater, right? I might just keep you around.”

You beckon him to rise, tossing your underwear onto the sofa before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

Glancing back at his flushed face and heavy breathing, you offer a secret smile.

“Who knows, next time I might even let you fuck me.”

Turning around, you leave him to his thoughts as the shower starts.

Azriel stands there for a moment, his desire evident. Unable to resist, he takes your panties and bra, always craving something of yours.

He promises to himself that he won't do it for an eighth time before hurrying back to his room, to finally help himself

🏷️ taglist: @stasiereads @clairebear08 @daycourtofficial @historiaxvanserra @rowaelinsdaughter @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @redbleedingrose @danikamariewrites @readychilledwine @nocasdatsgay

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peachesofteal · 7 months

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Happy Hunting

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon Riley/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Consensual non consent. Explicit sex, creampie. Predator/prey, hunter/hunted. Use of restraints, a gag. Blood, violence. Dirty talk, size kink, praise kink. Feelings of fear, anxiety. Horror-ish. Horror media references/influenced. Tags are for your health, not mine. “Passion has little to do with euphoria and everything to do with patience. It is not about feeling good. It is about endurance." - Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves

It was the porch light, that cost you everything.

The porch light that flickered through the brush with strokes of silver moonlight, the porch light that cast a wan, yellowed haze out from its warped wooden and stone host. The porch light, that shone like a lighthouse, calling you home, calling you to safety, security. To sanctuary.

You spotted it from a distance the first day, once you had already changed course that morning, tromping across a stream and shimmying through a nasty spool of barbed wire. You hunkered down next to an outcropping of rock, peering through the morning fog, searching for your hunter, watching for the tell tale signs of his presence, a wide path cut through the forest by his broad body, punctuated by trampled underbrush, damaged petals and leaves. The house stood on the hill in the distance, rising just above the tree line, the shimmer of the little yellow light drawing you in, making you curious, filling you with an urge to look closer, as the hair on the back of your neck rose in warning.

The rocks were a perfect natural shelter, a good place to take a nap, if you wanted, if you could. It would be easy to bed down in the soft dead-fall of the leaves, sink into the earth, into the heavy mist that had lingered past dawn, but you couldn’t risk closing your eyes. Not even for a second. Not when you knew he was so close, when you could hear his breath, feel the pads of his fingers on your skin, reaching, stretching, desperate to snatch you away forever. If you held your body still, you swore you could feel the vibration of his feet in the forest, rustling against the brush, covertly honing in on your location, stalking closer and closer to his target. His victory.

Even if you never saw him, you knew he was out there, watching patiently. Waiting for you to make a mistake, for you to miscalculate.

You told yourself the house was not an option. Even when you got a good look at it on that first day, something about it stuck low in your belly, an off feeling, a warning. You opted to circumvent the entire thing, giving the long overgrown driveway, endlessly black windows and snarled thicket that grew thick at its foundation a wide berth.

Old stone mansions left abandoned, remnants of old families, old money left to rot, were not unheard of in this area. You had spent your youth crawling around in them and knew them well, knew their warning signs, understood what it felt like when they might give way on you. You knew how to unlock their secrets, knew how to read the gothic stories that had settled into the crumbling, peeling wallpaper. They spoke their own languages, histories spiraling out from their nooks and crannies, trauma and laughter etched into the joists and support beams, sagging with the weight of their own age. They could be easy to read, easy to listen to, if you knew which doors to pry open, and which to leave locked shut.

Still, it was too convenient. Too much of a risk. Too much confinement. There was a zero chance of you besting him in a physical fight, and you had to depend on your speed for survival, your aptitude, your skill to ensure your success. Pigeonholing yourself in a mansion with god knows what inside did not allow you to excel at the things you were good at.

You felt confident in your decision to avoid the house. You felt good about it.

The storm rolled in with tenacity. The rain was frigid, wind howling through to your bones, chilling the blood that pumped in your heart. It's strength pulled at your resolved, ready to tear you to pieces, to force you to your knees. It pushed you off course, away from the rushing water of the creek, and up the hill of water soaked leaves.

You lost your bearings for a moment, and that’s all it took for you to slip up, all that was needed for you to catch the sight of his grim shadow from the corner of your eye, the crack of a branch breaking beneath his boot shattering across your brain like a gunshot.

You tore through the woods, gait bogged down by the water logged earth, by the thick of the mud, chased by the sound of his voice, calling for you through the forest over the raging fury of the storm.

"Happy hunting, little dove."

You narrowly escaped, but the skull mask watched. He waited. He tracked.

He hunted.

It’s too dark.

Too dark to see anything, too dark to see your hands that are spread out in front of your body, hands that desperately try to act as your eyes, feeling, touching, scraping across surfaces to keep you from bumping into things. Doors. Walls. Whatever could be lying in wait here.

The weight of your wet clothing irks you. It hangs heavily on your body, and you wish you had chosen better layers, shivers working up and down your spine, goosebumps rising against the soaked chill of your shirt. It could be pneumonia that gets you in the end, if he doesn't catch you first, you muse bitterly, wringing yourself out as well as you can, water droplets pattering against what you believe sounds like a wooden floor.

The lack of light is unnerving. You'd expected it, knew the chances of there being anything working in here slim, but you still hoped that maybe the lone flickering porch light meant there was something still left inside these old bones, a spark, a connection feeding a light switch or a lamp somewhere. The dark of the house is endless, and your mind works quickly to imagine the worst case scenarios, the potential that this tenebrous pitch may drag you below forever settling heavily in the back of your mind. It's deep, the darkness of the house, like you could fall into it and drown, never resurfacing, never to see the sun again. You move slowly, hands in front of your face, body and feet making contact with as much of the wall as you can, trying to paint a picture with touch. The dark, combined with the new and unfamiliar territory, is enough to unsettle your usual steady demeanor.

The combination is a lethal one. It’s one that leaves you hesitant. Unsure. It’s one that keeps you off balance, spine ram rod straight, nerves alight with fear.

It wasn’t so bad, in the woods. The silver glow of the moon illuminated the lay of the forest, sprawling swaths of brush and low growing thistle, tall trunks that stretched to the sky, stout shrubs with thorns that scratched at your clothes. That was easier, than this.

Easier than this maze called a house. Easier than these hallways that morphed into a labyrinth that stretched for miles and miles, twisting together into a Fibonacci sequence of pitch-dark terror.

No. You swallow. You’re not afraid. You’re fine. You’re going to be fine. You're going to win.

But even as you repeat it to yourself, even as you coach your reserve, you can hear his voice. Can hear the grit and gravel of the Manchester accent, can smell his skin against yours, lips rough on your mouth before your cheeks were pinched between a thumb and forefinger.

“Want to play a game?”

You work forward in a half crouch, staying pressed to the wall, form as tight as you can manage, unobtrusive. Your hand stays projected in front of your body, the other along the wall, waiting to feel an angle, an edge, a door, a window… anything.

You shouldn’t have come in here. You walked right into a trap, you're sure of it now, fairly positive after feeling the way the corridor twists and turns away from the front. Walked right into a confined space and now you’re lost, stuck, like a fly in a web. Waiting to be devoured. Waiting for your end to be delivered by a spider who lurks just out of sight.

But you did it for a reason, didn’t you?

You’re so, so close to the finish line. So close you can taste it, the trepidation beading into sweat that drips down your back, cold and unwelcome against the damp of your shirt. It’s already been two days. The morning of the third day is just on the horizon, sun due to come up, you think, within a few hours. Your mouth salivates at the thought of it, the idea of sinking your teeth into sweet, sweet victory. Of winning. Of beating him.

You take a moment to stop and reassess, swiping your palms along the wall and floor, working on controlling your breathing. It’s becoming jagged, anxiety spilling out through your lungs with each step you take, fear moving through you like ice freezing in your veins, creeks and streams being lost to the winter’s chill, a disease slowly spreading towards your heart.

You use it to focus. You cannot see, but that doesn’t mean you've lost, and it doesn't make you weak. It makes all your senses stronger, your hearing, your ability to smell, your translation of touch into sight. The wall turns here, the floor dips there, does that feel like a ledge? You crawl in your crouch, lips sealed tight against soft whimpers that threaten to expose you over the little pieces of wood that get lodged in your palms.

Splinters. Unfinished lumber.

It confirms your theory. The mansion itself is old, stuck up on this plot land, nestled in the thick of the forest, abandoned, nearly completely forgotten about by all… save for one. One, who’s been building inside of it, one who’s been creating in its guts. Hollowing it out and remaking it into something new, a hellscape of hallways, a complicated vision executed by someone who’s running from the same demons, the same nightmares that you are.

Your heart sinks past your stomach, down into your knees. Continuing to run this rat race is foolish. He built it. He knows it. He pushed you here, urged you over the hill, across the stream, beneath the barbed wire. He dictated your path, forcing you into the light of the porch, herding you closer and closer because he knew. He knew you wouldn't be able to resist it, in the end. He knew you.

Find a different part of the house. Escape. Hide, until sunrise.

You keep going, carefully, creeping along the walls, navigating lefts and rights and forks in the labyrinth until your fingers tap silently across an empty door frame, nothing on the other side except the continuous black void of darkness.

Your feet slide forward, boots sliding until the floor disappears. A drop off? There’s more, a flush piece, a curved groove.

Stairs.

You blink, even though it will do you no good, it won’t clear your vision or make the lights in this decrepit place suddenly flicker on. Your hands are your sight, and you run your fingers along the curve of the top step, until you feel the next, and the next.

You take them half on your belly, half on your knees. It’s slow, achingly so, and puts you in a vulnerable position, but the fall, if there were to be one, would be much, much worse if you risked attempting them fully standing. It takes forever to get to the bottom, and you feel a small tug of relief when your palms rub across a cold concrete floor.

There’s a noise. It’s a banging, of sorts. Like a door swinging, and you jolt, reaction fueled by adrenaline, barreling forward into the dark, slamming into the wall with your hip. It stings, the slap of concrete zinging across your skin and you hiss instinctively, before clapping a hand over your face to muffle the sound.

You curse yourself. That was too loud.

A floorboard creaks above your head. The acid in your stomach rises.

You hold yourself as still as you can, palm still pressed over your mouth, body bent low. You keep contact with the wall as much as possible, shoulder, thigh, part of your back. Stay low. Stay small. It’s an advantage you have, your size versus his. Even if you aren’t particularly petite, you’re nimble, graceful and quick. Something you’ve been using for the past two days to stay one step ahead, something you used earlier to orchestrate your narrow escape in the woods. You use it now, to find a corner, a little nook of rough cement, and squeeze your body inside.

Heavy feet take the stairs slowly, step by step until you see the bright white beam of a flashlight sweeping across the floor methodically, back and forth, back and forth. It moves across the room, around the stairs, opposite of the corner you think you’ve tucked yourself into.

Just hold your breath. Stay quiet. You can still win. You can still make it.

The flashlight flicks off with a dramatic click. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip so hard it draws blood.

Maybe he didn’t see you. Maybe he doesn’t know you’re even here.

Seconds drag into minutes, and you think you hear heavy footfalls upstairs. Or possibly on the stairs. You can’t be too sure. It’s too dark, and the pitch is disorientating. It’s hard to tell right side up, up from down.

This could be heaven. It could be hell.

You stay burrowed in that corner against the cinderblock for what you believe must be at least fifteen minutes, if not longer. Your body aches from being pushed in on itself, and you blink in the dark, breathing slower than a corpse, listening. Waiting.

Your boot slides across the concrete. Seeking. Touching… bumping into solid mass. You realize it a second too late. Time freezes, and you with it, heart encased in ice. Your eyes slam shut, and a whimper builds in the back of your throat.

A hand wraps around your ankle, and you screech, curling forward with your fingers bent like talons, flying towards what you hope is his face, desperate to sink your nails into his skin and tear, rip him open so you can get away. He grabs your arm, stabilizing your contact, the strength in his grip that of more than two men, at least, and drags you across the floor, iron bar of his ulna holding you still and steady.

A piece of metal scratches against wood. A flick, a flicker, and then-

A wash of orange-yellow light. You’ve been in the dark for hours at this point, and your sight struggles to refract, pulling back behind half shut lids even though the light itself is not that bright.

You tilt your head back and look up.

String lights. He’s hung string lights up down here, little bulbs on black wire stapled to the rafters like you’re in some romantic comedy. Like there should be a two top table here with a pile of spaghetti and meatballs, carafe of wine and checkered tablecloth.

“Hung these just for you, dove. Knew you’d like ‘em.” His breath is burning hot against your face, and you twist, swinging your entire skull into his chest and trying to dig your heels into the ground for leverage. You catch a glimpse of his face, maskless, the twice-healed broken nose, cheek scar and sharp edged jaw unmistakable, even with your fogged vision.

“Get OFF me you FUCKING FREAK, I-“ His thigh presses against your knee and then you’re swooping, thrown off balance in a second thought with a scream, free hand ripping across into his hair and yanking with everything you have.

It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t flinch, wrestling you to the ground with ease. You don’t have much fight left in you, after two days of hiding, running, trying to be smarter, be faster, and you’re spent on all ends, this last little spat the end of everything you had. He knows it.

Still, when he fish hooks his thumb into between your lips, you bite down with all your might, sinking your incisors into his skin in hopes of drawing blood.

He laughs, and your mouth fills with the mineral-metallic liquid, his thumb swirling inside your teeth and across your gums.

You know you’re well and truly fucked.

The knife makes quick work of your shirt. Your tac pants, the good pair, go next, along with your boots. He lurks above for you a long moment before he cuts your bra away, your nipples tightening in reaction to the temperature, to everything that’s happening in this moment, in this basement.

“Gave me the slip in the woods earlier, little dove. Very clever.” He praises you, bending your arms behind your back and then working a rope around your wrists, knotting it securely, but not too tight. “Almost made it. Think you might’ve, if you hadn’t come in ‘ere.” Your underwear rips away without pretense, without hesitation and you swallow, mouth gaping wide, teeth trying to cut over the gag. “But I know why you did. I know you wanted to get caught.” You shake your heard furiously, and he clucks his tongue in mock sympathy, soothing a warm hand up and down the outside of your thigh. “Come on dove, let me see.” He pries your legs apart, baring you wide, where you drip for him, slick with arousal, with heat. He hums something to himself; two blunt fingers stroking down your seam and then back up around your swollen clit. You buzz with his touch, muscles reacting on their own, spine curving just a little, hips twitching. He stays there, on his knees between your thighs, an immovable force, keeping you from closing up around him or blocking his touch, and his thumb rubs your clit in a circle. “What a good girl. Gettin’ all wet for me.” You shake your head, and he tips his head back and laughs. “Don’t lie. Pretty little cunt here loved bein’ hunted, eh? Look at how soaked she is. Practically dripping.” He presses a finger inside, the depth of his reach enough to punch your lungs out, body seizing up around him as he strokes upwards, thumb slicking across your clit until you're writing underneath him. You’re going to cum, you’re going to cum on this dirty fucking floor like a- “Ah, ah. You know the rules.” He rasps next to your ear. “What do you need to do?”

“Nnrgh!” you spit through the cloth, and he sighs long and loud, like he’s emptying himself of all his breath with exasperation, fingers smearing your own fluids over your face as he pulls it free. “Please.” You gasp. It’s barely a plea, something more venomous, more spiteful, but it’s enough for him, and he nods, placing the fabric back into your mouth with a pop of his wrist. You don’t want to, you don’t want to give in, let him win, let him have this, make it so easy but he's playing your body so well, expertly, making you sing for him from behind the gag, and you cannot stop the tidal wave that swims over you, your orgasm breaking you apart, smug grin scrawled across his face with pleasure.

When he takes his cock out, dragging his briefs and pants beneath his hips, all while keeping a single hand pressed to your belly, your eyes widen. He’s huge, thick with a fat red tip, dribbles of pre cum leaking above where he’s got you splayed open. He’s going to tear your apart.

“You put up such a good fight, dove. Made me wait so long, hid so well.” The heat of his cock sears against your thigh, and you grunt, brows furrowed, mouth dry behind the gag. Your tongue pushes against it helplessly, fingers fisted tight in the binding beneath your lower back. It’s not particularly comfortable, but the position bares your breasts to him, and keeps you off balance enough that he can manipulate you as he sees fit. “But you still lost.” The gleam in his eye is wild, wicked enough to make your toes curl, hair on the back of your neck standing straight up. Is this a man? Or a monster? Or both?

He presses inside and you see stars, you see the whites of your own eyes, see the currents of electricity in the air. It hurts, a gnawing bite that spreads to your cervix, magma spilling forward and scorching along your walls. He doesn’t slow either, doesn’t stop, just thrusts all the way through, deeper and deeper, splitting you open on his cock just how he likes.

“Ffuumph-“ You moan, and a plate sized palm pats your face soothingly, your knees pinned back towards your ears, his chest against yours. He knows it hurts. Knows it stings, his hips stuttering with his strokes, tongue hot against your neck, mopping up the tears that leak from the corner of your eyes.

“I know, I know. Be good." He licks your cheek before taking it between his teeth, and you keen, clenching around him the heat of his cock without a thought. It’s wild, and violent, like you’re being ripped open raw, torn apart by the weight of the end of it all, the consequences of your loss, of getting caught. “Is this is what you needed? What you begged me for-“ You sputter a refusal, a wail of nonsense but there’s no denial of your body’s reaction, the way you tighten around him, the way your body goes gooey for him, cunt glossy with it.

He thumbs your clit, and you moan, half agonized, half delirious, stuffed full, neurons firing across your brain, cunt spasming in time with his thrusts. "So proud of you. Did so good, dove." Your back arches involuntarily, legs trying to snap closed, burn in your belly growing and growing to a precipice, a reckless edge that you know you’re going to be thrown over in a matter of seconds. He reads it, reads you, and plucks the gag free, swooping low to replace it with his mouth, holding your jaw steady, the kiss long and lingering. He gives you more and more, spearing you with his cock, dragging in and out of your pulsing cunt, cooing in your ear over the sound of your moans. "That's it, that's my girl. There you go, come- come on." Your muscles tense and you explode with an orgasm, body melting with a shudder. You turn to liquid, practically putty, all soft and malleable in his arms and he fucks you deep, frantically, chasing after his own release, dragging his nose into your hair with a groan of something unintelligible. You're still clenching around him, wired tight, little explosions of fireworks reverberating through your cunt as he takes his victory, notching himself to the very depth of your body and flooding you with come.

“Knew you wouldn’t be able to resist it. The house.” His arms cradle your limp body, nose skimming up your jaw.

“It was a nice touch.” The words come out as a yawn, stretched out and spent, like your body. Like your mind. Just how you like it.

“You lost, dove.” He murmurs and you nod pathetically. “Want to try again?” He works his touch in the wet mess between your legs, flicking through his own come, your slick and you mewl in his palm.

“Yes."

“I think I should get more of a head start this time.” Simon raises an eyebrow, a shadow of greed, of hunger arcing across his irises before his arm is curling around your back and pulling you into his chest.

“Don’t I usually give you enough of a head start, love?”

“You do, but… Si. Come on. It’s hardly fair.”

“You’re faster than me.” Lips press tenderly against your temple. “Beat me every time in a foot race. Besides, I have something… for you. A gift.” Your head spins when you think about that word, gift. It frightens you. It electrifies you.

“I know but… I want to build it up a little more.” Still, you have to protest a little. You want a longer chase. Need it. Crave it.

“Alright.” He concedes, head tilting to the side, eyes half lidded. “And the prep-“

“Not too much.” You tip back your glass of wine, drop of red leaking from the corner of your lips, tannins blooming across your tongue as he laps it up. “I want it to hurt.” You murmur it into his mouth, rolling the rich liquid from behind your teeth until he’s working you open and it spills forward, drowning the two of you in red cherry and oak until you’re falling to the floor, and he’s kissing your breastbone with a whisper.

“Okay, dove. Not too much.”

#tw dark and twisty #tw dark themes #peaches writes #dove x simon #I really like these two #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod ghost #cod x reader #mw2 #ghost cod

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theinnerunderrain · 4 months

Text

Desires [Yan!Wishing Star x Fem!Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, description of abuse and reader being in pain (burning), fear, slight description of body parts, implied murder. can you believe the inspiration for this is the star from that Disney movie wish...

"It's not fair."

The entity standing in front of you,murmured gently, his hand clenching tightly as his eyes grew stern, echoing the firmness in his tone. In the velvety expanse where night unfolds its cosmic tapestry, a solitary wanderer emerges — the wishing star. A fleeting celestial voyager, trailing stardust whispers across the ink-black canvas, igniting the dreams of earthly dreamers. The celestial glow of the moonlit sky tenderly embraced his form, casting a delicate shimmer upon his blond locks, revealing a subtle stain on his pristine white blouse, obscured yet perceptible in the soft illumination.

"I've heard of your heart's desire," The wishing star advanced toward you with measured grace, coaxing a subtle retreat from your stance as you hesitantly took a step backward.

"I worked so hard to grant your wishes."

He persisted, the palpable frustration resonating through his typically captivating voice. Bathed in the gentle moonlight, it cast an ethereal glow upon his figure. Drawing nearer, the blemishes on his shirt became increasingly conspicuous—a flickering, profound crimson, accompanied by a faint metallic scent that stirred a disquieting nausea within you.

A startled yelp slips from your lips as you inadvertently tumble over an unseen obstacle, causing you to descend onto a patch of grass with your back pressed against the earth's surface. Your hand makes unexpected contact with something wet and warm. The unmistakable scent of metal permeates the air, urging you to swiftly withdraw your hand from the liquid. It's only then that you come to the chilling realization within the darkness—it's a limb, specifically a recently severed hand, its surface glistening with fresh blood.

Your gaze turns back to the wishing star, now standing just a few feet in front of you. His shadow looms over, imparting an ominous presence, and he appears almost like a fading star, deprived of life and passion, slowly dimming in the celestial tapestry. Trembling with fear, you parted your lips to voice a protest, but no sound emerged, leaving the unspoken plea hanging in the tense air.

As the wishing star resumed speaking, its tone softened considerably, a gentle cadence imbuing its voice, which seemed to be nearly carried away by the night's gentle breeze.

"I've done so much for you, for you weak humans. Yet, I've received nothing in return."

Descending onto one knee, he crouched down, his pristine white pants marred by the hues of blood and dirt. Remarkably unfazed, he wore the stains with an air of indifference.

"Tell me, [First Name]. Do you think it's fair?"

You take a moment to contemplate his question, striving to formulate the optimal response that would genuinely satisfy him. However, the awareness lingers that he possesses a keen perception, able to discern any falsehood, as if he has the ability to see through every nuance.

"It's not fair," you stammer, your words echoing through the stillness of the night. The wishing star tilts his head slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

A twisted smile creeps across his lips, and the moonlight casts an eerie gleam in his eyes. "Good answer, my dear [First Name]."

"You're right, it's not fair."

He lingered in a brief pause, his eyes gently closing, as if grappling with thoughts, a silent struggle to restrain any inclination to cause harm.

"So tell me, [First Name]. Do you think I deserve to be compensated for my hard work? Will you be the one to grant my wish?"

His words crashed into you like an oncoming train, resonating through the corridors of your mind as you grapple to unravel their meaning. After a moment of contemplation, you nod hesitantly, yearning for nothing more than the swift conclusion of this situation, eager to retreat to the village with a mind cleansed of the perplexing events of the night.

"Good."

His smile, a deceptive play of pink lips stretched into a wide grin, sent a chill down your spine. Despite its apparent warmth, his eyes held an icy indifference, a contradiction that left an unsettling echo in the air. It was as if his smile danced to a different melody, a tune that aimed to soothe while his gaze remained aloof, weaving a complex tapestry of emotions that begged unraveling. With an unexpected flourish, he delicately pressed a single finger to your forehead. A radiant, golden light emanated from his fingertips, enveloping you in a warmth that seemed to transcend the ordinary. In that moment, an enchanting weight settled upon you, as if the universe itself conspired to make your very essence denser beneath the gentle caress of his touch.

"W...wait..Callisto! What are you—"

As you mustered the courage to protest, his other hand extended, gently caressing your cheek with a touch that felt oddly comforting, as though it were a final offer of solace. The ambient light intensified, casting a surreal brilliance upon the surroundings, rendering the world too bright and eerily silent. Despite the fear coursing through you, there lingered an inexplicable sense of comfort emanating from both the radiant light and the tender graze of his touch. It was a paradoxical dance between apprehension and an oddly soothing presence that left you trapped in a disconcerting embrace of emotions.

In an instant, the beam of light against your forehead erupted, creating a deafening, bell-like resonance that reverberated for meters around. Your body, caught in the chaotic symphony, felt ablaze—no, it was as if fire had ignited everywhere. Desperation urged you to shift away, the searing sensation intensifying, yet his relentless grip forced you down onto the patch of grass. His two hands, like oppressive flames, pressed against you, melding your anguish with the burning world around you.

"No..!"

A piercing scream escapes your lips, the pitch climbing higher as you desperately attempt to roll and extinguish the flames enveloping you. Yet, the ethereal grip of Callisto pins you in place, rendering your frantic movements futile. Frozen in terror, the dance between your desperate cries and the consuming fire unfolds in a macabre symphony orchestrated by the relentless wishing star.

"I'm really sorry, [First Name]. It's going to feel painful at first, but once you wake up again. Everything will be for the better."

Callisto's voice, a haunting melody, softly echoed against the backdrop of your agonizing pleas. As you begged for relief from the erupting fire consuming your very flesh, his gentle tone contrasted with the visceral symphony of pain. With a tenderness that belied the horrors unfolding, his hand reached out, delicately caressing the side of your face, as if soothing the flames that danced upon your skin.

In the twilight of consciousness, as the world dissolved into an inky void and the torment on your body gradually subsided, you felt the celestial presence of the wishing star. One final utterance emerged from the cosmic depths, a whisper that cut through the fading echoes of your suffering, leaving an unsettling imprint on the precipice of darkness.

"As you awaken from your slumber, a transformation awaits you—a rebirth akin to a celestial metamorphosis. You shall emerge not just awakened but as a newfound star, destined to shine eternally in resplendent brilliance, a beacon of enduring beauty that transcends the mere confines of night."

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere fanfiction #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere writing #yandere fic #yandere scenarios #yandere blog #yandere oneshot #yandere oc #fanfic #yandere boy #wishing star #yandere imagine #yandere drabble #tw dark themes

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 4 months

Note

Rosalie and Jasper talking about reader who is sleeping peacefully but had a nightmare episode a few nights ago

Can't Escape the Nightmares

Pairing(s): Jasper Hale x Human!Reader, platonic!Rosalie Hale x Human!Reader

Words: 624

Cradle (pt2)

Rosalie pets your hair with the tenderest of fingers as you slept with your head on her lap, head cushioned by a pillow. Your mate Jasper was off with Emmett and Edward for a boy's night. Which was quite unfortunate as he was one of the few who could subdue your nightmares that constantly plagued you. Thankfully you found the same sense of calm when you were with Rosalie.

She'd left a text to Jasper, telling him to come home when he gets the chance but that was a while ago. Maybe he didn't have cell service out there.

Drawing the blanket closer to you, Rosalie makes sure you're bundled so her naturally cold skin doesn't make you freeze. What she would give to be able to see into your dreams to make sure they were sweet. You'd been through enough in the waking world, you shouldn't have to suffer them again as you slept.

Was it really only four years ago that she followed the sound of your screams into the woods and found you being assaulted in the worst ways possible. When she saw you there, she was taken back to a time where Rosalie was in a similar scenario. There was no prior thinking involved in her decision to rescue you and kill the men responsible.

She didn't even know what she'd do with you once she finished killing them. When Rosalie gazed down at your dirty face and trembling body she was not willing to leave you out there by yourself. You were swiftly brought to the Cullen house so Carlisle could attend to you.

And from there. . . you and Jasper fell in love. You were there to stay.

The back door alarms ding, Rosalie nearly jumps to her feet before she remembers you were fast asleep using her for comfort.

She needn't even budge. In a second, Jasper was in the living room with them. Eyes brimming with concern when he regards your sleeping form. "Was it bad?"

Rosalie hums and resumes stroking your head. "She's had worse."

Jasper kneels down so that he could get close to kiss the bridge of your nose. You'd been doing so well this past month; no nightmares for several consecutive days and it looked to be keeping strong. Of course the one night you push Jasper out to join his brothers in hunting would be the night you'd get a nightmare.

"Remember what Carlisle told us." Rosalie reminds Jasper in a warm yet warning tone. "It's from her PTSD. She may never really recover. All we can do is help her when she's suffering from it." Maneuvering herself so that Jasper had easier access to you, he picks you up blankets and all.

He often thinks back to the day Rosalie brought you home. Bruised, naked, dirty and so terrified that your bottom lip couldn't stop trembling. Bright red was splashed across Rosalie's face and even dyed parts of her hair where blood had spattered on. Time itself had stopped in that moment. Rosalie holding you looked like a painting from Titian.

It was funny, the contrast between how Rosalie treated you compared to Bella. Night and Day. From that day on, Rosalie always kept an eye on you similar to a mother hen. It didn't surprise anyone in the family, knowing what Rosalie had gone through was quite similar to what had happened to you. A morbid, kindred familiarity that made Rosalie soften up to you.

"Thank you, for being there for her." Jasper whispers. Unequivocal tenderness warms Rosalie's eyes as she watches Jasper hold you.

"Don't be stupid." her voice mellow like a drip of honey. "Even if you didn't want me to be, I'll always be there for her."

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silky-nereid · 3 months

Text

— deer in headlights || DARK CONTENT

tw: manipulative behavior, sleep deprivation, religious themes/behavior, degradation of self worth, minor injuries, false words of salvation, power imbalance.

Yandere!cult leader x cult member!reader/you

Yandere! Cult leader who was specially helped during your initiation into the commune and was involved more in your initiation rather than other newcomers.

Yandere! Cult leader who reaffirms that you’re special, more different from newcomers because he treats you different from the others.

Yandere! Cult leader who lets you sleep in for one more hour since he tries to not make it obvious that he favors you more but helps you catch up with the flow.

“It’s time to wake up.” He smiles, sitting next to your half awake form. “I know you don’t want to get up but you must. Come on, my heart.”

You waved him away and buried your face deeper into the layers of pillows. Trembling softly while the cold rings rubbed on your exposed back and your eyes peeled open. Turning over to look at him with the remaining bits of tiredness.

“Can’t I sleep a bit more?” You asked. “Can’t you let me sleep for a bit more.”

His smile grew, holding your cheek and pulling you into his embrace; aroma of herbs and fresh flowers surrounded him.

“I know that you don’t want to get up but you have to contribute to our cause,” he said. “I know how difficult it was for you to go through the rebirth. You had struggles but I was there to help you.”

Yandere! Cult leader who keeps you from the rest of the commune because he deems them as dirty and knows that you and him are the only clean ones.

Yandere! Cult leader who makes sure that you do the easiest jobs in the commune and somehow manages to get his eyes on you to make sure that you’re doing everything that he wants; near perfection.

Yandere! Cult leader who always has you in the front row to see your behavior and notices your wandering eyes during the morning sermon.

“Your eyes,” he said. “Why were they wandering?”

His hands remained on your shoulder, silver eyes that once held love now held a scrutinizing tone, your breathing was rapid thinking that if you decided to look away, his very glare would rip you down.

“I don’t,” you stammered, “know why..know why they wandered. It was—you’re upset with me?”

“Very upset, my heart.” His hand let go of your shoulder, holding your chin. “I know that you’re better than this. We both know this, has something caught your attention?”

“Why do you not let me do other jobs?” You asked. “I can do them. Let me try to recruit the lost ones to our—“

“You’re too important for those jobs, let’s stick to the jobs that you know,” he said. “You don’t need to be around such repulsive and filthy people, my heart.”

Yandere! Cult leader who desperately tries to find you in your usual job that he assigned but he couldn’t seem to find you.

Yandere! Cult leader who hears from a commune member that you somehow managed to sneak onto one of the many cars that was transporting members to the outside to recruit the lost ones.

Yandere! Cult leader who gets reports from members that your immediate family gets in contact with you and he immediately wants you back in the commune to repent and begin the cleansing ritual because he can’t have his favorite member falling back in their old ways of damnation.

“I gave you everything.” His hands rested on the cabinet. “My heart, you’re disgusting. The outside polluted you, you’re not pure anymore. Don’t be afraid, I will lead you back to your salvation.”

Cold knees against the wooden floor that carved into your bruised skin and only a thin towel was draped over your shoulders to cover your wet skin, sobs escaped your mouth and wracked your body. He slipped on gloves and walked towards you, wiping away the tears. A smile carved on his lips, tears dribbled further down and using a handkerchief to wipe away the remains of vomit from your cracked lips.

“I know that your stomach doesn't like tea,” he said. “It’s for precautions to get rid of the toxins from your insides, dear. See I know that you can handle this.”

“I don’t think I can,” you responded.

Yandere! Cult leader who makes you get up earlier than the others to begin your tight schedule and smiles when you go to him for basic necessities because he’s restricted every single luxury that you had before your stunt.

Yandere! Cult leader who occasionally leaves you sleep deprived and makes you repeat passages that he chose to drill into your mind since you’re too tired to focus on anything else.

Yandere! Cult leader who happily finishes your cleansing process and spoils you for the day. He no longer scrubbed your skin when it felt like it was bleeding but held you without the gloves and praised you for making it back to him.

You curled up in his arms, gasps escaped your mouth while parts of your limbs were still wrapped in bandages due to the harsh scrubbing process.

“Look at you, my heart.” He kissed the side of your temple. “You’re finally perfect and I intend to keep you this perfect.”

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queenuchiha89 · 5 months

Note

If requests are open can I request an itachi x little sister fic where he noncons her and forces her to call him onii-chan?🤤

I am happy to oblige! Enjoy! 👹

*** NSFW ***

*** TW.NONCON ***

*** 18+ MINORS DNI ***

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

This story contains noncon, incest, forced breeding, humiliation, degredation, and pet names. Viewer discretion is STRONGLY advised!

She grunted under the weight of her older brother, and squirmed as she tried to push him off of her. It was useless. He outweighed her by nearly 50 pounds- all 50 of which- were pure muscle. There was no chance of her escaping our from under him, and she knew it. In defeat, she began to silently cry as he looked down at her with a malicious smirk. "Itachi why are you doing this?!" She cried out, shaking and terrified by her brother's aggressions towards her. Itachi pinned his sister's arms down to the bed, and forced on of his legs up between hers, opening them. "because you need to learn that a little sister's purpose... Is to serve her older brother..." He growled as he licked the tears off of one of her rosy cheeks. Her eyes grew wide in fear, as she could feel the fully hard length of his manhood pressing against her now bare stomach, and she realized what he was about to do to her. "i-itachi no! Please don't!" She cried tears streaming down her cheeks. Her cries fell on deaf ears, however. She knew it was just them at home and not many members of the clan currently at the compound. She did the her best to fight off the elder Uchiha, but she was fighting a closing battle. Within an instant, Itachi had positioned himself against the virginal opening of his sweet sister, looking down at her with a sick ferocity in his eyes. Itachi pushed his long thick cock slowly inside his sister, and she cried out in pain as itachi stretched out her virgin walls. Itachi's head fell in pleasure, savoring his sister's tightness while she writhed in pain.

Itachi began thrusting into her hard, the head of his cock pressing firmly against her cervix with every stroke. He reached down to brush the hair out of her face as she cried. "Don't cry little sis... Soon you're going to love your Onii's cock filling up that tight little pussy of yours!" Itachi said, thrusting now more viciously than before. His little sister whimpered as her stomach tightened, a strong orgasm building deep within her core, much to her horror. She shook her head back and forth violently, trying to hold back her orgasm, To not give him the satisfaction... But Itachi knew. He smirked down at her as he watched her try to fight the growing sensation. "You're going to cum aren't you?? You are a little slut aren't you??" He mocked as he felt his own orgasm beginning to pique. He grabbed her hips firmly, and looked deep into his little sister's eyes. "Call me onii-chan, little sister. I know you want to." Itachi grunted out with each thrust getting more and more aggressive and erratic. She shook her head in protest, still trying to will away her orgasm and failing, but Itachi grabbed her by the throat and activated his sharingan, forcing her to look into his eyes. "do it... Or I'll kill you right now..." He growled. Terrified and defeated by her older brother, she looked up at him and whined "o-onii-chan!" As she did her body shook and trembled as her orgasm ripped through her body, her brother's cock twitching inside her as he spilled his seed directly into her womb.

Itachi kept his cock inside her, letting it go soft, careful not to let a single drop of his seed be wasted. "you're going to be mine. I just made sure of that..." He said with a darkness in his eyes she had never seen before. He pressed his hand to her stomach just above her mound. "My little sister is going to be a mommy now..." He took her face in his hand and forcefully kissed her pouty lips. "Tell onii you love him... " He said his sharingan still activated. She swallowed hard "I-i love you... Onii-chan..." She said sniffling through tears. "good girl." He kissed her forehead. "Now go clean up before everyone gets back. If you do what I say, I'll give you more tonight when everyone's asleep..." He walked out without another word, leaving her feeling helpless and ashamed.

#itachi uchiha #itachi #uchiha itachi #tw. dark content #tw dark thoughts #itachi naruto #tw dark themes #uchiha smut #tw.noncon #tw.incest #tw imagine

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tang3r1n · 5 months

Text

still on my shitty dabi kick and i think i struck a chord with @mostlyheinous so here’s random ass shit i think a deadbeat bf dabi would do

18+, hard dubcon, gaslighting, manipulation, smoking, forced drinking/taking of drugs, dabi purposely makes you have a bad trip on acid, unprotected sex, anal (referenced plus a thumb in the stink) i’ll add more idfk

kay first off, along the smoke vein, dabi would absolutely threaten to put his cigarettes/blunts out on you if you keep crying (openly, he loves watching you cry all quiet n sniffly)

he’s also no doubt changed you around the apartment with bugs/gross shit just to make you squeal and beg him to put it away

“baby it’s jus’lil beetle~” while waving a fucking 4in long roach he found outside in your face, “gimmie a big, sloppy kiss and i might throw Jeffrey away, as much as it pains me to.”

constantly making you exchange physical/sexual acts for practically basic respect

“show me your pretty tits and i’ll let you go hang with those stupid cunts— no i’m not gonna stop callin’em that, they’re dumb cunts.”

loves making you suck him off right after work, still all musky from the day, his cock even more salty from sweating all day (scent/smell kink is my fav im SORRY.) plugging your nose and jutting his hips out harshly to make you gag and cough around his cock, the sinfully wet noise making him groan out a chuckle as he watched you cringe

any and all attempts to change his behavior end with gaslighting and fake hurt plastered on his face as he breaks your fucking back in bed

“ungh- you’re such a fucking good girl f’me.. i love your, pretty, im so sorry you feel the need to accuse me of such things- god squeeze my dick like that again, fuck yeah- i..uh- gonna make you cum so hard, show y’how this noisy cunt ‘sall mine..”

steals your panties and jacks off with them right fucking in front of you, dick swinging and balls out as he strikes himself with your panties pressed against his face. his bright ass blue eyes piercing into you while he noisily huffs in the smell of your pussy and licks up the crotch of them like the perverted degenerate he is

oh and when you try to break it off, setting him down to explain that he is just..too much.. for you, he goes ballistic.

grabbing you by the hair and dragging you to the bedroom, placing you down still surprisingly softly as he ferociously tears off your clothes and starts eating you out like his life depend on it (idk to him it might, he’s a loser)

once he’s got you all whiny and soft after a few mind-shattering orgasms, he’ll start coping and trying to slip you back into the haze of his glaringly obvious manipulative love

“don’t say stupid fucking shit, pretty, jus’cuz y’on your period or what-the-fuck-ever is going on in that lil head don’t mean you can treat me like this.”

hell chastise you while he fingers you, fingers blurred as he finger-fucks you dizzy, fishing his cock outta his dirty jeans and scoffing as you whine and cry again, shuffling up the bed

he pulls you in again by your ankles, a scarred hand quickly silencing you as it softly pressed against your throat, a silent threat, as he spoke patronizing words to your sex and lust filled mind,

“just be my good angel one more time, pretty,” he forces a crack in his voice, flexing his throat so he sounds tearful and sad, “i just..i love you s’much, wanna show my pretty girl, my everything, how much she means t’me,”

the second you nod he’s grinning manically and flipping you over, forcing his cock into your wet cunt and rabidly humping against your ass, dick barely leaving and inch before pumping right back in as deep as it’d fit.

he’d spit on your other puckered lil hole, making your cry and squirm yet again as he pushes his thumb against it, gut burning with lust and a perverted sense of affection

“no- nononono angel- calm it down, i jus’wanna feel your cute ass ‘round me, promise it’ll just be my thumb— yes pretty i pinky promise

(he ends up cumming in your ass i don’t make the rules mb)

other than failed breakups and gaslighting, dabi also likes getting his pretty wasted

like… really wasted.

dabi’ll give you shit after shot, even making you sit pretty for him while he spits Jack Daniels into your awaiting mouth

he spikes literally all drinks he makes you and it’s so obvious but he just tells you it’s to ‘loosen your bitchy ass up,’ but in his own special, joking tone.

cut to you blowing cum bubbles while you suck him off, completely drunk, head dizzy and body fuzzy as he records you almost mindlessly salivating over him.

“say hi to Shigaraki f’me, pretty, little bastard is gonna love seeing you all horned up and slutty~”

he also shotguns his blunt/pipe/bong hits to you—never lets you hit in your own

dabi loves it if you sit on his lap during this too, a rare domestic scene of you both just vibing and grinding, soft praises and touches that feel unreal coming from him

the he ruins it by slapping your ass and making you cook him dinner

wait i had a funny idea hold on

“babe can we please go see my momma today— it’s just that it’s m’birthday and you made me skip it last year..”

“pretty, that bitch hates my ass, why would we go see someone who hates us?” (notice he says ‘us’ anyways)

[cut to momma glaring at dabi the entire time they’re over and throwing shoes at him once he opens his fucking mouth]

kay that’s all for now ig

wait

sometimes when you’re falling asleep you can hear him obsessively rambling and mumbling abt how much he loves you, how disgusting everyone else alive is, how he’d kill anyone who dared talk to-LOOK at you, how he thinks you’re such a soft, beautiful little thing that he just wants to protect but oh how he fucking loves ruining your angel wings.

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pretty-little-mind33 · 18 days

Text

You All Over Me

Kraven The Hunter x fem!reader

Summary: You meet a dangerous stranger in the woods...

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: kinda dark but still tame, cheating (reader), unprotected sex (pls use contraceptives in real life!), oral sex (m receiving), praise kink, degradation kink, rough sex, riding, he spits in reader's mouth 👀, kissing (duh), fingering, light misogyny, ik he has a name but i use Kraven in this, bad russian google translate maybe (I AM SO SORRY I DID MY BEST—if you speak Russian and have any suggestions… please 🙏 )

LISTEN…I'M SORRY LIKE I COULD NOT RESIST WRITING FOR HIM…HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? Probably NOT comic accurate…

You don't know what you hate more at the moment—your boyfriend or the continuous sweat forming on your hairline from the dampness and heat. It's becoming dark outside, which should cool the air and help with the heat but not as much with how pissed you are at Chris.

With a small squeal, you stumble on the roots of a tree, gasping as your ankle twists awkwardly in your hiking shoes and the buzz of an insect flies around your ear. You swat your hand near your cheekbone. You're holding the branches you'd found in one arm now as the stickiness of the air makes your skin feel heavy.

Screw you bugs!

Screw you woods!

And most of all screw you Chris!

You're too immersed in your hatred that you don't realize you've fallen into an animal trap until it's too late. You scream, the branches falling from your arm as your body folds and the net wraps around you, pulling you up into the air. The rope burns your exposed skin as you squirm. This had to be a nightmare, some sick cruel joke Chris is playing on you. You half hope he'll jump out from behind the bushes and laugh in your face.

You wait in silence for a moment but your boyfriend doesn't show up.

"Help!" You scream out helplessly, "Is anyone there? Please, I-I'm trapped," you call.

"Hmm, yes, that is the point of one of those," a deep voice drawls from behind you and you wince. You try to strain your neck to look at the newcomer but you can't move enough to see who it is. It certainly isn't Chris. Chris doesn't sound like that.

"Please, can you help me?" you plead shamelessly now.

Your heart is beating so hard. You hear the creak of leaves and dirt as whoever stands behind you walks closer to you. You feel them turn the entire net around and soon you're face to face with dark piercing golden eyes. A color you can only describe as supernatural.

"Now why would I help you? You stumbled into my trap—that makes you my prize."

The man is tall and strong. His shoulders are broad and his hair curls messily across his forehead. He's wearing an open vest made of brown leather and adorned with fur, thick leather bracers, and a necklace where three animal teeth hang.

You concentrate on the sharpness of the teeth for a while, ignoring how very much shirtless the man is against them, but eventually you lose focus as with a swift motion, he uses a knife he'd taken from his belt to cut the net and you crash to the ground.

Immediately, the dirt sticks to your sweaty skin as you scramble up onto your feet. You brush hair from your face and stumble back, almost falling again until the man's large, calloused hand finds your forearm and he holds you still. "Calm down," he says hoarsely, his eyes narrowing and his grip tightening.

"You don't wanna run from me, gorgeous. Clearly, you don't know your left and right around here but I do. So, stay still for me so I can think about what I'm gonna do with you."

He has a thick accent and you find yourself nodding. He drops your arm and you don't move. You look up at him as he looks around, rubbing his hand over his jaw like he's debating his next moves. You can see his knife, which he has secured into his belt again, glistens with blood and your stomach churns.

"Please don't hurt me," you whisper.

The man stares at you blankly, his eyebrows crease as he looks you up and down. After a moment, the corners of his lips curl upwards and he moves closer. You squeeze your eyes shut, scared, and you gasp inaudibly as a tear escapes you.

The man's thumb wipes it away, his hand cupping your cheek and he speaks a language you don't understand—russian you assume—"Я бы никогда не подумал причинить тебе боль, (I would never dream of hurting you)," His tone seems sweeter than how he'd spoken before but all hopes of him translating what he'd said disappear when he asks:

"Why are you out here all alone?"

You recover from his touch as it leaves you and you try and explain, "I'm not alone. My boyfriend," you turn to look behind you but all you see is the trees and hear the rustling of animals in the shadows, "is around here somewhere," you finish.

"He left you? Alone? Now? It's almost dark," the man accuses as if it had been your choice.

"I- I was supposed to bring branches for the fire," you say quickly, gesturing to the branches that had fallen from your arms. The man looks where you're pointing and chuckles darkly.

"Oh, милый (darling), those aren't branches. Those aren't even twigs."

You glare at him, not finding it funny at all, "Well, I couldn't carry the heavier ones," you defend and the man interrupts with another chuckle.

"Ah," he smirks, "so why was it you who went out? Can your man not care for you properly?"

You scrunch your nose, "What's that supposed to mean?"

The man's smirk turns into a smile, his teeth showing, and you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach as he smiles. He's handsome—almost too handsome for someone who looks like they live in the woods.

"I mean," he drawls, leaning in even closer, "what kind of man allows his woman to do all his labor, leaving her on her lonesome and vulnerable to bad men like me?" Your breath hitches and your eyes widen when he finishes, "Your man is a pathetic little boy who doesn't deserve a woman like you."

Your mind races. You want to defend Chris, tell this man that Chirs is an amazing, loving, boyfriend—but another part of you can't deny Chris had basically coerced you onto this hike, on your birthday nonetheless, and then promptly abandoned you to fend for yourself.

However, those details weren't what your mind latched onto. No. As you stare at the handsome stranger, his words ring in your ears; "bad men like me"

The man can tell and he chuckles, "Don't look so scared. I like you. You're the most entertainment I've had in a while. Come," he beckons you over, turning around and gathering his net over his shoulder. When you don't follow instantly he calls out, "I can offer you shelter and food, and a fire," he adds with a glance over his shoulder, "Unless you'd rather find your way back to your boyfriend. Your choice, милый (darling)."

So, you end up in the man's home. The man—who had finally introduced himself as Kraven— lives in a small cabin that's obviously been worn out by time and weather. All the furniture looks barely used—as if there hasn't been life inside this cabin for a long time.

Kraven's hospitality is coarse and oddly demanding as he pours you some honey tea he made himself and hands you some bread. You don't complain, you're starving. As Kraven makes a fire, he mumbles things in Russian and occasionally he'll look over at you, sending a shiver up your spine. Your hair is wet from the shower you just had and the strands stick to your cheeks.

Your mind wanders to Chris. Is he okay? It is a warmer night—so he really shouldn't freeze to death. You feel guilty for having accepted Kraven's offer but your thoughts are interrupted by the fire starting and Kraven stands. He runs a hand in his curls and drops his vest on the couch near you. You look up, suddenly extra aware of how shirtless and toned he is.

"Продолжай смотреть на меня так, и у меня не будет другого выбора, кроме как трахнуть тебя прямо здесь и сейчас, милый, (Keep looking at me like that and I'll have no choice but to fuck you right here and now, darling)," Kraven says in a growl and the only word you recognize is the last one since he's used it a few times.

"What does милый mean?" you ask, attempting to pronounce the word but fumbling it. Kraven smirks and tilts his head as he walks closer until he's sitting next to you.

"It's a term of endearment," he chuckles, "like darling—or honey."

You feel your cheeks burn. It's almost worse to hear him explain the term rather than just using it. You look down at your hands, feeling Kraven's warmth next to you. He smells like pine-wood and ashes and the scent is invading. You feel safer near him then you'd ever felt in Chris's arms. Guilt settles in your stomach again.

"Ты так сладко пахнешь. (you smell so sweet)," Kraven says again and his hand comes up to move some stray hairs behind your ear. The air shifts and sexual tension settles around you and the feeling dances across your skin with fervor.

You don't dare turn your head to look at him, afraid of how he's staring. "What does that all mean? The Russian?" you mutter.

"It means I want to kiss you, doll," Kraven chuckles and his hand cups your chin and he turns your head so you're staring at him. Your eyes are round and he chuckles, "what do you say милый (darling)? Will you indulge me? I wanna see if you taste as good as I think you do."

Your heart jumps in your throat and suddenly you feel very small compared to him. Your eyes flicker to his lips and then up to look into his eyes. They sparkle darkly and you wonder if anyone has ever been able to say no to those eyes. You surely won't be the first. You nod.

Kraven leans in and captures your lips with passion so fierce you're afraid your lips will bruise. Still, they slide across his easily and it's as if you've been molded for one another. Kraven's hands tighten in your hair, bunching up the strands so he can control your head movements. Control. His entire demeanor screams control.

"Good girl," he mutters with a smirk against your lips and his hands move to grip your hips. You're wearing some shorts and a shirt you found in the bedroom when you changed from your shower.

You gasp as he helps you up and you straddle him now. With a humph, he lifts up his hips and slides his knife holster to the side so it isn't digging into your thigh or his. He grins wolfishly, continuing to kiss you. His lips trail up your neck and near your ear.

It never felt like this with Chris. Sure, it had been fine—it had been good even in the beginning—but this? No, nothing could compare to this.

Kraven's hands are large and strong against your skin as he kneads your waist and ass. "Ты такая хорошая девушка для меня (You're such a good girl for me)," he whispers, his voice hoarse, and as attractive as it is, you whine and furrow your brows.

"Please, don't talk in Russian anymore. I can't understand you," you pout, pulling him closer as you unconsciously grind your hips into his for more friction. "I wanna understand you,"

Kraven grips your hips harder and rolls them onto him, earning him a soft moan that falls from your lips. "Alright, darling, alright," he smiles and kisses you again. "Tell me, do'you want more from me? Seems like you do," he grinds your hips again, punctuating his words as he teases you mercilessly.

You are at loss for words. This is wrong. You're cheating on your boyfriend, you try to remind yourself, with a man you met in the woods. But if this is so wrong, why does it feel so good? You moan. You desperately want to slide your shorts and panties down to allow even more friction on your clit. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you must look so needy.

Kraven hooks his fingers in your waistband, running his thumb over your hip, reading your mind, "Is this what you want, darling? You wanna rub yourself on me like a little slut?"

The insult shouldn't be as hot as it is, but when it's followed by a searing kiss, the word is honey on his tongue. You moan and drop your head in the crook of his neck, grasping onto his shoulders as you lift your hips so he can easily slide your panties and shorts down. "Please," you whisper, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders.

Kraven smirks and, as he holds your nape with one hand, he uses the other and finds your pussy. He explores your folds, wanting to make sure you're wet and ready for him. He rubs your clit, earning him smaller, more high pitched sounds from your parted lips as your wetness seeps over his hand.

Kraven teases you for a little while longer, murmuring praises in your ear until he suddenly spreads his legs and you fall to your knees in front of the couch. You gasp, looking up at him from the ground.

He looks majestic, sitting there, as if the couch was his throne and he was a King.

Kraven's smirk widens as he fists one hand in your hair, using his other hand to lick his fingers clean of your arousal and then swiftly unbuckle his belt. He stares at you as he does this and tilts his head. "D'you do this for your boyfriend, gorgeous?" Kraven seems amused by the word boyfriend, as if it's some game to him.

You nod, sinking onto your heels as you watch Kraven pull out his cock. He's big and hard and your eyes widen. "D'you like doing this?" he asks, his voice low. You catch his eye and shake your head honestly. You didn't like giving Chris head—but Chris's dick didn't look like this. Your eyes snap up to Kraven's cock.

"You'll like it with me," he adds, smirking, and guides your head to his cock. You let him, having no complaints as you take him in your mouth. You're nervous at first, unsure of what to do, but soon you gain more confidence as you try and take him even deeper.

You gag a little and Kraven just tightens his hand in your hair.

"You can take it. I know you can, doll. There," he coos, clearly enjoying your work as you adjust your mouth around him. "There, yeah. That's my good girl." Kraven grunts out the word "my" and warmth pools in your stomach. You moan around his cock, sucking faster as if to respond yes, I am yours.

With a pop, he pulls your head away and tilts your chin. He helps you up to straddle him again, keeping you eye level as he positions his cock at your entrance. He squeezes your cheeks, opening your lips, and then spits into your mouth before claiming your lips again. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel him against you and he sinks you down onto him.

"Can you feel me, милый (darling)?" he grunts, moving you on his cock slowly, torturing you. He chuckles darkly when you whine.

"Mmh," is the only sound you make as he fills you up. It feels so good.

"You feel full, hm?" Kraven taunts, moving your hips a little faster as his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise. He pulls one away a moment and rips your shirt, attaching his lips to your hardened nipples as you squeal.

"Yes, oh, I feel so full," you whimper, bouncing up on him, helping him so you can go even faster and deeper. "Shit, you're so big."

"Шлюха (slut)," he groans, the word slipping past his lips in ecstasy as he kisses and sucks across your chest. You whine, wanting him to tell you what the word means so you can understand him but Kraven smirks. He kisses your collarbone and then, using his strength, he easily flips you over so you're laying on the couch and he's on top of you now.

Kraven sinks his cock back into you as he snaps his hips hard. You gasp, wrapping your arms around him and your nails slide up and down his back, and he groans with pleasure at the sting.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck please," you plead, eyes rolling as your body shivers.

"You're so tight around me. As if you were made just for me," he says as he continues to fuck into you. "Does your boyfriend fuck you this good?" Kraven asks, his accent thicker as he loses himself in the pleasure. His hand comes to wrap around your jaw as he holds you in place under him.

You shake your head.

"Слова (Words)," he growls but then curses and says, "Words, darling. Tell me."

"N-no. He doesn't fuck me this good," you whisper as Kraven's cock slides into you. You're so wet and he's so hard and this is so so wrong.

"Yeah? You gonna run back to him now, bunny?" he snarls and nips as your earlobe. He thrusts harder and smirks at the pet name. "Hmm. run little bunny, back to your poor excuse of a boyfriend? No," Kraven grunts, as if he's made a decision, "I'm keeping you, doll. I can take care of you better than he can."

You moan at this and nod, "Please," you whisper, feeling your thighs clench around him as you can feel your orgasm approaching.

Kraven feels it too. "You're squeezing around me, Шлюха (slut), do you wanna come?" Kraven teases and his thrusts slow. You whine and look at him, your eyes becoming teary from need. You nod.

He laughs and kisses your lips with a grin, "Alright, you can come. Go on, let yourself come all over my cock," he smirks against your skin as his sharp teeth nip at your neck.

You whine, letting your body finally relax as you come. You gasp, your eyes rolling from pleasure as your legs feel like jello. Kraven finishes inside you with a grunt and you whimper at the feeling.

He smiles as you sink into the cushions and your eyes flutter. His large hand comes to hold behind your head as he pulls you up and leans you against his chest.

While Kraven's touch is comforting, it's also possessive and claiming. His thumb strokes over your hair and his lips kiss your head. He's holding you so close you're almost afraid he'll never let you go. You sigh when he slides out and picks you up in his arms as he stands.

"Good girl," he mutters as he walks you to the bathroom and adds, "You did so well for me." You let yourself relax in his arms as he promises he'll be here from now on. You're his now.

You're so blissed out from your orgasm that your mind doesn't understand what that truly means. Instead, you shut your eyes and let him take care of you and, with a small smile, you think,

Happy. Fucking. Birthday. To. Me.

#kraven the hunter #kraven x reader #kraven the hunter x reader #kraven the hunter x y/n #kraven the hunter x fem!reader #kraven the hunter x you #kraven the hunter movie #marvel #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #marvel kraven the hunter #marvel movies #sony movies #spiderman #tw smut #tw dark themes

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blueicequeen19 · 9 months

Text

Stolen & Stuffed

Warnings: public humiliation with a toy, unprotected sex, anal, oral, JJ being a creep 👀🖤

I watch as she stops with a jolt again, squeezing her thighs together as she crosses one ankle over the other. Her hand braces herself on the tree as she grits her teeth with her eyes closed tight until suddenly she straightens again, shooting a dirty look to someone across the party.

Y/N has a toy in and someone is controlling it. I'd bet money on it. And the thought has me harder than I've been in a long time. Especially since I have the sudden urge to claim her while she's horny and desperate before the one with the remote does.

"Need a drink?" I approach her, holding out the cup of beer I just poured from the keg.

"Thanks." She sighs, taking it and downing it as quickly as she can.

"Rough night?" I smirk, taking the cup back when she finishes. Before she can answer, the toy comes alive again because her eyes widen and she grits her teeth as she almost looks at me for help.

"Are you okay?" I half laugh, watching as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other while practically holding her breath.

"I'm--." Her voice has reached a higher pitch until she grits her teeth again, her legs starting to shake. Whoever is doing this is ruthless. She's about to cum in front of me. When she sucks in a sharp breath, the buzzing must stop because she whimpers, letting her shoulders sag as she shoots a glare over my shoulder.

"Do you need anything?" I ask, watching the way her cheeks flush and her tits raise with every rapid breath.

"No." She brushes past me and I smile, smelling her arousal in the air. The rest of the night seems to pass by in a blur as I watch her be tormented over and over again. Never to find her release. My balls have never been more blue and I have a permanent wet spot in my boxers. Why was this so goddamn hot and fascinating?

I don't even realize she's leaving for the night until my legs take me towards her. I lose sight of her until I hear a curse and I glance between two big trucks, seeing her hand under her dress as she tries to yank the toy out. I charge her, removing her hand as I pin her front against a truck door. She's panting, her body trembling with need. I don't even think she's scared.

"Please. I can't take it anymore. Just take it out. Please." She sobs, fisting her dress to reveal her bare ass. Fuck. She's not wearing panties and she's got a great ass.

I keep my forearm against her back as I pull back to examine her, nearly nutting at the sight of the plug in her ass. I wasn't expecting that. Her pussy, yes. But not her ass. This girl just kept surprising me.

"If I take it out, I'm going to fuck it." I growl, pressing my thumb against the jewel. It's not vibrating anymore but the owner hasn't come to collect it yet.

"I don't care. Just do it. Please." A tear trails down her cheek, making me snap. I free my cock in record time before slowly pulling the toy free. I toss it on the ground and quickly reach between her thighs, finding her absolutely dripping. It was running down her thighs and her clit was swollen. Another whine leaves her as I use her arousal to wet my hand then rub it down the length of my cock. I don't waste another minute before pressing inside her pussy, groaning in her ear from the tight fit as she whimpers and curses. She's shaking like a leaf but it doesn't stop her from pushing back against me.

"I'm so close already." She whispers, grabbing the truck mirror for support.

"Good because I'm not going to last very long." I mutter darkly, thrusting into her twice more before pulling out and guiding my slick cock to her waiting asshole.

"Oh--god--." She pants, lifting up on her toes as I push past her tight ring of muscle. The plug readied her but not nearly enough. She was going to hurt tomorrow.

"You want me to fuck your ass?" I growl in her ear, tightening my hold on her waist as I draw her hips back. She hums her anwer, her lips quivering as she pushes back against me, her hair tickling my face as I start to give short, shallow thrusts. I was barely halfway in and about to blow and she wasn't waiting. She was as desperate as I was.

I watch in fasination as she fucks her ass on my cock, faster and faster. I have to clamp a hand down over her mouth as she starts to moan loudly. When I snap my hips forward I feel the moment her body detonates like a bomb. I wrap my arm around her waist as I mold my body to her back, pinning her between me and the truck as I fuck her hard enough to make the truck rock until my knees damn near give out as I cum right along with her.

I don’t stop. I slide my hand down and bury two fingers in her quaking pussy until she’s coming again, her tears wetting my hand. Only when her legs give out do I slow to an agonizing stop, resting my forehead on her shoulder as I stare down to where we are connected.

This was.. other worldly. A whole new high. A greater prize to be stolen. Even if she let me in.

Minutes seem to pass as we try to collect ourselves, my cock still hard inside her while we both pant like we've run a marathon. I slide my fingers over her clit and she jerks, no doubt overstimulated and sensitive. I bring my fingers to my mouth and suck them clean of her cum as she shudders against me.

When I finally do pull out and see the cum dripping from her ass, I realize I'm not done with this girl. Not by a long shot.

I spin her around and drop to my knees, throwing one of her legs over my shoulder as she stares at me with dazed, hooded eyes. I was going to own this girl by the time this was over.

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #obx2 #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx #jj maybank x reader smut #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank sex #jj maybank x reader #tw dark themes #dark!jj maybank

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pareidoix · 5 months

Text

“Ha?”

Wanderer stopped dead in his tracks, before looking back to you—his traveling companion, having a nasty sneer in his expression.

“And yet,” one, two and three. Three paces to you, each step with a simultaneous shift in his expression, a growing smugness, tainting his lips.

“You're still here, traveling with me, continuing to travel with someone, who, vocally expresses that your existence is lesser, annoying, repulsive even.”

The words come out half bitter, effortlessly mixing a lie and a half truth, yet he'll maintain that expression, not for you—but for himself.

“Quite masochistic of you, don't you think?” He added, adjusting his hat as his eyes narrow to yours, eating up that chesire-like smile of which it becomes the cherry on top of his usual mockery.

Ah. It wasn't a few seconds after his statement, it happened in a haze, two blinks and you were already inches to his face, retaining that nauseating snarl, that repulsion now plastered onto your pretty, pretty facial features.

Wanderer remained tall, unmoving, his chin raised high and poised, and it was nothing but a mask, a facade, one he has perfected over the eons of his lifespan, but how can someone claim perfection, when he was far from the concept itself?

Your lips move, forming to say the nickname you gave for him. “I'm not the one with many names, with many sins, I don't manifest my struggles and turn those who surround me into ruin,” his expression falters, mirroring yours upon mention of his eventful history of bloodshed.

“Say more,” he was supposed to be the one to one-up you, to provoke you. “Go on,” he was the one who wanted to invoke a reaction from you.

But why?

Your back straightens, raising your chin to him, and the corners of your lips widen, widen and widen, it was an evil grin overruling his earlier attempt of smugness, it was attractive, malicious.

Why did he find himself so lost in that malice?

“You can't do anything,” his breath hitches, facial muscles waning control, confused, not knowing if he should act accordingly to your refute with a mirrored demeanor—or give up and let his face contort to something of excitement.

Your statements hold true as well, someone who accused you of lowly masochism, now finding himself in the same path with guilt, with pleasure.

Wasn't he just winning?

“Because you know that your progress of tranquility, will be for naught. Days, months, years worth of practiced peace, will be reduced to void, to nothingness.”

Veins formed, visible along his jaw. “You can't do anything,” you repeat, the winds shifting as you move past him. “Because, you enjoy it Kuni.”

His eyes widen, a disgruntled sound gracing your ears as he looks over his shoulder. “That's—!”

“The truth,” you let out a quiet 'hmhm', looking to the side, preying on his visuals in your peripheral.

“A truth you want to bask in, for it is better than the turmoil that gnaws at you overwhelmingly.”

You walk with grace, and Wanderer stills with unease, motionless with current-like thoughts, a redness now turbulent all over his face, as well as his clenched, trembling fists. He wanted more?

He wanted more. Wanderer wanted more—and that was enough to send him in a deep state of frenzy, along with an intensifying self loathing.

“I destest you,” he mumbles under his breath, bringing a hand to his hat to hide everything of him and his dignity, catching up but with a safe distance towards you, but you heard.

“No, I don't think you do.”

need him oiled up and begging

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peachesofteal · 7 months

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I’m so sorry but if I was Darling I would literally break up with them, maybe threaten to get an abortion… idk but Darling going batshit crazy on them is very interesting to think about 🤔🤔

How do you think she’d confront them??

Takes place after this.

TW: reader contemplates abortion, also spits in Simon's face

18+ MDNI / baby trap au / we support women's wrongs in this house

You make a beeline for the bedroom, both of them trying to keep a respectful distance from you, but still staying close.

"Just, let us-"

"Let you what?!" You turn, halfway inside the open door, fingers clutched around the frame. "Let you what? Explain how you violated me for your own desires? Explain how you betrayed my trust, my love? Explain how you literally ruined my life?"

"Stop this." Simon vows, and you bark a laugh.

"No." And then to your immense pleasure, and their shock, you rear back, and hawk a projectile of spit directly in Simon's face before slamming the door and locking it.

The act only buys you thirty seconds of silence, before they start back up again.

"Darling, open this door."

"FUCK YOU!" you scream it, and yank your work bag free from the end of the bed, throwing it next to the duffel that you're stuffing some clothes into haphazardly.

"Please, let us explain. Just talk to us, we can fix this. I promise." Johnny tries, pleading, voice broken and desperate but you have no mind to listen, to hear him. You shake your head even though you know they can't see you, and then to your horror, you hear the metal sound of a click, like a key, in a lock.

"Don't you dare!" your voice screeches. "Don't you dare pick that lock." Sweatpants, sweatshirt, work clothes. What else? Toiletries, stuff for shower-

"We just want to come in so we can talk, and all try to calm down. It's not good for you to be so worked up." Simon keeps his voice very even, very level, and you know it's a tactic.

"If you come through this door I swear to fucking god." You glance at the nightstand, the one on Johnny's side. The one that you know has a handgun in it, and swallow. "Or... you know, why not? Since clearly you have no respect for me, or my boundaries, why wouldn't you just come through that door. It's not like you haven't done worse."

"Love-"

You close your eyes. Everything's building, in the back of your mind, in the back of your throat, reality pushing down on you, sitting on your chest like it weighs a million pounds.

You're pregnant. You're pregnant, because they decided to take control of your own fucking body. You're pregnant, and about to be out on your own. With no help. No support. No options-

Well...

It's still so early, you're not very far along. You're definitely within the window for an abortion, aren't you?

Dark satisfaction blooms across your soul when you think about it, think about how they would feel to know you took control of your own body, that you took back what belonged to you anyway.

A plan starts to formulate in your mind. One that feels, executable. Feels doable.

"Darling, please. We're worried, I-"

"Just give me a minute." you snap.

You take your time, unpacking your essentials that you'll need for now, tidying up the space and then making it look like you've just been sitting in here, crying.

You roll your shoulders, take a deep breath, and prepare to open the door, but not without one last look at the packed duffel that waits under the bed.

Soon.

#peaches asks #peaches writes #baby trap au #tw dark and twisty #tw dark themes #tw abortion #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghoap x reader

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darlingdarkly · 1 month

Text

Fates Worse Than Death

A Deimos x f!reader Series

Chapter 1

Word count: 5k

Part: 2

OG A/N: Hey, hi! So, tomorrow is my birthday. And for my birthday I decided to write a hugely self indulgent smutty fic for myself and instead of writing one for cod like I’ve been doing and contributing to an already super saturated fandom I have decided to write it for my r6s fandom, which admittedly keeps looking deader and deader, but I know that if I’m scouring the tags for fics then maybe someone else is too and so I’m gonna share my gift to myself in hopes that someone else who’s desperate for content will find it and be glad it’s there.

Second A/N: Hey! So I decided to make this a series actually. This will stand as chapter 1 💕

Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Listen to me 👁️👁️ I need you to heed the tags. I am going to tag the hell out of this thing and if you don’t read the tags then you’re throwing yourself into a mixed bag of whatever the hell and that’s on you. The tags are there for your benefit. Not mine. You have been warned.

CW: non con elements, dub con elements, interrogation, belt spanking, bondage, unprotected climactic p in v intercourse, oral (f!receiving), abduction, hair pulling, fingering, death, blood, mild game spoilers 🤷‍♀️

This is the point of no return, you click this button and you consent to the content on the other side.

This takes place after Deimos has killed Harry but before Rainbow has captured him, if you give a shit about canon events and timeline. Enjoy 💕

The chilly night wind whipped through the leaves, rattling them noisily and aiding in concealing your stealthy movements. You and three other operatives cut through the wooded terrain like silent wraiths as you sought out the hidden compound due north, said to be home to his lair. The mission was simple, get in, extract Deimos and exfil.

You moved quickly and quietly bringing up the rear of the squad. Rifle locked and loaded, the muzzle pointed out ahead of you, strafing for contact. You heard your squad leader over the comms, gruff and clear as he spoke to your contact back on base.

“Rainbow, this is O1, we are two clicks due south of the compound. ETA 15 for contact, are we a go?”

After a moment of measured silence he got a response. “Rainbow to O1, you’re green lit. Standby for evac.”

O1 came back moments later. “Copy that. Over.” There was an audible cut through the radio before O1 addressed your squad. “Alright, squad. You heard the man. On your toes.” Each of you responded in turn. “O2 copy.” A pause. “O3 copy.” You depressed the button on your headset and responded. “O4 copy.”

Soon after, the four of you crested a hill and fanned out over the top of it, laying eyes upon the brilliant glow cutting through the velvet of night like a knife. O1 came through your ear piece and gave curt instruction. “O2, follow me to the east. O3 and O4 you take west. Stick close to the perimeter, plant the charge and fall back. We detonate on my count and breach simultaneously. Do you understand?”

The three of you responded in unison. “Sir, yes sir.” You saw him motion forward and your group began to move, splitting into your assigned pairs and descending upon the compound. You lost sight of your squad mates in the thick of the trees but kept close to O3 as you neared the far west walls of the hidden base. Just as you made the bottom of the hill there was a panicked cry over the comms from O2. “What the fuck is that? O1 we have a disturbance.” There’s a break in his speech, a long drawn out eerie quiet that unnerves you.

“Sir, we’re not alone! I repeat, not alone.” There was a faint scuffle in the distance and a single gunshot before O1 came over the comms, frantic. “O1 to Rainbow, we’re made! Requesting evac. It’s him.”

You and O3 stopped and turned towards the commotion, unsure of how to proceed. There was a heart stopping, pained scream in the distance and you heard Rainbow call to the pair of you over the comms. “O3, O4, this is Rainbow. Get out of there, you’re compromised. Get to evac. I repeat, Get to evac!”

The pair of you took off in the woods, abandoning mission and headed west towards the evac point. You could feel your heartbeat in your chest and had to focus to calm your breathing. At this point it was about survival as you followed close behind O3 and cut through the woodlands for the helo just eight clicks west.

There’s a flutter in the air, a woosh of displaced air as something whizzes by and you hear O3 ahead of you begin to panic. “Christ it’s him! Run for it, now!” O3 bolts forward and you’re sprinting to catch up but soon he’s lost in the copse of pines and all you have left of him is his panicked yells and heavy breathing over the radio. “O3, where are you? O3!?!” You hear the deafening discharge of a heavy caliber ring out in the still night and it’s too close for comfort.

You veer away from it and towards the evac. Splitting off on your own as the blood of your last remaining squad member drains from the brand new vent hole in his head and begins to quickly cool in the night air. You can hardly hear yourself crash through the woods, boots scaling over rocks and fallen logs as your breath quickens and terror begins to set in.

You miss the whirring of the foreign object the second time around but there’s no mistaking the calm, collected voice in your ear as he hacks through your comms and makes himself known. “There you are. There’s no hiding. Not for you. Not for me.”

Rainbow comes in low and static-y though the comms and you struggle to make him out clearly. “O4 do you… in O4… Get out! I rep-… Deimos is tra-…. On your posit-….” And then everything cuts. Your comms go dark and you’re officially alone, the last of a nearly dead and shattered squad in the dead of night in the thick of the sticks.

Determined not to die in the midst of these pines you beeline for the green blip on your gps. If you could just make it to the helo you’d survive but as you took a final glance at your position a second blip pinged. A dark red skull just twenty meters back. His deathMARK. You felt a lump in your throat as you realized you’d been made and triple timed it, arms pumping at your sides as you tore through the woods in fear. Pure terror coursed through your veins and nipped at your heels, promising death if caught. There was no capture, Deimos wasn’t known for taking prisoners.

You mounted a hill and pushed out between two huge oaks as you practically slid down the other side. You made huge strides, legs driving you towards salvation as you pushed them to the limit in hopes of escape. You were only four clicks out when you tripped, stumbling over something hard and unseen as you crashed ungracefully to the ground and tumbled in the leaf litter. You scrambled to regain your footing, clawing at the earth and struggling to your feet.

You had just made it up when he hit you like a freight train, violently tackling you and knocking you on your back. The pair of you rolled in the foliage, tumbling over one another in the night and sprawling apart as you came to a jolting stop.

This was it, it was fight or die so you grabbed for the push daggers secured to the straps of your tac vest and faced your adversary. He came up ready to fight, charging forward and lunging for you. You drove forward with a fist, spearheaded leathily by the edge of the knife and swung out to bite at his throat. He pulled back and you sliced through air instead, he followed through with an arm on your elbow and brought your arm down over one thick thigh, breaking your hold and successfully disarming you.

With one knife left you pushed back at his chest and swung forward to attack, hoping to aggressively close the distance and quickly end him but he grabbed your arm with his strong gloved hands and twisted it around until your back was socketed into his chest. He pulled on your limb and brought it down hard over his knee, breaking your hold for a second time and disarming you completely.

You struggled out of his grip and tried to make a break for it, a last ditch effort to stay alive and bolt but he caught a grip on your ankle and you once more went sprawling to the ground, ass over teapot. When you turned around to face death you caught sight of his ballistic mask towering over you, he held the magnum in a tight grip in his right hand and you knew it was over. At least you’d die with your squad, knowing you’d done your best and been outplayed.

But instead of staring down the unblinking black eye that was the bore of his barrel you felt the butt of the .44 Vendetta crash down on your temple before the night stole over you and blocked out all thought.

It wasn’t til much later that you awoke, sluggish, confused and in tremendous pain. The room was bright but cold and when you tried to alleviate the pain in your head by bringing your hand up to soothe it you realized you were bound and secured to some kind of padded platform. Your arms were stretched out and down in front of you, bound together by something strong and without give. Your legs were similarly bound but tucked up beneath you on the padded bench. It was then you realized you were also naked from the waist down. Your chest was covered but had been stripped of your tac gear and uniform and replaced with a stark white tee, your bra was also missing.

You weren’t blindfolded or gagged but when you tried to whip your head around you found it hard to maneuver, only about five degrees of field of view to see on either side and all you could see of that was dingy white tile from floor to ceiling. You struggled in your bonds but stopped as you heard the slow, methodical blows of his boots on the concrete steadily drawing nearer. You stiffened and tried not to think about the view he no doubt was privy to from this angle. He broke the silence first.

“Well she’s finally awake. Don’t struggle, the knots won’t give, I tied them myself.” He sounds smug and confident as he strides up behind you, voice low and clear, not quite deep but thoroughly resolute, the draw of a southern twang peeking out subtly but sophisticated. The venom in you begins to well up in your throat, your teeth grit and body tensing as your anger builds and your hate gestates.

You let loose on him, anger burning a hole in your chest as you feel robbed of your rightful death, you shouldn’t be here still breathing, you should be dead in the woods with your squad, not tied up and captured like some kind of prized war spoil. “Fuck you! Kill me, you bastard!” He let himself come into view, circling around you with his arms clasped behind his back. He was still fully clad in his black tac gear and ballistic helmet, the dark, obsidian lenses of his eyes gleamed deviously in the fluorescent light.

“Can’t get information out of you if you’re dead, now can we?” You ground your teeth in your skull, body trembling in half fear, half seething rage. “You won’t get a damn word out of me, motherfucker! You’ll have to kill me, I won’t talk!”

His head tilted slightly as he tisked, chiding you calmly. “Such a nasty mouth.” He disappeared from view, the dark drape of his cape flowing out behind him, returning to his position behind you as you heard a rustle and the soft tink of metal on metal as he lifted something off of a table. “My godfather was a stern but loving man. He taught me at an early age about duty and responsibility. About discipline and respect. I loved and respected him dearly but as all boys are, I had a tendency to be rowdy and disrespectful at times. He taught me these values with a firm and unyielding hand. Something I think you could use a good helping of.”

You heard the crack of the belt as he brought the two looped ends taut in his hands and immediately stiffened, the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up. “You’re going to tell me everything I want to know, including the details of your mission, the intel you received and who you received it from along with the coordinates of the Rainbow base.” He stopped and waited for your response, you sat still and silent, mentally preparing yourself for the coming onslaught.

“Nothing to share?” You shifted in place but spat out at him, tongue in cheek. “Fuck you.” Shortly after you felt the first lick of the belt as it cut through the air and cracked across your bare ass, making you jump and yelp. It may have been a far cry from conventional interrogation methods but it was still painful and humiliating. You heard the leather slide in his fist before you felt the second blow, just parallel to the first, aimed and executed with precision to land just beside it on the same cheek. “Fuck!”

He hummed contently. “Tell me what your mission objective was.” He languidly paced behind you as he waited for your answer, when none came he brought the belt down on the other cheek twice in rapid succession, giving you no time to recover. You tried shifting away from the blows but had about a half an inch of clearance for wiggle room, there was no evading it.

He kept it up, pausing and then attacking ruthlessly, periodically stopping before doling it out again, fat, opaque lines began to criss cross on the smooth surface, marking his progress. He questioned you again and you held silent, preferring to suffer through the consequences rather than give in and endanger an entire base of your colleagues for the quicker respite of death. He’d kill you in time either way, it was better to hold out and die honorably than relent for a swifter end.

“You’re resilient, tough little spit fire, I’ll give you that. But you should know your silence has consequences.”

You sneered at him where he couldn’t see. “I don’t give a fuck about me. Beat me, torture me, cut my toes off one by one, I don’t care. You’ll kill me when you figure out I’ve got nothing to say to you and I will die honorably.”

He laughs and it makes a sliver of uncertainty worm through you. “I’m not going to kill you, sweetheart.�� The pet name makes you queasy but his response only confuses you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“When our little talk ends, the door closes. If you don’t tell me what I wanna know by the time we’re through here your life as you know it ceases to exist.”

“I already told you to just go ahead and kill me. I’ll die before I tell you anything that would put Rainbow at risk.” Instead of punching you in the ribs or breaking a finger he just leaned in til you could feel the warmth of his chest settle over the top of your bare ass and it felt much more sinister than any strike or blow.

“Oh sweetheart, there are fates much worse than death.” You still don’t quite understand and he senses you struggling to grasp the full scope of the threat so he takes a break from the spanking and explains it to you in full detail.

You hear him set the belt down on something before you feel his gloved hands caressing your ass, running the covered fingertips over his handiwork and down the swell of your cheeks before dipping lower and skimming the slit of your sex. His fingers come away slick and he smirks behind the mask where you can’t see.

“If you don’t tell me what I want to hear then I’m going to take these-“ You hear a jingle from behind you and know they’re your dog tags, probably scalped from your neck as he undressed you no doubt. “-and I’m going to throw them out in the woods with your dead squad mates. They’ll think one of two things. Either you died out there like a good soldier and some animal, pack of coyotes perhaps, carted your body away or, I finally caught up with you, gave you an ultimatum, and you sold them out from under the rug. Either way they’ll come to the conclusion that you’re beyond saving and they’ll bury you in an empty casket and move on.”

You felt it all coming to a head and the audacity of it came to be too much. “You’re wrong! They’ll never stop looking for me! You think they’ll give up so easily! They won’t stop until they find me! Ohhhh and they will find me! You are so fucked! You are sooo-“

The crack of the belt against your ass cut off your angry rant, the words dying in a pained yelp as he brought the leather down on your ass in an angry torrent. SMACK. SMACK. SMACKSMACKSMACK.

You clenched against the pain, trying to curl up on yourself but of course it was no use, you could only sit and take it. When the onslaught ended he continued.

“You didn’t let me finish. Either way… no one is going to come looking for you. And I think I’m starting to like you so instead of killing you, like you’re dying to have me do-“ You feel the return of his fingers, the cool leather of his glove soothing against the heated stinging welts already swelling on your cheeks. Then they glided down and you felt his fingers spread your lips and when he spoke this time he sounded different somehow, louder and clearer.

“-I’m going to keep you all to myself. I’ll house you, clean you, feed you. During the day I’ll keep you tied up in here, my own sweet little stress relief, make the walls of this room echo with screams of a different caliber for a change.”

It wasn’t until you felt the flat of his tongue glide up the length of your sex that you realized why he sounded so much clearer, he’d taken his mask off and now he was casually eating your pussy, tongue dipping in between his fingers spreading you apart so gently, a stark contrast from the harsh belt treatment he’d been afflicting upon you moments before.

He hummed into your pussy and you squirmed against the heat of him, simultaneously freaking out yet undeniably turned on as his tongue probed you and his hands caressed the cheeks of your ass. He pulled away and you weren’t sure if it was a sigh of relief or a whine of protest that built a home in your throat, kept at bay only by the last mustering of your will.

“So sweet. When I was a boy growing up in Birmingham, I used to play in the sugar cane fields for hours. Me and my friends would cut away stalks from the edges of the field for a taste. You taste just like that, fresh cut sugar cane.” You shuddered in his hold and told yourself it was all psychological warfare, it changed nothing. When he had the information he seeked he would cut you down just like he did all the rest.

You felt him step away from behind you and come up to your side, his hands trailing like fire along the length of your body as he did so. He reached under the platform you were tied to and suddenly your arms pulled forward in front of you, forcing your chest to pull forward and press against the bench. Your ass raised up high and unshielded as you felt the collective wetness of his saliva and your slick coating your lips, chilly exposed like this, but it doesn’t take long before he’s resumed the position and you feel his hot breath fanning against it, rewarming his meal.

“We’re gonna have a lot fun, sugar cane.”

“So.” Lick. “Much.” Lick. “Fun.” Lick.

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped, at this new angle he had access to the fulty of you and his tongue dipped down and swiped at your clit on the last lick making you momentarily lose yourself in the white hot pleasure of it. “Fuck!”

“I intend to.” You don’t grasp until much later the meaning of that, lost to the way he eats you so slow and sensual. He chuckles behind you and you know now, without a shadow of a doubt, that he intends to keep true to his word because he’s stopped questioning you, stopped beating you, just content to sample his new toy. Your life is over, because you won’t give up Rainbow and you won’t tell him a goddamn thing and your stubborn honor has damned you in a way that was worse than death and now you’ll spend the rest of your days keeping his cock warm until you’ve gone insane from it.

Taking his time and savoring the taste of you on his tongue, you feel the first press of his padded fingers prodding your entrance. Gently pushing forward til he was in just up to the first knuckle, sawing them in and out slowly and twisting them in your heat as his tongue stayed latched to your clit, suckling it.

“Deimos!” He rewarded you with an open mouthed kiss to your clit as he pushed his gloved fingers further into your depths, exploring them as your back arched nice and pretty for him as far as your binds would allow.

He pulled his tongue away to your dismay but kept his fingers buried in you, stilling their movement but curling them inside you to press teasingly against your sweet spot. “Got some new insights for me, sugar cane?”

Your lips were sealed shut as far as that was concerned but your resolve was waning, you recognized the point of no return you were quickly approaching and despite the horrible implications of your future, there were just too many good men and women with their lives on the line for you to justify the alternative.

So you shifted shamelessly to push back on his fingers, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to focus on the pleasure and not the humiliating position you were quickly failing to resist against. He recognized the move as you made it and gave you what was to be his last warning.

“Let me put it in no uncertain terms for you. When I come right in here-“ He flexed his fingers inside you to demonstrate his point, eliciting a high whine from you. “-your time is up. You can sing all you want but past that point you’re no longer your own woman. You’re mine, do you understand?”

You didn’t even consider your freedom for the briefest of seconds, just nodded solemnly as you accepted his terms, though little they mattered. Although he’d seen your nod it mustn’t have been good enough as you felt the all too familiar crack of the leather, jolting you from your thoughts and bringing you back to the present. You clenched down on his fingers, eyes rolling in their sockets at the euphoric sensation.

“I need a verbal answer.” Your grit your teeth for not the first and certainly not the last time dealing with him. “Screw you!”

He laughed, it was easy and carefree. “All in good time, sweetheart. I’m gonna enjoy my meal first.” With that he seemed to be done speaking, leaving you to stew over a decision you’d already made and ruminate in the consequences of it. He dove eagerly back into the heat of your sex, plunging his fingers enthusiastically in and out of your pussy while his tongue lapped at the juices that seeped out around them.

He watched as your toes curled in on themselves, mouth dropping open where he couldn’t see and expelling breath in a silent moan. He proved to be skillful in a manner of ways and this seemed to be no exception to the rule, making light work of bringing your pleasure to a head and threatening to throw you over the edge quicker than you’d like to admit.

You fought for control of your body but it was a battle you were unavoidably losing as he pulled his fingers free and replaced them with his tongue, pushing it deep into you and occupying his hands by rubbing circles over your clit with his thumb. It was a devastating sensation that pulled your muscles taut, your head raised up off the padding and tipped back as far as your restraints would allow as you suddenly came violently.

He spurred it on, lapping at your sopping wet slit and never ceasing the movements of his thumb, making you shake and really test the strength of your ties. He drove you through your orgasm, not even slowing as you began to plead with him to stop, it was too much. When you thought you’d tumble head first into a second one he finally relented, leaving you gasping and panting as you vaguely heard him shucking his pants behind you.

You felt something hard and blunt at your entrance as he slid his cock up to you and rifled it up and down your slit, wetting the tip and enjoying the light springy jump that coursed through you every time his head hit your clit.

“Last chance, sweetheart. As much as I’d hate to lose your company, you’re running out of chances to secure your freedom.” You could hardly focus on his words, still caught between struggling to catch up from your first mind blowing orgasm and steeling yourself against the promise of a second one if the way your pussy was trying and failing to catch his tip and suck it in was any indicator.

He lined himself up and pushed forward, causing you both to moan out together as he stretched you open on his girth. “Fuck me, you are sweet.” He slid home, hips pushing flush with yours as you adjusted to the way he seemed to fill you out perfectly. Your head dipped as he began a steady, unrushed rhythm, slapping his hips to yours every time he drove it home.

You had stopped breathing since he’d entered you and suddenly took one huge sucking breath in, filling your lungs just to immediately expel it as a broken but pleasured moan. He growled behind you and you could feel it vibrate through you in a whole new sensation, overloading your senses, coursing white and blinding in its intensity.

“Please!” You had no idea what you were begging for but it just felt so right, losing your sense of self, reduced to nothing more than nerve endings. He reached forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling back and taking out the slack as your back arched to accommodate his hold.

“Oh god!” You could hardly imagine how you must look, head cocked back and slack-jawed as he split you open from behind. Each thrust was precise and calculated, wringing you for every last drop of pleasure until your mind went blank and your whole being submitted to the fucking.

He leaned forward, breath hot and heavy right behind your ear as he spoke and he must’ve known you were a goner because instead of trying to extract information he just spoke of the future. All the ways he’d bend you to his will, how he’d break you and build you back better in his image.

“It’s truly a shame we met under these circumstances. Under a different light I’d have enjoyed training you, honing your skills instead of wasting all this potential such as it is. Under me you’d have made an unstoppable operator. Now you’ll never see combat again.”

For some reason this truth had only now dawned on you, some deep part of your brain had held out hope of escape or retaliation or vengeance but cock drunk beneath him you knew it was hopeless, he was absolutely right and you were ultimately fucked.

As if he’d been holding back he renewed his vigor and began to pound into you from behind with abandon. Your mouth was dry and your knees were screeching at you from below, despite the padding, but all you could focus on was the pool of pleasure building heavy in your gut. There was no turning back from this, your mind screamed for you to do something but any other thoughts were beyond you and so you expelled them with the rest and took your fate as it sealed, securing a chokehold around your throat and brought you to heel.

You came around his cock, the second world shattering orgasm of the evening and much more all encompassing in its magnitude. You were certain you felt your heart stop, lungs burning for air as you clenched down around him. Seconds later he followed, coming with a half moan, half growl as you squeezed him for all he was worth. White hot spend filled you from the inside out and it was as blissful as it was damning.

The game was up, you were his. You stayed like that, riding the bliss and eyeing up the defeat that swelled up to take its place as it faded. He pulled out of you slowly and you felt his seed drip from you, slide down your thighs and puddle on the bench below you. You hardly heard him as he cleaned himself up and redressed. There was a click as the door to the room opened for the first time you were aware to hear it and two men stepped into the room.

There was a moment of nothing before you felt two firm hands wrap themselves around your arms and loosen your binds. They held you up til the tips of your feet hardly grazed the cool concrete floor and stationed on either side of you, held you up for inspection. You lifted your head to see him standing before you, dog tags dangling from one fist and the belt folded over on itself held tight in the other.

“I can’t say I’m disappointed in you, soldier. You stood your ground and that commands immense bravery. But you knew the rules and now you’ll reap what you’ve sown. You mustered up enough strength to gather saliva in between your lips and spit at his face. It didn’t quite make it and landed at his feet but you could hear a smile in his voice as he commanded the men at your side to carry you up to his quarters. He’d be seeing you again very soon.

#dead dove do not eat #tw noncon #tw dubcon #dark fic #tw dark content #tw dark themes #r6s #r6s deimos #r6s Deimos smut #r6s Deimos x you #not cod

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 2 months

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Consider this a part 2 of Can't Escape the Nightmares cuz I keep getting ideas for this story 🙃

Pairing(s): Jasper Hale x Human!Reader, platonic!Rosalie Hale x Human!Reader

Warnings: mentions of past assault, mentions of past rape, noncon themes discussed, reader is jasper's mate, platonic!rosaliexreader, human!reader, nightmares, trauma, ptsd, dark content, mention of blood, brief mention of murder/death, hurt&comfort, ft the cullen fam, yes i'd like to sign up to be protected by rosalie ✋🏼, and my depressive ass could certainly use a man like jasper lol

Words: 1253

Summary: It was hard for you to be outside. Not after what happened. And with the Cullen house surrounded by a sea of towering trees. . . It was difficult for you to even step onto the wrap around porch. Everything about the outside reminded you of that day in the woods.

They'd smelled your blood from miles away, noticing that it grew closer and closer until Rosalie was upon the doorstep with you dangling in her arms. Your eyes were open, though void of expression; merely staring at these near angelic looking family with gold hued eyes.

Your injuries were nothing major, yet your blood yanked at their olfactory senses.

And Jasper was helpless when, eyes being engulfed by jet black.

The expression in Rosalie's expression though kept him at bay.

"Get him out of here. He can't handle it." Rosalie snaps, her hold on you growing tighter.

Intently watching Jasper's every move, you see the rigidity of his frame and the back and forth sawing motion of his jaw. He must have ground his teeth to oblivion, at least that's what you thought.

Never imagining the true inner turmoil that was engulfing his every sensibility. Jasper's perpetually cold skin suddenly felt like it was on fire. A monster scratched at his mental door. A monster that wanted to taste every inch of your skin before sinking his straight, razor teeth into your delicate paper-like flesh.

"Jazz, snap out of it." Edward motions for Emmett to keep him back. His hiss is low as not to scare you further. Knowing all the horrors you had just gone through

The fog that reduced his head to a warm flush lifts enough for him to finally notice the state you were in.

Large splotches of red and rich purple are smattered across the entirety of your arms and legs, with a giant one blooming on your jaw. His stomach recoils at your lack of clothes. Connecting the visual clues together to realize what had happened and why Rosalie was dyed in a mess of different blood types that didn't belong to you.

You were already broken.

Suddenly that monster was silent, it too watching with baited breath as Rosalie carries you up the staircase and to Carlisle's office. The older blonde vampire quick and on her heels.

Jasper's monster seemed to take that moment to decide something that was against its very nature: it would protect you, guard you and keep you.

There will always be that hunger in him for your blood. But no longer would he be ruled by it.

When exhaustion finally swept over you, Jasper peeks his head into Carlisle's office. Rosalie sat on the floor in front of the couch you were asleep on.

She's in front of him in a flash, barring him entrance with a fatal snarl.

He dare not mess with this gold mama bear.

It was hard for you to be outside. Not after what happened. And with the Cullen house surrounded by a sea of towering trees. . . It was difficult for you to even step onto the wrap around porch. Everything about the outside reminded you of-

"They can't hurt you again." Edward mentions behind you as you stood in the front door, hand quaking above the doorknob.

That didn't relive the nausea in your stomach. Your eyes shut tight and Edward winces when your mind immediately goes to the day that you were assaulted.

When you catch yourself you immediately apologize and take a step back. "S-sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No, don't apologize." He's firm on this and finally you turn around. Surprisingly, the Cullens had understood the trauma you had gone through more than you would have thought. Every one of them had gone through a horrifying event much like your own. Rosalie's was almost identical to your's and possibly the very reason why she had saved you and killed those monsters who abducted you. And has protected you since then. She reminded you of a mother hen.

When Jasper first showed interest in you, Rosalie actually became aggressive toward him; telling him that you weren't ready for such a relationship. That you needed to heal more.

Jasper never stepped over any boundaries. He never came close to it. He waited. Helped you whenever you asked for it. Approached you tentatively until you told him that he didn't have to tiptoe around you. Many months were required before this. In the meantime you allowed Rosalie (and to a smaller extent, Alice and Esme) to tend to you and repair your fragmented body.

The only time he used his power on you without your permission was when you were asleep and suffering from your all too frequent nightmares.

"If you want, I can go outside with you. Maybe we can take a short walk around the house." He softly offers when you glance back at the door.

They were all so kind to you, never asking when you'd be ready to leave their house. It never came up. In fact you had the suspicion that Rosalie would insist on you living with them from now on. An unofficial part of the Cullen family.

You knew their secret. Living there, it didn't take long to discover that they were not human. From their perfect pale skin, to their golden eyes, there was something different about them. The way Edward was able to anticipate your every needs or how even being in the same room with Jasper had your anxiety simmering down. Even Alice displayed odd signs that you would have normally passed off as some kind of mental illness when she'd stare off into the distance. You now knew it was her getting a glimpse of the future.

"Thank you, but maybe today isn't the day. . ." You force your trembling lips to quirk up into a tentative smile though it could not fool Edward who could hear the inner turmoil in your mind. He never pushed.

He nods and lets you amble back upstairs to safety. The Cullens required no sleep so their bedrooms were essentially just for decoration. Rosalie and Emmett happily gave up their room so that you could seek out privacy when you were too overstimulated to be in their company. They even bought a tv just to put in the room for you. You didn't know what you did in your life to deserve them.

But before you go to your own designated room, you stop in front of Jasper's with a tentative hand raised to knock on his door. You were always nervous when asking him to hang out with you while Rosalie was gone. You'd heard Rosalie whisper to Emmett one night about you being Jasper's 'mate'. She must have thought you were fast asleep but you heard them discuss the possibility of a relationship between you and the other blonde Hale.

It made you self conscious now when you were near him. You'd known that he was. . . attracted to you.

You jump when his bedroom door opens to reveal his figure. "H-Hi."

His smile is always so sweet and even shy. "Hello."

"Um," Your fingers twist the hem of your shirt anxiously. " well, Rosalie is gone. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out for a little bit. . . Esme bought me a new dvd. We can watch it?"

Adoring the way his eyes crinkle when his smile broadens, you take a step back to allow Jasper to exit his room and close the door behind him. "Lead the way, ma'am." Your chest squeezes when that southern drawl of his comes out.

Trusting anyone again wasn't an easy journey. But being cradled by the Cullen family was bound to heal some wounds.

And perhaps water the seed of love that had been planted in your heart by Jasper.

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lunariamv · 8 months

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curbing yandere gojo satoru ♡ yan gojo x fem reader; obsessive + possessive behavior, manipulation, gaslighting, slight misogyny, stalking, attempted kidnapping, violence, death shoutout to the anime death battle matchup threads on reddit so i could write this dumb shitpost gone girl and breaking bad vibes accidentally (lol)

Okay, what the hell. This is not fair.

Life has seemingly cursed you if this is what your fate is. Ever since you were little, your jerk-off parents were controlling psychopaths. They prioritized the clan. It's always been about the needs of the family and never you. Your clan, a bloodline of gifted sorcerers, with incredible powers passed down the family tree. They're incredibly prestigious, and super airheaded. The childhood you had was filled with training, studying, and striving to be the best to prove your worth. Thank the gods you were able to keep your wit and you never became an arrogant husk of your former self as a result of your stressful upbringing.

Since the clan wants to breed nothing but powerful sorcerers, they try to keep the family to be strictly sorcerers of a high class… which was why as soon as you were brought into the world, you were assigned to marry someone from another powerful family. Mind you, that you had never met. A betrothal out of your control, and it was to a nameless, faceless spouse. If that wasn't already terrifying, it wasn't until you were older that you finally met them, and desperately wish you hadn't.

He's too weird for you. Gojo Satoru had given you the ick when he tried to get incredibly mushy with you. The first impression was so awful it left a permanent scar on your potential relationship, and never healed. Honestly, you didn't see how people thought he was hot. In fact, you thought he was kind of stuck up. Sometimes you'd find yourself thinking, maybe if someone inflates his ego enough, his head will explode.

You know who you actually like? Nanami Kento! The two of you met in Jujutsu High, and you've been head over heels for him ever since. He's handsome, intelligent, and stern, your ideal type. Though Gojo tried his hardest to keep you away from him, it was nearly impossible to stop your schoolgirl crush from blooming. So it really sucked when he quit being a sorcerer while you and Gojo continued on to be alumni. Still, you made time to visit him when you could. Even though Kento came off as strict at first, the two of you had pretty good chemistry.

Then one day he disappeared without a trace. Everyone who cared had written him off as the salary man who just needed a break, but you didn't buy it.

So for the past few months, you've been investigating his disappearance on your own. Gojo keeps trying to hinder you, monitoring your actions and intervening under the guise of 'trying to bond with his fiancé,' but you're pretty sure he knows something. Hell, maybe he did it.

Needless to say, you're incredibly skeptical of Gojo. Ever since you first met, he's leaned into the whole fiancé romance trope way too hard, which you despised, since you held feelings for someone else. It's so annoying, how this grown man acts like a lovesick puppy around you. Saying you were disgusted was putting it mildly, and this resulted in you rejecting his advances at every turn. Even now you're trying to push the limits on this whole 'fiancé' thing. Maybe you should just cut ties with your family and break up with him. What exactly is stopping you?

Gojo. Gojo is stopping you.

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo's been madly in love with you for as long as he can remember. Primarily due to the fact that you were strong and capable enough to be his equal. Not only that, but the fact you weren't easily phased by him drove him absolutely crazy. Even when the mask was off and he wore his glasses, you didn't treat him any differently, compared to most women who melted in his presence. He loved messing with you and trying to win your affections, so much so it's become a game to him. The sardonic, witty personality you have contrasts with him well. The two of you are clearly made for each other, so why do you play so hard to get?

Gojo was currently resting at his nice apartment. Consumed by thoughts of you, his cute soon-to-be wife. Unlike you, he was incredibly excited about the marriage. In fact, he wanted to just hurry up and tie the knot already, if it weren't for you being hellbent on trying to stall it for as long as you could. He might be considered traditional, but part of him wanted to know if he could turn you into a stay at home housewife. You'd definitely protest, seeing it as demeaning, but he liked the idea of you only being subservient to him alone. You'd live a quieter life, safely at his side, and you'd be solely for his eyes. At the moment, he was stalking- watching you on his phone tracker. It should be about now…

Oblivious to this fact, you were heading to your new apartment. Merrily, you had just gotten it and (oops!) forgot to tell Gojo about it. Before you went to the building though, you decided to get a snack at a nearby café. For the first time in a while, you leisurely went through your phone, paying more attention to your device than you normally do. It was just to do some cleaning up of apps you didn't need anymore. That's when you saw it.

What the hell is this thing…?

Never in your life do you recall installing this app on your phone. It was submerged, buried in the endless pit of your apps, as if it was playing hide and seek. At the top bar, you could see something was running, too, and it was sucking up your battery. Narrowing your eyes in confusion, you pulled up your search engine and looked it up.

Oh, it's a tracking app?

The reveal was so unsettling that you find yourself smiling. An amused yet horrified chuckle escaped you. Eyebrows furrowing, you muttered under your breath. "Oh no, get this shit off, I don't want this…" As you were saying that, you were deleting all of the suspicious looking apps on your phone. You even went ahead and did some extra research about tracking and put up some extra scans.

The white haired man frowned in displeasure upon realizing the GPS was stuck. The blip was frozen. Either it was as awful as the reviews warned, or you figured it out. What a pain. Regardless, he still held your last known whereabouts right there. Guess he shouldn't rely on technology so much and instead do things the old fashioned way, right? With that in mind, he went out to the last place the marker had placed you.

Back at your place, you were resting on your couch. You were still trying to wrap your head around the tracker on your phone. Who put that there? Gojo, most likely. He must've set it up the last time you two crossed paths, while you were distracted. While you wanted to be shocked at that reveal, you couldn't say you were surprised. He always struck you as a weirdo, to the point you were under the impression that he was borderline obsessed with you or something. It doesn't shock you in the slightest that creep would stoop this low.

Perhaps this was the tipping point you needed. After all, he just violated your privacy, and who knows what other things he's done. Holding up your phone, you called your parents to break the 'terrible' news. Needless to say, they didn't take your declaration to call off the wedding very well. No doubt this would kill relations between your family and the Gojo clan. Though, you found yourself feeling rather apathetic to the matter.

For nearly all of your life, you had taken a backseat for the good of your lineage. Years and years of enduring painstaking training, studying, and then a forced engagement for them, and for what? Virtually nothing in return. It wasn't even going to a good cause anyways, as this involuntary construction of human life served only to benefit an outdated, egocentric family tradition. The only 'good' you can argue you've done was saving lives as a sorcerer, which was just a byproduct of their success.

In that call, you told them to disown you if it pained them that much to have a disappointing daughter. To fully break away, you'd move to another country or something. Even though your intent was to sever the ties, there was a sliver of remorse deep in the recesses of your heart. Despite your cruel upbringing, you did feel some attachment to your parents. They were your family, and they were all you had. However, you couldn't marry someone you didn't love. Especially someone who was this clearly unhinged.

They were protesting all the while before you hung up. After a moment, you dialed another number.

There's a slight deep chuckle over the line. "…Well, it's about time." Gojo's voice ardently crooned over the phone. You could practically hear the smug grin on his stupid face. He sounded rather pleased that you finally called him for a change, like he had been waiting for this moment his whole life.

The cocky tone voice in his voice almost made you laugh. Almost. It seemed you beat your parents or his in delivering him the bad news.

"Hi Satoru." You said casually, as if you weren't about to drop a bombshell on him. Then you spoke the following lines. "I'm sorry, but I can't marry you."

There was a brief pause. One that drew on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"Mm…? Did you say something, (Y/N)? I didn't quite catch that." He asked innocently. However, you're absolutely certain he heard you the first time. Even so, you decide to be nice, and twist the knife even further.

"I said," Your voice becomes more stern as you narrowed your eyes. "I'm sorry, but I can't marry you Gojo. The wedding is off."

"It should be obvious, but I'm not too fond of you, and I'd rather marry someone I actually love." The words flowed out of you like a river. A cool wave of relief washed off you as you truthfully spoke your mind. Speaking the truth felt incredibly good. For once, you felt like you were taking control. No more sitting aside, waiting for someone else to tell you what to do.

There's another split second of silence before Gojo spoke again. "(Y/N), I sincerely think you should reconsider." He drew a breath. "Think about your family, remember what this'll mean for them. Both your family and mine have been waiting for this since we were kids. Do you really want to do this to them?" He's trying to be rational, trying to convince you otherwise. If he was as crazy as you're theorizing, he must be suppressing his anger right now. Though, you're just as insane as he is. You know this'll drive him to his boiling point, and with that in mind, you continued your sprint across the thin tightrope.

"No, I'm pretty sure. Don't bother, I've already informed my parents about my decision. I hope you can forgive me for being selfish." At least you're kind enough to apologize. With that, you pulled your phone away from your ear. A digit hovered over the red button.

"(Y/N)--" Before he could reply, you hung up the call. Relief washed over you. With a genuinely content smile, you went back to whatever you were doing before.

On the other line, Gojo sat there motionlessly with his phone, the dial tone ringing in his ears. Silently, he held a haunted expression on his visage. Pale with wide eyes, it was like he had seen a ghost. It quickly faded once the anger set in, and his face twisted into a furious scowl. He's practically seething. Why are you doing this to him?! He wasn't oblivious to your tendency to reject his advances, but he didn't expect you to go this far. He'd figure you'd come around eventually, not throw it all away! All you had to do was go along and marry him. It was going to be perfect.

No, don't worry. Gojo faintly smiled to himself. This is still salvageable. He just needs to talk to you in person. Once you're face to face, he'll get you to change your mind, with a little persuasion, of course. Trying to suppress his raging anger, he calmed himself down as he swiftly walked down the streets.

Unbothered, you were laying on the couch, currently browsing the web for potential places to go. Singapore seems really good right about now…

"(Y/N)? Open the door!"

Ugh, there he is. It surprisingly didn't take that long for him to find you. To be fair, you deactivated the tracker a block down from where the complex was. He most likely found it and then asked your landlord for your door. Kinda stupid of you.

With a tired sigh, you lowered your head and fell silent for a moment. Maybe if you ignore him, he'll give up and go away.

Of course, he doesn't. Suddenly, your front door was violently kicked open. The loud slam made you gradually raise your head, drawing your attention. Your gaze flicked over to it, and lo and behold, Gojo was standing there at the entrance.

"…Well that's rude." You uttered with a nonchalant tone. Was breaking your door really necessary? Wonder what the costs are to get that fixed…

Maybe he was trying to play along, because he ended up gently closing the broken door behind him. He walked dangerously closer to you. "(Y/N), please. I'm begging you to reconsider." He spoke up. Although his voice was sultry, a smooth cadence like marble, there was a mild urgency hidden in the depths. "I love you. You're my darling fiancé, and I want you to marry me."

Standing up, you narrowed your eyes. A disapproving glare formed on your features. Perhaps in another life, or another universe, you would've found his declaration sweet. It was truly heart stealing stuff. Something that would make you melt into his arms like chocolate. Unfortunately, you wouldn't fall for it in this timeline. "How many times do I have to say it, Satoru? I'm not into you."

Tilting your head about an inch, your gaze bore into his. If he wasn't so upset, he would've been reveling over how gorgeous you looked right now. "I've officially broken up with you. So while I'm asking nicely, give up while you still have your dignity." You warned him.

Your threat garnered a low chuckle from Gojo. To him, it was nothing. While he did consider you to be 'equals', there was a clear difference in strength. He was one of the strongest sorcerers in the world, if not the strongest. While you were no doubt strong, he was much more powerful. If anything, he should be saying those words to you.

"That's cute." He nonchalantly commented with a smoldering glance. While his tone held intense admiration, the grin on his face was condescending. Either way, it's gross, and made you grimace slightly.

Despite the growing tension in the room, you refused to back down. If he was going to try to force you to be with him, you'd gladly fight against it. After all, it'd be a shame to let all your intense sorcery training go to waste. When he stepped closer, you got into a fighting stance.

Gojo stepped forward, and you anticipate it. His Limitless.

You’ve sparred with him before, so the concept of his ability wasn’t foreign to you. Taking a deep breath, you watched him carefully. Heightening your awareness, your focus sharpened, and you seemingly step out of your body for a moment. The heightened focus was like an astral projection.

The man dashed towards you in the blink of an eye. He went to strike, and you swiftly moved with a deflect. However, your counter attack doesn’t hit and you’re sent skidding back a few feet. Gojo chuckled again, and you could tell from that and his attack that he’s not taking this seriously. You’ll make him.

The two of you start fighting. Gojo engaged by trying to hit you, and his movements were fast, but you’re able to counter him to the best of your ability. Still, he’s holding back, and you figured that asshole enjoyed messing with you. Even so, you still used all your strength to fight back. If he wouldn't give his all, you most certainly will.

Meanwhile, Gojo realized you’re serious about putting up a fight. He’s been holding back as to not hurt his darling fiancé, but this was starting to become a pain in the neck. Might as well put an end to this already, even if it meant knocking you out.

In an instant, Gojo came at you. Time decelerated to a drag, and you forced your body to the side. With one swift motion, you evaded his grab for you. Following your movements, a sharp breath escaped you.

That’s when you observe the two of you had fully switched places. Finally, after dancing around him, your form was by the door, and it’s prime time to make an escape. To subtly inch toward the exit during the fight, that had been your plan all along.

Unfortunately, Gojo had long anticipated this ploy of yours. He simply played along because he could easily stop you. He raised a hand.

That’s when you call it. Limitless.

Gojo was going to close the gap and catch you. You wouldn’t be able to hit him. It was over.

Though, there was no fearful look in your eyes. They were stern and full of conviction. “That notion… I'll veto it.” You declare softly.

Silence followed your words. There was still a large gap of space between you two. What should've happened was a deletion of space, there was nothing of the sort. Caught off guard by this revelation, Gojo stopped and furrowed his brows slightly in confusion. His outstretched hand dropped about an inch.

What just happened?

His split second bewilderment opened a window of opportunity to you. Taking advantage of his stunned disposition, you spun on your heel and took off running out of the building.

Thankfully, you got the feeling in your leg back in the nick of time. You ran away.

A sigh escaped your lips. Back pressed against the side wall of the locked bathroom stall, you stared at the tile for a moment. The women's restroom of this coffee shop was empty, the only sound being the constant hum of the ventilation. Once you believed you were ready, you delved into your pocket and took out a card. Flipping it over, you read the printed numbers and inputted them into your burner phone. It was only a few seconds of ringing when the other line picked up.

You lowered the card. "I'm looking for a Hoover Max Extract Pressure-Pro Model 60."

It was burning hot in the car, so you had the windows rolled down. The cool wind blew your hair back, a reinvigorating feeling to the senses. You were driving down a long stretch of road. No other cars or people in sight. The yellow baked sun highlighted the dry, sandy grass patches surrounding you that seemed to go on for miles. With one hand on the wheel, you pushed up your sunglasses before resting your arm on the window of your SL Mercedes. Traveling to a new country was a whole different ballpark, but you were going to make it work. After being cooped up in a stuffy cargo plane, the open road was a sigh of relief.

Growing up, you and Gojo went to the same schools together to Jujutsu High. This meant he knew your sorcerer abilities pretty well. As far as he knew, your curse ability boiled down to energy manipulation.

Although the ability is labeled as ‘energy,’ the underlying truth was that's only the surface level explanation. There's more to it. The true extent of your abilities was kept a secret, thanks to your discreet, privileged family. As a child, you were told you had been graced with intense power. Though, you were vowed to keep quiet about the secret art you had.

The power to negate power.

In order to perfect it, you’ve been training it all your life. Surprisingly enough, this was the first time you’ve had a sincere reason to use it. For the binding vow that accompanies it is concerning.

At the price of negating forces of nature, altering the flow of destiny, an suitable exchange must be made. By contingency, the exchange offers up a functioning part of your body. A fair trade.

“To negate something means to willingly negate a piece of you,” your mother would tell your younger self.

The moment you cancelled Gojo’s Limitless, you had lost the feeling in one of your legs. It had gone numb, like a useless piece of plastic. In that state, you wouldn’t be able to move too fast. Thankfully, it came back quickly so you could make your escape.

For that reason, it was a double edged sword. Dangerous, but handy. You’d have to keep on your toes for the rest of your life, and you’d have to keep up your physical fighting, but as far as sorcery goes… Gojo can’t touch you. And you… can certainly hit him.

Thanks to your ability… you were able to escape him that day.

It was incredible. Being able to take control of your life, gave you a rush that you’d never think of ever having.

Once you escaped, you did everything you could to discreetly change your identity. Using your leftover riches from your family name, you were able to call in a person to help you ‘disappear.’ Gojo would never be able to track you. And with that, (Y/N) (L/N) vanished off the face of the earth. She was gone.

It was a nice, sunny day. You were relaxing at home.

It's been three years since then. By now, you should try to settle down, right? However, your cautiousness made you hesitant. If Gojo ever did come for you, the last thing you wanted was for someone to get caught in the crossfire. Like Nanami.

Upon reminiscing, you frown in realization. You never did find out anything about Nanami’s disappearance, didn’t you? Maybe he was dead after all. It wouldn't shock you if it turned out Gojo made him vanish. It'd line up with how creepy he had been thus far.

You offered him a small prayer in your mind. Hopefully he was at peace, wherever he was now.

After that, you went out onto the backyard porch. The crashing waves of the ocean ahead always set you at ease. The warm sun heated your skin. Leaning against the wooden railing, you closed your eyes, and lost yourself to the sound of nature.

"What a lovely sight." The sudden voice made you jump. What scared you the most was not that it terminated your solitary without warning, but that it took you years to forget about that cadence, until now.

Standing a few feet away on the platform, leaning against the railing, was a forbidden sight. A man that shouldn't exist in your little safe paradise. Somehow, he got here undetected, past all of your locks and security cameras.

Gojo turned to you with a charming smile. As if this was a reunion between two old friends. In a malevolent way, it was. "Though you could do much better than this, it's a nice place."

Remaining silent, you didn't say his name. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

How did he find you? Your benefactor, with no ties to the Gojo clan, changed your records, your appearance, and virtually anything that had to deal with your identity. Not a single trace was left. And yet, here he stood in your home.

Why couldn't he just leave you alone?

There were plenty of women out there he could easily have. Any of them would be happy to grant his desires, or even replace you as his estranged wife. You didn't understand why he insisted on having you.

"Why won't you give up already?" You asked calmly, an apathetic look in your eyes. At least three years have passed since you escaped the shackles of your predetermined live. Plenty of time for him to move on and find someone else. In a way, hiding was supposed to be your form of encouragement.

Between the two of you, he was much more stubborn. Arrogance paved the way for greed, and he refused to lose when it came to anything. A man with the mentality of a spoiled child. Such entitlement of course, extended to you. He didn't give up because he didn't want anyone else. Letting you go and moving on was too easy. Why settle for something he can get with ease, when it was much more exciting to chase what he can't have?

"I've already told you, (Y/N). Millions of times over…" He stepped closer while you retreated back. "I love you." His voice was warm and genuine.

"And it's a lie." You retorted with a razor-like glare. If he truly cared as much as he says, he would let you go. He wouldn't still be here. It was a selfish act, not one out of love. Perhaps he did a long time ago, but his sentimental emotions were corrupted by his egotism. "If you loved me, you'd leave me be."

"(Y/N). Why are you so selfish?" He asked, and you paused. As if a switch had been flipped, his expression grew cold. "Running away from your family, running away from me, and running away from us. You had a good life, and became a powerful sorcerer. Why would you throw that all away? For cowardice? For your insecurities?"

He held up his hand. A hopeful, promising shine was in his eyes. "I came here because I refuse to give up on you. I care about you. Come back with me, and I promise to help you. We'll get through this together. I'll make you happy." He proposed with a warm smile.

A pit formed in your stomach. Even now, he's still trying to manipulate you. Twisting the narrative to belittle your desire for freedom as an insecurity. Justifying his stalking and chasing after you as some sort of savior situation. That your autonomy was something that needed to be fixed. If you weren't so disgusted, you could see yourself laughing at the absurdity of it all. "No. I don't want to go anywhere with you." You gave him your answer.

"Aaah… that's not the right answer." He sighed with a hint of amusement. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned his back to the railing. Then he faced you and held out his hand.

He tried to use his ability, but you were quick to stop him. Your arm went limp, but you raised your leg. Kicking him as hard as you could, he was sent flying through the wall. He quickly recovered and got back up.

He dashed forward, and you swiftly dodged out of the way. You got a few good hits in, since he was wary to not use Limitless in excess against you. Now that he couldn't use it to protective himself, everything was fair game. You threw anything you could that was in the house. Lamps, décor, and even furniture. He dodged most of them.

"Enough with this, (Y/N)!" He called out to you. The house was nearly destroyed from all the fighting. Gojo grumbled under his breath. Now that he was aware you could nullify his ability, he had to get creative.

Suddenly, he disappeared from your vision. Heart racing in your chest, you glanced around the room and kept your guard up. There was no running outside, because he could be waiting at the exit.

You turned and sensed something. With your energy magic, you charged the tv to make it explode. Gojo emerged from the shadows and came at you. He was using his Limitless. You had no choice but to nullify it and prepare to counterattack, but suddenly, your mind went blank.

Just now, you had rolled the dice, and yielded the worst possible results. The worst part to neutralize… your brain. It made you lose.

When consciousness came back to you, Gojo was holding you in a tight grip. Pointed at your neck, the tip an inch away from your skin, was a syringe.

Gojo was breathing heavily. Pressing his built chest into your back, you could hear him in your ear. It was a good effort you put up against him, but now it was over. At last, he had you. "Let's go home, shall we?" He hummed with delight.

Before he could move, you snapped your fingers. A explosion of smoke erupted from your body, and the mass coated the air like a screen. You threw your head back, crashing into his face. His grip weakened slightly and you stomped on his foot with all your might, and jabbed your elbow into his abdomen. With a grunt of pain, he fully released you. Not wasting any time, you ran forward and dashed out the back door.

You spun around to see him emerge from the smoke to give chase. Reaching a hand into your pocket, you darted to the edge of the porch. You vaulted over wooden railing and jumped off. In your hand was a small device. You pressed the button.

A large explosion blew up your beloved home. There was a loud, thunderous crash. Debris flew in all directions, and the source was consumed in fire. Once your feet landed onto the sandy beach, you took off running.

On the run yet again. All the money you spent on disappearing the first time had significantly depleted your sources, and nearly the rest had just gone up in flames. You'd have to get creative with your next disappearance, for whatever time you had left.

As you were running, you suddenly stumbled and halted in place. The dizzy spell was so faint, it took you a second to recognize it. During that fight, the syringe must've touched you.

The unknown drug he gave you… you had no idea how much time you had until you passed out. However much time you had, it most likely wasn't enough to hide where you couldn't be found. All of your options were drying up.

Frozen, you stared at the ground. A blank expression haunted your tired features as you fixated on the gravel at your feet.

Was this it? It's all over?

Closing your eyes, you took a shaky breath. It's not. With your remaining strength, you continued running.

Gojo's manipulative speech to you, at first you completely dismissed it as nothing but deceptive garbage. It was bred on twisting your actions to make him seem like the victim. A gaslighting trap, to warp your perspective of reality, and convince you to return to him. Almost like the domains he put his enemies in. At least, that's what you originally thought. After reflecting upon it, you realized that there was some truth to his words. Even when fabricating lies, there will always be a hint of truth hiding in the cracks.

Maybe he was right.

All you've done is run away. In your youth, you fled from living a normal life to become the perfect child your parents wanted. At the expense of your childhood. You ran away from mistakes and imperfections to strive for greatness. Once that was over, you ran away from your family when they needed you most. Then you ran away from Gojo, from your relationship and your engagement. Here you were, proving him right by running away again.

If you kept going, you'd never be able to stop running. This track you set yourself upon, it was an endless one. A nonstop cycle of running on a wheel, with no destination. Gojo, while rendered vulnerable for the moment, was still immortal in the grand scheme of things. He held too much power. Untouchable and relentless, he'll be chasing you forever.

Perhaps… it was time to stop.

When you finally came to a halt, you were near the edge of a cliff. Below, the gathering ocean, crashing against the rocks. The comforting sound you had come to admire. The sun was setting in the sky, and the stars were finally revealing themselves. You've always wanted to come here, but you never found the opportunity.

"(Y/N)…" Gojo called your name. Though he sounded tired, there was a hint of teasing to it. It was the end of the line, after all. Even if you tried to jump, he could catch you. This game of tag had finally reached it's conclusion. "It's over. There's no need for this."

Silently, you met his gaze. The light breeze swept your hair as you stood still. A few seconds passed when you eventually parted your lips. "You're absolutely right." You said with a faint smile and soft eyes. "I'm done with you. Farewell, Satoru."

A bold choice of words. As much as he rather wouldn't, Gojo decided he'd have to hurt you, just so you couldn't run away anymore. Upon stepping back, you suddenly found yourself in a new space. The area around you was a celestial realm, a starry prison. He called his Limitless, and cemented you inside a domain. This way, you couldn't evade him. Even if you nullified it, he could just cast it again and again until you gave up.

So, he didn't know you were on the verge of collapsing. That was perfect.

Once more, you opened your eyes wide. They began to glow. Channeling all of your curse energy, you took his power, and turned it off.

Upon doing so, there was a sharp pain in your chest. Blood stopped pumping and your breath slowed to a cease. It was then that you lost feeling in your head, then your body. Falling back, you lost your balance and went over the edge. Your vision was growing blurry, and everything felt cold. Faintly, you could feel your body falling.

Cancelling his ability wasn't the ultimate goal. The consequences were. To negate all of his powers at once, you offered up the most important function of your body. The heart of the machine. It was held for as long as you could, and you made it.

Finally, you were away from him. To the one place where he couldn't get you. It might've been one last run, but it was something you did of your own volition. Nobody told you what to do, and you freely made your choice. Maybe Gojo could have given you a promising life, but you would never be happy. This outcome was what satisfied you. Your legs had grown tired from running, and now you could finally rest.

rip girlie

i like how at the start i was trolling but at the end it just got sad :')

dividers: cafekitsune

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