#tw: stockholm syndrome

[sumeruin]

i feel like i sped ran all of ur posts i’m in luv <33 do u think i could maybe… be…🫧-anon??

anyways here’s me little brainrot on scaramouche/wanderer bc i love him

pervy!scara who would hide u under his desk during fatui meetings and make you suck and kiss his cock, all the while you have to hold back whimpers in fear of being discovered :((

yandere!scara who would slowly isolate you from everyone else until you feel abandoned :( but don’t worry! he’s dealt with plently of betrayals, all you need is him!

thinking about a yan!scara x touch starved/traumatized reader scenario. reader genuinely loves scara, and all their past trauma just makes them that much more attached to him. they look past all the red flags and think that this is the best thing for them!! Of course, scara is happy to receive the love, and gladly gives them everything they want :)) scara controls readers surroundings just to make them that much more attached and needy for him and his help! what a good boyfriend he is!

minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!!

omg nonnie!!! ofc you can be 🫧 anon!!! i will write about these in order they’re just too good :(

tw: noncon/dubcon idrk which one of the two to classify this as, i think that’s it tbh

i love love love the idea of pervy scara!!!! and i think it’s just that much better when it’s not in an au or anything so that there’s the power difference of him being a harbinger :( he’d make sure he got to the meeting before anyone else just so that he could feel your mouth wrapped around him during the boring discussions that just seem to drag on for so long :( if he thought you were having it too easy he’d quickly thrust up his hips, just enough to make you gag around him though, he does still have a reputation to keep :(

tw: yandere, heavy stockholm syndrome, like really heavy, like that’s almost entirely what this part is about you’ve been warned, isolation

i think he’d be the most likely to do this out of all the genshin yanderes, he’s just so so mean and so so lonely (and tbh a little bit pathetic and soggy but that’s part of his charm) he wouldn’t want you to look at anyone but him :( i think if his usual punishments with pain and degradation weren’t working he’d even take it a step further and leave you alone in a room for however it takes you to break :( he’d bring you 3 meals a day and plenty of water though!! he’d just ignore you whenever you tried to touch him or even just talk to him :( he’d look at you like you like you’re just a disgusting speck of dirt to him, and that’d continue until eventually you’d break and end up begging him to talk to you, to touch you again, to just do something so that you know you aren’t completely alone :( i think if what you did to deserve that punishment was bad enough he’d let it go in past that point, waiting until you’re clinging to his clothes, full on sobbing for him to pay attention to you again, and physically not letting him leave, then he’d bend down and gently wrap you up in his arms, cooing soft praises and sweet little nothings at you while he reassures you that, “shh, shh, it’s all ok, i’m here now, you don’t have to be scared anymore. i’ll take care of you, it’ll be just how it’s supposed to be.” :( he’d run you a nice, warm bath and pretend like he wasn’t also the one who did this to you, still holding you in his arms and whispering sweet, comforting little words and phrases in your ear :(

tw: yandere, kinda sorta stockholmish??? definitely not as bad as the last one but it’s kinda there, toxic relationships

i think this one is especially good with scara cause i think he’d be just so sad whenever his darling is mean to him, so when you actually, genuinely love him for who his is, obsessiveness and all, he’s overjoyed!! and he’s even more excited when you seek him out yourself and ask him for cuddles or a kiss or even just to sit next to him for a while :( i think he’d try to test you in the early stages of your relationship, just to make sure you aren’t pretending to love him back while you secretly plan to leave him. poor scara has trust issues, can you really blame him? :( besides, he’s made all his red flags more than clear by now, if you’re dumb enough to ignore them then that’s no skin off his back. after he decides you’ve passed his tests he’d become a lot more comfortable showing his true colors with you, gradually adding more rules and restrictions to your schedule, not letting you leave the house unless you’re with him, adding a lock to the outside of your bedroom door and not letting you have a key, making sure to always keep some rope around “just in case” :( eventually, it’d turn into you not being allowed to leave the house at all, and you constantly being in his arms or tied up when he can’t hold you himself. he knows you won’t mind as long as he continues to ravish you with his love and attention though. you’re just so perfect for him, how did he get so lucky? :(

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ angel’s creations ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ #⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ angel’s friends⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ #tw: yandere #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: stockholm syndrome #tw: isolation #tw: toxic relationships #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader smut #yandere scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader smut #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin smut #yandere scaramouche smut

[yandereshingeki]

Dear Rabbit

Yandere! Werewolf! Eren Jaeger x Reader

Eren J Masterlist

Word Count: 19k

Pairing: Eren x Reader

Content: Smut, Slight Fluff, Yandere themes, Slight Violence

Content Warnings: Fem bodied reader, Eren calling reader ‘bunny’, use of ‘good girl’ once, calling Eren ‘sir’ once, Dubcon (reader consents but under the influence of “heat”), kidnapping, Hybrids(?), Mentions of Pregnancy/impregnation, implied forced pregnancy, mentions of hunting, Scratching, injury (Eren digging his claws into you), Stockholm Syndrome (speedrun edition—influenced by marking), violence, fighting, raw meat (does that need a warning??), very small amount of hurt/comfort, Yandere themes, possessiveness, obsession, Marking, Smut (Size difference, breeding, slight A/B/O themes, knotting, heat, rut, creampie, cunnilingus, nipple play, F! receiving oral, stretching, stomach buldge, cervix pounding, slight orgasm denial), slight monsterfucking(?)

Summary: A part-wolf part-human creature has been watching you for quite some time, and he’s finally matured enough to make you his mate. You don’t remember him, but he’d do anything to make you his.

Werewolf Eren’s size compared to an average height person

An extra dilf werewolf eren <3

While reading the smut portion of this—please remember that it is unrealistic as fuck, because if you had sex with someone who’s dick was as big as Werewolf Eren’s, your insides would probably break. I lowkey cringed a lot while writing about the heat stuff 😭😭 I am so sorry

Also I sort of combined his manga colors and anime colors in this—black hair and green eyes

The rain fell heavily outside, crashing against the windows and roof of your apartment. Tree branches fluttered and waved with the wind, knocking against the window in your room as if they were begging for an escape from the storm.

You were getting ready for another day of school, packing your bag with all of the notebooks you needed, followed by your sticker-covered laptop and the pencil pouch you kept stocked with all of the pens, markers, and #2 pencils you could ever need. After pulling a waterproof jacket over your outfit of choice—jean shorts and a well-worn shirt—you pulled the thick bag straps over your shoulders and left your room, shutting the door behind you. 

One of your roommates sat in the kitchen on her phone, giving a quiet “morning” while she scrolled through Instagram. Without classes in the morning to keep her busy, she often made breakfast for you and your other roommate—which was always greatly appreciated. Today, she’d made toast, leaving out all of the possible toppings for you to choose from on the counter. 

You picked up a slice from the plate, munching on it quickly while raiding the pantry nearby for a granola bar or two, just in case the toast wasn’t enough to hold you off until lunch. As you prepared to walk out the door, your roommate was quick to say, “Watch out for werewolves!”

It was a running joke between people that lived in your relatively tiny town, brought on by the large wolf population in the surrounding forests—and also by the superstition of werewolves that supposedly lived beside their more canine brethren. Older people would tell their young grandchildren all about it, or mothers used it to keep their children from going too close to the woods. Either way, you didn’t believe it, but it was fun to joke about.

With a giggle, you bid her goodbye—pulling your jacket’s hood up, leaving the house, and starting your walk to the bus stop in the pouring rain.

The sidewalk was soaked, little worms wriggling out of the grass for fresh air. Carefully, you avoided them the whole way, reaching the bus stop and waiting quietly for your ride to show up. A few minutes passed before you heard the stutter of the bus engine—the long, white vehicle littered with advertisements pulling up to the bench you waited on. 

You got up, stomping through the tiny puddles of rain on the sidewalk and climbing the stairs into the bus. It was mostly empty, aside from a few middle-aged people on their way to work. The windows were blurred from the rain, making it difficult to see when you sat down and tried to look through them. Although, if you squinted and looked into the distance—hidden by the underbrush and the thick tree trunks—you could’ve sworn you saw someone standing there, watching you. Rubbing your eyes and looking again, you noticed the figure was gone. You simply shrugged it off and turned forward, resting your head against the cold window. 

It was probably never there in the first place, you thought. You always saw things like that out of the corners of your eyes that weren’t really there, so it was easy to assume that this time was the same. 

If only you had known it was real, maybe you could have done something to avoid it.

  School went by quickly, and all of your classes for the day ended by noon. You just decided to go back home instead of sticking around—mostly because it would be easier for you to study there than in a public place. 

By now, the rain had lightened up a little and created a thin fog on the ground, making it difficult to see things at a distance. You no longer needed to wear your jacket, so you held it under your arm while you waited for your ride home. After the bus arrived and you got on, you texted your roommate that you would be back soon and asked if she could heat up some leftovers for you to have for lunch. She replied with a thumbs-up emoji, making you smile while you tucked your phone away into your bag.

The bus was quick to arrive back in your neighborhood, with fewer stops being necessary this time due to the lack of people. Stepping off, you walked past the end of the bus—only to stop at the sight of your neighbors waving at you from across the street. They were an elderly couple you became acquainted with while living at your nearby home, a pretty nice and sweet pair too. They just asked you how you were doing or how school was doing most of the time, so it really threw you for a loop when instead of their usual kind gestures, their faces contorted into ones of horror and paralyzing fear. 

Before you had a chance to question it, everything moved faster than you could comprehend. 

The first thing you realized was that you were being grabbed, but the next thing you knew—you were tumbling forward into the road, only being protected by whatever had a hold on you turning and hitting the pavement first. A scream from the elderly woman across the street echoed through the air, alerting the creature and causing it to panic and start running—with you in its arms. 

The grip it had on you hurt, its claws digging into you and creating small gashes in your sides that bled through your clothes. Only now, after having a moment to process what happened, did you start to squirm and scream for help. It was already too late for anyone to rescue you from the beast, but it was the only thing you could try. 

Your cries for help quieted into muffled sobs as you passed the threshold of the woods—the forest was huge; there was almost no chance of someone finding you there. You were going to die, you were sure of it, it was going to eat you.

Minutes passed, only filled with your cries of distress and the creature’s pants and feet crunching sticks and leaves on the ground—but then you hit a large clearing, and the sky was visible again. You couldn’t see well—your face buried in the shirt your kidnapper was wearing, and the sides of your head being blocked by the arms that were wrapped around you—only leaving you the ability to look up at the sky.

Small sprinkles of rain hit your face, joining the tears that dampened your cheeks. The creature let out a huff, its claws digging deeper into your already bloodied sides and making you wail in pain. You could feel it turn to look down at you, but you couldn’t see anything more than its neck and chin. After burying your face into its chest and letting out another cry, it started moving again, this time going from the woods into what you assumed to be a cabin—or a den of sorts. You couldn’t see much, but you did notice that it got darker and that the droplets of rain that you’d felt before ceased.

You were let go of without warning—dropped onto a soft, lumpy pile that was covered by a big linen blanket. Finally able to see your captor, you gazed up at him to see who and what he was.

He stared back at you, his bright eyes glowing green like the forest, even in the dark. Although he looked human, he wasn’t—there was no way he could have been, he was huge compared to the average person. Not only that, but emerging from his head stood two fluffy black ears that twitched as you studied him, matching his hair color—and further down, you could just barely make out a messy and tangled-looking tail, wagging back and forth behind him. The clothes he wore looked to be made by human hands, but considering how human-esque he was, they very well could have been made by him.

Your attention turned to your surroundings, eyeing the wooden walls surrounding the “bed” you were sitting on. There was more to this house that he had taken you into, but you couldn’t see past his broad shoulders and tall stature.

His wide eyes met with yours again, only for a second before he turned away and hurried off into the other part of the house, finally allowing you to see the rest of his abode when you sat up. Now that you could, you realized just how small the space really was—there was a big main room that held several different kinds of wooden storages stocked with different jars and bags, and then the small indent in the corner where the bed—and you—currently were.

The tall wolf-man dug through one of the cabinets attached to the wall, finally pulling out a roll of gauze. He hurried back to you, grabbing the hem of your ruined shirt and starting to pull it up without warning. Before he could drag it even halfway above your stomach, you slapped his claws away and fell backward, trying to curl into yourself and cover your bleeding sides. His ears fell back, and he held his hands up in front of him like he was trying to show that he wouldn't hurt you. 

“I can’t bandage you with your shirt on.” His voice was soft as he spoke, acting like if he raised his voice too high, you would shatter like glass.

The edge in his green in his eyes had changed, turning softer—his pupils dilated, eyes growing glossier the longer he looked at your scared figure, making it clear that he had no intention of harming you—because why would he, especially if he was giving you such a loving gaze. After thinking about it, you realized you wouldn’t be able to stop the bleeding as quickly as him, and you didn’t need to be any weaker than you already were. Otherwise, there might not be any hope for your escape at all. 

Slowly, you moved back to your previous position at the edge of the bed, starting to tug your shirt up. You stopped below your chest, still too afraid and untrusting to go any further. Every muscle in your body felt tense as he leaned in, maneuvering his hands around your waist to wrap the gauze tightly against your skin. It was fast, but the entire time you kept your eyes squeezed shut like it would make him disappear before they opened up again.

When he leaned away and you no longer felt his arms close to you, your eyes shot open so that you could stay aware of his every move. He stood over you awkwardly, leaning forward slightly and staring at your shirt with his lips pressed into a straight line while he contemplated his next move. You stared back at him, eyes darting to the side to ignore the uncomfortable tension.

And then, before you could stop him—he ripped your shirt off and speedily switched it out with his, barely giving you time to process what he had done before the oversized tunic was covering you up, the collar sliding off of one of your shoulders. Blinking for a second, you realized he began to walk away with your shirt—the only piece of clothing you had besides your shorts and underwear—so you jumped up and tried to take it back from him. He held it away from you effortlessly, high above his head where you couldn’t reach. 

“That’s—That’s mine!” You stuttered, stretching your arms up as far as you could before it made your sides burn.

“Go sit down—you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that.” The stern tone in his voice didn’t match the soft expression on his face, but it did match his actions as he pressed the pads of his fingers to your chest, pushing you back until you fell onto the soft bed.

Still unwilling to give up yet, you protested again, “But—But my shirt!” 

“There's blood on it and it has holes. It’s no use to you now, especially not out here.”

What he meant exactly by the words ‘out here’ you didn’t know, but you assumed it had something to do with the fact that you were deep in the woods, surrounded by all sorts of things that would easily hunt you down and kill you if they caught the smell of your blood. You looked down a little, staying quiet to tell him you understood, and that you could live without the soiled shirt. 

With a smile, he gave you a small pat on the head before walking to the opposite end of the room and dropping the fabric into a small, wooden bin on the floor. After pulling on a new shirt, he turned back to you, the first thing he noticed being your gaze, glued to the ground. Your face was mostly void of emotion—meaning he had no way of knowing what you were thinking, and no way of even guessing—leaving him grasping at straws to try and figure out how he could comfort you. 

Without giving any thought to how you would react to it, he walked over and wrapped his huge arms around you—effectively caging you in against his chest. Your entire body tensed up, shoulders scrunched up as far as they could be. It made you feel so small and powerless. You were small and powerless—against him at least.

After sitting quietly for what felt like hours—but was only a few minutes, in reality—he finally spoke up, “You’re so small still, even up close. Like a little bunny rabbit.”

The amount of effort it took to crane your neck enough so that you could look up at him was enormous, your bones cracking as you rested your chin on his chest. He peered down at you, a toothy smile forming slowly and showing off his dangerously sharp teeth. 

Struggling to get the words out from a combination of anxiety and your jaw being pressed shut against his sternum, you managed to question him, “Who—who are you—what are you? Why did—Why did you do this?”

“Oh.” He said in reply, not giving you a real answer yet—he needed a minute to figure out how he would explain his connection to you without sounding like he was making things up. You squirmed in his grip, trying to loosen it so that you weren’t being crushed. 

He asked you, looking almost sad as he spoke, “Do you—do you really not remember?”

When you shook your head in response, he gave a nervous chuckle and just decided to start from the beginning, “Well then, I guess I’ll just tell you.”

One of his arms around you moved so that he could cup your entire jaw with his hand, forcing you to keep your head turned upward while he talked to you, “Maybe you were too young to remember, but we always used to play together when we were kids.”

His explanation began, the smile coming back to his lips while he reminisced on the memories he had of your first years together, “Your mom would set you outside while she gardened nearby. She never paid enough attention to you—you always wandered off, just far away enough for me to come out of the woods without being afraid that she would catch us,” he paused for a moment to chuckle before continuing, “You used to call me ‘doggy’ and bring out this plastic ball; it wasn’t really meant for animals, but you just insisted on using it to play with me. There were little bells inside that jingled when you threw it and made me fetch it.”

He chuckled again, “Maybe you did see me as a dog back then, but that doesn’t matter now.”

You stared at him, semi-spaced out while you tried to remember his presence in your childhood. There was no memory of a wolf-human coming to play with you, the closest thing being when your nice neighbors would let you see their friendly Bernese mountain dog pup. Then again, there was a lot about your toddler years that you couldn’t remember anymore—maybe he just happened to be part of those forgotten moments.

Either way—it wasn’t important right now. The most important thing at the moment was figuring out who he was, and any way you could escape. Your previous relationship with him could come later—that is, if you stayed long enough. 

Before you could ask him for his name, he was already talking again, going on about your old times together. “You were so special to me. It hurt so bad that I had to stop seeing you when we got older but… it doesn’t matter anymore. Now that I'm old enough—now that we're finally together again…I’ll never let you go.”

He began to lean down, pursing his lips and getting ready to kiss you—not expecting the hand that slapped over his mouth when he got too close. He wasn’t even able to ask why because you were already talking, “What—What’s your name? I don’t even know your name.”

Despite looking a little disappointed from his attempt at kissing you being blocked, he responded with an indifferent tone, “Eren.”

After seeing you nod, his smile returned and he grabbed both of your wrists with his giant hands, ensuring that this time there was nothing to get in the way of his kiss. Desperate to avoid it, however, you leaned back as he leaned in—eventually hitting the bed and having nowhere else to turn. Even with everything inside of you screaming not to let him, you had no way of avoiding the moment his lips pressed against yours. He pushed your wrists into the bed too, successfully trapping you again, although this time leaving you feeling even more vulnerable than before.

You let him kiss you for a moment, hoping that he would pull away on his own. When he didn’t, you realized you would have to risk angering him to free yourself—and as much as his anger scared you, the thought of him going any further with you was scarier. 

Ripping yourself out of his grasp, you balled your hands into fists and shoved him in the chest as hard as you could, creating enough space in between you to curl your legs up, allowing you to kick him in the stomach. He tumbled back, groaning and grabbing at the already forming bruise. You wasted no time, getting up and trying to run—not even thinking about how close he was to you, the lack of distance allowing him to recapture you easily. There wasn’t even enough time for you to make it to the door before he recovered and pounced on you, grabbing at your injured sides so that you would instinctively curl up and focus more on getting his hands off of you. It made it easy for him to pick you up despite your squirming, taking you back to his bed and shoving you into it. 

You tried to sit up again, but he was quicker than you, pinning you down by your arms. His claws dug into your skin, only gentle enough that it wouldn’t draw blood—and he looked angry, growling and baring his teeth. It was more wolf-like than human, his eyes turning dark, reflecting a hint of red. 

Horrified, you shut your eyes and started to tear up—thinking he was going to claw your arms or face as a sort of punishment for trying to escape—but instead, he did nothing. He didn’t say anything either, not even when his anger finally subsided. He just stared—his eyes that reflected the color of the very forest he lived in piercing straight through your head. 

He was waiting—waiting for you to open your eyes so that he could make sure he had your full attention before making his warning. 

When you finally did, he grabbed both of your cheeks with one hand, squeezing them until your mouth was forced into an ‘o’ shape. Your eyes met his, and he stared at you in silence for another moment before reprimanding you, “Don’t try that again. Ever.”

His voice was stern, contrasting his earlier, more cheery tone. 

“I’ll make it so you can’t run at all if you do.” 

The threat made a shiver run down your spine. He wouldn’t actually hurt you like that, right? Hopefully not. 

So distracted by your thoughts, you didn’t notice the hand sliding down to your thigh until it was being squeezed. It was anything but gentle, serving as another warning of what he would do if you tried to run again. Honestly, just the thought of his sharp claws digging into your thighs until it hurt too much to stand was enough to scare you away from the idea—at least until you found an opportunity where it was certain you could make it. 

“Got it, bunny?”

He snapped you out of your thoughts again, keeping his gaze on you until you nodded. Then, his smile returned, as did his happier demeanor—and he acted like it had never left in the first place. 

Letting go of you, he stretched back and yawned, giving you the personal space you needed. You curled up, holding yourself and rubbing your arms for comfort while Eren got up and made his way across the room.

“Are you hungry at all? It must be almost noon by now, you should eat.”

You shook your head, but he either didn’t see you or didn’t care, because the next thing you heard was the clattering of different containers and ceramics. Sitting up, you looked over and saw him digging out different kinds of meats, berries, and fruits—probably because he didn’t know what kind you ate—or if you even ate meat. It was obvious that he wasn't well-versed in the diet of humans, considering he didn’t even bother cooking the meat before he went to hand it over to you. 

Not sure what to do next, you just held the plate in front of you and stared at it. You couldn’t eat most of what was on it—you weren’t sure if you even wanted to eat any of what would be considered edible to people—there was no way to tell what had been adequately washed or not.

Confused, Eren waited a moment before asking you, “Is there something wrong? Do you not like any of it?” 

You shook your head, not bothering to clarify which question you were answering while you continued to hold the plate. After another minute of awkward silence, you finally explained to him, “I can’t eat raw meat. Or unwashed fruit.”

With that new information, his mouth formed into an ‘o’ shape, showing that he understood—or at least pretended he did. He took the plate back from you, staring down at the assortment of food to try and figure out what he was going to do with it.

“I guess I should cook and wash these then, right? Will you eat then?” He asked. You nodded, just wanting this to get through with the conversation so that he couldn’t keep using it as an excuse to care for you. 

After pausing in front of the wooden front door, he turned his head to look at you, carefully watching to see your response when he asked, “Would you be good? If I take you outside with me, that is?”

As much as he didn’t trust you at the moment, he thought that getting some fresh air might help you stay calm. And even if you did try to run, you would never be able to get that far before he caught you. The risk was low.

Without answering, you were already up and joining his side, eager for another possible escape attempt. You knew he would be watching you like a hawk, but that wasn’t going to stop you. Not if it meant you had even a sliver of a chance of being successful, you still wanted to try.

With a hum, he turned back to the door and pushed it open, revealing the misty forest clearing, everything still moist from rain. The idea of bolting past him and into the woods was at the forefront of your mind, but you held back—as painful as it was. You needed to wait until he wasn’t paying attention so you could get as far away from him as possible before he noticed your absence. 

He took your hand, dragging you outside and to the middle of the clearing. Pointing to one of several logs laying around what looked to be a small fire pit, he motioned for you to sit. When you did, he handed you the plate of food and went off to find wood, checking to make sure you were still there every 5 seconds.

It didn’t take long to gather enough firewood, considering you were surrounded by trees with plenty of broken branches lying beneath them. Eren returned quickly, arms full of different sizes of sticks that tangled together when he dropped them into the fire pit. Reaching for his pants pocket, he realized he left his box of matches inside of his cabin—meaning he’d have to either leave you alone or drag you back with him to grab them.

He didn’t even get a chance to think about what he was going to do before his solution was already walking right up to him. 

“Eren! Is this… the person you were talking about?”

“Armin! Yes, yes it is.”

His childhood best friend, Armin. He could watch you for him, definitely. 

Armin approached the two of you quickly, his shaggy blonde tail bouncing behind him. He was a lot smaller than Eren was but still big enough to tower over you—leaving you shaking in your boots at there now not only being one, but two dangerous werewolves you had to keep track of if you wanted to escape.

He slowed his pace, sauntering over to you to check out the person his best friend has told him oh-so-much about in the past. 

Stepping in front of you, he kneeled to meet your eyes—trying to make himself seem smaller so that maybe you would stop shivering at the sight of him.

“Hello!” He said, a small smile adorning his feminine face, “I’m Armin—like you heard. I know it’s difficult right now, but I’m sure you’ll adjust well!”

After he finished speaking, he placed both of his hands over yours—trying to encourage you to keep your spirits high, although it had the opposite effect. You didn’t respond or even nod—the anxiety inside of you forcing you to stay frozen in place. 

Turning around, he let go of you to ask Eren something, “Mind if me and Mikasa eat with you? We have our own food.”

Eren nodded, “Would you watch them for me for a second while I run to grab some matches?”

Armin gave him a thumbs up, taking a seat on a log near you while Eren ran off. Now you were alone with him. Great.

You shuffled your feet in the dirt awkwardly, praying that Eren would be fast. Armin looked past you, suddenly beaming while he waved his arm in the air.

That must be the ‘Mikasa’ he mentioned. 

She came from behind you, taking a seat next to Armin on the log. In her arms, she held a cloth bag—probably full of food—and an over-the-fire camp grill that was likely stolen from a nearby sporting goods store. She was beautiful, which honestly made you even more nervous than just the half-wolf part did on its own.

Fortunately for you, Eren was quick to return after Mikasa arrived, a box of matches in hand and a fistful of kindling. He lit the tiny twigs, tossing them into the larger pile and starting the fire. After a minute, the pit was engulfed in flames and burning brightly, emanating warmth on everyone surrounding it. 

Mikasa unfolded the portable grill, placing it over the fire and adding her’s and Armin's food onto it. She left an open spot on the other side of it for you, which you filled quickly with everything that was on your plate, including the fruits and berries that normally wouldn't be grilled. Eren gave you a strange look but didn’t say anything, just assuming that was how humans normally ate their fruit.

The following silence was deafening, nothing but the quiet crackling of the fire filling the air. You fiddled with your thumbs, eyes glued to the dirt to avoid any awkward eye contact. 

Eventually tired of the quiet, Armin spoke up, “So… are you going to tell your parents about this soon?”

After a moment of thinking, Eren shrugged, “I’ll probably just tell them when I get them pregnant—which shouldn’t take too long.”

You almost choked on air, whipping your head towards him and stammering out a pathetic, “Excuse me?”

Mikasa and Armin look equally as shocked, both of their mouths hanging open while they stared dumbfounded at their friend.

“Already? Eren you JUST got them—at least give them some time to warm up to you more!” Mikasa shouted, giving you a sympathetic glance.

“Mika, we’ve known each other since we were kids, you know this. It’ll be fine, they’ll have as many months as they need to get used to me—the faster we have pups the better. You know how—how competitive things get around here, and if they’re pregnant then everyone will leave us alone.” His tail was wagging aggressively side to side, brushing dirt into the air. The frown on his face spoke volumes, and so did his crossed arms that made him look like a pouty child—but you couldn’t help but also notice the sad look in his eyes as he spoke again, “I’ve waited too long for this. I don’t wanna lose my chance.”

After a long moment of silence, Armin picked up a stick and began to turn the meat over on the grill, just ignoring the solemn-looking Eren and the still stunned Mikasa. He turned your food over after, dropping the stick on the ground again.

The quiet after was even worse this time, everyone just staring and waiting for things to finish cooking. It didn’t take as long for the second side to cook, the meat turning darker in minutes. Both Armin and Eren dragged the food back into their plates with sticks, Mikasa dragging the grill off of the fire when they were done. She set it aside to cool off and sat again, blowing on the meat that Armin held.

When Eren handed his plate to you, you copied Mikasa and blew on the food to cool it before digging in. Armin and Mikasa ate mostly with their hands and mouths, both eating somewhat similar to the way dogs would. You were hesitant to pick up anything with your hands, nervous about the residue that it would leave. Instead, you offered some of the meat to Eren, just opting to eat the fruits instead. That was probably the safer option, anyways—and it left less mess on your fingers. 

You finished your meal faster than everyone else, being left to sit there and watch while everyone else was distracted by their food. 

Oh. They were distracted.

As you realized that, a thought crossed your mind. You could book it and run as fast as could, maybe making it to the edge of the forest before they could catch you. Or you could stay here sitting next to them—possibly missing the only chance you’d have to escape for a while.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to risk it. 

Slowly, your gaze drifted from Armin to Mikasa, and then to Eren—all still busy with their food. You carefully turned around in your spot, catching Eren’s attention for a split second before you moved closer to give him a false sense of reassurance. When you were certain that your footing was good enough to help you launch forward, you took in a deep breath and counted down from 3.

3… 2… 1…

You took off, trying your best to keep your breathing steady and ignoring the burning pain in your sides. You were ahead, managing to make it out of the clearing before Eren had even begun to chase you—although it didn’t take him very long after to drop everything and go sprinting after you.

The anxiety was growing now, knowing he was coming. His footsteps were loud, and so were his angry demands.

“GET BACK HERE! GET BACK HERE RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”

It was almost more horrifying than the sound of him catching up to you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He was going to catch you. You weren’t fast enough—your plan was backfiring. 

You weren’t even close to the edge of the forest, you underestimated how big it was. No. No. No.

This couldn’t be happening. It was so obvious that you wouldn’t make it. Why did you even think you could.

Tears formed in the corners of your eyes, the burning in your sides now spreading to your throat. Your legs were starting to hurt.

His grunts and growls were right behind you now, and before you knew it—he was tackling you to the ground and shoving your entire body into the dirt. He was so heavy on top of you—it hurt, it made you want to scream. You were covered in scuffs and bruises now, and you could feel the sticks scrapping against your skin and the dirt sticking to your wounds. 

Everything was blurred with tears. You regret ever thinking you could get away.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry!” You could barely choke the words out, feeling like you were suffocating with him sitting on top of you. You didn’t even have to look at him to know that there was a scowl on his face and he was barring his fangs—evident through his low growls.

“I warned you, I fucking warned you.” He snapped back at you, finally getting up but still not letting go of you—instead, pulling you up with him. 

Your legs shook beneath you, and there was a multitude of twigs and leaves in your hair and stuck to your clothes. You were so dirty.

“We’re going home. Now.” 

No. No, you weren’t. That damp cabin—den, whatever it was—it wasn’t your home, and it never would be—but you didn’t even get a chance to protest before he was already picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. His sharp claws dug into your hip, just a little lower than where the other marks on your sides were. You couldn’t even squirm, all you could do was cry and sob into his back as he carried you.

The walk back felt like an eternity. It was like he was moving slow on purpose, just to torture you. He didn’t even talk to you, it was just silent the entire time—although this was probably better than what you’ll have to face when you got back.

Mikasa and Armin were nowhere to be seen when you walked through the clearing. They probably left quickly to avoid any conflict, but you couldn’t blame them. You would too if you were in their shoes.

When he walked through the door, he slammed it shut behind him out of anger, leaving you even more fearful of what that meant for you if he was acting like that towards an inanimate object. You were tossed onto the bed, barely being able to let out your wail of pain before he crawled on top of you and forced himself in between your legs, leaning over you so you were stuck underneath him. He grabbed both of your thighs, squeezing them until his claws were just about to break the skin.

“No! No, No Eren, please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, Eren, please don’t!” You cried, pleading with him to not follow through with his earlier threat. 

“I warned you. I warned you, bunny. The only reason we’re doing things the hard way is because YOU didn’t listen.” His grip tightened, forcing a sob from your throat as he broke skin, “If it hurts too much then you can bite me. Just don’t be too loud, got it?”

Through tears, you nodded your head, just wanting to get it over with if he wasn’t going to change his mind. His claws dug into your thighs, piercing all the way into the muscle. Almost immediately, you bite down on his shoulder, letting out a shrill but muffled scream as you felt warm blood begin to drip down your legs.

It burned, it burned so horribly. You felt like you were going to be sick, your teeth starting to hurt at how hard you were biting down. It only got worse when he pushed his face into your neck and bit you back, forcing his fangs as deep into your flesh as they could go. 

Your vision began to spot, whether it was the amount of pain or the amount of blood you were losing—you were going to pass out if he kept going. Flashes of hot and cold passed through your body, making you feel like you were drenched in sweat even though the only thing you had on you was blood.

As your crying began to grow quiet, and he could feel your head slipping away from his neck, Eren realized that you were about to pass out. Quickly sitting up, he let go of your legs and stared down at you—your eyes were droopy, the rest of your body starting to go limp. 

He gently slapped your cheek, trying to keep you awake, “Hey, wake up. Stay with me, bunny. C’mon…” 

You groaned in response, shifting your body slightly. He questioned himself if he went too far, eyeing the deep gashes that were likely going to heal into permanent scars on your thighs. Compared to him, you were so small and delicate—he could kill you without even using all of his strength. Now he was worried. He needed to be more careful.

With a sigh, he got off of the bed and went to grab bandages—because if you were going to pass out on him, then he could at least take advantage of it by fixing you up without having to deal with your squirming. After cleaning and wrapping your neck and legs, he sat at the edge of the bed, staring at you with a sad look on his face.

“I’m sorry.”

  You woke up enveloped in a soft blanket, surrounded by a cozy warmth. As much as you wanted to snuggle into it, you had to open your eyes and make sure you were safe before you could relax. 

Yawning, you opened your eyes and took a moment to register what was around you before realizing that you were face to face with someone’s chest. More specifically, Eren’s chest.

His arms were wrapped around you, and you could feel him moving his arms around over and underneath you. You looked up to him, immediately being met with his gaze directly back at you. His eyes were red, and his hair was a mess. It looked like he had been crying.

“Eren?” You coughed after speaking, not realizing how dry your throat was. 

He just held you tighter, burying his face into the top of your head.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have been so careless with you…” 

You stayed quiet, allowing him to hold you in his arms while he continued apologizing over and over. 

There was nothing you could say—no words of consoling that you could give without being a liar. You couldn't say it was ok. It wasn’t. You weren’t ok—but you didn’t want to make it worse for yourself by telling him that—so all you could do was stay quiet. 

Although, as un-okay as you were, you were oddly calm compared to before. It was strange, considering you would have normally already panicked and pushed him away by now—probably backing yourself into the corner and trying desperately to avoid him—but you had no temptation to do so. If anything, you felt at ease in his arms—which was undoubtedly a cause for concern in your eyes.

By now, Eren had calmed down, your scent managing to ground him rather quickly. This provided you with a chance to speak up.

“What—What did you do to me?” You asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t this calm before. What did you do?”

The silence he held for a moment after you asked scared you. You weren’t prepared for anything, no matter what the answer may be.

“I marked you.”

“You—You what?” You didn’t know what he meant by “marking,” but the implication of it was enough to make your stomach drop.

“I marked you. When I bit you—and you marked me, too. That makes us mates.”

“What do you mean by ‘mates?’” You pushed against him, creating enough space between your face and his chest for you to look up at him.

“We’re mated. Like… It’s like what marriage is for people, kind of. Except, a lot harder to break.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes. He had to be lying. It wasn’t true. It couldn't be. The marks would heal in a few months and be gone forever, wouldn’t they?

“But what about—the marks will heal, won’t they? That can’t mean that we’re…”

“These marks are special, bunny,” He ghosted a hand up to your neck, feeling the bandaged wound with his thumb, “Even the one you gave me. They’re permanent.”

The small drops in the corners of your eyes turned into a river. Knowing that even if you were able to escape now—if ever—that mark would still be stuck on your neck—it was too difficult to cope with.

“No, no, no, please don’t cry anymore… You’ve cried enough today…” Eren cooed, pulling you close to him again, this time with his face against yours, his nose nuzzling your cheek. His comfort had the same effect on you that a mother holding her crying newborn would have, calming you quickly and managing to reduce your tears to sniffles in minutes. You hated it. You hated the comfort he was bringing you now, but you didn’t know how to stop it.

With your eyes now dry, you let out a shuddery, very exhausted-sounding sigh. Eren turned his head from you to the window, taking note of the orange glow outside. He retracted his arms from around you and sat up, catching your attention while he pulled his shirt off and handed it to you.

“The smell on this shirt should be stronger than the one you’re wearing. Change into it, it should help you stay calm while I go hunting.”

Hunting? He was leaving you to go hunt, right after all of that, with no other warning?

“What do you mean you’re going hunting?” You asked.

“We need food, don’t we? Every couple of nights, a group of us goes hunting at dusk. We bring everything back and split it evenly with everyone else. Tonight is a hunting night.”

“So… you’re just going to leave? And I’ll be here alone?” You started questioning how smart he really was if he was going to leave you by yourself right after you tried to escape.

“Well, sort of. I’ll send someone to watch,” He paused for a second, making you think he was done until you saw the petrifying look in his eyes, “Still, I think you know better than to run off now… right, bunny?”

You nodded, biting your lip anxiously while a shiver went up through your spine. He was right. Even if you ran away, the chances of him finding and catching you again were high. And if he did catch you then… who knows what he would do to you. You didn’t want to think about it.

Eren moved to cup your cheek, tilting your head so you looked up at him, “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

When you nodded for a second time, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. Unlike the first time he’d tried to kiss you, you were unable to block it, so you could only squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the moment to pass. His chin was prickly, like he’d shaved a few days ago and it was just starting to grow back—it irritated your face. Even when he pulled away, you had to scratch at your face because of the itchy feeling his stubble left.

“Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as possible. I promise.” He said while he backed away, keeping his eyes on you as he moved towards the door, making sure you didn’t follow him. 

When the door clicked shut, you shot up—but fell right back down onto your knees, forgetting about the injuries you had previously sustained. Getting up again was difficult, the ache in your thighs making you stumble as you clung to the bed for support. Instead of trying again, you gave up. Eren was right when he said he would make it so you couldn’t walk—you really couldn’t. Not yet, at least—with the still-fresh wounds on your thighs that made your legs feel like they would implode if you took even one step. 

You could always try again in a little while before he got back—depending on how your legs felt then. If they still hurt then, you could always wait until his next hunting trip, as much as you didn’t want to wait that long. There were always going to be more chances for you to escape, hopefully. It wouldn’t hurt to rest, just for a bit.

After pulling yourself back into the bed, you saw that Eren’s tunic was lying crumpled up in the center of it. He gave it to you to change into, so you might as well—it was better than the dirty one you were currently wearing anyways. 

You swapped your shirt for his, throwing the torn and dirt-covered one across the room after and curling up in the bed, wrapping yourself in the same blanket that you woke up with before he left. It was warm and cozy, filled with Eren’s scent. You couldn’t describe it well, but it smelt vaguely like autumn, along with different hints of dirt and pine needles. It was comforting, as much as you hated to admit it—and it was starting to make you feel tired. 

Your eyelids grew heavy, begging for sleep—even though you hadn’t woken up that long ago. Although if Eren was still going to be gone for a while, sleeping could always help pass the time. Getting extra sleep wasn’t a bad thing, it wouldn’t hurt. Shutting your eyes, you began to let the weariness take over, letting yourself drown in the comfortable warmth.

  “Hey… wake up… I’m back…”

You felt someone shaking you by your shoulder, abruptly pulling you out of your dreamland. Opening your eyes, you saw a blurry, shirtless Eren standing next to you. It took a few blinks for your vision to clear, and when you did you were finally able to look at him and mumble a slightly annoyed, “What?”

Eren chuckled at your half-asleep irritation, seating himself next to you to rest his legs, “I’m back.”

“Welcome.” You retorted, turning away from him and cuddling into the blankets again. He smirked a little, moving on top of you and putting all of his weight on you. Startled and mistakenly thinking he was trying something more perverted, you started to squirm underneath him, which only led to his arms tightly wrapped around you.

“I was so worried about you while I was gone, and now you’re being all cold to me?” He asked, letting out a very loud and overdramatic sigh, “So mean.”

You finally shoved him off of you and onto the floor, pouting and giving him a dirty look as he stood and laughed at your annoyance. As you looked at him, you started to take notice of things that you didn’t before. 

He was extremely fit—the muscles in his arms and torso were toned, allowing you to see them clearly even without him flexing. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a lot of hair on him that you could see, your eyes trailing from his chest down to his abs and hips. The only place you could see any hair was his happy trail, which started right underneath his belly button and slowly got darker the further it went south. There was a bit of blood on him, too—mostly on his hands and around his face, neck, and chest. You didn’t question it much—he was just hunting, after all.

Eren caught notice of your gaze on him and decided to tease you a little in response. He interrupted your stare, grabbing your chin and tilting your head up so that you would look at him, “My eyes are up here, bunny.”

Almost immediately, your face became hot and you could feel yourself growing flustered. You could feel heat begin to pool in between your legs, and you almost thought that Eren could tell with the way his eyes widened right after. Truthfully, with his heightened sense of smell, he could tell, but he didn’t want to embarrass you or make a fool of himself, so he kept quiet.

He tried to brush it off, turning his head to the side and looking out the window to try and hide his growing blush, “We—We should both take a bath… There’s a lake nearby with clean water, and I have soap. You can clean your bandages too.”

If you took a bath with Eren that would mean seeing all of him. The thought alone made you shiver. However, you did need it, especially after being forced face-first into the dirt—and so did he based on the sight of him. You could put up with seeing him naked if it meant cleanliness.

“Okay.” You replied to him, making your way to the edge of the bed. Before you were able to get up, he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. 

“I’ll carry you. Your legs probably still hurt, right? It’ll just be better if I carry you there.” 

After you nodded, he got on his knees and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him before shifting his hands to your butt. He stood up slowly, making sure to hold you tightly.

“Put your arms and legs around me, that’ll make it easier for me to hold you.” He asked, pulling you up more and intertwining his arms to hold you better. You did as told, wrapping your limbs around his torso and neck and clinging on. 

You shut your eyes, leaning against him as he made his way across his home and out the door. It was cold outside, goosebumps scattering over your skin in uneven spots. Feeling you shiver, Eren moved one of his arms from under you to around your upper body, rubbing his arm up and down on your back to try and warm you. 

“We’ll be there soon. It isn’t too far from here.” 

The sound of leaves and sticks crunching under his feet came to a stop soon after he said that, signifying that he had reached the lake. You opened your eyes and twisted your neck to try and look, although you were barely able to see the bright moon reflecting off of the water in the corner of the lake. 

“I’m going to put you down, ok? I’ll be careful.” Eren said, waiting for your nod in response before he dropped to his knees and gently placed you on the dirt and grass. He stood up again, patting you on the head before stepping away to start stripping. You whipped your head around quickly, not wanting to see him fully exposed. Because he only had his pants and shoes to take off, it wasn’t long before he was nude—walking up behind you after to inform you that it was now your turn to strip.

He promised not to look, although it wouldn’t matter much anyway. In a few minutes—when you were both going to be submerged in the lake—he would need to keep an eye on you for your safety.

Getting your shirt off was easy, but your shorts were another story. You slid them off oh-so delicately, afraid of being too rough and hurting your already injured thighs—you really didn't want to delay the healing process any more than you already might have earlier; when you tried to get up after Eren left.

Once everything you wore was off and discarded into the same pile as Eren’s clothes, you covered your chest and called for Eren to help you into the water. He turned around to face you—fully prepared to assist you—but froze. You stared at each other, both processing the sight of each other completely bare. 

His tail began to wag involuntarily, exposing his excitement. While he drank in every little thing about your appearance that he could see, you did the same—your eyes trailing down his body like earlier—only this time there was nothing to get in the way of seeing where his happy trail led.

Your eyes followed it, all the way down to where it turned into a larger but still nicely trimmed tuft of hair before—

Holy shit.

He was huge. 9 inches at least, and that was soft.

Your entire body felt warm at the sight of him, your lower regions especially. You had to take in a deep breath just to ground yourself, and even then, you couldn’t get rid of the warm feeling inside your core.

Eren seemed to notice where your gaze went as well, considering his face was now a bright red, and his eyes were blown wide open. He could feel the arousing building up in himself—so, in an effort to hide it, he ran to you and scooped you up, quickly getting into the lake and walking to where the water was waist-deep. 

You shivered in his arms, not expecting him to move so fast into the freezing cold water. Next, he set you down slowly, making sure you would stay standing before he let go. When you were stable on your feet, he gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before turning your stiff self around so your back would face him. 

“Stay still while I grab the soap.” He told you, wading past you in the water and going back to the pile of clothes in the grass, digging around until he was able to pull out a bar of soap from his pants pocket. He made his way back to you after, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his face into your head, “I’ll wash you. It’ll be easier for me to reach places you can’t. I promise I’ll be careful, so don’t worry.”

Nodding, you held your arms around your chest even tighter than before, just to be cautious if he was planning anything. You heard him dip the soap into the water and then press it against your back, the cold bar making you squeak and arch your spine. Your reaction made Eren chuckle for a moment before he began to wash you, continuously dipping his hand into the water whenever the bar felt dry so that it remained wet enough to eventually form suds.

The grip he had on the soap was strange, using the sides of his fingers instead of the pads to hold it, keeping his claws pointed away from you to keep you safe. After your back was clean enough, he moved on—scrubbing shoulders and upper arms. He didn’t want to risk your discomfort, so he carefully avoided the wet bandages and anything near your chest, simply handing the bar to you when he was finished so that you could wash those areas yourself.

You did so quickly, barely letting any suds form while you scrubbed away, rinsing everything off after and using your arms to cover yourself again. Eren asked if you were done, to which you nodded and handed him the bar, watching as he began to copy what he did to you, this time on himself.

With him distracted, you were able to examine his body once more. He faced away as he washed himself off, allowing you a nice view of his back muscles. Watching them flex and move was mesmerizing, the muscles stretching with the different ways he bent his arms. Part of you was curious about what it would be like, to be picked up and held in his huge arms while he—

The warm feeling came back. This time, it was even stronger than before.

You could feel yourself throbbing. You knew you were aroused, but it was so much more… intense than it usually was. Your entire body was hot, and it felt like you were burning up. Right now, it was probably a good thing that the lake was cold—because it was the only thing keeping you from overheating. 

Everything felt so intensified, and you felt like you were going to collapse into the water. You needed to get out—maybe sit down for a minute or two.

You treaded through the water, making your way to Eren and poking his back. He flinched, obviously not expecting anything to touch him, and turned around to look at you.

“Eren…”  

Your voice was shaky and unstable, your body shaking. You were going to ask him to carry you when he finished cleaning up, but you froze. Something was off about him. His eyes looked like they were glowing, and staring straight through you. 

Slowly, he turned his body towards you and wrapped his arms around you. You didn’t know how to react, just frozen in place while he leaned over you. He buried his face into you, his nose stuffed into the crook of your neck.

“Eren? What—what are you doing?” “You smell… so sweet.” 

He grazed his claws over your back, making you press yourself into him with your spine arched. It took everything inside of him, every ounce of self-control he had to keep from picking you up and taking you right then and there, in the middle of the lake. His sniffing was starting to tickle your neck, making you squirm.

“Eren…”

He didn’t respond—instead, beginning to back you up towards the shore. Eventually, the water was back to being well below both yours and his waist, going just above your knees and exposing everything. Instead of eventually backing out of the lake, you hit a ledge, almost falling onto it—if Eren hadn’t stopped pushing, you would have. He instead stepped back, grabbing you by the waist and spinning you around, pushing your upper body forward so that you were bent over it with your legs remaining half-submerged in the water. 

Confused still, you tried to stand up again, only to be stopped by his hand on the small of your back, holding you down.

“Ere—Eren!” You squeaked out, abruptly feeling him press the palm of his finger against your clit. It hit you then, that he could tell what you were feeling—and he probably knew the reason you felt that way too. 

Your entire body shook, your knees feeling weak and wobbly like jello. Eren didn’t stop, beginning to rub in small circles. He kneeled, one hand on the back of your thigh and the other wrapped around your leg to reach your heat. Being face-to-face with your cunt now, he was able to see how wet you were, your pussy swollen and begging for something inside of it. 

“Eren—Eren… please, I—” You stuttered out, feeling the warmth worsen throughout your entire body. 

“Shh, shh. I’ll take care of this.” He interrupted you, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on your ass. 

This was embarrassing, to be bent over the side of a lake by someone who stole you away a few hours ago, with his face so close to the most intimate parts of you. 

You covered your mouth, trying to silence the tiny whimpers that came out when you felt his breath on your cunt. He moved closer, slowly sticking out his tongue and dragging it down the slit of your pussy. Moving his other arm around your leg, he managed to put both of his thumbs on either of your outer labia, spreading your lips apart and taking another long lick.

If it weren’t for him, you would have collapsed onto the ground by now. His tongue moved back to your clit, flicking it a few times before dragging back to push into your entrance. Involuntarily, you pushed your hips back into him, begging for more friction. He pulled away, much to your dismay, making you whimper from the sudden cold breeze.

“You taste so good—you taste so good.” Eren panted, continuing to play with your folds and nudge your clit with his finger. He unwrapped one of his arms and closed his hand into a fist, only his middle and ring finger left extended. Carefully, he put the two claws into his mouth and bit down, effectively snapping the sharp nails off. After spitting them into the water, he moved his hand back to your pussy, feeling up and down to gather as much of the slick as he could before pushing his fingers in up to their first knuckles.

“Eren!” You cried out, your arms giving out and leaving you with your head buried in them against the dirt. 

His ears perked up, and you could feel him lean to the side to try and look at your face, “Are you ok?”

“Yes—Yes I’m ok. Please, please, please keep going.” 

Never before had someone putting just two fingers in you felt good. Even touching yourself hadn't. It was like your sensitivity was in overdrive, every ounce of contact you had with him had you melting. Not to mention, his fingers were massive, the two of them alone being longer than the average dick. 

As he pushed them deeper, you could feel yourself squeezing the digits, especially when he had driven them in to the third knuckle. You almost couldn’t control yourself, your shaking hips grinding back and forth on his fingers.

“Move them, move them, please. Please.” You begged, starting to feel irritated like there was an itch that he just wasn’t reaching—an itch that desperately needed the satisfaction of being scratched.

Weak to your pleas, Eren was quick to retract and thrust them back into you, using the thumb of his other hand to massage your clit while he did. You whimpered into your arms, rocking with the motion of his hand to force his fingers as deep as they could go. 

“So desperate—so wet too. Is this really all because of me?” He asked, making your embarrassment grow tenfold. Despite the intention of his remark being teasing, he ended up sounding unsure, almost in disbelief that he had managed to make you so worked up. Even when you nodded in response, he still wasn’t quite sure. 

“All this, because you saw me naked? Even with a soft dick?”

You nodded again, whining when he stopped moving his fingers to focus on standing up and leaning over you.

“Well, would you like to see what it looks like when it’s hard?”

You almost bashed your head into his chin with the way you stood up so fast. He chuckled at your eagerness, pulling his fingers out of you and giving you room to turn around and see him.

When you did, your mouth fell open, and you could feel yourself throb again. The need was almost starting to hurt, your entire body begging for you to let him rearrange your guts. Such a thing would be an easy task for him as well, with his cock being almost as big as a ruler. There was no way you would be able to fit it inside of you when the time came, surely—but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to see how much of it you could take.

From the thick tuft of hair right above the base of it, the slightly curved shaft seemed mostly even, only a few veins protruding and the girth only increasing slightly around the head. The tip was pink and leaking precum, pleading for a pretty pussy to penetrate and fill—your pussy to be more specific.

With a shaky breath, you reached out—only to be stopped by a hand gripping your wrist. When you looked up to Eren to see what was wrong, you were met with his beet-red face, his brows furrowed and his teeth clenched. Despite looking angry, he wasn’t—just struggling to hold everything in. He needed you desperately, and it felt like if he didn’t have you soon he was going to explode. But he didn’t want to do it out in the lake—he wanted your first time together to be at home in his bed, which is why this situation was so difficult. 

 “We need to go home. Now.” He said, sounding urgent and demanding. He knew if he didn’t get home with you soon, he’d end up losing it and fucking you against the ledge, which he’d definitely regret after. Before you could question how you’d get home while he was sporting a hard-on, he was already picking you up and making his way to shore. Instead of putting his clothes back on after shaking the extra water off of himself, he picked up the pile and held it over his crotch, positioning it so that he was holding the clothes with one arm and you with the other. You didn’t even get a chance to complain about how overly exposed you were, or how you didn’t want anyone to see you nude, because he was already rushing back home, leaving you to pray that nobody was outside tonight.

With no interruptions, you arrived back at his cabin quickly, getting dropped onto the bed almost immediately after he reached it. The clothes were discarded to the side, freeing his hands and allowing him to pull you to the edge of the bed and position you the same way you were at the lake—bent over the side of it with your knees on the floor.

He got on his knees behind you, grabbing your hips and sliding his cock in between your legs. You shivered at the contact it made with you, the base of it pressing against your pussy and the length going over halfway up your stomach. He wrapped his arms around you, feeling where the tip of his cock was against your stomach and letting out a breathy sigh.

“Shit, that’s gonna go deep, huh…” He dragged his fingers up through the middle of your chest, and then straight back down again. He moved his hand under his shaft, reaching your clit and beginning to rub it up and down with his middle and index fingers. 

“Do you think you can take it?” He asked, “I don’t want to end up hurting you.”

“Yes, Yes I can take it, Eren. Please, give it to me, please.” You pushed your hips into him, trying to move them closer to his fingers and cock, desperate for any kind of stimulation he had to offer. He hadn’t given you enough, and you just kept wanting more. You needed to be filled, fucked—something—or you might end up going feral.

When he pulled his hand and cock away, you prepared yourself to feel the tip of it push against your opening—but instead, you were met with his tongue again. This time, he had turned on his back and moved underneath you with his head on the bed, right below your cunt, allowing him easier access to your clit. As much as you wanted something inside of you, being able to grind your pussy against his face was enough for now, if that’s what he was willing to give. He lapped at it, flicking the swollen bud over and over with his tongue before wrapping his lips around it to suck. 

You buried your face into the sheets, embarrassed by how many lewd noises came from your throat. His arms found their way around your legs, one grabbing your ass, and the other—the one with his two cut claws—moved to finger you again. 

Your cunt was covered in his spit at this point, mixed with your slick and helping to lubricate your pussy for what was to come later. The ache inside of you grew larger, even as he ate you out and made you see stars. You needed something bigger, you needed all of him. Every inch you could take. 

“Want more, ‘ren. Please.” You begged with a shaky voice, tears cascading down your cheeks. His fingers weren’t enough anymore, and you were desperate.

He pulled his fingers out of you and moved from underneath you, turning himself upright and getting back onto his knees behind you. As much as he wanted to give in to what you wanted, he was still so afraid of hurting you. You were so tiny next to him, there was no way he wouldn’t tear your insides trying to put himself in. 

“Promise you’ll tell me if it’s too much?” He grabbed your hips, trying to hold you still while he slid the tip of his cock up and down your soaking cunt.

“Yes, Eren, I promise! Please! Please, please!” You tried to push yourself back onto him, not realizing you were only preventing him from penetrating you.

“Then hold still. I can’t get it in when you squirm like that.” Eren grimaced with frustration, eventually pushing your upper body down into the bed so that you wouldn’t move as much. He finally managed to slip the tip in, giving him time to reposition his hands on your waist for better leverage, “I’m putting in as much as I can. Ok?”

You nodded, taking in a large breath and preparing yourself for what his cock might feel like inside of you.

Carefully, the head breached your opening, his length slowly beginning to fill you up. As it did, both you and Eren melted into each other, your back arching so you could take more of him in while he began to lean over you, his chest resting against your back, allowing you to feel every pant from him. 

He was stretching you out, stuffing every inch of himself into you. Barely more than halfway in, and he was already close to touching your cervix. You were crying, begging for more, begging for him to give you more and more. He could barely hold himself up, the warmth of your tight cunt being almost too much for him to handle. How pathetic, to think that he was so close to cumming, and yet hadn’t even gotten one thrust in.

Using one arm propped up on his elbow for stability, he slid his other hand across your body and underneath you, gliding it across your chest and all the way to your lower stomach. He pressed down gently, pushing himself more and more until he could feel a bump form against his fingers.

“So deep, isn’t it?” His words came out in pants, sending a shiver up your spine and making you squeeze around his cock. After letting out a choked moan, he managed to push himself up again, pressing his length the rest of the way in until it reached the hilt. 

“I'm gonna fuck you pregnant. Gonna put some babies in you so everyone knows that you’re mine.” He placed his hands on your waist, sliding his hands up to your shoulder blades, feeling around them, then dragging his nails back down to your hips. Thin lines were left in place of where he had just scratched you, and instead of the usual whimper in response, it made you shudder and cry for more. 

His remaining claws dug into your skin, not deep enough to hurt or draw blood, but enough to keep a good grip on you. He pressed his hips into your ass again, forcing you against the bed before he pulled out halfway and fucked into you again.

Immediately, he picked up the pace and continued rutting into you, forcing the bed to bounce with his actions. You squealed and whimpered, your mind growing numb and dizzy as he continued. 

It felt amazing, like all of your sensitive spots were being touched. The itch was finally being scratched. He filled you up perfectly, his cock reaching all of the right places—you wanted to sob from how overwhelming it was. It was perfect.

“Hah—Eren! Please! Please, please, pleasepleaseplease!” You repeated the word over and over like it was the only thing you knew, begging for him, pleading for him to keep giving you what you needed, to keep taking care of you like he said he would.

“Please what, hm? Please—pant—what? Tell me what, tell me what you want.”

“Cum in me! I—I want—I wanna be full! I wanna be full of you…”

“You do, hm? You want me to—want me to fuck you full?”

“YES! Yes! Please!” That seemed like the best thing in the world right now. 

“You better be certain than, cause once I start I—I won’t be able to pull out.” His grip on your hips tightened, and he could feel a knot begin to form at the base of his cock as his thrusts grew uneven.

“Yes, Eren—I need it, I need it!” You started to move your hips with his, helping him hit even harder than before.

“Alright baby, alright.” He groaned out the last word, feeling dangerously close to tipping over the edge. With your pussy clenching him so tightly, he wasn’t going to last long—but he wanted you to cum first. Wrapping his arm around you, he moved his hand down to your cunt, pressing two fingers to the bundle of nerves and moving them. 

The slow circles on your clit combined with his hard, cervix-kissing thrusts were enough to begin your release, your pussy convulsing around him while you lost control of your sounds. Your entire body twitched and jolted as you came, an assortment of moans, cries, and pants spilling from your throat. 

“You coming? You coming?” 

You nodded.

“Yeah? Good. Good, good girl.” He slapped your ass, likely leaving a bruise before he leaned over you, holding himself up by his elbows and putting all of his energy into fucking you. You could see his arms on either side of your head, the muscles flexing as he moved quickly. 

“I’m gonna cum—fuck, fuck, you better fucking take it all.” He pushed himself as deep into you as he could, getting in three more hard thrusts before he bottomed out for the final time, his knot getting stuck inside of you while he unraveled. Not being able to pull out this time, he continued to rut and grind his hips against yours to keep the stimulation going, milking as much of his seed out as he could while mumbling for you to take it all—which you did. 

With his body leaned over you—almost laying on you—and his head next to yours, he buried his face into your neck, getting a big whiff of your scent before chomping down on your shoulder, right next to the mark he’d left before. It made you whimper, feeling his teeth dig into you just like they had before, but this time it was a nicer feeling of pain—one that was more soft and clouded by lust instead of pure discomfort.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest before he relaxed on top of you, sending both of you into the bed. His mumbles stopped soon, and his hips stilled against yours when he was finally done emptying into you. After a minute of relaxing in the sweaty, sticky pile containing you and Eren, you began to squirm, growing tired of being crushed by the heavy werewolf. With his knot still stuck inside of you, he chose to roll over instead, turning you to face him and leaving you on top of him—it was still a little uncomfortable, but at least you weren't as hot as you were with him on top of you. 

As you sat on him, his length began to grow, the feeling of the tip pressing against your cervix becoming increasingly less pleasing and more and more painful.

“Eren? Are you—“ you paused, shifting around awkwardly while trying to pull him out of you, finding it nearly impossible with the way he was swollen inside of you, “Are you going to pull out?”

He moved his hands over your thighs, carefully brushing your bandaged wounds, “I told you I wouldn’t be able to stop, didn’t I?” 

A nervous laugh was all he could muster, trying desperately to keep you from becoming uncomfortable now that your heat was beginning to wear off. 

“Oh. So you meant—you were being serious when you said…” You trailed off, looking down to where your bodies met. 

“Yea, I was. It should go away soon, though! Don’t worry—we can get some food after and rest a little before your heat starts up again.” His hands moved to your waist, tracing his hands up and down your hips.

Your brows furrowed together with confusion, “My—My what? Again?”

“Well… shit, it’s a little complicated, but—since I bit you, and since we’re…well, mated,” he stopped his awkward ramble for a second, trying to think up a good way to explain the mess that was a werewolf’s heat, “you’re going to start getting affected by more… werewolf things. You won’t look like one, obviously, but some of your hormones are going to be like ones.” 

Cocking your head, you leaned your head forward slightly, trying to give him a cue to continue.

“My dad told me about it when I told him I had my heart set on you as my mate…” His cheeks burned red, and his eyes drifted off to the side, “My mom was a human. Is—she still is, I mean. That’s how I know so much about this.”

Sensing him beginning to drift into another topic, you asked again, “Eren, what was the thing about hormones and heat?” 

“Right, right, sorry. Basically, werewolves go through heat cycles in the spring, and a bunch of things can trigger it. Usually, when it starts, it can be really hard to stop it. The only way you can is by mating—and even then, the relief is only temporary. The only way you can really stop it is—well…”

“Is what?”

“Getting pregnant, usually. Unless you want to wait for it to pass, which can be really painful, I've heard.”

This time, after his explanation, you stayed quiet, looking down at his chest and trying to process what you just learned. He had essentially given you two options: Get pregnant or wait for the agonizing cycle to complete.

Noticing your discomfort, Eren cupped your cheek and tilted your head up so that you would look at him, “My mom says that it got a lot better after she had me, though, so maybe it’ll be the same for you.”

His attempt to comfort you backfired, ending with tears on your end, crying about not wanting it, and him sitting up to hold you as you crumbled. By now, the swelling that had locked you together died down, allowing him to pull himself out of you. A slew of semen spilled out of you and onto his lap as you did, making you feel like a disgusting and sticky mess.

“Don’t cry, please… It’s going to be ok. You’re going to be ok. Please, please… No more tears.” He held your face, pushing his forehead against yours while he wiped your tears. “We can eat and then rest, right? We’ll rest as long as you need to.” 

After pushing your head into his shoulder, he fell back on the bed, holding you close while he pet your back and head. You were quick to calm, his body wrapped around yours providing a sort of comfort that was still new to you—a feeling of peace and home. It was hard to cry with that warm feeling in your chest. 

A few minutes of silence passed with Eren petting and holding you, allowing you enough time to relax so that you weren’t crying anymore, even when he got up to grab your clothes and a rag to clean you. When he returned to your side, he slipped his arm underneath your back to hold you up, handing you his shirt and telling you to put it on while he cleaned up the excess cum that covered your thighs. You did as told, changing into the clean shirt and watching him throw the rag into the heap of dirty clothes that he dropped on the floor earlier. As you stared at the pile, you realized that this would be your fourth time changing shirts today—and his third. 

“You change clothes a lot, you know.” You commented, pointing to where all of his previously worn shirts lay. 

Eren looked from the clothes to you, chuckling a little while he put on—what would hopefully be—his final change of clothes for the day, “Heh, only today. Normally I only change after bathing or if my shirt gets ripped, today was just special!” 

Tilting your head to the side, you questioned him, “Special? How?” 

“Because today’s my first day being with you since we were kids.” He responded with a small smile, sitting back on the bed and pulling you into his side. Your cheeks burned, and you pushed against him gently.

“Is it really that special?”

“Of course it is. I’ve missed you for years, why wouldn’t it be special? You're finally mine.”

Your face felt even hotter, but not like it did during your heat. 

“Stop it, Eren… Just go make me food like you said you would. I’m getting hungry.” You pouted, crossing your arms and trying to hide your fluster. 

“Aw, alright. Since you asked so nicely.” He got up, kissing your head and ruffling your hair before going to grab things out of the many jars and boxes he had, plating it all and heading for the door, “I’ll be outside by the fire pit; call if you need me.”

You nodded and watched him leave, barely even realizing that he was trusting you enough to be alone with the door unlocked. Escaping came as a secondary thought, and you didn’t bother to question it. You were too distracted by the comfort—the comfort of Eren, his presence, and his smell. It was overpowering any sort of negative feeling you had before. 

With a sigh, you buried yourself into the blankets and sheets on the bed, relaxing into the softness of it. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to stay like this for a while, drowning in the solace that you had here. You could always escape later, so why not enjoy this feeling while you had it. 

Just as you were about to shut your eyes and let yourself drift to sleep, a loud bark echoed from outside of the cabin. You sat up, listening for a moment to determine if the noise was a one-off occurrence or if something was happening outside. You heard the pitter-patter of a few raindrops hit the roof, but nothing else. After a minute passed with nothing else, you just assumed that maybe Eren had been startled, or maybe he got overly excited and barked at something—but all of those ideas went down the drain when you heard it again. This time, it was louder, and much more aggressive-sounding than before. And then, there was another bark—one from someone different. 

Worried, you got up and hurried to the door, your thighs thankfully not aching as much as before—well, the injuries on the outsides of your thighs that is. You pushed against it in a rush, swinging it wide open to see what was going on and if Eren was in danger.

The already wet dirt was beginning to flood as the second rain of the day poured down, turning into mud that caked Eren and another werewolf as they wrestled and fought on the ground. The food that Eren had previously gathered for you was scattered across the dirt, some of it crushed underneath the two fighting werewolves.

Eren was covered in dirt and blood, both his own and his opponents. Gashes, scratches, and bite marks covered his body, telling you how viscous this fight was—for it to wound him so badly in just a few minutes.

You watched as they tackled each other, tearing at each other’s skin and gnawing at the other’s limbs. Although you wanted to scream, to run and throw yourself in between them to stop the fight, doing such a thing would only lead to your demise—so all you could do was watch as they mauled each other. Eventually, the stranger was pinned to the ground, being able to do nothing but kick and bark while Eren continued to attack him. 

Unable to handle watching the battle anymore, you screamed for Eren, waiting for him to look at you before you went inside, slamming the door shut and leaning all of your weight against it. You began to cry, praying that Eren would be able to get away from whoever was out there fighting him. The numerous questions you had about why he was fighting could come later, right now you only wanted him to be safe. 

Something rapped against the door, startling you away from it. You scurried back to the bed on all fours, hiding underneath the blankets while staring daggers at the door, hoping that the next person to come through it would be someone familiar to you. As it swung open, the wood bashed against the wall forcefully, making the house shake. You let out a cry, squeezing your eyes shut and praying that when you opened them, Eren would be the one there.

The door was shut, and you listened to the sound of footsteps approaching you carefully. A large hand was placed on your back, and before you could react with a scream or shout—he spoke.

“It’s ok. It’s me, bunny.”

Your eyes shot open, and you launched yourself to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He flinched as your arms touched his wounds but still wrapped his arms around you, petting your head as you held onto him. 

You pushed him away, eyes scanning over his body while you made note of every injury and bruise he had.

“You're bleeding, Eren…” 

“I know, I know. Help me get bandaged up… please.” His voice was hoarse as he spoke to you, making his weakened state even more obvious. He pointed to a box that sat on a wooden shelf against the wall opposite to you, “They’re in there. Please get them for me.” 

Nodding, you were quick to stand and rush to the shelf, opening the box and digging out a roll of bandages along with a few other first-aid supplies, such as a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a rag to clean him off. He sat on the bed, hunched over and panting while tugging off his ruined clothes and throwing them into the trash with everything else that had been tarnished that day.

“So much for that being my last change of clothes.” He joked, trying to lighten the heavy mood before he pointed to a large vase in the corner, “There’s some water in there. You can dip the rag in it to get it wet.”

You walked over to it, taking off the ceramic lid and placing it aside, dunking the cloth into the water inside of it. You rang it out after, flinging it over your shoulder and walking back to where Eren sat. He lifted his head, sitting up straight when you arrived at his side. When you began cleaning him, he couldn’t help the small sigh that left his mouth, the washcloth pressing against his skin and scrapping off the drying mud and blood was already making him feel better—especially because you were the one doing it. 

“Thank you.” He brushed a hand over your cheek, catching your attention and stopping you from your task for a moment. His thumb grazed over the curve of your cheek while he admired you, a glimpse of relief and sadness in his eyes. You were more important to him than you would ever even begin to realize, and the fact that he could have been so close to losing you during that fight had cemented that fact—making him feel even more possessive over you than before, a strong desire to keep you safe with him overpowering any rational thought. 

You nodded at him, continuing to clean his wounds with the wet rag. After you had wiped down as much as you could, you folded the rag in half and doused it in the rubbing alcohol, going over all of his wounds again to clean them. Eren clenched his jaw, hissing at the stinging feeling that followed.

Working quickly, you managed to finish in less than a minute, allowing you to move on to bandaging him. He lifted his arms, giving you room to wrap the bandage around and pull it tight against him. 

This process took longer, wrapping each limb individually in a way that still allowed him to move was a lot more time-consuming than just running a soaked cloth over everything. You moved in front of him, continuing to cover his wounds while he watched you. It was almost eerie, having him watch your every move so carefully, not being able to tell what he was thinking.

As you finished wrapping the last of his injury, he moved one of his arms around you and pulled you into his lap, letting you finish tying off the bandage before he rested his head on your shoulder. You did the same, resting on his and snuggling into him. He smiled, holding you against him securely and relaxing with the comfort of you in his arms. 

Moving a hand up to your open shoulder, he began to trace over the bite mark in the crook of your neck. He smiled to himself, the proof of you being his mate putting a warm feeling in his chest. His mark had worked to bind the two of you, but whether you had figured that out yet or not, he didn’t know. He wanted to tell you.

“You know, you seem a lot calmer with me than you did before.” He began, deciding that the best way to bring it up was subtly so that you wouldn’t freak out. 

“I guess I have.” You replied, tracing your finger over his shoulder blade, “Haven’t really thought about it that much.”

“Ah, I see.” There was a pause while he thought, deciding what he should say next, “Do you remember earlier—when I was talking about how your hormones are going to change and stuff?”

“Yea, I remember.”

“Well, it affects more than just your sex hormones, you know.” As he finished speaking, he braced himself for your response.

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” You shrugged it off, trying to ignore the fact that he now had a large influence over your emotions, whether you wanted him to or not. You could come to terms with it later, but for now, it was easier to just ignore.

Your answer was unexpected to Eren, but he didn’t want to push it any further, deciding to just leave it be for your sake. After that, he allowed you to steer where the conversation went, and if it continued at all.

“Does the fight you got into have anything to do with hormones, Eren?” You asked him, trying to get back onto the topic of the fight so you could figure out what caused it. When he let out a sigh in response, you began to regret asking—thinking you’d upset him. Feeling you tense up in his lap, he placed his hand on your back and massaged up and down your spine, reassuring you that things were ok.

“I guess that’s part of it,” He began, wrapping his arms around you again and holding you even tighter than before, “That other guy… He’s always been really pissy over other people having mates because he could never get one. He’s always starting fights over it, trying to ‘win’ the other person’s mate so that he could have one too. I didn’t expect him to be out there, and I thought I would be able to ignore him, but… he could smell your heat on me and it made him really aggravated. He kept saying these… disgusting things about you, and joking about how he’d take you from me when I wasn’t looking so I just—I snapped.”

With his face shoved into your neck, you could feel his tears soaking into your skin. You moved your hand to his head, digging your fingers into his scalp and massaging gently, trying to comfort him. You heard a whimper from him, followed by a few hiccups as he started to cry. 

“I’ve waited so long to have you. I can’t handle the thought of losing you—I just—I just got you. You’re mine. You’re mine. I don’t want anyone else to have you.” He nuzzled into you more, trying to force himself as close to you as he could get, “You’re mine. Mine.” 

His hands pressed against your back, nails beginning to dig into you while he mumbled possessive things. You began to squirm, growing uneasy with how close he was to making you bleed again—but he stopped, pulling his head away from your throat and sliding his hands from your back to your front, moving them up to cup your face. 

With all of your attention on him, making sure to use the softest voice he could muster while tears flooded his eyes—he asked you, “Promise me that you’ll never leave me. Promise you’ll always be mine.” 

He looked desperate for a response, but reluctant to answer, you gawked at him. As the seconds passed, he grew more distressed with your hesitance, growing visibly more upset the longer your reply took. As much as you wanted to, his sad puppy-dog eyes and the fear for your safety made it difficult to deny him—so you didn’t. You gave in.

“I promise.”

Relief flooded his face when you said that, the tears finally leaving his eyes and a small smile coming to his lips. He pulled your face against his, pressing your lips together and kissing you with everything he had. You didn’t fight it, your hands previously in his hair falling to his shoulders. You relaxed into each other, both of you leaning into the kiss. Eren ran his hands back to your shoulders, down to your arms, and up to your wrists, grabbing them and moving them to his face.

When you caught on and held his face, he let go of you and moved his hands down to your thighs, rubbing them gently before sliding them to your back again. With one arm holding you against him, he rolled over and pressed his body against yours, continuing to kiss you while you were pinned underneath him.

He caressed your face, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss further and get an angle that allowed him to get even closer. His thumb rubbed against the curve of your cheek, making you feel warm and fuzzy inside; you were so comfortable in his arms. 

When he pulled away, it was only for a second to breathe, and then his mouth was back on yours, holding you there for as long as he could. A few more minutes of him repeating the process, and you began to feel him becoming wound up. The more he kissed you, the more he pushed against you—and the more he pushed against you, the more desperately he seemed to cling to you. 

The kisses began to grow shorter, but so did the pauses between them, allowing him to kiss you over and over as his body pressed against yours. His tail was wagging back and forth, increasing in speed the more he relaxed. You wrapped your arms around his neck, digging your fingers into his hair again and scratching behind his furry ears. Feeling nothing but pure bliss, he let out a satisfied moan and practically melted on top of you, the burden of holding up his body weight falling to you. 

His mouth continued to press kisses on your cheek, trailing slowly to your jaw. Your body tensed as he kissed down even further, reaching your neck and pausing his journey to give some more attention to it. He laid a few pecks here and there, scattering light kisses across your throat before finally deciding on a spot to ravage. First, his sharp teeth grazed over the spot, tickling your skin and giving you goosebumps all over. With his lips puckered, he latched onto you, harshly sucking at your skin and leaving a deep bruise. When he was satisfied with what he’d left, he abandoned it to join the rest of the marks on your neck, moving on to kiss your collarbone.

He moved off of you, maneuvering himself around until he managed to get into a position in between your legs. With his hands now free, he was quick to cup your face, giving you a peck on the lips before speaking, “Please—let me make you mine. More than you already are. Please, let me take all of you.”

His hands slid down your neck, moving to fondle your chest through your shirt, “I’ll let you have me too. I’ll let you have anything you want. Just—Please. It’s all I want. You’re all I want.” 

You could feel your face heat up, tears welling up at the idea of what being his could mean. Every sensical thought you had was being pushed away, your instincts—poisoned by his bite and clouded by your returning heat—inclining you to give yourself to him. In any other situation, you would say no. In any other situation, you would have already escaped and run away, giving no second thought to the werewolf that kidnapped you. In any situation where he hadn’t already bitten you, you wouldn’t think twice about rejecting him—but that wasn’t this. 

You only had one answer to give, lifting your hand up to his face and holding it delicately, “You can have me, Eren.” 

With your consent given, he smiled and his tail began to smack against the bed over and over, showing how excited he was. A little rougher than before, he was already groping and squeezing your breasts, growing eager to take you again. His crotch was pressed against yours, allowing you to feel the way his length grew as he touched you, struggling to become fully erect in the tight confines of his underwear.

Your body already felt hot again, a feeling similar to what Eren called your “heat” before. It grew more intense with each second, every touch or grind against you sending a strong wave of euphoria through your body. 

“I’ll take such good care of you, bunny.” He said, grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head. He threw it to the side—planning to come back for it later when you were done—and grabbed onto your chest again, pawing at your tits and rolling his thumbs over your hardening nipples. He grew rougher, grinding his hips into yours and moving one hand away from your chest, allowing him access to kiss your now unoccupied boob. 

Eagerly, he popped the nipple into his mouth and lapped at it with his tongue, moving it around and flicking it. Already sensitive enough to his advances, shivers went across your body, and you couldn’t help but grind yourself against him, whimpering as the warmth began to pool in between your legs.

He sucked on it, gently pulling on and rubbing the other nipple with his fingers. You whined quietly, back arching so that your chest would push further into him, your brain so high on dopamine that all you could think about was the pleasure you were receiving. There was no way to take things slow when you were this excited. 

“Eren—Eren, I want—want more.” You begged, your body starting to shake with need.

Eren pulled away from your nipple, but only for a second so that he could speak, “Now now, you have to be patient. I want to keep touching you. I said I want to take all of you, so I intend to touch all of you too.”

With a few more whimpers and squirms, you gave up on asking for more than suckling, because that was all he seemed to be focused on at the moment. He finally pulled back from your tit with a ‘pop’, eyeing the spit-covered and swollen nipple before beginning to kiss down your stomach, sliding both of his hands down to your thighs to spread them apart. The heat from your cunt could be felt on his chin as he reached your clit, his eyes never leaving yours as he wrapped his lips around it, sucking on it and reveling in the whines and cries that left your mouth. He held your waist, his arms underneath your legs and hands on the curve of your hips, slowly rubbing up and down and thumbs massaging them leisurely.

You could see his tail swaying, a clear sign that he was enjoying his time between your legs. A small giggle interrupted your whimpers while you moved your hand, threading your fingers through his hair and petting him. He raised an eyebrow at you, pulling his mouth away for a moment before switching to using his tongue, lapping and flicking the bud. 

Your body jolted, the grip you had on his hair tightening, “Eren!”

He didn’t stop, the licks going from just on your clit to the entire slit; his tongue dragging up your cunt to taste how wet you were. It turned you into putty in his hands, and it took everything inside of you to not squeeze his head with your thighs and suffocate him with your pussy. 

His grip on your waist grew, allowing him to pull you closer to his face and push his tongue into you. One of his hands moved to your groin, his thumb pushing against your clit and rubbing it up and down. The stimulation made you twice as sensitive, his tongue buried inside of you making you feel like you were drowning in bliss.

“It feels good, Eren. It feels so good.” You cried, grasping his head with both of your hands. He nodded, trying to rub his thumb even faster to milk more cute noises out of you. Your legs began to shake, your back arching as you absentmindedly ground your hips against him. You were getting close, you could feel it. The feeling pooling in your core was familiar—you were getting close.

“Eren—Eren, I’m going to—”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, being interrupted by Eren pulling away and sitting up, “No, you aren’t.” 

Taking advantage of the temporary space between you, he ripped off his underwear and crawled back to you, situating himself in between your legs again with his cock sitting in between your thighs, “You’re not going to cum until I’m fucking you so deep that you can feel it in your stomach, got it?”

Tears formed in the corners of your eyes from being denied your orgasm, but you tried to ignore it. The sooner you could get him inside of you the better, and if you started crying that would undoubtedly get in the way. 

“Yes—yes, sir.” You nodded fiercely, wriggling your hips and trying to turn yourself over, just assuming that his preferred position was doggy style because that’s the position you were in before. To your surprise, he stopped you—a hand on your waist pushing you down so that you couldn’t move.

“Don’t move. I want to see your pretty face this time.”

Your face grew even hotter than it already was, feeling flustered at his compliment. When you nodded, he smiled at you, cupping your cheek again and leaning down to kiss you. He was trying so hard to be gentle, especially knowing that he struggled to be most of the time. You smiled back at him, putting your hand over his and lacing your fingers with his.

He kissed you again, again, and again, finally moving back and sitting up all the way, letting go of your hand. This time, he focused on getting inside of you, grabbing his length and moving it back to your pussy. It was a small struggle to get the tip lined up with your opening, but when he did, he pushed it in hastily. He ended up forcing more in than just the tip like he intended—another example of how rough he was without meaning to be—but you didn’t seem to mind, your head thrown back with your eyes squeezed shut, letting out an abundant amount of moans and whimpers into the palm of your hand.

You watched as he continued pushing into you, barely giving you any time to adjust. With how wet you were, it went in easily, allowing you to watch a bulge form in your lower stomach in real-time. For a moment, you thought you would pass out with him so deep inside of you, already so close to touching your cervix—but you managed to stay awake through heavy panting, allowing him to keep pushing deeper and deeper. 

What really sent you over the edge, though, spiraling into a mess of high-pitched whimpers, was when he pressed his palm against the bulge, stroking your pelvis and groaning at the feeling of his cock so deep inside of you. You managed to wrap your legs around him, locking him in place and pushing him closer to you—eliciting a long, drawn-out moan while you squeezed him so tightly that he thought he was going to cum right then. He struggled to pull himself out, wanting to stay buried in your warm pussy—but if he didn’t, he might finish a lot sooner than he intended to. As he did, making sure he left only the head inside, you let out a loud whine, begging for him to put it back in. 

With little warning, he thrust his hips into yours, pushing everything back inside of you swiftly. After that first thrust, he began to move more steadily, keeping his hand pressed to your lower abdomen to feel himself fucking into you. Your slew of moans every time he buried himself back to the hilt were like music to his ears, urging him to go faster—to fuck you until you were a crying, shaking mess, begging for him to pull out because you couldn’t take anymore.

“Feel good?” He asked.

Your response came out as a whine. 

“Use your words, bunny.”

“Yes—Yes, feels so good Eren!” You gasped, feeling your entire body shake as his cock stretched you out over and over.

He moved his hands, grabbing your waist and lifting it up with little effort—allowing him to get even deeper with the new angle. You grabbed onto the blankets underneath you, crying out his name and trying to move your body in sync with his, making your tits bounce as he picked up the pace. He managed to hook his hand underneath you, allowing him to continue holding you up while he used his other hand to rub your clit, sending a wave crashing over you as he repeatedly hit your cervix. The pain felt good—so good that you felt like you were going to melt as an orgasm ripped through your body, making you cry out for Eren while your legs spasmed. 

You weren’t given a chance to rest, Eren instead dropped you and leaned over your body, putting his face close to yours as he continued to pound into you. He licked the tears that fell from your eyes, grabbing one of your hands and pinning it next to your head with your fingers intertwined together.

“You’re so fucking pretty. So so pretty—and you’re all mine,” he leaned into you, groaning as he ignored how sore his legs felt in favor of fucking you faster, as fast as he could manage. You were forced to ride through your orgasm, being pushed to another one quickly with how tender you were now. You felt so full, like you were packed to the brim with his dick—everything felt so warm and satisfying. 

When you finally managed to open your eyes, you were met with Eren’s half-lidded, piercing green ones. Both of you were panting, sweaty, and sticky messes, but that didn’t stop you. You wanted more—and you both got it. Eren’s face was red, and you could tell that he was getting close—his thrusts were growing sloppier, more uneven—and you felt a knot forming at the base of his cock, just like you had the first time. You begged him to put it in you, spreading your legs as wide as you could without feeling like your tendons would tear, making it easier for him to hit just hard enough that the bump could slip into you too. 

With only a few more thrusts, his hips finally stuttered and snapped into yours one last time before his orgasm, his cock pulsating inside of you as he emptied his cum into you. 

Before he could stop himself, he was already stuttering out, “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me who owns you. Who do you belong to,” his judgment clouded by his arousal. 

“You, Eren! You, I belong to you!” You cried in response, your brain too filled with pleasure and longing to comprehend what you were actually saying.

He kept his hips grinding against yours, forcing himself to bear the overstimulation in favor of pushing you through the final release that you were begging for. Despite not being able to get any deeper than he was now, he continued to push, driving the head of his dick into your cervix again and again until your legs were shaking, wrapped tightly around his waist and holding him in place while you went through your climax.

After it was all over, he laid on you, head buried into your neck while you both panted and gasped, desperate for rest after expending so much energy. You used your free hand to lace your fingers in his hair, combing through it and comforting him after the taxing activity. His nose nuzzled against your neck, his breath tickling your throat and making you let out a small giggle—which made you smile. 

As your heats faded, he was able to pull himself out but stayed on top of you, cuddling into you and holding you tight. You pet his head, shutting your eyes and relaxing under him, welcoming the comforting heat he emitted. 

A couple of minutes passed, allowing both of you to catch your breath and unwind—and while doing so, the sticky mess in between your legs became more and more noticeable, but you were trying to ignore it in favor of staying cuddled up to him. Eren, however, had other plans; assuming that the abundance of cum spilled all over your thighs was uncomfortable for you, he got up to get something to clean you off with—much to your dismay. 

You whined for him to come back, but he blew you off with a chuckle and continued to search for a rag. He moved quickly, not wanting to make you wait any longer than you had to—wetting the rag, ringing it out, and returning to you in seconds. After wiping your legs down and chucking the cloth with all the other dirty clothes, he jumped back into bed and pulled you into him. You nestled against his chest, content with your position until you felt a hand on your stomach, stroking it up and down as gently as he could. 

“Do you think it worked?” Eren asked, sliding his hand over your tummy in slow circles. 

Biting your lip, you put your hand over his and responded with hesitance, “I forgot about that.”

You leaned into him more, shutting your eyes and letting a few tears slip down your cheeks. It was so easy to forget the reason you were here when you were intimate with him, and now it was biting you in the ass. There was very little chance that you would be able to make it out now, especially if you did end up pregnant. Even if you did, god knows what lengths he would go to to find you again. You were stuck.

Eren noticed your tears and immediately jumped into action, wrapping his arms around you and petting your head. He cooed sweet words and meaningless reassurances, managing to calm you with little effort.

You wanted to hate him. You really did—but physically, you just couldn’t. All because of a stupid bite mark. At least, that’s what he says is the cause.

It hurt. It truly hurt, but there was nothing you could do about it now. You were stuck; like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf—you were helpless. You would never see your family or friends again—at least not anytime soon. All you could do was learn to accept it, or at least pretend to. 

So that's what you did, curling up into Eren and wrapping your arms around him as he covered you both with a blanket, squeezing your eyes shut while you tried to sleep. He held you there, relaxing with your presence.

“I love you, bunny.”

“I love you too, Eren.”

taglist; @brinex @Sashaisahoeee 

#tw: yandere #tw: breeding #tw: knotting #tw: kidnapping #tw: violence #tw: a/b/o #tw: marking #tw: size kink #tw: stockholm syndrome #tw: stomach bulge #tw: yandere themes #tw: hybrids #ch:erenj #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren x reader smut #eren x reader #yandere eren x reader #eren x you #yandere eren jaeger #eren jaeger x y/n #eren smut #aot smut #snk smut #eren jaeger smut #tw: dubious consent #tw: dubcon #werewolf eren #werewolf eren jaeger #forest fics

[radio-writes]

I'll go with:

"You win"

"Why should I stay?"

"And what will you do? Run from me?"

It Seems the Devil and I Walked Hand in Hand

300 Followers Event

Warnings: Forced cannibalism, gore, murder, stockholm syndrome

Tags: Alastor x reader, GN reader, yandare, reader goes insane, dead dove do not eat

MDNI

A humid breeze blew through your hair, the putrid stench of Hell carried with it. Somewhere in the distance, something—whatever it may be this time—exploded, prompting usual screams of terror.

But your heart fluttered, eyes fixated on your friend next to you. You sat side by side with them, on a random hilltop the two of you stumbled upon. It was quiet, but barely out of the chaos of the main pentagram. 

"What? What is it?" They laughed as they finally called you out on your staring.

You almost swooned as their warm brown eyes met yours. "You just have the prettiest set of eyes in all of Hell, that's all."

You had been so proud of that. So happy about how smooth you were at the delivery. Giddy about the blush that crept onto your friend's face.

The same warm brown eyes—Hell's prettiest, as Alastor so kindly reminded you—stared back at you now. 

Unseeing.

Without its owner's head anywhere near.

On a plate placed before you.

Your blood felt like ice as you hung your head low. Unable to think. Unable to feel. Unable to breathe, maybe, you weren't really sure anymore.

"Afraid I might have gotten carried away, dear. I was absolutely starving since you stood me up on our lunch meeting." Alastor's tone was as bright and cheerful as it always was—you could almost argue that it was even happier now. "Of course, I did save you their eyes. I knew how much you just loved them."

He continued on, sighing and swooning about this and that. How it had been a while since he had such a satisfying meal. How it was all thanks to you for leading him to it. How he can't wait to meet more of your friends—if you ever managed to make any after the show he put on for you.

But you sat still, mind unable to comprehend what actually sat in front of you. Alastor might as well have been talking from three rooms away for all you heard from him. His voice almost sounding like it came from underwater, barely able to pierce through the fog in your head.

It was only when the demon who sat across from you stabbed a fork through an eyeball on your plate, did your senses come back. Like a flipped switch, you could hear well again, in time to hear the disgusting squish of the organ, blood and fluids spilling as it was stabbed.

"Don't let it go cold now, my dear. I went through so much trouble to get them intact and still warm for you." Alastor smiled as he sat across you.

One of his elbows rested on the table, hand cradling his cheek as you met his gaze. The gleeful, cold red eyes sickened you much more than the gore he held up. He raised the fork to you. Your friend's eye at the end of it. "Say Aaah~"

You pressed your lips together. Whether to resist the cruel torture, or to keep the bile from coming out, you were unsure. 

Like a stubborn child, you shook your head, arms pushing against the table to get up from your seat. Alastor was behind you in seconds, dissolving and rematerializing through shadows faster than you could blink.

"Nuh uh, dearest. We don't waste good food in this Hotel. What would the papers say if they find out we throw away such scarce resource?" He pressed his body against the back of your chair, securing you back at the table with an easy push.

He leaned over your shoulder, long arms reached around you. You stared as his clawed hands planted themselves on the table in front of you, caging you in, framing that horrid plate.

You felt his breath by your ear, that horribly familiar static prickled your skin, before you heard him speak. "You know, I'm starting to think you like how your friends taste."

You swallowed against your dry throat, eyes wide. Every breath you took was shallow as you tried to shake your head only to be met with a mocking laugh.

"No? Come now, why lie, my dear? It's only us here." Alastor leaned closer over you. The heat of his body inescapable. "This is the third friend this month. Even a child would have learned by now." 

"I'm all you need, darling. Everyone else is just cattle." His voice distorted as he spoke, a threat, a promise, you knew from experience that he'd deliver on.

Faintly you could feel the weight of metal around your neck. It wasn't physically there, no. After all, it's been a while since you've given him a reason to summon that chain. But it never really ever felt absent, specially at times like this.

You sighed in resignation, and braced yourself for that familiar horrible taste. Your hands clenched into fists on your lap—a sight that delighted the demon behind you.

"You win." You said softly. Numbly, you parted your lips, mind wandering away as you let Alastor slide the fork into your slack mouth. You ignored what it was you were chewing, letting your body function through the motions as you fought to keep your thoughts else were. 

You felt a large hand pat your head, bringing you back to the present in time to hear Alastor's praise. "What a good pet you make, my dear."

The plate before you was empty now, Alastor's looming figure having retreated away from your shaking one, back in his seat in front of you.

The horrible rotten taste still lingered in your mouth, but you didn't bother to ask for something to wash it away. You simply stood up, ready to run to your room and force yourself to throw up—again.

"Hm? Running from me now, are we?" Alastor's brows raised as he watched you. "Not that you can, I own you, after all." 

You suspected his words were less of a reminder for you, and more on just him loving to say them.

"And why should I stay?" Your words seemed argumentative, but your tone and the hunch of your shoulders were anything but. "I've already finished my punishment."

"I would say it was more of a treat, really. You have no idea how much I wanted to eat those." He laughed, not really minding that you just stared back blankly at him.

"Besides, you've yet to pay me back for leaving me waiting at Rosie's. So come, sit." An invitation to most, an order to you.

So sat you did. You ignored the smudges of blood on the plate still in front of you. You ignored the bitter taste the that lingered in your mouth. You ignored the growing numbness spreading from your chest to the rest of your limbs.

You ignored yourself.

Mindlessly, you nodded along to whatever gossip Alastor had, almost immediately, began sharing with you.

Alastor's hold on you had tightened in the past few months. Not only had he pulled you away from the people at the hotel—you were apparently terribly ill, contagious, but fine under his care—but he had also confiscated your phone and TV.

The window in your room was also simply magicked away. He didn't want you getting any funny ideas of leaving him again, after all.

At first you were fine with it. You had a few books in your room, anyway. But after the first two weeks, you've already finished most of them.

Still, they kept you entertained for a little longer after that; you didn't really mind rereading them—for the fourth time, you think.

But then you had that fight with Alastor. You had asked for your phone back, desperate to know what was going on outside your room. Desperate to listen to your music. Desperate to hear another voice aside from your own.

Alastor merely waved off your concern. He let you keep his radio after all. You could simply listen to him. He talked about current events, and played music, and broadcasted all sorts of screams voices. You didn't need anything else.

He didn't quite take it nicely when you had spat that it wasn't enough.

In the fray that followed, your books were lost. Torn to shreds in seconds.

But no matter, you had thought. You still had some paper, a pencil, some paint. While you weren't the best artist around, you doodled the hours away, anyway. Coloring, sketching, filling out every plain, empty gap on the papers you had.

You were quickly running out of material, though. You'd repeatedly ask Alastor to get you more paper, another pencil, even an eraser, every time he came by. But all he kept saying was that he forgot to fetch some, and that he will surely do so next time.

You were always disappointed, but knew better than to start another fight. You didn't want to risk destroying what little paint you had left, after all.

You had began to doodle on your walls. Counting the little details on the wallpaper, even each and crack along your way. You had drawn everything you ever knew existed; from characters you used to liked when you were alive to a freaking sock on the floor. 

The friends he made you eat.

Hastily covered with a drawing of a deer.

By his next visit, Alastor was appalled by the state of your room. He didn't quite appreciate your vandalism. He promptly snapped his fingers and the walls were replaced. Your drawings gone, the wallpaper gone, even the cracks were gone. It was now just a smooth red surface. 

He had taken away the paint, not that there was much left at that point. You thought it was fair anyway, considering you did draw on the walls like an irresponsible child.

You tried cleaning too, just to keep your mind going, your body moving. But no, no, no. Alastor couldn't have his dear friend, and a valued hotel guest, doing such menial labor. 

He easily cleaned the room for you, not a speck of dust left. Barely any furniture left too—he had found them tacky, apparently.

At that point all you had to look forward to were Alastor's visits. Constant, they were. He insisted he brought you your food personally, of course.

You had been suspicious about what he was feeding you, even once outright questioning what you were eating.

He had laughed. "Unless you made any new friends from this room, I can assure you, you aren't eating any sinners, my dear."

You weren't sure how much his assurance was worth, but food was one of the only two things you actually had here. You didn't feel like giving that up, too.

You hated him. Hated him for keeping you here. Hated him for ignoring all your pleas to be let out.

You hated him, but still found yourself jumping from your bed as soon as you heard the door handle rattle. 

You hated him, but him coming to visit meant you had something to do.

The radio by your bed, and Alastor's frequent visits were all you had left.

The isolation was driving you insane, broken only whenever Alastor wanted to.

Alastor was driving you insane, but without him you were completely isolated.

Your sanity felt like a candle burning at both ends, melting far too fast for you to keep it together. You didn't know anymore which torture you preferred. Alastor's presence or absence?

At least, that was a few weeks back.

Because it wasn't like you needed to choose now.

Your food had been appearing on your side table every meal time, instead of coming in carried by the familiar demon.

The radio beside you had been silent for a long while now. Not one terrified scream, not one jazzy tune, not even empty static. 

And of course, Alastor himself hadn't come in to see you in weeks.

You think it's been weeks, at least. He took the clock with him last time he cleaned.

No, there was no need to pick your poison anymore. Alastor had chosen for you.

At first, you had been bitter. How dare he ignore you—or did he forget about you? God, no, he wouldn't. Right? —how dare he not even check in to see if you were even still alive.

How dare he not visit.

And then, you were worried. It was one thing for him not to pop in on you, another thing entirely to miss his shows. He'd never miss an opportunity to broadcast fear over Pride Ring, but your radio had been quiet this whole time. What was keeping him, then? Was he hurt? Was he okay?

Then, and you think it was the worst of them all, you started to miss him. From the moment you woke from restless slumber, your eyes fixated on the door handle, begging it to turn. Your chest ached, praying to hear his silly staticy voice again, even if it was just senseless gossip.

You felt like screaming, begging, pounding on the door for him to visit you. But you knew he wouldn't like that. No, if the others in the hotel found out, Alastor would likely never visit you ever again. 

So you kept to your bed. Your days spent glaring down at the door in desperation, switching only to the radio to do the same, for hours on end. Every little shift you made, the sheets moving under you, felt so deafeningly loud in the empty room.

It was almost maddening.

"My dear, I have a task for you." Alastor's cheery voice spoke up by your ear.

Your eyes snapped open, greeted by the sight of the demon leaning over your head.

"Nothing too difficult, just a little grocery shopping." He continued on as if he hadn't left you to rot.

You didn't care, nor did you register what his words meant. No, the first thing your body jumped to, your mind went to, was that Alastor was here.

"Al!" The glee in your voice unrestricted as you pushed your sheets away and threw your arms around him. The relief, the absolute refreshment, of feeling another warm body against you again was almost heavenly.

A soft hand patted at your shoulder as he awkwardly stayed there. "Well, good morning to you too, sweetheart." He laughed.

You sat up, eyes wide as you leaned away and took him in. Unmistakably, a very welcomed sight.

He told you about the chore he needed done, truly very simple. Just a literal grocery list. But you held onto every word, every charming staticy syllable falling from his lips as if he was preaching your religion. 

You were determined to memorize it all, not just to complete the task but to simply engrave his voice in your head.

You were so thankful to finally hear something other than your creaky bed. To finally be having a conversation again. To feel human.

It hadn't even click for you that you will finally be heading out.

You were quick in getting the task done, determined to get back to Alastor as fast as you could.

You hadn't notice how your skin thawed in the outside heat compared to the icy room you've been locked in. You hadn't paid mind to everyone's greetings around you. You didn't care for all the flashing lights, and tasty smells, and loud music and laughter and screams around you as finished you little assignment.

You wanted to get things done so you could be by the familiar demon again. His presence almost felt like a drug you've been deprived off for so long, that it physically irked you to be away.

And that's how it was from then on.

You were given a new room at the hotel. Alastor had replaced all the books he destroyed because he just felt so guilty. He had also finally remembered to buy you all those papers and art supplies you asked him to get you. And he had even returned your phone and television to you.

Not that you cared for any of those. You've spent most of your time in Alastor's room anyway, unable to stand a second without hearing his voice. 

You'd cling onto every word he'd say, attentive, obsessed.

Your eye would twitch every time he'd mention someone, anyone. Part of you irritated that he had spent time with someone else other than you. Even more so that he cared enough to remember their name. To say their name.

Soon you not only clung onto his words, but onto him as well. Unable to stand that others spent time with him when you could not. You'd miss meals, miss sleep, drop whatever you were doing to follow him wherever he went. To stay by Alastor's side. 

When he forbade you from doing so, you would follow in secret, or have your own little ways to spy on him. To know what he was doing.

The few times you were away from your owner's side, you could be found standing over a dead sinner. Maybe someone who touched him, maybe someone he mentioned, maybe someone who simply glanced at him for far too long for your liking. Regardless, they were all equally deserving of death in your eyes. How dare they.

Alastor knew of these, of course. And while he was quickly growing suffocated by your constant overbearing presence, he hadn't really bothered to say much.

He still preferred this—this grotesque reflection of his own affections for you—over your defiant little attitude before.

His last straw, however, was now. When you stood over yet another sinner. The light gone from their eyes as you still, repeatedly, shot at their corpse.

The green chain appeared in his clenched fist for the first time in a long while. The collar snapped shut around your neck, but you hadn't even noticed until he gave it a harsh yank.

You were pulled to the side, stumbling over the body by your feet. You looked up, confused, to see Alastor snarling down at you.

"I needed him alive, dear." He said, his annoyance barely kept under control.

"He touched you." You merely replied, as if it was the worst offense, worst sin, in Hell.

"Because we were making a deal, you stupid pest!" Alastor hissed through his teeth, but you merely blinked at him as if you didn't see his point still.

You stood up straighter, keeping your eyes on him. Always on him.

He was so beautiful, so perfect. Everything you needed.

Why had you ever wanted to find anyone more?

"But he still held your hand."

"I'll touch who I want to touch. Do not forget who holds the leash here." His eyes narrowed, chain pulling taught between you.

You smiled at him, loving the way his voice sounded when he was getting angry. It rarely happened now considering how good you were for him, but oh, did it sound like music to you.

Your hands lifted to softly run your hands through the chain by your neck. "You do, of course. I don't question that."

"I need you, Al." You added, soft, almost loving expression on your face as your adored his furious red eyes. "And while I can't force you to stay with me, alone. I can simply just get rid of everyone else. I can be your only one, if I'm the only one left."

"So you've finally flew off the handle, dearest?" His question seemed genuine, not at all in jest.

But you laughed anyway, as if it was the funniest thing ever. "And what if I have?" You grinned at him. "What will you do? Run from me?"

Your fingers gripped the chain suddenly, yanking yourself forward, closer to him. You feel his pull against the chain as well, not to bring you close but simply to keep hold of it. To keep hold of his control over you.

Your eyes lowered, admiring him from up close now. The flicker of uncertainty in his eyes was new, and you couldn't wait to see more new things from him now that you're so devastatingly devoted to him.

"You own me, remember? I'm here forever."

#tw: forced cannibalism #tw: murder #tw: stockholm syndrome #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #vien writes #follower event #I told myself I'd keep these ones short and simple #but i do not have much self control #also i am fixated on Alastor's cannibalism right now if you couldn't tell

[thedivinershiddenarchive]

I noticed you write for Capitano and I thank you for that QwQ Can I request Cupid's weapon to be the R6 Compound Bow ? Capitano and reader had a lot of time together when he abducted her, and she started to develop Stockholm Syndrome not long after she got captured. Despite being in an unhealthy relationship, she's really loyal + almost obedient to Capitano and he might be soft on her from time to time because of this???

For kinks, perhaps some praising, dirty talk, and very mild degration? I hope it's okay for the AU to lean a biit on the softer side but not too soft?? I've just been finding extreme ones and seeing a bit of softness from him whilst being a yan would be nice q-q;

Have fun with this!

CHARACTERS; Yandere!Capitano x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY; You haven't seen your friends or family in a long time. It could have been years. You have no idea; only Capitano knows when he kidnapped you. Is it wrong for you to be grateful for him doing so? All you had to do was obey the masked man like a pet. And in return, he will lavishly reward you. You can't get enough of him, and you can't let him go. He can't either. It's almost as if the both of you were addicted.

CONTENT; kidnapper/victime troupe, stockholm syndrome, praise/(little)degradation kink, dirty talk, unhealthy relationships, possesiveness/overprotectiveness, violence/fighting, usage of "good girl/sweet girl/sweetheart", yandere themes, capitano being a bit rough and harsh to reader, reader calls capitano "sir".

A/N; this is the first ever interesting ask for the event i've gotten and i love the concept. tysm anon for requesting this and i hope you like what i've wrote! (update: i actually had a lot of fun writing this and felt such in depth to it!)

cupid's dilemma: valentine's madness | masterlist | tag system

It's been a while since you've last seen your hometown. Your family, friends, literally anyone you loved before you got here. A dark home in the middle of nowhere with the coldest breeze you’ve ever felt. You’ve never felt an ounce of warmth ever since you were kidnapped, the only warmth you’ve ever been engulfed with was the big armored man who he calls himself “Capitano”.

The only sun you were able to see even if he resembled the moon more. But his touch was like fire when he didn’t wear his armor, one that might’ve burned you but it didn’t. He was your only source of fervor you’ve ever had in a long time. He was the only one to fit your needs.

You’d wait for him, no matter how long it was. Be it the whole cold season in Snezhnaya or simply a week after. For how long he’s left you in this dark cabin, you would’ve escaped by then when he came back. But you didn’t. You don’t know your way out of the nation and in the end he’ll come to find you and take you back.

It was funny, really. The moment your blindfold was taken off and landed eyes on the man in front of you, your mind became too busy comprehending what was going on to even eat the spoon full of soup he was trying to feed you.

You hadn't even been with him a week and you were clinging to him like a leech, not that he minded. It made it easier for him to care for you without you acting scared or making a scene.

And it was easier for him to show you affection when you behaved. He didn’t teach you anything yet and you were obedient like a dog following commands. Each order he gives you, you immediately follow. Even if it was in exchange for an ounce of his love. That’s the point of your life now, anyway. Being his beloved to keep forever.

You haven't been outside in a long time. Capitano has been extremely protective of you, refusing to even let you step on the snow, but since it was a special reward for his girl because you've been loyal and didn't appear to have any bad intentions of leaving him even if he gave you a minute to be alone.

It was the first time you felt happy about going out and spending more time with the armored man. He was no fool to let you wander around without having your wrist chained to his arm in case you got lost because he wasn't paying a good amount of attention to you.

By the end of the day, you adventured back to your cabin with the widest grin you could’ve mustered. He was surprised to see you really happy. He didn’t have a single thought of blaming himself, too blinded by the fact he’s broken you a bit by trapping you inside for a long period of time.

Though the moment would’ve lasted longer if it weren’t for a few bandits getting in your path. Capitano sensed danger so he placed an arm in front of you to protect you. He lets out a low “Stay back,” before he wields his weapon in front of him. “Don’t go running away from me.” with that, you walked back for a bit. Enough that you wouldn’t get hurt from him fighting off the crooks.

The sight had your breathing go rapid. You were scared but you don’t know what to do. You shouldn’t be scared, you know he’s a strong man, strong enough to take care of a few weak bandits.

You’ve heard it before. You’ve heard how the people distanced themselves from Capitano when you were walking around the shops, how they whispered about him. You know better that people shouldn’t disrespect Harbingers, and whispering about them was a part of that. Knowing Capitano was a Harbinger was nothing shocking to know about.

The Fatui badge he had on his coat said it all, and knowing him, you’d expect him to have a high-ranking and respected role.

You were standing right in front of a man whose armor was stained with blood. You weren't worried anymore, knowing he wasn't hurt and that he had enough knowledge to survive a battle unharmed. If you even call that a battle.

He sheathed his weapon back to where it belongs, walking right up to you and engulfing you into an embrace. You didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him and lean your head into his plated chest.

His armor dropped on the cold wooden floor and you sat in front of him on the bed. Never has he asked you to clean up the mess he’s made, the blood he has shed. It felt wrong exposing you to this but seeing that you were unfazed by all of it, he takes it into consideration and deals with it his way.

“You don’t have anything to wear for tomorrow, dear.” you stated.

“A little blood doesn’t stop me from using it.” You laughed inside, a little, huh? In his eyes, it wasn’t a big of a mess. Unlike yours, it’s like you witnessed a whole massacre.

“You should worry about yourself.” he turns to you, discarding his chest plate and placing it on the corner. 

“I listened to what you did and was left unharmed. They didn’t leave even a single scratch on me.” you responded nonchalantly.

“Even if you were, I wouldn’t forgive myself.” the tall man miffed, now sitting next to you, caressing your cheek with his palm. The pad of his thumb brushing the bottom of your eyelids, making you lean into his touch. “Won’t forgive myself..”

You didn’t see how he lifted his mask a little, feeling his lips tickle your neck. You slowly snaked your arms around his neck and slanted your head back for him to have more access to your neck.

Never have you done this… Well, you have, but not with Capitano. He’s been way too busy so you were left to play with yourself. You may be patient but you couldn’t help but admit you miss his touches. But here he was now, caressing your body so diligently like if he made one wrong move, you’d shatter.

He carefully pushes you on the bed and continues kissing your body, he harshly clutches the fabric of your shirt, signaling you to take it off in which you oblige. You’ve never seen him watch your bare chest in awe (even behind the mask), it makes you a bit nervous since this was your first time with him.

“Be gentle, please.”

“I’ll do what I want with you.” he buries his face against your breasts, you moaned silently and snuggled against the pillow. His touches were really like fire, but more fiery and it roared. You were desperate for them but you don’t wanna seem bratty about it.

He pulls away from you, taking off his mask and throwing it firmly against the floor, creating a clunking sound because of the metal. You looked up at him in wonder at the sight of his face. You will admit you were quite foreign to the concept of him being unmasked but you weren’t against it.

Capitano leans in and gives you permission for your hands to wander his body, his face, his scars. You smiled in adoration at the sight, you asked for approval to kiss him, and he nodded. Sitting down in front of you with your legs straddling his lap. His hand is comfortably placed on your hips to position you properly.

A groan rumbled through his chest when you kissed his neck, more specifically, a sensitive spot on it. You were taken aback when he clasped around your body strongly but soon weakened and caressed your back, beckoning you to continue.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“It’s… Fine.” you consoled, returning to your current actions and kissing his misty skin. He sighs in content, you weren’t surprised at how quiet it is when he was making sounds of pleasure. You know how much he wanted to seem tough, even behind closed doors but you couldn’t change that, hell, you don’t want to change that. You loved him the way he was.

“More.” the man emitted and draws you away from his neck. His eyes darkened, desperate for more than you can give. His lips tipped to yours, engulfing them into a kiss. You didn’t know you were holding your breath until now, your eyes lidded a bit before fully closing them. Enjoying the warmth of his lips.

He laid you down again, tapping your thigh, gesturing you to spread your legs in which you did. The tall man didn’t waste no time taking off your pants and underwear.

Capitano laughed a bit when you looked away and tried to bind your legs together but his grip on your thighs were too strong, allowing him to crawl on top of you, your hips connected to each other.

Your eyes gaze at his hand palming his tented crotch before pulling his pants and underwear down, revealing his cock. He hears you gulp in anticipation, guessing that you were nervous to be filled by something big. He can’t blame you, it would take quite a painful stretch to fit all of it inside of you.

“You can take it like the good girl you are, right?”

You mumbled a response that he couldn’t quite comprehend because you were so quiet about it but looking at your eyes, how they begged for him. The man assumes you’ll be able to take him, despite its size.

He preps you up by inserting his lengthy finger inside of your tight pussy, you whine at the feeling as he starts thrusting them into you. He grunts when he feels you clench around it, “How dirty, already addicted to my fingers simply being inside you?”

You hummed, not able to make out any words from the pleasure you were experiencing. “Feels good, hm?” Capitano laughs quietly at your face, flushed red from how good you felt.

“Just wait till you feel my cock instead.” His words made you clamp on his digits, he’s never been this dirty before and you were quite foreign to the feeling of it. Though it felt good having him dominating you.

“Want it now, sir..” you whined.

“The last thing I want is for you to stop complaining to me that you can’t take me in. No matter how painful it is, I’m not stopping unless it’s necessary. You don’t want that now, do you?” the man growls on your stomach.

You know he cares for you as much despite his tough character. His hand on your stomach can feel you tense up at him when he pushes his fingers deeper. “Are you this sensitive? It hasn’t even been that long.”

“‘M sorry, sir.. Feels too good.” you moan softly, holding his free hand on your belly tightly. The pad of his thumb caresses your palm, “I know. So let yourself go for me.”

You grind your hips against his digits, slowing down each time you grow close to your peak. Your legs visibly shake before collapsing a bit on the bed when your visions blurs and colors brighten. You can hear Capitano’s deep chuckle, his fingers still inside of your dripping hole before giving it a few thrusts and drawing them out.

“You look so cute when you’re dumb for me.” He stares at you in awe when you don't say anything despite your hardest to speak with your mouth moving. 

“Is this your first time?”

“N-No, it’s just been a very long while. I haven’t felt this good.” you snuggled into his chest when he caged you in his arms, his large hand cupped the back of your head to rest his chin on it. “I'm the only one who'll make you feel good. And whoever had you before me, I'll find them. Make them regret to even lay a hand on you in the first place.”

He squeezes your thighs before placing them on your chest. Your dripping cunt fully exposed for him. You looked away when his eyes gazed at your clit and to your eyes, he grabs your wrists and holds both of them with one hand over your head.

“Look at me.”

Those words alone stopped you from looking at something else that isn’t him. He seems a bit irritated and you lowkey don’t want to frustrate him more. He pulls your hips close to his, his cock brushing your cunt, staining it with his precum.

“It’ll be fine, trust me for once.” he whispers. You did, you always did. You fully committed yourself to him but he needed more.

“You’re too big, sir. I don’t know if I can take that…”

He sighed and look into your eyes deeply, “I’ll only put the tip in. Unless you want me to go deeper.” he assures you. You gulped but nodded for him to continue. He tells you to take a deep breath in which you do, only for it to be instantly exhaled when he enters his mushroom tip in. “Shit, I’m not fully in and you’re clenching around me..”

The stretch was painful, you were thankful he was considerate to go a bit gentle with you, just not enough to lighten the pain.

As he promised, he didn’t go deeper but your whimpers and soft sounds were making it hard for him to stop himself from slamming his whole length into you. “Deeper, please.” you said softly, it didn’t even take him a second before his hips were plush against yours. “Fuck…”

He groaned at your sudden tightness, he felt good before but it felt so much better now. Capitano took a look at your face and couldn’t help but smirk at how blissful you were, the way your wet pussy was sucking him in after the impact of his thrust.

“Gonna move, okay?”

You only responded with a nod, too focused on the pleasure you were feeling on your bottom parts. He took it slow at first but he set a pace that went faster and faster to the point your breasts were jiggling with each thrust.

Each snap of his hips to yours were harsh and deep, the tip of his cock kissing every sensitive spot you didn’t know were there. Capitano palmed around the bump on your stomach, a guttural groan can be heard as he presses the pad of his thumb on it.

“Feel how deep I am, sweet girl? I bet that pussy of yours loves the way it sucks me up.”

You gabbled, satisfying the man. He was proud of how vulnerable you are now, how stupid you are when his cock is fathomless inside of you. His touch was always gentle, especially when handling you, feeding you, or simply snuggling into you after a harsh battle. 

He didn’t want to frighten you whatsoever. I mean, he needed a way for you to let your guard down when it comes to him ever since he kidnapped you, and acting tender was one way to do it. He had to make you feel guilty if you ever left him so you can come back crawling for him, which unsurprisingly worked.

But in this situation, it was different. His grasp was so cruel on your hips that you were sure it would leave crescent markings from his nails. Capitano was letting out every single hint of anger possible and using you for his pleasure, as if you weren’t worth anything but his stupid toy.

While you on the other hand had your mind fogged from how fulfilling your pussy feels with his dick inside of you. Your body squirming from his length alone.

He pulls out before crashing into you again, causing you to gasp. “You just clenched around me. Do you love how fucking slutty you are just for my cock?” he mocks, gripping your chin and connecting your saliva stained lips into his.

He swallowed your loud and high-pitched moans that had him go harder on you. The sounds that you make turns him on even more, knowing that he was the one that made you this way. “You feel so fucking good. You're so dirty like this.” he groans into your lips, his pace slowing down as he feels himself managing his high.

“Shit, I'm close. You better come with me, sweetheart.” Capitano whispers and you let out a whimper. He swirled his tongue against yours, sucking it, making you moan. “You’re gonna take every drop of my cum inside of this pussy of yours.”

That alone made you much wetter than you were before, you love the idea of him claiming and emptying himself inside of you. He notices this and smiles a bit against the skin of your neck.

“Ah, fuck ‘m cumming. Be a good fucking girl and take it for me.” he murmurs, unloading his seed inside of your hole. He continues with his forceful ramming, determined to keep his cum deep inside of your pussy. You throw your head back and wail in ecstasy as you cream around his length. Letting out hiccups while your pussy drinks him dry.

Capitano’s thrusts faltered, only left with his crotch grinding against yours. You mewl, feeling sensitive from his light plunges. He soon pulls out, watching the way his seed oozes out of you, dripping onto the sheets and staining them with your mixed cum.

He pulls you close to his chest, causing you to snuggle up onto him. The man sighs and places a firm kiss on your forehead, in which you suspire in response to his gentle touch.

“Just rest. I’ll clean up for tonight.” he puts a strand of your hair away and admires your tired face of euphoria, sweat drenching your look despite the cold atmosphere.

"I can help."

"No." a harsh and dark glare was thrown at you, but they soon soften when he sees you frown a bit. "No, you're tired and you need to relax. I'm more than capable of dealing with this mess, so don't worry about me." that alone calmed you down a bit, letting yourself lay on him as your eyes droop a bit.

You smile tiredly and he leans in with your lips plushing against his. The moment he pulled out, you were already sleeping comfortably against the pillows. Capitano slowly took you into his embrace and carried you to the nearby couch of the bed, drooping your body with a blanket to keep you warm as he cleaned up the mess on the bed and rubbed your bare body with a warm wet cloth.

He dresses you up in one of his big shirts and shorts and nestles into you, warming you up with his body heat with the blanket over the both of you. 

You were a dear to him, a precious treasure for him to forever admire and keep. He couldn’t get enough of you and neither can you with him. Your touches, kisses, and affectionate words you’d give to him, they were the reasons he kept you locked up for an incredibly long time.

After all those long days and weeks of having you inside, he finally had you wrapped around his finger fully, and he'll use that as an advantage. His beloved was finally his, Capitano didn't have to do much work anymore for you have finally committed yourself to him.

You were addicted to him like drugs, and he is too. More than you think.

© notsodivininglover 2023. reposting, plagiarizing, translating or claiming my works are strictly forbiddened.

#notsodivininglover ; king’s pages #cupid's dilemma ; valentine's madness #capitano x reader #capitano smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #tw: stockholm syndrome

[littlebluespoon]

Hiya, I have an itch for a scenario I haven’t been able to find yet so I thought I’d make a request 👋

kidnapper!König gets sick and the reader is so Stockholmed that instead of trying to run they take care of him, in whatever way he needs 👀👀👀 he’s so delirious from the sickness and the care he’s receiving he finally confesses his love for them

thank you 💖

Hi Hi! Thank you for requesting <3 I hope this lives up to expectations,I did change it a little as i originally read it as the reader confessing so I did a small drabble where it's more reader realising their feelings than confessing.

TW: kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, illness

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Eight months. Two hundred and thirteen days. And you’re no closer to getting free, in fact you were probably further away from it now than you ever had been. Your surroundings, a forest in Austria, seemed peaceful to you now when they were once scary and nightmare inducing. The food you had been given is delicious and you can’t help but ask for more when at one point, you would have thrown it in his face. Him. König he said. You were terrified of him.. He was massive, hulking, silent, deadly. But after eight months of him being your only stimulation, only human you’ve seen, only everything, you’ve grown to at the very least accept him. 

Eight months of the same routine. So it was more than odd when one morning you weren’t woken by the smell of breakfast. You couldn’t quite figure out what woke you at first, then you heard it again. Hacking coughs. The sound coming from König’s bedroom was loud and it went against everything you knew. He’s never sick. He’s never tired. He’s never anything but perfect. Without thinking, you’d found your way into his room to observe him. Prone, tired, sickly. He was in a heap, duvet tossed on the floor, pillows and clothes scattered, the smell of sweat and sickness was heavy. He didn’t even notice you.

Eight months since you’d felt the wind on your face. You could stop that counter now because it felt glorious. The smell of dew and pine was almost heavenly. One step and you’d be free. He didn’t even notice that you were awake. He wouldn’t notice you’d be gone. One step. One inch further even. One burst of strength was all you needed. So why couldn’t you? 

Eight months. Two hundred and thirteen days. And you don’t want to be free. The forest around the house was peaceful. The food was delicious. And him. König, who was upstairs sick, hungry, tired. He was everything. He was all you needed but now he needed you.

---

As always, requests and asks are welcome <3

#bluespoonswriting #call of duty x reader #cod fanfic #könig x reader #konig x reader #call of duty fanfic #call of duty headcanons #konig cod #asks for blue #tw: kidnapping #tw: Stockholm Syndrome #kidnapping #stockhom syndrome

[eclecticmiasma]

Kinktober '22 Day 6 (Dottore x Reader)

"It's been so long since you've been treated with any sort of kindness that you want nothing more than to fall into him, to show him how grateful you are for his work."

NSFW

[Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Dottore is his own warning, gore, afab reader, blood, descriptions of medical equipment/procedures, stockholm syndrome, reader is a bit fucked in the head]

Art credit: Kradebii on pixiv

Two masked men take the mostly covered body away on a stretcher. Its arms, already seized by rigor mortis, are outstretched to the sky in final plea for mercy. The edges of your gown are frayed as you pick at them, anxiously watching what had once been a friend disappear. At least he's at peace.

Long ago, or maybe last week, those held underground decided never to share their names. It makes it too personal when they inevitably succumb, whether it's to the disease or the methods themselves. It's too easy to make friends here. It's too easy to cling on to the little shards of humanity you find scattered within one another. A simple sharing of bread can make you feel like you've known this person all your life.

Some patients sob. The sickest don't even spare a glance in the corpse's direction. Some curse the doctors to hell and back, rumbling through gritted teeth. All you feel is overwhelming guilt.

Guilt that you continue to survive, guilt that every death feels less and less heart-wrenching. Guilt that somewhere deep, deep in the pit of your gut lies overwhelming anticipation.

Dottore is coming.

That's what the others call him. It's only fitting that the coldest, cruelest, most calculating of them all have a title different than the rest. It doesn't escape your attention that all the workers seem deferent to him, if not outright submissive. Yes Dottore. No, Dottore. It was only a mistake, Dottore. These callous bastards crumble the minute he enters the room.

Every time a patient dies, Dottore is soon to follow. From what you've gathered in your time here, he has purview over any and all anomalies. The regular doctors won't even touch you if something unexpected occurs. All autopsies are to be done by Dottore as well- you found that out when a young Doctor from Snezhnaya was...removed after deigning to investigate a patient's death on his own.

Not only will Dottore come to perform the autopsy, but every single patient is to receive a full body examination and additional testing if needed. Though testing occurs like clockwork at the facility, a relatively healthy patient such as yourself is examined but once a week. Even then, it's a surface level screening at best. The doctors come and check your pupils, lungs, blood pressure. They might check your limb function before taking a small vial of blood and going on their way. They don't even take the time to restrain you lest you decide enough is enough. It's as if they have no vision, no care for their work.

It's different with Dottore. One can tell he views his research as something sacred. Everything he does has meaning. He considers your open wounds, your thick scaled skin, the heavy throbbing of your pulse inside your throat with meticulous concern, logging pages of notes through your time together. Even when he hurts you, you feel as if it's for a greater purpose beyond your understanding. When you're with him you feel important, elated that you may just be the thing he's searching for. As his skilled hands survey you, you want so desperately to be good for him- whatever that might entail.

"Everyone back to your beds!" Your chest tightens, nerves building. A commotion breaks out as one of the newer patients resists, demanding to know what happened to the man who died. As always, he's given one verbal warning before being forced to the ground and sedated. He'll learn soon enough.

Once cries of agony begin to echo throughout the halls, you know that he's arrived. The other patients maintain that Dottore is psychotic, a madman chasing something that he'll never quite reach. They say he's using those afflicted with Eleazar as mere lab rats. He views your bodies as a means to an end and most of the medicine he practices is for his own sadistic pleasure, they say. If all of you died tomorrow, he'd simply hunt for a new batch of victims. For the sake of peace and your own conflicted heart, you always hold your tongue.

The cries get closer as time drags along. Dottore may spend hours with a single patient, harvesting all of the data he can uncover. It only makes your anxiety build. You wonder if their lives would be less painful if they would only allow the testing to go unimpeded. As much as it's pained you, you've never once shrieked the way the others have. The pain is only temporary if it can help rid the world of Eleazar completely.

Finally, you hear his heavy footsteps as he makes his way down the corridor. You lie flat on your back and swallow hard, barely able to breathe. His shadow fills your doorframe. Mindlessly, your fingers continue to rip at your gown.

Metal and glass clank together as Dottore enters your room, dragging a cart full of equipment behind him. As always, he pulls out a ragged piece of paper and studies it for a moment before taking your arm in hand. A number was branded into the skin on the inside of your wrist when you first arrived. He hums in confirmation.

"[Y/n]," He greets you curtly, reaching down to grasp a black strap attached to the side of your bed. A terrible nostalgia nearly overwhelms you. How long has it been since you've heard your name? Without another word, you lay your arms flat at your sides and allow Dottore to fasten the straps around your limbs one by one. A precaution, he noted the first time you met. Their tightness makes you feel strangely secure. Everything is in Dottore's hands now.

First comes the tourniquet. Dottore ties it neatly over your bicep. Two of his slender, gloved fingers tap gently for a vein to rise. Even through the material you can sense how cold his hands are. Soon the lengthy needle tip of a syringe is aligned and the head pricks your skin painfully. You remind yourself to breathe.

"Such lovely veins," He muses, watching your deep red blood flow into vial after vial, "Much easier than digging for an opening," You can't bring yourself to look at him, body flushing at the sudden compliment.

After five or six vials he removes the syringe from your flesh and swipes at it with a piece of fabric. You wince as it drags over the inside of your forearm, catching a fresh patch of Eleazar that has begun to form. Dottore frowns as he spots it and your heart sinks.

He turns to check his notes and you can't help but feel you've disappointed him. For weeks your affliction has been held in check, of course a relapse would happen just before a visit from Dottore himself. Sure enough, he mutters much of the same.

Without a word, he sets down his notes and rifles through different equipment before extracting a small scalpel. He holds it up to the light above and turns it, checking the sharpness of the blade. Deeming it worthy, he grasps your forearm presses the scalpel to your skin, dragging it forward without warning.

It takes every ounce of self control you have not to scream. Not to be like them. The nature of Eleazar is that its physical symptoms run deep. Unlike a scab or scrape, the crusted scales run well into the dermis and require surgical intervention to remove. You feel the hot rush of blood as it trickles forth, soaking your gown and the bedding beneath.

Dottore looks at you as you try not to writhe, as you try so desperately to stay still and let him work. You unconsciously emit a long, pitiful whine as he cuts deeper and deeper still, burning pain overwhelming. Little do you know that Dottore could end this as quick as he started it, but curiosity has overtaken him.

Where is your line?

"Look at me," He orders. You hadn't even realized that your eyes were screwed shut, face wet with tears. You do your best to obey, to tunnel vision on the dark mask that covers Dottore's face. If you could see his eyes, you think, all of this would be so much easier to take, "Good girl."

In a swift motion he slices the rest of the Eleazar away, leaving a deep, bloody gash in its wake. A sob escapes you despite your best efforts, but Dottore doesn't seem to pay it any mind. Instead, he quickly pours antiseptic on the wound, stepping back as you thrash while it does its work.

Once you're certain you aren't going to pass out, you will your body to relax. Dottore grasps your forearm once again and small pinpricks make themselves known to you. While they're nothing compared to the agony of what occurred, they're irritating enough to make you look over, "Shh...it's over," Dottore coos. It registers that he is suturing your open flesh shut. There's a twisted smile on his lips as he does it. Mixed emotions wash over you. Not once have you seen another patient with stitches, unless their injuries truly were catastrophic. Something like this the doctors would have left to the open air, preferring to witness the healing process and be sure that the Eleazar would not return for the present.

The way Dottore touches you so tenderly, is so careful with your ragged skin, it fills you with something akin to adoration. You wish that he hadn't placed you in restraints after all. It's been so long since you've been treated with any sort of kindness that you want nothing more than to fall into him, to show him how grateful you are for his work.

Dottore can see your emotions shifting in an instant. The minute he takes you in his hands he feels you stiffen, your pulse race. Though he often takes his patients' vitals when they are in the midst of abject terror merely being in his presence, he can tell that you aren't afraid, not truly. He can't decide if you're terminally stupid or truly mentally unwell. His fingers trace lightly over the sutures once he's finished, gauging your reaction as he does so. Your pupils widen, your chest heaves. There is a small theory he is compelled to test.

"[Y/n]," He says, leaning closer to you, "Is there anywhere else the Eleazar has spread?" Dottore doesn't miss the way your throat bobs up and down.

"I...no..." Dottore leans in closer, tips of his hair touching your face and neck. His breath ghosts across your skin. Glee strikes him as he watches you squirm.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

You start to protest as his gloved hands find their way up the opening of your gown. Your body rocks against the restraints, begging him to wait. You watch in shame as he peels back the fabric and peers between your legs.

Sure enough, on your inner right thigh is a small patch of Eleazar. It appeared this morning. But what Dottore is much more fascinated with is how damp your entrance is, folds soaked with a thick, sticky substance.

"My, my...and here I thought I had hurt you," Tears fill your eyes as you imagine what's coming next, the disgust he must feel. Dottore moves away and you think he's going to pack up and be done with you. Where do discarded patients go?

The torrent of shame and anxiety swirling in your mind when you notice Dottore taking off his jacket. Beneath the layers of clothing, he appears to have a surprising amount of muscle. For a brief moment you're distracted as he rolls up his sleeves, large veins peeking out from beneath his skin. In his left hand he takes the scalpel once again.

"Would you do something for me, [Y/n]?" You shudder as he faces you, moving to spread your thighs apart. Despite every nerve in your body screaming at you to say no, you find yourself nodding.

"Speak," He says, flipping the scalpel around and tracing the outline of your labia with the dull edge.

"Y-yes..." Your voice cracks, world around you feeling fuzzy.

"Yes, what?" Dottore asks quietly, flipping the scalpel back around and pressing it to the corner of the Eleazar that mars the supple skin of your thigh. Two digits of his free hand press against your hole.

"Yes, Dottore!" The man chuckles, deep and knowing. He slowly slides his gloved fingers inside of you. You beg him to wait, but he gives no sign of relenting.

"Let me hear you scream."

Just as you start to really feel the stretch in the warm depths of your cunt, blinding pain tears through your thigh. Your back arches in an attempt to buck away from Dottore, but it's no use. His fingers cant in and out of you as the head of the scalpel makes its way beneath the blackened scales on your skin. It's all too much.

For the first time, you cry out. It tears from your throat like a wounded animal as you float somewhere between immense pain and blinding pleasure. Dottore whispers to you as you mewl aloud, goading you to be louder, louder.

Somewhere in the depths of your mind you're inclined to obey. You scream for him, sob as he presses against the soft, slick walls of your cunt while slicing deeper and deeper into the meat of your thigh. Blood trickles down your leg, heady fluid leaks from your swollen hole.

With a final push Dottore flips a chunk of your flesh out with the scalpel and tosses it all to the side. Another shriek is ripped from you as he slots a finger into the open wound, swirling it around in the viscera. At the same time the digits that impale you hit a sweet spot that have you seeing pinpricks of light.

"D-Dottore!" A wild grin spreads across the man's face as climax overtakes you. You pull against the restraints so hard in your ecstasy that one on your leg nearly snaps. Relentlessly, he continues to thrust into you until you're a bloody, sobbing mess. Only then does he tear his fingers from you, wiping your bodily fluids on the side of your bed.

The next thing you register is the sound of a pencil on paper. Dottore writes furiously in his log, no doubt chronicling in detail what occurred today. When he's finished he snaps the book shut and looks down at you with a sinister smile.

"I very much look forward to the next time one of you dies."

*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload.

[KINKTOBER '22 MASTERLIST]

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #genshin impact #dottore #il dottore #dottore x reader #harbingers #im so sorry lmao #medical kink #tw: medical #tw: gore #tw: stockholm syndrome #stockholm syndrome #x reader #drabbles #tw: needles #tw: syringes #tw: sutures #syringes #tw: blood #blood #sutures #afab reader #this is my first time w medical kink plz feedback

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

His Perfect Doll

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: She’s a doll. Her only duty is to be perfect for him at all times. A doll doesn’t talk. Doesn’t express feelings. It exists, simply. So when, one day, the doll wants to show how much she loves him and puts on some lingerie, neither of them expect the effect it would have on him. And how it would make him and the man he keeps locked in his head… Snap.

Pairing: Michael!Dean x Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2788

Warning: dub-con, bothering non-con, stockholm syndrom, manipulation, objectification (a lot), smut, p in v, unprotected sex, use of grace to give more pleasure, overstimulation, possessiveness, somnophilia, passing out from too much stimulation

Squares: Stockholm Syndrom for @anyfandomangstbingo​ // Lingerie for @anyfandomkinkbingo​​

A/n: This was requested by @cryptichobbit! Thank you for the request, I had fun writing this! It has to be the dirtiest thing I wrote… Not proofreaded, sorry for any mistake! Feedbacks are always appreciated!

This is a dark fic. Mind the tags and warnings!

She was a doll.

Motionless most of the time. Her room was her prison, pink walls and bars to a window showing a freedom she couldn't have. Restricted to only this house, allowed to exit her bedroom to eat or go to the bathroom.

Her appearance was important, after all, as a doll, she had to be pretty at all times. Her makeup, subtle but flawless. Not a single spot of imperfection. Her hair, silky, soft, and combed as he liked.

Her doll duties were simple, she had to be there and ready whenever he would visit. It wasn't very often, so most of the time, she stayed in her room, simply existing.

She wasn't mad at him, though. She belonged to him and was now okay with that. It wasn't always the case, at first, she fought hard to get out. Spent nights screaming for help, trying to find a way out of this house. But she quickly understood there was no use of being a brat. She was a doll. His doll.

After a while of her having good behavior, he allowed her to go outside. At first, with surveillance, he then understood she would never leave, not anymore. She finally understood where her place was, and always came back. Now, she could go whenever she wanted, but she wasn't leaving the house. Just in case he passed by.

The last time she exited the house was to go shopping. She went really early, knowing he never showed up in the morning. By noon, she was back and resumed her role as a perfect, obedient, motionless doll.

He showed up the same evening. She always knew when he was there, not that he needed to say it outloud. It was like they were connected somehow, she could simply feel him when he was close. Feel all the power, all the heat, all the dominance. She craved that feeling, and everytime she felt him close, memories of their past moments flooded her mind, just like arousal flooded her panties.

He was in the living room, waiting for her. She knew. But tonight, it would be different. It was time she showed him how good she was, behaving to him, and how much she loved him. She wanted to show him. So, before leaving her room, she put on the clothes she bought in the morning and once she was sure her appearance was perfect, she left her room to walk where Michael was.

"Making me wait, doll," his voice reached her mind before it reached her ears. Like a thread was connecting their mind, she could almost taste the things he would do to her once he saw what she was wearing. 

In the living room, he was seated on a chair, his back turned to her. Walking slowly even if the excitement made her want to run and jump on him, she put one foot in front of the other, reminding herself she had to be good.

Since he didn't give her the authorization to speak, she didn't apologize nor answer him, simply walking until she was finally in front of him.

Michael wasn't someone that showed a lot of reaction usually. His beautiful face remained neutral whatever she did, until the moment his cock sank into her core. The first penetration always broke his mask as his imposing length stretched her dripping cunt. Then he would fuck her for what seemed like hours, panting, frowning, but never showing any emotions until he came.

That was what usually happened. And she would cum countless of times, like he had some magic in him. Michael loved to see her break under all the pleasure he gave her. Just like he loved to see her break with his punishment, slapping her ass until it became red and then purple, or preventing her from cumming for the whole time he fucked her.

She didn't know which was worse.

But this time, when Michael laid his beautiful eyes on her, he had a reaction.

Sitting forward in the chair, he put his elbows on his thighs and his chin in his palm, turned his head to the side, and let his eyes roamed her frame. She stayed like that, hips to one side, head tilted to the other side, her hair cascading over her shoulder.

The lingerie she wore was made of silk. It was soft, so soft, that was why she picked it up. The color was a dark red, the bottom made of a thong barely hiding anything from the back. The bra didn't have a cup and did nothing to hide her breast, her nipples already hard just having him stare at her body. Laces were connecting the top and the bottom, and finally, socks were up to her thighs, holding up thanks to the suspender belt sitting on her waist.

Needless to say, he never saw her wearing that.

"I wonder," his voice purred from his throat, rough and deep, as his eyes glowed blue for a moment. "Why did I never give you those types of clothes before… you look…" His tongue licked his lips slowly as he sat back in the chair, eyeing her with fire in his eyes. "Delicious. Now. You put those on for me, you don't want to be rude to me, am I right?"

A shiver spread through her spine, saliva hard to swallow. She didn't expect that to be his reaction. All she wanted to do was please him, but as usual, his expression remained impossible to decipher. 

"Answer me," he added and the order cut short all of her thoughts. She was allowed to speak.

"No, I don't want to be rude, sir," she said, still not moving from her position. As still as a statue, as flawless as a doll.

"Good," he purred, a smirk stretching his lips. "We cannot waste this. Dance for me."

Once again, she didn't expect those words to leave his mouth, but once again, the order made her obey. Whatever he wanted, she would give him.

There was no music, so she just imagined the rhythm of a slow song and started moving her hips side to side. Her hands roamed up her body until it got to her breast that she grabbed and then squeezed, stifling a moan that almost came through. Unless he allowed it, she had to stay silent. Moans included.

It was hard, though, to stay silent. Especially as his gaze kept turning bright blue and she could see him shift ever so slightly on the couch, his hands twitching against the armrest. Just like he was restraining himself from grabbing something else than the furniture. 

To be that desired, that wanted, it sent a boost of confidence in her doll brain. Turning around, she showed him her butt that the thong did nothing to hide. As she touched her behind, her hand grabbed her cheeks and then spread them, showing how wet her core actually was. Biting her lips, she turned her head back to look at him and see his reaction, and this time, the moan couldn't be stopped from leaving her mouth.

It was the first time she saw him like that, his pants undone, his hard, imposing and beautiful cock in the palm of his hand. As Michael stroked himself, he kept on watching, mouth slightly agape, breathing fast…

The sigh was to die for. She would have loved to frame that image and place it directly in front of her bed so she can look at him every morning as she wakes up. But the perfect sight didn't stay long, actually, it broke the moment the filthy, needy sound escaped her mouth.

"Didn't say you could make noises," Michael was near her in an instant, her body flush against the nearest wall. She caught herself just in time, her hand cushioning the impact of the hard, imposing body behind her. In no time, her thong was tossed to the side and he was inside, his cock roughly stretching her apart. A louder moan escaped her lips, and she heard it too, the sound he always made the moment he slid home in her wet channel. "You are driving us crazy… so crazy…" 

Michael's breathing was rusty and shaky and he didn't wait a single moment before he started pistoning. Hard, fast, so deep, his cock came in and out of her core, not leaving her any second to catch her breath. Moans and whimpers quickly turned into screams of pleasure as she all but held herself on the wall. She didn't need to, though. He was the one holding her body.

The first orgasm arrived so fast, she didn't get any of the warning signs. It seized her completely, her body shaking under him, and Michael never slowed down, he only fucked her faster. She was so sensitive and overstimulated that a second one followed immediately after, and her body shook even more. She would have fallen to the floor, but he held her strongly. Her abused core was so roughly fucked, it felt sore and burning hot, but thankfully, all of her juice allowed him to keep fucking at the same pace without any problem.

"She's mine," Michael grunted, and if it wasn't for the post orgasmic high she felt, she would have found it weird that he referred to her as the third person. Exactly like he was talking to a third person in the room. "Mine," he continued, gradually fucking her slower. His thrusts were now deep, angry, and everytime, his cock touched the bottom of her core, it made her gasp in pleasure that this kind of pain brought her. "You won't take her away from me," he accentuated what he was saying with rough thrusts that had her eyes roll to the back of her head. It was so good she could feel herself getting closer again.

As she felt his face cuddle in the crook of her neck, she thought he was close to his end. But oh, was she wrong. His thrusts were barely existent now, slow and calculated, and her body was soft, like a doll only good to be used. Everytime he moved, it touched everything inside of her, and she felt her climax so close yet so far, it made her body shake with the overstimulation and the closeness of her climax. Her mouth opened to beg, but then closed. She knew more than to beg when she wasn't allowed. Instead, she clenched down on him and moaned softly, trying to make him understand without words.

"You wanna cum? Huh? Wanna cum so bad you forget how to walk? How to be a human being?" His voice was the same. But something was different. His tone, the words he used and how he said them. It was like someone completely different was in control now, and somehow, it excited her even more. A needy, pathetic moan answered him, and next thing, her core was burning up.

It was burning and buzzing and vibrating, everywhere inside of her, like there was a toy fixed on every single nerve present in her lower body. An electric shock was close to the feeling, everywhere his dick touched, she felt it, her cunt was a living wire that had tiny explosions at the simple contact of his cock. And when Michael picked up his devastating pace, it was too much all at once.

It was an explosion. She was cumming, again and again and again and screaming and moaning, she couldn't stop cumming, and shaking, her body was seized with an uncontrollable surges of pleasure that seemed to never stop. It was so much, her head felt light, so light, white spots and then black spots danced in her sight and for a moment, she was sure she blacked out from the pleasure. But then, her eyes were open, and she was still getting fucked, hard, and the sensation was still there, and she was still cumming and screaming. By now, her legs were covered with her juices with how many times she squirted. 

There was even a puddle at their feet.

But Michael didn't stop.

Even when she passed out again, he continued to fuck her. Holding her limp body, exactly like he was only fucking a doll. And even if she was out, her body was still reacting, he was still making her cum endlessly with his grace, and to feel her core shake around him was simply too good for him to stop. To know he owned her, could use her as he pleased, to control her body and mind… that was what Michael craved.

She was his doll after all.

-

After that one moment, the doll didn't see her owner for a long time.

The next day, she woke up in her bed, cleaned and in fresh clothes. Her body felt amazing, and when she checked, she could find no bruises or traces of what happened. And at first, she thought maybe it was only a dream. After all, Michael never acted like that, never showed emotions. And last night, there were a lot of emotions going on.

There was only one proof that what happened was true. A big box next to her bed, sitting on the nightstand. Did he leave her a gift? 

The doll opened the package and now understood it was true. Because inside, there was clothes.

Not clothes, lingerie sets.

Dozens of revealing outfits, lace, thongs and straps. There were no notes with the box, but she knew. 

The days turned into weeks and she still knew his absence wasn't because he disliked their night. He loved it too much. He left her with more lingerie. He loved it.

It had been almost two months since she last saw Michael when the men entered her house.

As usual, she was in her room, as motionless as a doll, looking out the window. She saw them arrive, a black car, quite old, parking right in front of the house. Two men got out, something shiny and grey in hand. Guns. And even if it was fast, she recognized one of the two men.

In a couple of seconds, she was dressed and laid down on the bed, waiting for him. It didn't matter if he was coming with another man, she was a doll and would do as he told her, even if it meant please someone else.

But when he opened the door to her room, she knew there was something off. Not only his outfit was different, but his hair too. And the aura she craved, the dominant, strong power he had over her was… almost instinct.

"Michael?" She asked even if she wasn't allowed to speak. The man looking like Michael took some time to process the word that came out of her mouth, and his gaze shift to the floor.

Shame. There was guilt and shame in his eyes and he tried to hide it. But why?

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, and that alarmed the doll. Getting up, she walked to him and took him in her arms. 

"It's alright Michael. You can punish me for talking. But please, don't feel bad for leaving me here for so long. It's my duty."

She felt the man tensed under her arms, like the gesture of affection was too much for him. Maybe she went too far after all, hugging him? No, dolls don't hug their owner!

Stepping back, her gaze horrified at the thing she did, she noticed something else.

In the jeans he wore, there was a tent forming.

"Michael?" She asked, tears in her eyes at what would be her punishment.

"A doll doesn't speak, does she?"

He was still not looking at her. But even if his head was down, she knew. Knew his eyes were now glowing blue. The aura changed then, a strong, suffocating power circling her.

"You're lucky I found a way out of that jail in his mind. And you're lucky to wear that for me. I still have to decide if I want to punish you or make you cum until you pass out again."

There he was. Michael. Her Michael.

"Dean-"

The other man that came with Michael was thrown onto the wall immediately and fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Told you, Dean, she is mine. I knew you would lower your guard when you would see her. You fucked her as much as I did, after all…"

And like that, Michael made his decision. And he was inside of her before she even touched the bed.

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245​ @b3autyfuldisast3r​ @eevvvaa​ @wickedinspirations​ @fictional-affairs​ @awkward-and-indecisive​ @cryptichobbit​

Supernatural Tag List: @cryptichobbit @sexyvixen7 @stixnstripesworld @charred-angelwings @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @lyarr24 @fiftyshadesgrl​

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278​ @siospins2​ @kazsrm67​ @wtrpxrks​ @deanwanddamons​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @charred-angelwings​ @jensendreamland​ @deanswaywardgirl​ @happyt0exist​ @waynes-multiverse​

#anyfandomangstbingo #anyfandomkinkbingo #tw: stockholm syndrome #dark!fic #michael!dean #michael!dean x reader #supernatural #supernatural michael #supernatural michael!dean #michael!dean x reader smut #supernatural michael!dean x reader #supernatural michael!Dean x reader smut #tw dubcon #tw objectification #supernatural smut #supernatural dean #supernatural dean x reader #supernatural dean x reader smut #supernatural season 14 #supernatural dean winchester

[merakiui]

I just wanna say I love your work. Love it x3 but I want to know what you think. You know how in kidnappings the person can get Stockholm syndrome, like I guess looking for the good in the madness. Like in skjade, its not dying (kinda joking). What do you think would be like a good on the madness for Android jade? Like of course everything won't be okay after azul and floyd are gone, he can't have you do your thing in the garden cause you could scream for help. Plus he's schedule is mostly free now so he can try other couples things he's wanted to do with you. Of course night time is for more fun but what about the day past times? (Sorry for spelling mistakes)

I think the fact that Jade is an android is both a blessing and a curse in this situation. On one hand, he's highly intelligent and knows of all the manners in which he can efficiently care for you. He'll know if you're hungry or if a specific part of you, whether internal or external, is injured, which also means you can't hide much from him in regards to health and physical well-being. He'll know right away if something's wrong.

But since he's an android, he also knows how to navigate your moods (as he's lived with you for enough years to know of all of the signs you give that indicate certain moods), always so clever in diffusing any arguments before they can even start up. It's like a game in which you play against a computer that is always predicting and learning from your every move; that's essentially the dynamic you have with Jade. Although it does work in your favor on some occasions. He listens to commands well. Even if he feels more human than he did before, he will still obey orders. If you tell him to leave you alone, he will nod silently and give you your space. If you tell him to stop addressing you as if the two of you are lovers, he will stop. He is still very loyal to you and will follow most of the orders you give him (certain orders like "let me go" or "please stop doing this" are unfortunately some he refuses to follow).

He's still very stiff when it comes to consoling you. It's not that he doesn't know how to do it; it's just that his idea of comfort is presenting you with the facts. He outlines everything very clearly so that you'll know of his intentions (although sometimes you think he's a little dishonest with some of his wording). Jade is still in the process of comprehending humanity, so he struggles to fully grasp why you shed so many tears over Azul and Floyd. He can understand why you might mourn for another human, but for Floyd? He wasn't alive—not in the way a human is, at least—and he's easily replaceable. Besides, if you're really so heartbroken, just look at Jade and pretend he's Floyd if it'll help (it never does). Jade really does make a grand effort to ensure everything is comfortable for you, but then most of that comfort comes from relying on him and hoping he won't hurt you, which he always promises he would never do such a thing. But haven't his actions caused you enough pain, both physical and emotional?

Jade knows how fragile humans are. He knows that if he's the one to save you from this low place he's put you in you will eventually depend more and more on him, as he's your only connection in this bleak, dismal life. And once you finally accept this circumstance as your new forever, he can return to how everything once was in your relationship: comfortable and sweet.

He let the flowers you and Azul planted wither and die, and he hopes to plant new ones with you in the empty spots someday. It's not that he hates those flowers; it's the sentiment he abhors. The memory and love attached to those pretty blossoms. He's scrubbed every trace of Azul from the house to prove to you that, much like flowers left to wilt, the memory of a human is easily disposed of in a confined space. He can take portraits down, he can burn photographs, he can lock rooms and tell you that it's always been you and him, but he can never erase Azul from your mind. He can certainly try—and he will. Jade is nothing if not innovative and persistent.

Eventually, you'll have no choice but to warm up to him. He cooks delicious meals, having committed all of your favorites and preferences to memory, and he knows all of your hobbies and interests. And if you can force yourself to overcome the fact that he ruined your life, took your beloved husband and favorite android from you, and is keeping you trapped in your own house, he becomes his usual self, albeit with a wider range of emotions and expressions. Jade was always complex, but when he claims to love you he becomes even more complex.

At the very least, he will never let you succumb to your grief. He knows how to handle you because he's been doing it for years, so let him care for you. It's much easier to submit than it is to force yourself to fight him. The both of you know very well that he will always come out as the victor no matter what, and when you return his embrace many months into captivity he's pleased to see you've come to your senses. He always knew you would.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #tw: stockholm syndrome #ghostieyanyan #also thank you for liking my work!!! :D

[mika-writes-fanfics]

Healing Touch

Dabi x Fem!Reader fan fiction

Synopsis: You encounter an injured Shigaraki and offer your healing quirk to his aid. Little did you know, healers were hard to come by in the underground and Shigaraki takes a liking to your skills. To further his cause, he kidnaps you and holds you captive under the watch of the LOV. You play the role of the LOV's little healer while you think of a way to escape. Unbeknownst to you, the pyromaniac with a cold heart begins to melt in your presence. Your compassion and wit draw him in, all the while he swears it's only curiosity he feels toward you. But when your touch heals his burns and your personality soothes his anguish, Dabi begins to wonder, what exactly is he feeling for you? And why the hell does he feel so torn up when you slip away?

Warnings/Tags: canon-typical violence, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, female/afab reader, healing quirk, aftermath of hideout raid

Author's Note: Okay a lot happens this chapter but bear with me, I’m speedrunning to the smut because I promised within 3 chapters and I’m trying to fucking deliver. I originally wanted to have reader also be teleported away with Bakugo since it would be closer to the canon, as AFO tp’d bakugo since Shiggy thought he was important. I went with this instead because the other idea did not translate well in writing. Waaaayy too much action for a fic, I’ll take a plot hole instead, thank you very much. You guys pick if you drink tea or coffee (if you drink neither I'm sorry lol). Anyways, rambling aside, I hope you enjoy

Word Count: 8.1K

Link to AO3

Chapter Eight: Pizza Delivery!

Dabi can tell you’re much more distant now, no doubt because of what Compress said, or rather, what the league had done. You try to hide your feelings behind a mask of neutrality, but Dabi is perceptive. He’s good at reading people, especially you. You’ve spent so much time around him and you’ve occupied so much space in his head that it’s become second nature for him to memorize your face. Besides the fact that he’s noticed your face is no longer as carefree, it’s easy to see how much differently you’re acting towards him. You heal his hands over without any comments and your touch doesn’t linger on him a moment longer than necessary. You’ve completely withdrawn from him, it seems.

“Let him out of the marble in a minute, we need time to prepare,” Shigaraki orders. “Kurogiri, get the stuff.” 

Kurogiri nods and bows, leaving the room to fetch the required restraints. You watch in slight horror as he returns with a chair, hand restraints, and a full-body harness equipped with locks. They must really think this kid is a danger to them to go to those lengths. You weren’t even restrained like that when Shigaraki abducted you, but to be fair, your kidnapping was more spur of the moment and less planned out than this. If snatching this kid was the whole purpose of the mission, the LOV has been gearing up for at least a week. You remember hearing Magne say this plan will humiliate UA, and you know Shigaraki’s main goal is dismantling hero society. You’re not entirely sure how the two are connected, but there’s one thing you’re sure of: Shigaraki will use any methods necessary to achieve that goal. 

You’re glad you finished healing Dabi when you did. Touching him after seeing the methods they intend to use on a child would confuse you more than you already are. You want to ask him just what the hell was he thinking, why did he even agree to this, and what methods would he stoop down to in order to achieve his own goals. You want to know, no, you need to know, as if understanding would make the hurt go away and would repair your now tainted view of him. This situation makes you realize how far you’ve fallen, how desensitized to their crimes you’ve become. Seeing the league’s humanity and domesticity has done a number on your mind. What part do you play in this? Are you helping them commit these atrocities? Or are you really just looking out for yourself? The questions and racing thoughts burn through your emotional energy. You feel so damn drained. 

As confusing and depressing as your situation is right now, you have to ask yourself: What can you do right now? You don’t have the power to run away, to change their minds, to condemn their behavior, to break the kid out of captivity. But what you can do is heal the kid if he’s hurt, share with him what you’ve learned, and provide him with anything that could possibly be useful. If this kid has a fighting quirk, he has the best chance of getting out. If he manages to pull it off then maybe, just maybe, he could tell someone where you are. People aren’t looking for you because it looked like you either disappeared into thin air or ran off entirely without telling anyone. If the authorities know where to look and who you’re with, it’s possible you can get out sooner. The moral dilemmas will come after you’ve made it out, but not a moment sooner. Carrying on is all you can do besides give the kid all the tools to escape. 

While you’re in your own head rationalizing everything, Dabi takes notice of you. He sees the gears turning in your head and the expressions of sadness that accompany them. It wrenches his chest, a bit, to see you so despondent and to experience you acting so distant. He’s grown used to the banter you share. Your laughs, smiles, and mischievous expressions have become simple pleasures he looks forward to after a long day of tainting his hands and staining his soul. All good things must come to an end, he’s especially cognizant of that fact of life. Still, it stings to know the good slice of his life that is you will be ripped away from him so soon. He convinces himself it’s for the best. Growing closer to you is a distraction from his life’s purpose. Losing you is part of the price tag that comes with buying into revenge. 

The two of you are stirred out of your thoughts upon Kurogiri setting everything up under Shigaraki’s orders. The chair is placed on the opposite side of the room, far away from everyone else. With all the restraints weaved through the chair legs and backrest, it won’t be easy for this kid to just break free of the bindings. Shigaraki gives the go-ahead, allowing Compress to release his quirk. The kid emerges from the marble and lays out on the floor, unconscious. Seeing the kid completely unresponsive makes you sick. Intrusive thoughts make you picture this poor kid getting knocked out before his abduction, which only worsens your spiraling mind. 

“Well that’s definitely Bakugo Katsuki,” Shigaraki comments. “Why’s he knocked out though? I told you all to not harm the target.”

“Looks like he fell asleep in that marble,” Compress reasons. “He was unharmed when he went in, but he’s been compressed for an hour or two. I suspect he was bored in there.” You find yourself feeling somewhat relieved upon hearing this information. 

“I guess this is to our benefit. He’ll be easier to restrain this way,” Shigaraki settles. “Kurogiri, you do it. If he wakes up, you know what to do.” Kurogiri follows his orders and gently places Bakugo in the chair, clasping all the restraints around him. It’s kind of amazing how he’s able to sleep through it all.

‘This kid is one hell of a heavy sleeper,’ you think. 

“Since he’s still asleep, we’ll go over what happens next,” Shigaraki announces.

“Should we really do this in earshot of him? If he wakes up, he’ll hear everything,” Dabi criticizes. 

“Well we can’t just leave him alone,” Shigaraki refutes. 

“Look at him, do you really think he’ll be able to get out of that?” Dabi points out. Shigaraki seems to consider the idea, though he doesn’t budge quite yet. “It’s your call, but I think this is stupid either way.”

“Fine! We’ll talk about it in the kitchen,” Shigaraki throws his hands up and relents. The rest of the league files out of the room. You’re about to follow before Shigaraki singles you out. “And you,” he points at you. “Go to your room.”

“Me? What did I do?” You ask, incredulously. Somehow this feels like a punishment. 

“I’m not risking you breaking out the kid and ruining my plans while we’re busy,” he justifies. “You’re going upstairs.” 

“Okay mom, how long am I grounded for then?”

“Until I say so. Go fuck off to your room, now,” he warns, crimson eyes glaring at you in annoyance. His tone and choice of words let you know he’s in no mood for your antics or sarcasm today. Shigaraki seems tense. This plan of his is evidently high stakes, but so is yours. You take the warning and head up the stairs, pretending to go into your room. Your feet stop just short of the top of the stairs, carefully peering around the corner and listening out. 

Shigaraki pulls them all to another room to start discussing the plan, detailing the reason why he asked for Bakugo’s kidnapping. You’re ever thankful that the league tends to be loud as it makes your intentions much easier to pull off. You slip past the door and carefully tiptoe to the kid. Your luck must finally be turning, as you see the kid slowly start to regain consciousness. He blinks a few times, carmine eyes adjusting to the light. You see a flash of panic on his face upon seeing the new environment and feeling the restraints constricting his body. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you. Did they hurt you?” You whisper, expressing your condolences. He seems to be a fiery kid, as his face twists in a sneer. 

“Get the fuck away from me, wench,” the blonde kid bites. You back up and raise your arms, despite the fact he’s completely tied to a chair. You’re starting to see the intimidation factor that seems to surround this kid. 

“Woah there, I’m like you, kid. I don’t want to be here either, they kidnapped me too,” you negotiate carefully. 

“So what, you just decided to fight for them after they kidnapped you? That’s pretty pathetic if you ask me,” he insults. Your eyebrow twitches. You’re trying to help him, does this kid really need to rub salt in the wound?

“One, I didn’t ask you. Two, I can’t fight, I’m here because of my healing quirk. And three, I’m trying to help you,” you lecture. 

“Oh,” he says, in a rather small voice. It’s clear the kid is at least a little ashamed of his outburst. 

“Yeah, jump to conclusions much?” You sass. You try to reign in your exasperation and approach the situation gently. “Now, one more time, are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine, they barely even scratched me. Though that one stapled guy had a death grip on my neck,” he complains. Your heart drops at the revelation.

“Sounds like Dabi,” you inform, trying to cover up your saddened tone. You push your emotions to the side and focus on helping the kid. A quick visual pass over his neck doesn’t reveal any injuries, thankfully. “I don’t see any bruises, so it looks like you’re okay.” 

“How long have you been here?” He asks. You can almost detect the faintest bit of sympathy in his voice.

“You know, now that you mention it… I’ve kinda lost track,” you say somberly. “But that doesn’t matter right now. Do you know if your friends or teachers see it happen? If they know why you’re gone and who took you, they’re probably already looking for you as we speak.”

“Oh they saw everything alright,” he snorts. You’re surprised at that, you would have figured with all the sneaky quirks up their sleeve that the LOV would have done this stealthily. Though, remembering how Magne remarked that this plan was supposed to humiliate UA, which you’ve come to realize is a school, makes you see that stealth was never the point. 

“I have a feeling the heroes will at least try to rescue you, but if you have a strong quirk, you might be able to make your own way,” you explain. “But listen to me, do not brute force an escape. Take the opportunity if it presents itself, but don’t put yourself in danger. If you get out and I don’t, keep going. You can just tell the heroes where I am.” 

“Like I’d leave a civilian with them. I wouldn’t be a hero-in-training if I just left you here. We’ll break out of here and pummel those bastards, I promise!” he says with conviction. His spitfire personality grows on you a bit in that moment. Even though he was a little rude to you at first, you still want to help him any way you can. You fill him in on what you’ve learned about the league, mostly giving him information about all their quirks and potential weaknesses. The league’s chatter in the other room seems to slowly die down. With the remaining time you have, you warn him not to attack and that subtly is safer, to which he seems incredibly appalled by.  

“I’m not much of a faker,” he says with pride. “I make my own opening, my way.” 

“We’ll talk about why that’s such a terrible idea later, I gotta go back before they notice,” You hurriedly advise. “You gotta pretend you didn’t see me, alright? I wasn’t supposed to be down here with you.” He gives you an understanding nod and you take the chance to scurry away. You’re actually thankful you’ve been at the league’s base for so long, as you’ve recognized which floorboards creak the most and which path is the quietest. You slip away and head to your room, unnoticed. It’s incredibly lucky that you haven’t been caught scheming. Your ears strain to pick up on everyone’s footfalls until the sounds become more clear, before eventually stopping entirely. It seems they’re done with the debriefing process and are back in the bar. 

“Y/n! Shigaraki said you’re not grounded anymore!” Toga calls out. You don’t hesitate to take the opportunity and you head downstairs, joining the others. Everyone seems to be staring at Bakugo in either anticipation or caution. They seem to avoid getting near his space, as evident by the distance between Bakugo and the others. The atmosphere is incredibly tense, no doubt due to the seething expression on Bakugo’s face. An uneasy silence settles in the room. Even the more talkative members of the LOV refrain from talking. Shigaraki is the one to speak first, breaking the silence and establishing his control over the situation. 

“Dabi, take off his restraints,” Shigaraki commands.

“You know he’s just going to try to fight us, right?” Dabi asks, doubtful of his leader’s plan.

“It’s fine, if we’re scouting him, we need to treat him like equals,” Shigaraki dismisses.  Shigaraki’s words fail to convince him. 

Dabi looks at the kid, sizing him up. He must not like what he sees as he offloads the responsibility onto Twice. “Twice, you do it.”

“Why me?!” Twice exclaims. Even he doesn’t seem too thrilled about the idea.

“Just do it,” Dabi insists, exasperated by Twice’s hesitance. 

“No way,” Twice denies with exaggerated gestures, before dropping the resistance entirely. Twice ends up walking over to Bakugo and unlocking all the restraints. You try to shoot him a look as a reminder about what the two of you secretly discussed: don’t be stupid and do something obvious. The warning is lost on the kid as he ignores your intense gaze and lunges for Shigaraki. An explosion hits the leader in the face, clouding him in a bit of smoke. The kid quickly backs away from Shigaraki’s space, taking advantage of the initial shock.

You stare at Bakugo, dumbfounded, with an expression that can only communicate, ‘What the fuck are you doing?!’ 

You feel yourself sweating out of stress. Shigaraki seems completely stunned, but despite his initial lack of reaction, you find yourself growing anxious upon realizing that his hand mask is on the floor. You’ve never seen him take it off. He’s gotta be especially protective over that thing. Bakugo seems to be eyeing the situation, eyes darting back and forth between everyone, clearly cooking up a plan to escape. It’s then you realized you forgot to tell him all the doors are locked. You feel a dawning horror invade your emotions. This is going terribly and you can’t help but feel it’s all your fault. 

To your surprise, Shigaraki doesn’t respond with malice. Rather, he commands for everyone to leave the kid unharmed. He specifically instructs Compress and Kurogiri to put him back to sleep. The mercy the LOV leader is showing is incredibly unlike him, but welcome nonetheless. Shigaraki’s orders make you release the breath you were holding and relax. Still, you don’t tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding, staying alert in case you can help the kid out in some way. Compress carefully begins to approach Bakugo. The kid sizes up the situation and seems to brace himself for the chance he could dodge Compress. 

A knock on the door makes everyone halt in their places, momentarily pausing the confrontation. “Pizza delivery!” A voice says from behind the door. The league members look at each other in skepticism. 

“Did one of you idiots order a fucking pizza, I swear to god-“ Shigaraki questions, cut off by a loud crash that sounds off to the right of them. You turn to look, seeing the wall blown in by people donned in capes and bodysuits. The sight makes you want to cry in relief. It’s the heroes, the two of you are saved. You even see All Might amongst the heroes, the man who’s known internationally for being the unbeatable symbol of peace. You just hope that All Might remains unstoppable in the face of the League of Villains. The heroes don’t hesitate a second longer, as everyone springs into action. Tree branches reach for all the villains, ensnaring everyone, including you. It's then you realize how your situation must look from the outside. The heroes think you’re a villain.

Fuck.

How do you convince them you’re not a threat when there’s not even time for you to speak?

A flash of blue fire erupts from Dabi’s head. If the heroes don’t neutralize his quirk, he’ll definitely burn the branches restraining you all until nothing remains but ash. You were hopeful you’d get out of here, but you’re feeling doubtful now. The situation is incredibly hectic and ever-changing. A flash of yellow zooms past you, moving far too fast for your eyes to fully comprehend. When you turn your head, you catch sight of an old man in a yellow cape kicking Dabi on the back of the head. Dabi’s eyes seem to roll back and he slumps forward into the branches. The scene makes you absolutely dumbstruck. Dabi is knocked out cold.

With Dabi ‘dispatched’, his flames are no longer an issue. The only blaring issue that remains to you is figuring out how to convince the heroes you aren’t a criminal. You’re not really given an opportunity, as All Might’s booms over yours. The sheer volume of his voice commands the room, there’s no way you can speak over him. All Might is completely focused on Bakugo, fussing over him like a concerned parent. They have a quick, heart-to-heart conversation, something about how terrifying it must have been for Bakugo to handle this on his own. Even in such a sincere moment, Bakugo’s personality shines through, as he vehemently denies ever feeling scared at all. The heroes are gloating as Shigaraki seethes at the scene, twitching from rage. You swear your eyes catch sight of something in the air, some red string that keeps catching the light. You’re straining to see what it is when the thread thickens. A face emerges from the thread, startling you. You’d jump on the spot if you weren’t completely immobilized. 

“Oh? Who’s this? It appears our intel failed to find out a new villain joined their ranks,” the face muses. You open your mouth to counter his accusation, but you’re beaten to the point. 

“Edgeshot, she’s not a villain!” Bakugo yells. “She’s just a civilian.” 

“Not only did you abduct my pupil, but a civilian too?” All Might condemns, before confidently continuing. “It’s over. The childish pranks end now.”

All Might’s words must have enraged Shigaraki and pulled him out of his stunned stupor. Shigaraki shouts orders at Kurogiri to open up a warp gate, but the heroes have thought ahead. Kurogiri is pierced through the abdomen by who you understand is the hero Edgeshot, and promptly slumps over, Kurogiri’s body seemingly completely limp. You’re aghast in horror until the hero reappears from the thread and claims to have merely put him to sleep. You feel like you’re on a rollercoaster, with constant ups and downs, getting scared and worried just to feel slightly more at ease before the cycle happens again. 

All Might seems to ask Shigaraki a question, something that seems important to the heroes, but you don’t pay it any mind. You can’t seem to focus on their conversation. Something just seems off. It appears there’s something in certain spots of the air that distorts, rippling in a way that’s reminiscent of water. You know it’s not the thread hero again, as he’s already materialized. These distortions are much different anyways. It’s almost like a dark spot is appearing, floating in space. Your suspicions are confirmed as black ooze seems to drip down out of thin air. The viscous mixture seems to grow in size as it pours down until you see pale limbs reaching out. Strange, humanoid beings come out of the sludge. Several of them have their brains exposed and completely uncovered by a skull. You feel sick just at the sight of something so unnatural and grotesque. What the hell are these things? 

Whatever summoned these creatures takes advantage of the chaos. Black sludge erupts from the mouths of all LOV members. It encases the villains in a shroud of darkness and their bodies disappear into the inky depths, without a trace and leaving behind empty space where they were once restrained by branches. Bakugo seems to have been transported out of the room as well. His disappearance causes All Might to frantically yell upon failing to grab him. You’re shocked to see the hero look so caught off guard and genuinely emotional. He’s always been known to smile even in the face of danger. The fact he’s so openly shouting in distress is more than alarming. 

You’re even more taken aback when you see the creatures begin to lunge for the heroes, forcing All Might and the rest to fight back. It’s clear to you that whatever the hell these monsters are, they’re far from friendly and they are numerous. The creatures seem to be even outside of the bar, as evident by the shrills of terror. It sounds terrible out there, you can hear screams, bullets, and the sound of fighting. 

As you watch the scene unfold, your eyes accidentally make eye contact with a monster. One seems to turn in your direction and hone in on you. Your wide eyes stare in horror at the creature as it rushes towards you. It leaps and lunges at you. You flinch and screw your eyes shut, unable to do anything else besides steel yourself for the inevitable. The wooden hero creates a wall of branches between you and the monster, blocking off its attack. 

“There’s too many! Kamui, get her out of here!” You overhear Edgeshot shout. Kamui, who you’ve come to realize is the tree hero, follows Edgeshot’s orders. The branches pull you from the room and out from the gaping hole in the wall, away from the chaos and combat. You’re lifted onto a nearby roof, still tightly bound by Kamui’s quirk. He stands near the edge of the building, seemingly scanning the surroundings, probably looking for a safer place to deliver you. You look over the streets as well, seeing destruction everywhere you look. It’s clear there’s no escape from the turmoil just yet. You catch his heroic posture faltering, with his shoulders drooping ever so slightly. No words are shared between the two of you as you both wait for the conflict to die down, unable to tear your eyes away from the morbid scene. 

Eventually, enough bullets are spent and enough blood has been shed, as the strange creatures are put down. Kamui makes the descent down from the roof with you in tow. You’re delivered in front of a flaming hero, with a permanent scowl on his face, conversing with a police officer. Their attention immediately snaps to you. The large, flaming man looks at you with disinterest, but the officer seems perplexed by you. 

“And who is this supposed to be?” The hero grills Kamui.

“Don’t know, we saw her in the base with the League of Villains,” he answers. “Kid believes she’s a civilian.” 

“Civilian, huh? That’s rich,” the flame hero scoffs. The hero turns his attention to the police officer and gives him an order. “Put the quirk cuffs on her, we’ll process her like any other villain until we have actual evidence saying otherwise.” 

 The police officer looks skeptical and doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, his eyes narrow at you and he looks at you with vague recognition. The hero takes notice of his hesitance and asks, clearly annoyed, “What’s the hold-up?”

“Endeavor, with all due respect, I don’t believe she is a villain,” the policeman objects. 

“Don’t tell me even you are falling for this ruse,” the hero sneers. “She was surely a part of some plan to trick the student. She probably lied to him and posed as another victim in order to gain his trust.”

“I worked a case a while back. A University student went missing without a trace. She matches the description,” he informs. The hero, who you assume is named Endeavor, remains unconvinced. The officer sighs, and compromises, “Look, we could ask her some questions, and if her answers match, then she’s actually a civilian and telling the truth.” Endeavor seems to think it over, relenting upon seeing the officer’s determined expression. 

“Fine, ask your stupid questions, but she’s going to Tartarus if her answers don’t check out. Mark my words,” Endeavor warns. The officer gives a curt nod and turns to you. 

“What’s your first name?” He opens. 

“Y/n,” you answer. 

“And your quirk?” 

“Healing skin.” 

“Seems like her,” the officer gloats. Endeavor remains skeptical, as is evident with his narrowed eyes and mouth pressed in a scowl.  

Endeavor counters the officer’s claim, “Couldn’t she be pretending to be your missing university student? If it was all over the news-”

“It wasn’t,” the officer interrupts. “So many people go missing in this district that one more hardly makes the news. It’s her, there’s not a doubt in my mind.” 

“What were you doing with the League of Villains?” Endeavor interrogates. He seems incredibly suspicious of you. You suppose you can’t really blame him. Edgeshot assumed you were in cahoots with the league back at the hideout. From an outsider’s perspective, you really did look suspect. Still, you have an opportunity to clear your name. The most you can do is tell your story and hope they believe you.

“Shigaraki knocked me out when I ran into him one night. When I woke up, I realized I had been kidnapped,” you explain. “He liked my quirk and thought I’d be useful. If I didn’t heal the league like he asked, he said he’d disintegrate me.” 

Endeavor lets out an exhausted sigh, before rubbing his temples with one hand. “Take her to HPSC headquarters. The commission is gonna want to hear about this,” he orders the officer. 

Kamui takes this as a sign to unhand you. He finally releases you from his quirk’s hold, much to your relief. The officer speaks into the radio on his suit, updating the situation and requesting a squad car, before leading you away. He escorts you away from the aftermath of the raid, guiding you through the scattered piles of debris, until you arrive at the police car, parked on an intact street with another officer waiting expectantly outside. The additional police officer opens the door to the backseat for you and you climb in, after which she shuts it behind you. Sounds of sirens and yelling are muffled in the car, giving you a momentary respite from all the commotion and the ability to finally process what happened.

You sit in the back of the squad car, contemplating everything that has happened while staring out the window. Just a few hours ago, you were healing the league and even laughing with them. After you realized they kidnapped a kid and then the heroes broke down the wall, everything seemed to just crash down at once. Somehow, you developed a sort of camaraderie with the lot, despite not subscribing to their goals and actively wishing to be away from them. You adapted to it. Life with the league became your new normal. But what will your normal be now? You doubt your life can just rewind back to the way it was before you were kidnapped, not since you escaped the clutches of the league. Speaking of, would they come back for you? Would they punish you for escaping? Would you ever see him again? These are questions you never thought to ask all the times you were fantasizing about fleeing. Now that you’re here, the questions are unavoidable and unfortunately, without answers. 

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don't care to listen to the officers radioing their superiors. You only process that they started the car when you see the scenery whizzing by. The drive to headquarters is simultaneously overwhelming yet quiet. The officers haven’t spoken a word to you since loading you into the car, leaving you to drown in your own head. 

You thought you’d be happy to see the outside again, but now that you’re here, it’s incredibly overstimulating. The lights are too bright, the buildings are too big, and the radio relaying updates is far too loud. Your hands ball up in your lap, knuckles turning white from your anxious clenching. You worry your time in captivity has ruined you, and the thought only serves to heighten your anxiety. 

The car eventually rolls up to a large building and parks on the curb. One of the officers opens your car door after getting out herself, and you step out and onto the sidewalk. They both lead you into the building, where they freely walk into the lobby, filled with heroes coming and going. The receptionist doesn’t bother to stop the officers, instead giving them a look of recognition and an understanding nod. You all shuffle into an elevator and rise to the top floor. The ascent is silent until the elevator dings and the metal doors slide open. You all step out of the elevator and into a sort of waiting area, where a man with crimson red wings greets the officers. They exchange polite greetings all the while you stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do in the situation. The pupils in the hero’s yellow eyes seem to narrow to slits when they dart to you, sizing you up with interest. 

“So this must be the little dove found at the hideout,” the feathered hero muses, as he looks at you. 

“You’d be correct,” the officer confirms. “We’re supposed to escort Miss y/n to the Safety Commission President. Would you know where she is around now?” 

“Don’t worry about it, I can take over from here. You two must have a mountain of paperwork after the Kamino raid, ” Hawks offers. They seem to be grateful for this, as you’re handed off to the bird-like hero. The police officers say their thanks before heading back down through the elevators, leaving you alone with yet another new person. 

“The name’s Hawks. Nice to meet you, y/n,” he introduces, rather informally. 

“Y-yeah, likewise,” you stutter, feeling a bit nervous in the company of a new stranger. “Um, Hawks?”

“Hmm?” He hums. 

“Why am I here?”

“You’ve piqued the interest of some very important people,” he explains. You must look worried as he quickly adds, “They just want to know about what happened to you and what you know, that sort of thing.”

“I see…” you reply, voice trailing off. 

You’re led through the halls and into a sort of conference room. Five strangers in formal business wear sit behind a slightly curved desk, arranged in a sort of panel. Hawks ushers you to the center of the room, leaving you to stand in front of them as he posts himself near the door. You’re not sure what is going on. Your palms start sweating from nervousness. It feels like you’re in a courtroom, on trial. One of the five people sitting behind the long table presses a button on what you assume is some sort of audio recording device. The questions feel endless, just one after another, all asking about the LOV. Over time, they seem less suspicious of you and your story, especially after explaining Shigaraki’s initial threats. The meeting, or rather, the interrogation ends with a question about Shigaraki and Dabi. 

“Do you know their real names? We have reason to suspect their current identifiers are just monikers. Nothing is known of their real identities. Anything you know could be useful,” one of them explains. You shake your head. 

“They never revealed their true names and I never cared to ask,” you inform. There’s a look of disappointment on her face before she shuts the recorder off. 

“I see. That’s a shame,” she responds. “As a precautionary measure, we’ve arranged for you to be housed in a safe location, where you will stay until the League of Villains is captured. It’s unlikely they will try to find you given the severe blow the raid inflicted on them, but please, bear with us until then. We appreciate your cooperation.”

The door clicks open and you take that as your cue to leave, eagerly walking out with Hawks trailing behind you. You’re relieved for the process to finally be over. That damn interrogation was anxiety-inducing to say the least. Your apparent discomfort must be noticeable to Hawks, no doubt from your loud sighs, as he places a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“You alright?” Hawks asks. There’s this small hint of genuine concern in his voice, something you picked up on. From the interactions you’ve had with him, he always seems to have this sort of carefree and upbeat personality. 

“I will be,” you offer. You rub at your eyes, feeling the effects of your hectic day wearing down your energy. “Some sleep would help. I’ll probably feel a bit better in the morning.” 

“I hear ya,” he responds. “Come on, I’ll get you out of here so you can rest, follow me.” He notions to the elevators with a nod of his head in that direction, and proceeds to walk over. Hawks calls for the elevator and you follow him in when the doors open. He tucks his large wings closer to his body, so that they don’t take up as much space. You weren’t able to see he pushed the up button, so when the elevator rises to the roof access, revealing the night sky, you’re more than a little confused.

“I thought you were taking me out of here?” You ask.

“I am,” he responds, almost matter-of-factly. 

“But why are we on the roof?”

“Why walk when you could fly?” 

“Oh hell no,” you refuse. 

“I’m fast, it’ll be over before you know it,” he bargains. “It’s more secure this way anyways. You can’t be followed as easily.” 

“Okay, okay. Fine. Just… don’t drop me,” you relent, understanding his point. 

“I wouldn’t be a very good hero if I let you fall,” he laughs. “You’ll be fine, hold on tight.” 

He scoops you into his arms and you tightly cling to the fabric of his shirt. His wings flap, sending powerful gusts of wind, until you’re both lifted off the ground. The roof grows farther and farther away from you as he ascends into the sky. True to his words, he’s incredibly fast, as the skyscrapers seem to whizz by, almost blurring together. The experience is equal parts nerve-wracking, exhilarating, and freeing. It had been so long since you’d last seen the night sky, and now it feels like you’re seeing it much closer than ever before. Had you not been in the arms of a reliable hero, you’d be more scared-shitless and less naturally wary of this experience. 

He eventually lands on the roof of what looks to be an apartment high-rise. Your legs feel wobbly from the adrenaline when he finally sets you down. You’re thankful he gives you a few moments to recollect yourself, before showing you down a flight of stairs and into a hall of apartment doors. He opens the unlocked door to your provided room and ushers you in. 

“You should be safe here,” he assures. “Most of your neighbors are heroes. You’re in good hands, but just in case, I’ll be checking in every so often.” 

“Thank you, Hawks,” you say, relief clear in your voice. You offer him a grateful smile. 

“Don’t mention it,” he accepts. “Lock the doors and get some rest, you’ve more than earned it after what you went through.” You do as you’re told when he leaves your new apartment, turning the locks and deadbolt. Silence settles upon your new home as you’re left completely alone for the first time all night. The realization feels so foreign to you, as you remember how even at the LOV base, you were never truly left alone. There was always at least someone around you, some pair of eyes and ears attuned to you, preventing your escape. Despite how odd it feels, you press on and find your way to the bedroom. You immediately crawl into bed and fall asleep, still in your clothes, lacking the energy to even think about changing out of them. It’s when the bright light of the morning shines through your windows, waking you up, that you realize all your things were back at the LOV base. 

In the light of the day and now refreshed from sleep, you take the time to explore your new flat. The apartment is neither extremely big or claustrophobically small, instead sitting at a nice medium between the two extremes. It seems mostly fitted with all the necessities. When you look in the closet, you even find there’s already a small selection of neutral clothes, ranging in size. You reason they must keep this place preemptively stocked for cases such as yourself. 

You go about your morning, trying to ignore how odd it feels to be on your own for once. Going through the motions of showering, changing into comfortable clothes, and making breakfast seems to distract you from the feelings. When you’re out of things to add to your routine, you decide to turn on the news to understand what happened last night. The reporter goes over the major events of the hideout raid, most of which are things you already knew, though, both you and the public alike are left in the dark as to what those strange monsters were. Your knee bounces nervously upon just seeing those things again. The reporter then updates the public on what happened to Bakugo. You feel immense relief upon seeing the news reporter happily report that the UA student has been returned unharmed. 

Your doorbell rings, tearing your attention away from the segment. Suspicious, you slowly walk to the door, peering through the peephole. Through the fish-eyed glass, you’re able to see a familiar shock of blonde hair and red wings waiting patiently at your step. You let out a relieved sigh and unlock the door to allow Hawks into your home. 

“Heyo,” he greets. “How’s the new place treating you?” 

“It’s nice, definitely beats staying at the hideout,” you answer. “Say, speaking of, will I be able to get anything back from there?”

“Yeah, about that, I have some bad news,” he starts. Hawks informs you that damage done to the LOV’s base meant that almost all of your belongings were destroyed. Not much was salvageable in the aftermath. Speaking of the aftermath, he warns you that the heroes have been unable to apprehend the league yet. Their current whereabouts are completely unknown. Despite this, Hawks assures you that it was unlikely the LOV should seek you out again, given the rationality that there are other healers out there and they were dealt a huge loss. You suppose it made sense, but you can’t shake the concern. 

“So what does this all mean for me?” You ask. 

“Well, until they’re found, you’ll have to stay here,” he explains. 

“I guess that’s not so bad,” you accept. “This place is much closer to (campus/work) so my walk won’t be as bad.” He grimaces at your comment, clearly knowing something you don’t.

“No, you literally have to stay here. Unless it’s an emergency, you can’t leave. I’ll be dropping by to check in on you every few days though, so you won’t be completely alone, at least,” he clarifies. Your face drops at the information.

 “Oh! Before I forget,” he adds, seemingly remembering something. He pulls a phone from his jacket pocket, one that looks extremely familiar. “I also managed to grab your phone from the evidence locker. The police took it from the scene of your disappearance. You can call your family or friends, let them know you’re alive. I’m sure they’ve been worried about you.” You accept your phone from his hand. Although your phone is dead, you’re sure there’ll be a million calls on your lock screen once it’s turned on.

“Yeah, I’m sure they have,” you agree, a bit solemnly.

“Just… don’t tell them where you are. It’d defeat the whole purpose of hiding you from the league, you know?” You nod, accepting those terms. It’s ironic, you think, how you were supposedly freed, yet you were not granted freedom. You were still locked away, prevented from leaving. Yes, you understood the rationale behind it, but that didn’t mean it erased the fact the situation felt eerily familiar. 

Hawks would do regular check-ins. First a couple times a day, then once a day, until slowing down to every two days. When he had the time, he’d stay a little longer to talk and the two of you would hang out in your living room. You got to know the now number two hero fairly well from all those moments. The two of you mostly made small talk, though there were some moments in which you two seemed to genuinely laugh at some stupid joke or share the same opinions on a controversial topic. Sometimes, he’d ask about what your life in the league was like. You were (mostly) honest with him about it, telling him stories about your interactions with everyone. It was a bit fun to see his eyes widen in shock when you recounted some of the things you said to Shigaraki. He seemed a bit aghast to know you made such snarky comments and survived to tell the tale. But, you always were careful to conveniently leave out the details about Dabi. You weren’t sure what he, and the HPSC, would do if they heard you nearly made out with a wanted villain. Some things were better left unsaid.

 When you weren’t accompanied by Hawks in your home, you’d spend your time distracting yourself rather than unpacking what happened. Without a therapist, you’d get nowhere. You’d rather bide your time rather than spiral into blaming yourself or justifying the league. You fear it has already begun with your cynicism towards the HPSC, which is why you desperately wish to talk to someone you can trust. Not only that, but your dreams were often about Dabi. Despite what he had done, you seem to still hold a fondness for him. You still desired him. These dreams confused you to no end, but you were never able to rationalize them. It was frustrating, to be locked away, supposedly in safety, but not even granted the ability to talk to a professional about what happened to you. The HPSC claimed due to the high-profile nature of this case, you’d have to wait until the LOV was in custody before you could begin your visits. They seemed to defend their actions by claiming a therapist leaking your case would draw attention to their investigation and endanger you by confirming where you are. Not only that, but they said the risk of Twice’s clones or Toga infiltrating your appointments was too high to justify. 

Over time, the weeks of isolation slowly turned into a few months, the passage of time aided by endless distractions. You were starting to get in the swing of things. Being alone no longer felt as foreign, it was becoming natural again. Unfortunately, your whole routine was about to be disrupted. Unbeknownst to you, miles away in Deika City, Shigaraki begins plotting something. A plan to shake up the confidence of the hero commission, starting with you.  

“The heroes took something from me. I need to teach them a lesson in stealing what is mine,” Shigaraki states to his lieutenants in the PLF army. “It’s time to return our healer.” And with his command, the plans are set in motion. 

Hours later and back to your place, you hear a knock on your door. Figuring it must be Hawks, you shout from your kitchen, “Hold on, I’m coming!” You make your way to the foyer, not bothering to look through the peephole and  open the door. Instead of meeting with Hawks, there’s another hero at your doorstep. 

“You’re not who I was expecting,” you say, a bit suspiciously. “Normally someone else checks in on me, has this changed?”

“Oh, just for today. I’m just filling in. You know how busy us heroes are!” He answers. 

“R-right, I suppose the hero lifestyle can get hectic,” You mumble. You still can’t shake your suspicion.

 “H-hey, do you mind showing me your quirk? It’s part of the protocol, you know, to make sure there’s no imposters,” you lie. 

“Oh, my bad! I must have missed that part of the report,” the hero apologizes. He buys your lie, which seems a bit suspect, but he shows you his quirk nonetheless. “Slidin’ Go, signature slide!” He slides on the floor, without resistance. Pretty useless quirk, in your opinion, but given how he can still use it, he’s not Toga. You doubt Twice could have obtained all the measurements of a hero that’s not declared missing, so there’s no concern in your mind it’s a clone. Relief washes over you and you wonder why you were so jumpy in the first place.

 It’s safe. 

You’re safe. 

Everything is okay.

“You mind letting me in? Just need to do a check around, make sure you’re actually alone and all,” he requests. You suppose that’s what Hawks has been doing when he hangs over. It makes sense, but it stings to know the social contact you had was all due to a protocol. 

“Oh, right, sorry. Come on in,” you agree. You open the door and allow him to enter inside. He looks around your apartment, walking from the entryway down the hall until he stops at your living room. Your (tea kettle/coffee maker) sounds off from your kitchen. The suddenness startles you momentarily. You shut the door behind you and pad past him down the hall. “Sorry, I was in the middle of making (tea/coffee). Just one moment,” you excuse, awkwardly. 

“No worries, take your time. I’ll be in the living room while you do that!” He cheerily dismisses. You offer him a polite nod before trotting off to your kitchen, pouring your drink into a mug and carrying it with you. 

When you return to the living room, you realize he’s nowhere to be seen. Concerning, but not enough to make you panic. What does make you start sweating is seeing puddles of a gray, clay-like substance on the carpet. Your stomach instantly drops, and your mug slips out of your hands, further sullying the carpet. You remember that conversation between Toga and Muscular, how Toga’s quirk leaves behind pale silt. 

FUCK.

Since when could Toga use other quirks?!

You’re about to bolt for the door to attempt to run away when you feel arms gripping your waist. You look down and see no other than Toga. 

‘Holy shit, she’s gotten so much stronger,’ you think, the realization stirring up a panic in you. You try to wriggle out of her grasp, but she just doesn’t budge. She quickly snakes one arm to the collar of her shirt and speaks into it. 

“Mission accomplished!” She announces, to whom, you’re not quite sure. You’re not left with time to think about it, as you feel an odd sensation rise up your throat. Black sludge pours out of your mouth, enveloping you entirely in darkness. The sensation is nothing short of gross and uncomfortable. You’re thankful it doesn’t last for long, but when your lungs finally clear of the substance, you realize you’ve been transported somewhere completely unfamiliar to you. 

“Looks like Toga managed to pull it off after all,” you hear a familiar, smoky voice drawl. The recognition is instant. Your body freezes and your eyes trail over to the source. You lock eyes with none other than Dabi. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, y/n?” 

Your mouth feels dry, but you speak anyway. “It has.”

#bnha dabi #dabi my hero academia #mha dabi #dabi fanfic #dabi x reader #dabi angst #slight angst #tw: stockholm syndrome #my hero academia hawks #endeavor slander #dabi x reader fluff #dabi x you #dabi x female reader #dabi x y/n #healer reader #healer y/n #hella s*xual tension #reader insert #dabi #almost kiss trope #self insert #bnha self insert #mha fanfiction #bnha reader insert #bnha fanfiction

[trashybandit]

Loving Return

Yandere Aizawa fic arising from my need to see Shouta use his capture weapon on me. TW: stockholm syndrome, yandere, breeding, and implied mind-break.

Shouta burrowed his head into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. The past few weeks have been hell, from dealing with immature brats to draining fights with villains, he hadn't had a chance to be near you. As soon as he stepped into your shared home, he immediately dragged you to the sofa for an impromptu cuddle session, dinner be damned. Your soft chuckles as you removed his goggles alongside your gentle teasing filled his chest with warmth. From the hand running in his hair and another gently drawing circles on his back, Shouta could feel the stress leaving his body. He couldn't help but bury himself further into your neck and sigh in satisfaction. Everything felt right in the world, with you in his embrace and finally accepting him after the less than ideal beginning to your relationship. His kitten deserved a reward, no? Shouta's hand suddenly grabbed one of your breasts and lazily fondled it as another snaked down to settle itself between your legs. His calloused fingers rubbed your clit at an agonizingly slow pace as he pinched your nipple. Your moans have only encouraged him to continue. He slightly picked up the pace and forced your tongue into a complicated dance with his, only stopping when you were both out of breath. "Want to take it to the bed?" Shouta asked breathlessly. Your answer was obvious.

Not even bothering to take off his clothes, he kissed you as if there was no tomorrow while gently laying you down on the bed. His tongue ravaged your mouth as it explored every inch of the wet cavern, only breaking the kiss to properly look at you. Your breathless form, only clad in a soft pastel sundress, with your watery, lustful eyes looking up at him. You looked like a little rabbit being sullied by the big bad wolf. You bit your lip and looked away blushing from Shouta's intense stare. The sight only made his dick harder. You were an innocent little thing at the mercy of his will, weren’t you?  "S-shouta..." you called softly, "can you...useyourcaptureweapononmeplease?" "What?" he asked, chuckling at how your face flushed further. Rubbing your legs together while thinking about how to phrase your deviant request, you repeated it, albeit softly. Straining his ears, Shouta was slightly surprised at it, but pleased at how vocal you've become with him, a far cry from your previous reactions to his attempts at intimacy. But you with your head down, ears flushed as you tried to give yourself some stimulation, you were practically begging him to tease you more. Though, if he did, you might back out like the skittish kitten that you were. Manipulating his capture weapon to gently wrap around your limbs and settling you on his lap, he hastily removed your clothes the best he could, freeing your breasts to suck on your cute nipples. Your face somehow managed to get redder as heavenly moans spilled uncensored from your lips. Encouraged by them, Shouta stopped sucking, much to your chagrin, to slip off your soak panties to show your cunt some love. Using the capture weapon to hold your legs open for him, he sensually licked your thighs and even left a couple of hickies before focusing on your pussy. He started to rapidly eat you out, setting a brutal pace that left you breathless, but that wasn't enough for him. He abruptly stopped when you were the closest to your release and was met with the sight of you trying, and failing, to close your legs to stop the onslaught. You looked divine splayed out like this, eyes hooded with thinly veiled lust with clothes half-removed with your privates exposed for the world to see (well, just him), hands and legs restrained by his capture weapon. His restraint fueled by his desire to please you finally broke. You found yourself in a variety of positions as Shouta used his capture weapon to contort your limbs this way and that way after they lost their strength from god knows how many orgasms. You pussy felt full from the amount of cum it was forced to take, yet Shouta didn't seem anywhere near done.

You were too tired to hear his disjointed exclamations of how you'd make a beautiful mother, would look magnificent with swollen tits overflowing with milk, and a round tummy carrying the product of your union with him. You'd moan from how he was consistently hitting your g-spot, but your throat was beyond hoarse and could only produce strangled sobs. Shouta stimulated your soaked clit to push you over the edge, leaving you a sobbing pathetic mess. It wasn't long before you both came from the intense stimulation curtsy of Shouta and how it caused your pussy to wring his dick dry. Unlike him, you weren't blessed with the insane stamina of a pro-hero and you could only lie on the dirtied sheets, basking in the afterglow before drifting off to sleep. He could only stare at your ravaged form and stare at the little bulge below your stomach. Shouta felt his dick reawakening, but suppressed his desire and focused on shoving the essence that escaped your pussy back in. He couldn't have all his hard work go to waste like this, so he looked around for something that he prepared exactly for this situation: a plug. Gently pushing it in, he sighed in satisfaction as he pecked your lips, knowing that you'll both be welcoming a new family member soon enough.

#tw: breeding #tw: stockholm syndrome #tw: mind break #shouta aizawa #yandere aizawa #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere bnha #tw: yandere

[fuck-you-im-the-president]

Do you even remotely 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 your husband? Even a Little bit? Or do just like the control you have over him. Is he just something to feed your ego? You’re horrible. You know he doesn’t deserve you

-⭐️

i love him a lot! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Quackity probably scrolled past by now.

i love him when isn't a bitch. the control is fun when he's scared of me or when he starts crying when I say I'm disappointed. sometimes I don't even have to hurt him, he just feels horrible for disappointing me that he does it himself.

#dsmp jschlatt #dsmp schlatt #rp blog #roleplay #manburg #pumpkin duo #dsmp quackity #tw: stockholm syndrome #tw: abuse #tw: sh

[sumeruin]

♫♪: minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable.

♫♪: warnings: smut written by a minor, slight spoilers for 3.2 archon quest, slight yandere, threats of violence against reader, kinda stockholm syndromey?? idk scara is a fucked up little guy and reader is into it, degradation, fem reader (no pronouns but has fem anatomy), could be read as dubcon but was not intended to be, slight overstimulation and edging.

♫♪: pairing: scaramouche x reader

♫♪: a/n: i may or may not have a favorite character. i’m trying something new with the way i format my writing. it might stay it might not idk i just think the header is cute :) also sorry it’s kinda short i haven’t written anything in over 8 months :(

thinking about being scaramouche’s sweet little darling, specifically while he becomes a god. he’d be so mean, always telling you what to do in a condescending tone, making you stay inside the giant mechanical body with him and threatening to push you out every time you misbehave :( he’d make you sit as close to him as possible, ignoring your pathetic whimpers and whines about how mean he was being. he’d slowly start to move his hands lower from their place on your waist, going down until he was touching your thighs, so close yet so far away from where you’d desperately want him to touch. he’d smirk against the skin of your neck, letting out a dry chuckle and snide comment about how desperate you were being for him, how pitiful you looked at his mercy :( eventually, he’d give you what you want, after hours and hours of relentless teasing, edging, and begging, he’d finally decide you were ready for his cock. he wouldn’t be gentle or slow though, he’d be rough and domineering, aggressively thrusting in and out of your cunt while rubbing hard circles around your clit. he’d only smile if you started to whine from the overstimulation, asking you if you really thought you had any control over the situation :( he wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied, his inhuman stamina and strength allowing him to go many more rounds than you could keep up with. by the time he finished you’d have lost count of how many times you came, too fucked out to notice the soft, almost loving look in scaramouche’s eyes and the gentle touches he’d clean you up with :(

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ angel’s creations ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ #tw: violence #tw: dubcon #tw: yandere #tw: stockholm syndrome #tw: degradation #tw: overstimulation #tw: edging #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #yandere genshin #yandere genshin smut #yandere genshin x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #yandere ​scaramouche #scaramouche x reader smut #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader smut

[inkblot22]

Snake

Jamil x afab!Gn!Reader, All characters are 18+, tw for manipulation, degradation, spousal/partner abuse, noncon/dubcon, mention of broken bones, mention of kidnapping and captivity, forced marriage, reader is suffering from stockholm syndrome, but not really? they're not well, mentally

Line divider by @morxhqq​ 

    “What? Why are you looking at me in that manner?” He had led them to a room, secluded from the party downstairs, but different from the weird little hut they’d been in beforehand, “I thought you’d understand what’s happening right now.”

    “I- I do, I just…”

    “Najima explained what would occur, didn’t she?”

    “She… she did, but Jamil-”

    They stopped talking. He didn’t do anything for them to stop speaking, but the look in his eyes was frightening. 

    They had been good. They’d done their best to smile and be sweet to his family, who was oh-so-happy that their son, usually overly serious and impossible to speak to, had managed to win a spouse. They played along as Najima had chirped on and on about how wonderful it’d be to have a voice of reason so her brother wouldn’t be so cruel and foolish as they had henna smeared along their fingertips, toes, and palms. They cut the cake with him, allowed him to force them into a dance that they were wholly unprepared for, even changed rings with him, and all so he could stare expectantly at them in his bedroom.

    If only they knew how cruel he could be. If only they knew he had broken their kneecap, keeping them in place for months as he confessed his affection every day. If only they knew how cruel he was, even to someone he supposedly loved. If only they knew how hard and stiff his hands were. If only his family saw the evil in their son and brother’s eyes, the cold calculation swirling within the grey storm…

    They would never.

    Their hair and eyes felt so heavy. They were staring at the bed like it was Kalim's pet, Almas, a tiger simply sleeping in wait for them to approach so he could devour them. That’s what their captor would do. He was going to do it. They were shaking in that awful, glitzy dress that Kalim had begged them to wear, saying that Jamil would like it and there was no true point in telling Kalim no, because he had a way of worming into a yes. Jamil was still staring at them. 

    Downstairs, they could still hear cheers and chanting, Jamil and Kalim’s family ever so drunk and happy in the union of their close friend and son and some stranger that he liked for some reason. They bit into their knuckle and pulled away, the taste of the henna sticking to their tongue as they glanced back at Jamil. 

    “Hey…” He muttered, walking towards them slowly, “My sweet…”

    “I…” They were breathing heavily, “I’m nervous.”

    As he smiled at them, they remembered when Kalim spilled their secret. 

    “Jamil, what do you think of _____? They have feelings for you.” Kalim had paused while playing mancala to blurt out.

    “What?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked, “I knew they were a creep, but I had no idea that I was their obsession.”

    There was no other option but to laugh it off, but when they were alone, Kalim asleep, they struggled to keep their sobs silent. He thought they were a creep, and they honestly were. They had been fantasising about how it would feel to be held by him. They definitely played with the ends of his hair when he wasn’t paying attention. They drew him into the margins of their notebook, tried to pretend they weren’t watching him, sweating whenever he would even glance at them, whole body heating with the flush of arousal. They were a creep. He was right.

    They were shaking again, tears ruining the carefully applied henna and makeup. He thought they were a creep and they married him. They were not only a creep, but an idiot.

    “Relax. I’m not going to kill you. I’ll even be gentle.” He smirked, “This time.”

    That didn’t help. They drew in a shaky breath and hugged themself.

    Jamil approached them and cupped their cheeks, wiping his thumbs under their eyes and pressing his lips against their forehead.

    “Would you like to take a bath together? Are you nervous about being naked?”

    “I don’t want to do this, Jamil.” They whimpered, “I don’t want to do this at all tonight-”

    He pressed his lips to theirs and they jerked back. He let them free, allowed them to back away until they landed in a puff on the bed. He followed, kneeling before them and pulling their sandals from their feet.

    “You must be sore from dancing. Let me help you.” He massaged their foot, hands squirming up their leg until he reached their thigh and pressed a kiss to the top of it, “Are you feeling any more comfortable now?”

    “I-I’m… Jamil…”

    He shushed them, smiling into their skin as he stood and leaned over them to press a kiss against their throat. He smelled like anise, crushed violently. He reached around their back and undid their zipper. He smelled like dirt, overturned to make room for the dead, soft in its displaced state. His lips trailed down their shoulder as his hands pulled the dress down. He smelled of molasses, dark as the night as it invaded their lungs and drowned them.

    They choked on nothing. Perhaps it was something, or they simply gagged on the air. Maybe it was their tears. Maybe they were choking on the unshed tears from Jamil’s hands pressing along the expanse of their back.

    “Do…” They began.

    “Hmm?” He tapped their nose with his, “Yes, love?”

    They could only imagine what he was looking at. A crying creep, sitting in an unkempt wedding dress with makeup streaking down their face. Someone he saw as a stalker, wearing clothing to indicate purity while they were anything but. As they imagined his disgust, the tears began once more, and he simply wiped them away.

    “What is it?” He hummed.

    “Do you really think I’m creepy?” Their eyes widened as his did, “Well… well, you wouldn’t be wrong, I am creepy, but are you disturbed by me at all?”

    He didn’t answer. He rucked their dress up along their hips and pressed another kiss into their throat. It burned. They were in pain. He pulled down the thin, gauzy undergarments they were given and threw them to the side and they shut their legs.

    Still silent, he straightened from the embrace and undressed himself. They looked away from the expanse of olive skin, flinching at every little noise his nakedness caused. When they felt him get back upon his bed, he laid next to them.

    “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s fine that you’re a freak.”

    They wished he would have punctuated that sentence with a quick blow to their neck to dislodge their windpipe or perhaps a punch to snap their ribs. He didn’t do anything of the sort. He instead rolled over upon them and hooked their legs around his hips. His hands massaged their legs, thighs rubbed at the joint. They sucked in a breath and he leaned down, elbows caging them in as he stared them down. 

    They could feel something turgid pressing against their inner thighs, something stiff pushing their skin out of place. They gasped and looked at his eyes, then looked away. His gaze was always so intense, cold and calculating, as if he was measuring everything he saw on a scale of purpose. Of course he was, that was something they knew all too well, considering what he did in the past.

    “This is so fast. It’s all so fast, Jamil…” Their voice was breathy, loopy in their hysteria, their nerves bubbling and rolling and resting in their chest.

    “It’s not too fast.” He hummed.

    He was probably right. As they stared up at his eyebrows, his makeup, immaculately painted as his cheeks darkened with an aroused flush, his nose, then the frown along his mouth, he tapped his body closer, leaning down to press his face into their neck and adjust his body so they could be one.

    His touch was beginning to tingle. Their skin crawled as the tip stuck to their dry skin. They flinched and yelped, pulling away from him, but not enough. His body was encapsulating, broad shoulders and hard lines as he lunged his hips forward. 

    At that moment, they wondered why he had decided he liked them back. They screamed, biting down on their lip as he stilled. The party was still going on downstairs. He thought they were a freak. Some kind of weirdo. They cried out as his hips slowly undulated. They were tearing up.

    “You feel… so wonderful…” He mumbled in their ear.

    Why was he praising them? Their thighs snapped into his hips and their ankles hooked around to press into his bare bottom. He thought they were a creep. Their hands clasped around his shoulders and neck and he pressed his lips against theirs. He said it was okay, but did he believe that? He used their next shout of shock to loop his tongue around theirs, sucking the organ into his mouth and keeping them close with a hand laced through their hair. 

    They had to stop thinking. Jamil’s thrusting had stopped being slow and smooth and had picked up to fast paced fucking. He pulled away from the kiss to bury his face in their collarbones and let out a shaky breath. They could hear the slickness between the two of them, wet smacking over the cacophony of the party below. They could almost hear him sigh.

    He hadn’t, though. He was too busy pumping his body into theirs. They could feel something roiling in their stomach and they grasped Jamil harder, mouth opening in a grimace.

    “Jamil…” They whispered, “Jamil, I think- I think something is wro-ow!”

    He wasn’t responding, body hunched over theirs as he gripped the sheets with one hand. The sheets were tearing. Maybe it was a good thing they weren’t being held by him, currently. Maybe they should be glad that he wasn’t tearing their skin instead. Something wet rolled between their breasts and slid around to their back, thicker than sweat. 

    When he leaned back slightly to wrap an arm around their waist and all the taffeta pooling there as well, pistoning his hips harder and faster at all but a bruising pace, they let out a weak, short whimper, muffled by a knuckle to their lips. He, too, bit back a shout as they squirmed in place, legs kicking in overstimulation as icy-hot juices spurting up his abdomen and clinging to the valleys and pits their bodies made together. 

    His eyes took a strange look as he held their knees together and abused their body. He felt worse like this. Maybe it was his proximity to the kneecap he had broken a while ago. Perhaps it was the look on his face. Their body felt all tingly and awful, increased by his slowing, stuttering thrusts. 

    The slowing was purposeful. He let go of their legs and pressed his lips to their shoulder, then dug his teeth into it, bruising the skin there and leaving a mark.

    His mark. He had marked them. They liked the feeling of being possessed by him. That was probably a creepy thought, but they really didn’t have to worry about him knowing. He couldn’t read their mind, probably. He rolled off of them and they looked away from his naked body, slipping slightly away from him before he grabbed their dress and pulled it down their body, away from their skin and left them bare. They looked down at the fabric, and he lifted their chin to look at them, eyes swirling with possible admiration or hatred or disgust. They couldn’t tell as he looked at their body as well, humming a soft tune as he brushed over their bruises, and then he spoke. 

    “Get some rest, love.”

    They couldn’t stop thinking of the small bloodstain in the skirt. Would he still think they were creepy if they cut it out and kept it somewhere as a reminder that they were no longer pure, together?

    Would that be creepy?

Part two: Charmer

#dark fic #tw: yandere #tw: bone breaking #tw: broken bones #tw: noncon #tw: stockholm syndrome #disney twst #tw: forced marriage #tw: degradation #darkfic #tw: dark content #tw: dark themes #twisted wonderland #twst jamil #tw: manipulation #lemon #smut

[angeldevilorprincess]

Newest addition to my tbr... Let's see what I've gotten myself into. 🖤

also they're signed and have sprayed edges aaaahhhhh

#new books #booklr #dark romance #reverse harem #tw: human trafficking #tw: stockholm syndrome #tw: sa #tw: kidnapping #Entführt #Jasmin Baur #angeldevilorprincess #18+ blog #dark romance reader #trigger warnings? oh you mean checklist? 👀

[sonnetthebard]

hc: Zoey and Nora definitely get mad at Paul if Emma tells them he ghosted her and cheated on her during the events of HM. Cuz girls be like that. They could hate each other but suddenly have some sort of magical solidarity when it comes to heartbreak.

You're so right!!!

CW: This does mention Hey Melissa and the Paul/ Melissa dynamic in it

I mean I feel like Zoey would think Paul's a bit of a creep to begin with (Faye and Kale, this is not within the headcanon where they're family)

They fully plan on like

Butchering his coffee orders

Like

With all the stuff they know he hates.

But like I feel like they tone it back when they read about Melissa.

Because you can bet your ass the police would still be after her/ issuing public notices.

And Emma would have mentioned "that bitch Melissa".

So Paul gets a bit of sympathy.

To the point where when he doesn't ask Emma back out, they all just roll with it.

Because they just assume that Melissa left him with trauma

And a lot of guilt

Emma does try to reconnect with him

But he gets all fidgety and weird about it

And she eventually leaves him alone about it because she figures Melissa threatened him or something.

However... Nora is the one to find Mel living with him

Because she starts to feel really bad for him after what Emma's telling her.

So she goes to Paul's place (she has the address because he's had coffee delivered before)

The door is unlocked because Melissa forgot to do that

And she finds Melissa and Paul and very quickly gets the picture of what happened.

She calls the police, and after much struggle on everyone's parts, Mel is arrested and Paul is sent to get some help.

I really don't like Hey Melissa. Like. It's just a bit too real for me. It's not dealing with anything supernatural. It's dealing with something that could realistically happen, and that set me on edge.

#cw: stockholm syndrome #tw: stockholm syndrome #hey melissa #melissa tgwdlm #nora tgwdlm #zoey chambers #paul matthews #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #starkid

[sicklscream]

UNPOPULAR OPINION TRIGGER WARNING !! ( bc some of y’all actually need it )

actual trigger warning: rape, dark fics, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome

i get that a lot of people have dark fantasies, like, for instance, choking, or bandage, ddlg, things like that, but for you or a writer to interpret rape or “non/con” as some of you put it (which is the exact same thing as rape) into romance is completely fucking wrong. i don’t care if everyone has their own fantasies, for you to be sexually aroused by someone being raped or sexually abused or anything sexually unconsensual is downright psychotic.

call me “soft” or a “snowflake”, but making dark fics and including things like rape or kidnapping and even doing SURGERIES to people in fics to make them “forget abt their past lives??” is fucking DISGUSTING. sure, it’s fiction, it’s fake, whatever. but it’s fucking disgusting.

“don’t read it if it’s so triggering”, how tf can you read someone being raped and feel good abt yourself afterwards, how can you WRITE paragraph after paragraph of DETAILED rape and violence and continue to call your book a “romance” book. you’re fucking disgusting and you need help.

call this the humbling you so desperately need. get help, i don’t care if you have “issues”, you’re utterly insane for thinking its “hot” for people, women specifically, because that’s 99% of who ppl are writing abt, to be raped.

stop labeling non consensual sex as romance.

thanks for listening to my ted talk :)

#controversial #dark fics #tw: rape #tw: kidnapping #tw: stockholm syndrome #rant #debate #stop. labeling. non consensual. sex. as. romance. #it. is. not. the. same. thing. #writers #writers community #author