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luxsky · 3 months

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First of all, Kicking out was amazing! I love reading domestic fluff like this! I would love to see the birth scene and the aftermath/Rhys interacting with his newborn. Rhys is such a simp and is the type who would do anything for his mate and the people he loves so it would be cute to see it in that context especially since we were robbed of it in silver flame.

Again, I love reading your fic and it’s amazing that this was your first one! Looking forward to reading more!

Kicking Out, part 2

Rhysand x reader

Summary: Reader and Rhysand's baby is born, and they revel in the love that surrounds them.

Warnings: Amateur description of childbirth, fatigue, a brief snippet of body insecurity, biological inconsistency – I think that's it, but I could be mistaken.

Author's Note: I procrastinated so much to write the second part until I realized that months had passed since the first part. I truly apologize for taking this long; it wasn't my intention. Thank you for all the love, support, and compliments; my heart warms every time I reread them! ♥️ I promise to try and write more quickly. Again, thanks to everyone who commented, liked, and reposted the first part; I love you all. English is not my first language, so please let me know of any spelling errors!

Madja said that walking would help, the movement would make her body dilate faster, and the baby would be born in the blink of an eye. One detail she might have forgotten to mention is that contractions would also increase along with dilation. In the early hours, you managed to walk with some pauses, going back and forth in the corridor—going down stairs was certainly not an option—with your kind partner by your side, ensuring nothing would go wrong. However, as time passed, the pain radiating from your lower back to half of your leg became so intense that you limited your movements, entering your room and contenting yourself with small steps there.

At this point, the pain was so much that Rhys had to practically guide you, his hand supporting your lower back, while you used the other for support, holding it firmly. Your breath came out in gasps, and for a brief moment, your body was free from pain, and you wanted to feel relief, but after being there for hours, you knew it was only a matter of minutes until the next contraction would arrive and strip away any capacity to think.

"Rhys, I'm tired," you whispered, barely managing to finish the sentence before the pain coiled in your back and flowed down your legs again. A moan escaped your lips, and you bent forward, your legs almost giving way, Rhysand quickly holding you, preventing you from reaching the floor.

"Come, dear, let's get you on the bed," your partner's voice was filled with tenderness and concern. He pulled you towards the large, comfortable bed you shared, and even though you wanted to keep walking, as Madja advised, your energy had long run out. So when Rhys helped you onto the bed, you didn't argue.

Your hands released Rhysand's, leaning on the bed. Before you could put your legs on the mattress, another contraction came, and a strangled scream of pain left your throat just as Madja returned to the room, carrying towels and other things that your mind didn't process.

The position you were in was strangely comfortable, the upper part of your body supported on the mattress. When your partner touched you again, as if telling you to lie down, tears welled up in your eyes. If your body wasn't so trapped in pain, you might have told him that it was okay, that this position was good.

"I know it's comfortable, love, but if you lie down, Madja can examine you better," Rhysand would know what you were thinking. You probably lowered your shields, projecting many feelings to him. You tried to block him, wanting to spare him the pain, but the claws caressing your mind gave you a hint that he didn't want that.

Before another contraction came, you decided to listen to your partner and finished getting on the bed. Rhysand was quick to arrange the pillows behind you, trying to keep you as comfortable as possible.

Madja approached, a gentle smile on her face as she asked for permission and adjusted your legs to examine you. The pants you wore earlier had been replaced by a light dress, shortly after your water broke.

Rhys sat on the edge of the bed, one hand holding yours while the other moved some strands of hair from your face. He did his best to secure it in the best way possible due to your position, knowing well that sweat and loose hair weren't a comfortable combination. He left a gentle kiss on your forehead, and another contraction arrived. Instinctively, you squeezed Rhysand's hand, another strangled scream escaping your lips as your whole body trembled with pain. This time, the tears that came to your eyes freely flowed down your face.

"I see the baby's head," Madja said, her eyes locking onto yours as she explained gently. "In the next contraction, I need you to push."

You nodded, not trusting your voice to respond. You were so tired, and there was still so much left for this to be over.

"It's almost over, dear, you can do it," your partner reassured you for a few seconds, but then your back burned with pain again. Your entire body, even your arms, legs, and back, pushed instinctively as your partner murmured encouraging words.

You pushed and pushed, Madja saying she could already see the head, and it was almost there. Meanwhile, Rhysand talked to you, his voice so close to your ear.

"That's it, love, it's almost there," he spoke again, his hand passing through your forehead, wiping away the sweat that accumulated.

Once again, the pain arrived, and you pushed. Relief flooded you the moment the cry of a baby filled the room, mixed with your own cry as you threw your head back. The pain disappeared, and the only thing you felt besides relief was exhaustion. The warmth of your partner moved away, his hand leaving yours, the baby's cry stopped, and you looked for your child, finding her in the arms of the man you loved. A cloth wrapped the newborn, Rhys's arms cradling the small bundle as he walked, swinging to your side. Madja still hovered at the edge of the bed, making sure you were okay.

When your partner sat next to you again, you adjusted yourself and reached out, wanting to hold the baby. He smiled with so much joy as he passed your daughter into your arms.

"It's a girl," he murmured, and you felt tears returning to your eyes as you watched the little one. All your fatigue was forgotten as the small noise from your daughter's lips touched your heart.

Rhys extended his hand, and the baby grabbed his finger. You looked up at your partner, finding the same love you felt, shining in his eyes. He looked at you, a tender smile playing on Rhys's lips.

"Our little Ciara," you whispered, again mesmerized by your daughter. Rhysand placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head and whispered an "I love you."

Your body started to feel heavy, your eyes almost couldn't stay open, the fatigue from hours pulling your consciousness.

"Rest, dear, you deserve it," was the last thing you heard before sleep took you completely.

When you woke up again, Rhysand had his back to you, rocking and murmuring something softly. Not wanting to interrupt the moment, you silently watched, your body still a bit lethargic from the previous effort.

When he turned around, it took him a moment to notice you were awake. His eyes were fixed on your daughter. He smiled gently when he realized your gaze, calmly sitting on the bed with Ciara sleeping in his arms.

"For how long did I sleep?" you whispered, not wanting to wake her. You sat up, leaning against the bedhead when Rhys offered the baby to you.

Just a few minutes. Madja said you wouldn't sleep much; your instincts would wake you up at some point to breastfeed Ciara.

Your partner communicated, and, sensing the change of location, Ciara began to move when you held her. It didn't take long for her little cry to fill the room.

Remembering the lessons you learned during pregnancy, with a bit of difficulty, you started breastfeeding the tiny baby. Her little hand instinctively grabbed your finger.

Rhys's hand reached for your face, brushing away your hair as his eyes reluctantly left their daughter to observe his partner; his body was relaxed. He rested his hand on your stretched thigh, lips pressed together, trying to contain a smile.

"I can't stop smiling every time I look at her. It's like my body fills with this... sensation, hard to explain, but it's a good feeling," he murmured, his thumb drawing circles on your leg.

You approached him, careful not to disturb Ciara, and planted a quick kiss on your partner's lips. Pulling away, you replied, "I feel it too."

Silent minutes passed; Ciara drifted into sleep on your chest. Rhys left and returned quickly, explaining the reason upon his return.

"I informed the others everything went well. Morrigan and Cassian wanted to visit, but I asked them to give us a few days alone," he said, leaning over to caress his daughter's small arm.

"I put Mor and Amren in charge of the court; they'll handle everything as we adjust to our new routine," he stepped back, heading towards another door in the room—leading to your private bathroom. "I also asked the house to prepare a bath for you. I'll check if everything's ready, and when I come back, I can take care of Ciara so you can relax in the tub."

You stood as he entered the bathroom, carefully lifting Ciara from your chest. Rhys returned silently, taking Ciara from you and planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. He indicated the bathroom with a nod.

"Take your time, and call me if you need anything," he said. You nodded and walked slowly to the bathroom.

You felt strange, Ciara was no longer inside you, but your belly still had a slight protrusion. As you removed your dress and entered the bathtub, the warm water eased some of the discomfort, allowing you to relax.

Your mind easily drifted away from potential insecurities that might arise, although you knew they would return eventually. At that moment, the only thing you had the energy to think about was how cute your daughter was and how delightful it was to soak in the bath with bath salts and bubbles.

You relaxed in the bathtub for a while, washing the sweat from your body and taking a moment to tend to your hair. Your thoughts oscillated between enjoying the magically heated water for a few more minutes and checking on your partner and daughter. However, you didn't need to make a decision because you heard a gentle knock on the door.

Your voice was soft and weary as you signaled for Rhysand to enter – it could only be him, after all. As your partner opened the door, he carried a towel and a change of clothes. The smile that formed on his lips mirrored the one on Rhysand's face. He handed you the towel as you stood up, and the soft fabric enveloped your body for drying. Soon, you were dressed in the warm and comfortable clothes your amazing husband had brought.

"Where's Ciara?" Your curiosity and concern prompted the question. Rhysand placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and turned to grab a hairbrush as he answered.

"She fell asleep after feeding; I put her in the crib," he walked behind you, a murmur escaping your lips, signaling that you had heard his response. His hands were gentle as he worked through your hair, the brush smoothly untangling the strands that had become knotted during the intensity of childbirth.

"I want to stay close to her tonight. I don't feel comfortable leaving her alone in a room on her first day of life," your voice was no more than a whisper, and despite the concern engulfing your body, a hint of embarrassment for not being able to leave her was present too.

Your husband's shortly nasally laughter made you turn around to find his gaze as he finished brushing your hair. He didn't say anything, but one of his hands went to your cheek, Rhys's thumb tracing gentle circles. With the other hand, he placed the brush on the countertop behind you.

"I figured you'd want that," he whispered, his face approaching yours, and your foreheads touched. The soft smile remained on Rhys's face. Instinctively, your eyes closed as he neared, and you brought your lips close to his, planting a gentle kiss.

"That's why I did this," his hand grasped yours, and he pulled you back to the bedroom. A warm smile grew on his lips as he surveyed the scene. The bed linens had been changed to clean ones, and a tray filled with your favorite foods had been placed on the bed. Next to it was the crib that used to be in the small room designated for Ciara, and inside, peacefully sleeping, was your little baby.

You turned to your partner, your eyes moist with unshed tears. Rhysand was already looking at you, the star-speckled eyes of your partner smiling at you, the expression on his face radiating pure love. You hugged him, and his arms quickly embraced you, his warmth enveloping you. Your voice sounded muffled as you whispered a soft "I love you."

The kiss he planted on the top of your head was followed by a quiet "I love you too, my shining star."

"Come on, let's get some food in your stomach so you can watch our little one until you fall asleep."

Following your partner to the bed, you did exactly as he said: indulged in all the food he had prepared, lay on the bed facing your daughter's crib, and with Rhysand's arms around you from behind, watched the little bundle of joy until sleep pulled you into comfortable darkness.

#acotar #rhysand #fanfic #Rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #rhys x reader #pregnancy #x reader #pregnant reader #Soft #rhysand imagine #a court of thorns and roses

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redbleedingrose · 11 months

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The Last Time ~ Azriel x Reader

A/N: LOL!! Azriel fics have long been requested and I finally decided to stop ignoring y’all. I hope that you enjoy! As always, please leave a like, comment and reblog, they mean so much to me (like more than you could know and keeps me motivated to keep putting stuff out)!

Warnings: Uhhh Porn. Some plot but mainly porn. Like 1.4k words of porn. So 18+ NSFW!

The scarred digits that lace around your neck squeeze tighter, stealing away the gasp of pleasure that was already slipping from between your swollen lips, his husky whisper drifting into my ear like a honeyed song, “say my name Angel, let me hear it.” A wave of humiliation floods your already flushed and sweating face, slipping down to your pulsing core as you shake your head in denial with pursed lips, your nails digging into the forearm of the shadowsinger that is forcing you to bounce up and down his cock. A smirk lilts his dark beautiful face, his pupils completely blown, rimmed with his hazel iris’ as he watches you through half lidded eyes rock your hips back and forth fervently, the sensation of his length grinding into your gummy walls has your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head.

You grit your teeth, clenching at your jaw, trying to hold back any moans or whines from escaping. You had given him the upper hand with the gasp, but you weren’t going to let him get anything else out of you. The spymaster’s shadows swirl around your meshed bodies, slithering around your waist, down your belly and down to your throbbing clit, hazily circling around it leaving their ice cold sensation against burning hot skin. His head tosses back into the headboard with a resounding thump, biting down on his plumped and reddening lips to keep a groan from erupting, planting his feet into the mattress, jack knifing into you, meeting each of your downward thrusts with his own in a torrid effort to get you to cum first.

All of your sensations fade, honing into how the shadowsinger is making you feel in that moment. His tattooed, carved chest heaves under you with heavy breathes, enticing you to lean forward and leave a long hot lick along the path of his sternum that results in a hard buck into you, forcing the head of his cock right into your cervix. Hot, fast butterflies flutter in your stomach down to your core, coalescing into a tightening knot with each passing thrust. Your hips grind down onto his, the knot in you growing tighter, and tighter, and tighter with every millisecond. Claw marks are left on the Illyrian warrior's forearm when you pull away to clutch at his shoulders, trying to stabilize yourself before you completely fall apart. But maybe that's what he wants. Maybe he wants you to fall apart.

Maybe he wants to destroy you.

You wouldn’t be surprised. And you would be damned if you weren’t going to bring him down with you. This little unofficial arrangement between you and the shadowsinger had started months ago when Eris, your ‘boss’ as you called him, had assigned you to work with the Night Court to gather any information on the alliance that tied Hybern and Beron in hopes of overthrowing the current leadership of Autumn Court. This meant working hand in hand with their Spymaster, Azriel, whom you hated with every drop in your high fae blood. You couldn’t stand the way he looked at you, the way he eyed you with utter distrust, as if you had done something horrible to him like kicking his innocent puppy.

Hours and hours spent arguing over conflicting recounts of the partnership between the High lord of Autumn and Hybern, hours and hours spent retrieving documents from one another in private inns and hostels, hours and hours of screaming harsh insults at one another had devolved into this. It had devolved into roughly fucking one another, putting all your pent up disgust and hatred into one single means to an end: a devastating orgasm. Every time, every session you had, you or he would mutter the words, “this is the last time. It won’t happen again.” And each time, you both wholeheartedly believed it. But one way or another, you or he would fall back into the pit of lust, fall back into the utter loss of control that happened with each other. But, you would never let him get the upper hand over you. So you refused to make any sounds that would indicate the slightest hint of pleasure. You refused to say his name, even in your thoughts.

And to hell with the Cauldron, did he try to break you.

Your nails scrape down his chest leaving irritated marks that compels the side of your eye to twitch in a glint of pride, grinning at the shadowsinger with a sense of victory that when he will leave tonight, he will return to the Night court marked with his sins. The knot feels impossibly tight, nearly ready to fracture against the tension when the male leans forward, hand releasing its hold on your neck, sliding up to your jaw and yanking you forward by your face so that his breath brushes against your lips in peppery kisses, his fingers digging into the hollow of your cheeks forcing your mouth to open. Your eyes flicker back and forth between his, confusion racking your fogged mind, the uncomfortable sensation of your jaw being forced open has your bracing forward on your knees while his other hand thumbs your clit in hard presses and strokes.

The knot within you shatters into a billion pieces when he lifts his mouth towards you, spitting into your gaping mouth before forcing it shut, biting down harshly onto your bottom lip, drawing droplets of blood that he licks away when he grates out, “swallow Angel.” His ink hair falls forward, draping over his eyes that watch your throat bob as you take in his spit before they squeeze shut with burnt pleasure, hot ropes of his cum shooting deep inside your pulsating cunt, absolutely flooding your hole so that a ring of your mixed cream gathers at the base of his cock. You can’t help falling forward into the crook of his neck in utter euphoria, biting down on the litters of scars and black tattoos that cover the broadness of his shoulders and biceps, down to his back, chest, and even his abdomen, trying to fight down any sound other than broken gasps. You wouldn’t ever allow him to know just how good he made you feel, just how much you craved these visits, just how many countless times you had fingered your aching cunt to the thought of him, whispering his name when you fell apart. You would never allow him to know.

Never.

And he would never let you know the utter loss of control he felt around you.

So, when you finally catch your breath, you flex your shaking thighs that hover over his lap, latching onto the wooden headboard to lift yourself off of him and roll out of the bed. He sits up in his place, his scarred fingers tracing the mark that you had left behind, lazily watching as you calmly pace through the room of the hostel hidden deep in the Winter mountains, his shadows following you, swirling around your ankles and shins as you search for your clothes that had been strewn about when the arguing with him had decayed into the hard fucking. You couldn’t help avoiding his stunning, hate-filled hazel eyes at all costs, knowing that one look would send you crawling back into bed so that he could climb on top of you and rut into you without any resolve once more.

A horrid sense of fury ran through you for giving into the shadowsinger, along with a strike of pride when you discovered that tonight had meant he had given into you as well. Flinging your cloak over your shoulders as you toe on your goat leather boots, you slowly turn towards the doorway, sending a small glance in his direction. He hadn’t moved a single inch besides an arched eyebrow that was directed at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips, waiting for the words he would inevitably be hit with. With the sharpest of ice clinging to every word, you mutter loud enough so that he can hear from across the room, “This is the last time shadowsinger. It won’t happen again. Ever.” You reach over to snatch the folder of classified documents resting on the side table that were meant to be taken to Eris from Rhysand, letting the door slide open. You don’t turn back as you head down the stairs, rolling your eyes with a huff when you hear an arrogant, sarcasm laced tone call out from behind, “Sure it won’t, Angel.”

Part 2??? Maybe??? One day???

Masterlist

General taglist : @nyotamalfoy @brekkershadowsinger @kennedy-brooke @fieldofdaisiies

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfic #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel spymaster x reader #azriel #azriel acotar fanfic

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littleprincepaladin · 5 months

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i don't think people in the fandom talk enough about how stupidly traumatising the abduction and the whole nautiloid thing must've been for Tav... or, really, any of the characters that were there. like i don't think its even ever addressed in the game, at least to my knowledge? so have this soft Raphael thingie, comfort for the nightmares.

------

Tav tossed and turned, bedsheets a mess below their stiffened limbs as heavy breaths escaped their throat. How long have it been? Months, years, maybe even a decade at this point? In dreams time is as elusive as a sea snake, just as slippery.

They relive it more often than they'd like to admit, but who wouldn't? The nautiloid was a nightmare. The scent of burning flesh, the slime on their hands mixing with blood, the faintest wriggling somewhere above their right eye.

Everything is unfamiliar, and they feel like a cornered animal. The painfully quick way their heart started to race and thud against their ribs, the blur in their vision as they looked out into the broken crimson wasteland that is Avernus. The cold realisation.

They taste the iron on their tongue, and the edges of their peripheral are soft and way too bright as they stumble their way out of the room, past the corpses and the tadpole sludge. They barely remember the gith woman's face, barely remember the trapped girl in one of the pods - have they saved her or not? Have they even got out?

Perhaps they got there too late, the dragon took the last strike and the vessel fell to the ground like a bird with an arrow through it's throat... perhaps it didn't. Did the ship fell into the depths of Hell, or has it fell onto the shore? Were they surrounded by imps and devils, or by goblins and the gnolls? Have they even made it out at all?

It wriggles somewhere underneath the surface, biting into the soft flesh, taking out chunks until it gets to the main course. Their brain is succulent, a perfect meal, a perfect nest. It's slimy tail wags with excitement as it crawls and crawls and crawls and crawls to the depths they never knew they had, bites into tissue they never felt before, and crawls once more.

They feel the skin of their face break and fall apart, they feel the bone of their jaw crack under the pressure of the tendrils as their body splits open, and its nothing but blood and gore and slime.

There is heat somewhere on their back, hellish heat, and Tav tenses as they try to get away even as their limbs won't listen. From the nautiloid, from the ash and the sulfur, from the war-torn land below as the vessel continues to fall.

They arrived too late to the helm, the illithid laid dead at the hellspawn's feet as it moved to take hold of them, and the heat got so much worse, surrounding, suffocating, they scream as the cambion grabs them, as they are pushed down into the ground, as the flaming sword comes closer to their rigid body and...

"Calm yourself," a familiar voice hisses somewhere at the back of their mind, and they snap awake, gasping for air as though they are a fish learning to breathe out of water. There is heat all around, including on their cheeks, trails of tears so hot they're convinced they will soon start to sizzle. But they stop thrashing about, their vision slowly coming back to sharp and clear as they open their eyes.

Raphael doesn't look pleased in the slightest. He looks irritated, face scrunched up in a scowl, his hair a mess as he holds them down, warmth prominent where his fingers almost bruise into their shoulders, where his claws leave faint marks. He's not particularly sorry about either of those.

"Quite done? Good," the devil chides, his voice hoarse and heavy with slumber as he holds them for a moment longer, and only then lays back down on his side of the bed, tail thumping against the mattress in annoyance. "One more stunt like this and I shall have you sleep on the floors of the dungeon instead," Raphael quips as he rubs his side, where Tav accidentally kicked him in their sleep, and from what it looks like, the kick was a critical success.

They look into the ceiling as they still lay there, cold sweat running down their forehead and slicking up the palms of their hands as their brain settles on one simple truth: it is over. It was over. Its been over for a while.

Nothing writhes behind their eye no longer, and the surrounding heat, although hellish... is familiar. Is comforting. Is his.

Raphael lets out a brief 'oof' as he is pulled almost painfully closer to the mortal, their arms tight around his body as Tav buries their nose in the crook of his neck, frantically breathing in the fading, faint smell of cherries. For them it's grounding, for the cambion not so much.

"Do refrain from testing my patience, mouse," he hisses through gritted teeth, but his voice carries less threat than he so obviously wants it to, instead being full of simple mortal exhaustion. But when they refuse to remove themselves from him, Raphael scoffs, relenting. They are lucky, right now anyhow.

The devil settles against them, hands coming down around their waist as he pulls them into a curled up embrace, his wings covering them like a crimson blanket. Raphael rests his cheek just above Tav's head, his nose against the pillow as he hears their breathing slowly start to even out and shuts his eyes.

Silence and darkness hangs over the two in a comfortable heavy weight, pressing down onto their bodies as the devil's heat renders Tav soft and numb, but they are far from sleepy now. They sigh into his throat, feeling the slightest stubble of his chin scratch ever so slightly against their forehead.

They don't want to close their eyes. That faint writhing and wriggling, it lingers somewhere in the depths of their subconsciousness, waiting in deceitful obedience. Tav spends what feels like an eternity just laying there, breathing in the cambion's scent.

"I dreamt of it," they whisper into his skin, and are surprised just how strained their voice sounds at that moment. Only then they realise the tears are still running down their cheeks, pooling onto the fabric of the pillow underneath and onto Raphael's neck. "Again... it's all of that again."

The noise in their ears subsides and they can hear their sobbing, and his breathing. Their eyes begin to sting as they try to calm down, but it makes the matters worse, their own breathing turning into sharp inhales once again, and as they breathe out it sounds like a quiet whimper everytime.

Tav tries to speak, but their words end up slurring together into an incoherent, quiet mess so much so even they themself don't understand what they wanted to say. They grip tight onto the devil's body, fingers finding the familiar ridges on his back, almost using them to cling onto sanity.

Raphael brings them close, his touch firm as he rests one hand against their cheek, brushing his thumb against the tear-stained redness of their skin. He sighs as he presses his own face against theirs, his breath hot.

"Quiet now, mouse," he lets out in a humm, his tone - a stone wall, cold, but just what a tired soul needs to lean on, and so they do. The claws against their scalp feels comforting as he brushes a lock of their hair behind their ear. "Don't mull over business long concluded, its unproductive."

They sniffle, and he grumbles in irritation and the want to go back to sleep.

"Not even the baldurians talk of it by now and yet your mind persists," Raphael scoffs, settling firmer against them as he hooks his leg over their own, practically trapping them in a haze of heat and crimson red. They welcome the pressure even when they feel the air leave their lungs from the sheer weight of the cambion.

So soft... it's not the first time Tav touches him like this, no, but the softness of his body surprises them everytime. They almost want to squeeze his thigh, affectionately. Perhaps another time.

He sighs against their face as he feels them calm in his arms, and lets his tail circle over their ankle, making it certain they cannot leave... or accidentally kick him again.

"Whoever touches you is sure to burn, little mouse. Now calm yourself," Raphael murmurs, closing his eyes, and only after a long moment of staring at his face does Tav, too, closes theirs.

"It's quite enough for you. Sleep."

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael the cambion #can you tell this wasn't proofread either #I'm not too fond of how I write his speech. but. ah well. I'll learn #because by the looks of it this horned bastard will be in my head for a while #istg if this also gets shadowbanned 😭

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bit-odd-innit · 1 year

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[A lil thing based on my list of bands Steve and Eddie would both like, specifically ELO]

Robin must recognize the near-imperceptible click his jaw makes when he yawns, the one that allegedly "drives her insane,” because when she picks the phone up the phone she barks, “WHEN are you coming home?”

Eddie chuckles. “Hello to you, my closest compatriot! You flatter me! I had no idea my absence would be so acutely felt.”

“I welcomed your absence!”

“Ouch.”

“Fool that I am, I believed your absence would grant me respite! Four blissful days without your utterly barf-inducing honeymoon phase, blech. ”

“It saddens me that you have allowed so much hate into your heart.

“Instead I’m subjected to—“

Eddie can HEAR her exaggerated pout through the phone.

“Where’s Eddie? What do you think Eddie’s doing right now? If I go outside and look up at the moon do you think Eddie is looking at the same moon? Put a bullet in my head.”

In the background he hears a faint “is that him?” And his heart flips over and bares it’s belly.

There’s a scuffle on the other end of the line, smacks of flesh on flesh interspersed with hushes of, “Fuck you.” “Fuck YOU.” Then there’s a thump, a squawk of defiance, and a breathy, flirtatious, “Hey,” and Eddie has to lean his full weight onto the shoulder as his knees give out. “Hey.” The bank of payphones in Jeff’s dorm’s lobby don’t offer a lot of privacy so he pivots to press his face into the cool, white-painted cinderblock. “Whatcha doin’?” “There’s been a development.” A shuffle, a hiss of a needle hitting a record, a giggle. “My raise came through,” Steve says, “And I made a purchase.”

“Oh?” Eddie asks as the distant rumble of music mounts. “I got the cordless. And now I can do this.” There’s a slight feedback screech and then, “🎵 In myyyyy blue world...🎵” and Eddie’s glad Steve can’t see him claw his hair across his face. “🎵 I turn to stone when you are gone I turn to stone I turn to stone, when you comin' home I can't go on...🎵 ” Steve’s voice is shaky and teasing and warm as he sings along. Eddie swoons against the cement wall, thinks, oh, okay, you’re It for me. “Not hearing a lot of feedback...?” “Baby.” And he punches the word with as much feeling as he can, pummels it with the word he wants to say but can’t, the word that’s sat dense and heavy in his chest since the moment he opened his eyes in a hospital room, felt his hand squeezed in reassurance. “Baby,” he says, again. “Mm,” Steve says, and it sounds like come home. “I’m on the first bus out.” “Okay,” he hears the same time Robin says, “Fucking WHIPPED.” “I’m going to kick Robin’s ass.” “No you’re not NO HE’S NOT” “No I’m not.” He beams. “I can’t wait to see you again.” “Of course you can’t,” he says as through Eddie can’t hear him climbing through the phone to get to him. “You bought the ELO album for me?” he asks, and melts as Steve replies, “Honey I bought it for us.” Later he flops onto the air mattress in Jeff’s dorm, screams into the pillow. He looks up at Jeff, smiling like he still hasn’t adjusted to moving his mouth without braces. Wide, loose lipped, gummy. “You love him, don’t you?” He grumbles. He does.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #still figuring out how to write robin i'm TRYING also jeff&eddie bff agenda

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death-paint · 9 months

Text

Right Here

Leon Kennedy x GN! Reader

A/N: I know that realistically this man probably wouldn’t have the energy or even the mental capacity to comfort anyone, but it’s nice to imagine. I felt bad the other night and kinda got inspired by my own breakdown, so this is mainly for myself. Any Leon applies, but personally I was thinking of an older one.

Title from "Right Here" by Chase Atlantic

TW: mental breakdown (I think???), crying, abandonment issues

Word count: 1078

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You curled up on the mattress, desperately clinging to the body pillow you kept for when Leon wasn’t around. You didn’t know what set you off, you’d had a good day. So why were you crying? You hung out with friends, had a good time laughing and playing games, ate good food, everything was perfect. So why did you feel so off?

You sobbed out apologies into the dark room, tears falling on to the body pillow you clung to. Something in the back of your mind was telling you it was all an elaborate joke. That people kept you around either out of pity or because they wanted to use you in some way. But the main thing on your mind was Leon. He’d been gone on a mission for a couple weeks now, and you hadn’t gotten a message in days. You knew it was most likely because he was busy and couldn’t send any, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he suddenly hated you. That suddenly you were unattractive and everything about you was repulsive. You continued to cry, muffling your pained screams and squeaks with the pillow, despite knowing you were alone in the house. Or so you thought.

You had been so caught up in your own emotions that you hadn’t heard the creak of the front door closing or the heavy, tired footsteps trudging up the stairs. You wept and wept, curled up in the fetal position, unaware that the person you were crying for had stopped just outside the door, confused as to why you were crying in the first place.

Leon stepped into the house to find it dark. Confused, he searched the kitchen for you, only to be met with more darkness, food and dishes already put away and washed. He searched the rest of the ground floor, still bewildered. You usually weren’t asleep this early. He turned on his heel, figuring you’d be upstairs, and dragged his tired frame up the steps slowly. As he reached the top of the stairs, he heard soft, muffled whimpers and sniffles from the bedroom. He stopped outside of the door, unsure of whether he should step in to comfort you or to wait it out. Ultimately, he felt bad, and decided to step in to try and help, his heart breaking for you.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, come back, please!” You wailed, clawing at the pillow as if it were him, trying to hold it impossibly closer to your shaking body. You heard the door open, and all crying ceased immediately. You let your head drop, pretending to be asleep.

“Baby…” Leon spoke, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge. “Hey…I heard you crying. What’s wrong?”

You shook your head in response to his question, embarrassed that you’d been caught. It hadn’t been the first time, of course, but you still weren’t quite comfortable with him knowing about it.

“What were you apologizing for?” He asked, leaning closer to you and rubbing your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

“I…I don’t know,” you croaked out, voice hoarse. “I just…I don’t know.”

“It’s ok baby. I’m here,” he kicked off his shoes and laid down next to you, pulling you into his arms.

You hesitated for a moment before speaking again, trying to figure out what to say.

“Are you mad at me?” you sniffled, tears still in the corners of your eyes as you let go of the pillow and turned around to face him. Leon’s eyes widened as the question left your lips, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Of course not, baby. What makes you think that?” His voice was soft as he continued to pry, wanting to know as much as possible so that he could do his best to comfort you.

“I don’t know…I didn’t hear from you, and I just…” you looked down at his chest, avoiding eye contact as you answered. “I’m just being dramatic, I’m sorry.”

“Shhh…” he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, lifting your head gently to make you look at him. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize, hon.”

You tried to hold it together, but his words (although comforting) made a cold, sharp pain shoot through your chest, and sure enough, you were crying again. You clung to him for dear life, as if he’d disappear if you let go. You could no longer speak as the wet, hot tears poured down your face, only able to express your pain through whines and small squeaks. Your face seemed to convey one of a person screaming, but you were relatively quiet against him. Your eyes flickered to his for a moment, your expression desperate and pleading, begging him to take away the pain in your chest.

Leon had seen you break down before, and the fact that you still tried to hide it from him was heartbreaking as he pet your hair comfortingly, whispering to you as you whimpered and squeaked in his arms.

“Shhh…it’s alright. You’ll be alright, baby.” he cooed. “I promise. You’re gonna be okay, hon.” He dipped his head down until his lips met your forehead, giving it a light peck as you hiccupped out more tears.

He had started to gently rock the two of you back and forth, still caressing you. The noises had mostly stopped by now, but the tears still flowed, and you were still hyperventilating. His calloused but gentle hands held you close as he kissed the tears away, still whispering whatever words you needed to hear from him, and eventually you calmed down. Finally, you spoke up again.

“You’re not gonna leave me, are you?” Your eyes reflected the minimal light of the room like glass, staring into his brilliant blue ones. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to get better, I promise. I know I’m a lot, I don’t mean to be–”

“Shhh, doll.” He put a finger to your mouth, cutting you off. “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” He pressed a tender kiss to your lips, caressing your cheek with his thumb and wiping away your tears from a few moments earlier.

“I missed you,” you breathed out as he pulled away.

“I know, baby,” he smiled softly, a light puff of air leaving his nose. “I missed you too. Now, let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you yawned, nestling yourself into Leon’s chest once more. “Goodnight, Leon.”

“Goodnight, baby. I love you.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #hurt/comfort #leon kennedy x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil #reader insert #x reader

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thecuriousquest · 6 months

Note

Dabi x reader who attempts suicide ? Love your fics btw, def my fav writer x

Death, Sweet Death

Thanks for the support, homie! Much appreciated!

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW because of suicide attempt by hanging, branding, abusive quirk use, burning, a bit of touchy-touchy at the end, arson reference, tiny bit of blood

EXTRA WARNING NOTE: I don’t condone any of these actions. You are responsible for the content that you consume. If you are struggling with depression/mental health, please seek the help of a professional. I love all of you darlings very much. Please, for the love of fuck, stay safe in this world. 🖤🤘I understand that this can be a coping mechanism for a lot of people (as it is for me as well), but I just felt the need to say this.

Master List

—————————————————————————

So, you tried to kill yourself. This couldn’t have gone any worse for you. It would have been better if the sweet angel of death had found you but no. Nothing ever goes your way. Instead, Dabi finds you clawing at the rope around your throat as you hang from the shower rod in the bathroom you two share.

He immediately rushes into action, burning the rope until it’s on its last string before roughly yanking you into his arms. He unties the rope from your throat with quick and scarred hands.

The flame thrower crouches down on the bathroom floor, transitioning into a sitting position while holding you in his lap. You open your eyes, gazing up at him.

“Fuck…” you cough.

“Yeah, ‘fuck’ is right. What the hell, Y/N? What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“Oh, I don’t know. I really wanted to see ghosts and shit. The fuck do you think I was trying to do, asshole?” There’s a bite in your voice, prickling with pent up poison. You’re infuriated that he stopped you from finding the sweet release you’ve been craving after two years of putting up with this psycho!

“You really wanna get mouthy with me, doll face? Think that’s a good idea right now? I oughta make you beg for death. Should make you hurt so badly it’ll be all you fucking think about. It’s only fair, right? After you just tried to take the one thing I love away from me.”

He holds your face with one hand right at the base of your jaw. He gazes into your E/C orbs with lightning blue ones. It’s as if an electrical storm is glaring right at you. A deep rumble fills his chest with something akin to a growl.

“You’re mine. You always have been, and you always will be. I’m not letting you go. Quit trying to fight me, quit trying to fight everything I give you and do for you. Just…fucking stop.”

Your hands shake as you try to force his hand off of your jaw. “Please, Dabi, I don’t want to live like this anymore. I don’t want to live like a captive.”

“Well, maybe, if you had been more open to living with me in the beginning, I wouldn’t have had to do all of this.”

You sit up straighter in his lap, your nails digging into burnt flesh. “You burned down my apartment building! There were people and animals that died!”

“I did it all for you!” he shouts back in your face. “What choice did I have?”

You smack the sleeve of his jacket. “NOT THAT ONE OBVIOUSLY!”

Yelling, back and forth. It’s all that fills the air as you two argue about your current situation until Dabi is so fed up with you that he picks you up and takes you into the bedroom only to literally body slam you on the mattress. It knocks everything out of you, and you struggle to breathe as he removes his heavy hand from your sternum.

He picks up something that you haven’t seen in a while, something you’re not keen on being forced on your body again.

The chains. If he can’t trust you by yourself while he’s gone, then he’ll go through extra measures to make sure you don’t do anything to try to escape or hurt yourself.

It’ll ease his worries while he leaves you tormented at home.

You scream, trying to fight him as he wrestles you for your ankle. You kick him in the nose, causing droplets of blood to leak from his nostril. He wipes it away with the back of his hand before lighting his palms on fire and grabbing your calf. You cry out in pain, wailing to the ceiling with how much agony you’re in. You can feel your flesh bubbling, melting like wax as he brands you with his hand.

Then, you hear the clink and click of the chain closing around your limb, and you look down at the chain attached to your ankle. You lie back on the pillow, a quivering hand covering your mouth so as not to give him the satisfaction of hearing anymore of your whimpers or sobs.

He looks down at you, wanton revenge expressed clearly with the curl of his patchwork lips, the metal binders rising with his wicked grin.

“Now, for punishments. How do we make sure you learn that you’re mine and that you’re not going anywhere?” For the third time that night, Dabi engulfs his hand with a cobalt flame. “Any ideas? I’ve got a few.”

This is your only chance to get out of whatever fucked up punishment he has in store for you.

“C-come on, Dabi. Can’t you just hold me right now?”

Something flashes in his eyes, something dark and twisted, causing his lopsided grin to grow even wider.

“I mean, I could really use some affection right now. Maybe that would help?”

“Some affection, huh? Want me to run my hands all over that soft little body?”

You look down at your ankle, a good reminder of your situation. Glancing back up at him, you nod your head.

“I guess I could always just hold off on punishing you until tomorrow. Mental health and all that good shit, right?”

“Yeah…thank you.”

He shrugs off his coat and gets into the bed behind you, holding you plush against his chest. His hands roam, but you allow it.

What good would come of denying him the one thing he truly loves?

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere themes #triggering content #triggering themes #my hero acedamia #my hero academia #yandere my hero academia #boku no hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere dabi #dabi mha #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi #yandere dabi x reader

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milknhonies · 3 months

Text

The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 4 || MasterList || Chapter 6

Chapter Summary: August decides to test you with a taste of bondage which leads to a violent fit and a deadly confession...

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Non-Con, Description of Suicide & Self Harm, Trauma Dumping, Bondage, Daddy Kink, Oral Sex M!receiving, Fingering F! receiving, Child abuse, physical abuse, manipulation, subspace.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Author Notes:

★This chapter is based off of the real life events of my father's issues with women and his eventual death. He did toxic things but at the end of the day I still love him dearly and would sacrifice so much to have him back. He was my first best friend in this world. Please be kind. He is the reason I managed to write this story in the first place as a form of narration therapy

★Okay so I might be publishing this chapter earlier than I usually would because I'm doing a lot of packing and searching for a sharehouse or live in because I cannot stand my current housemate. I also am not sure if my rostered shifts will be taking on a new schedule. So please take this early chapter and be patient until I can post the following in 2-3weeks maybe... I'm not too sure honestly. Ciao Bella 😘

Inspiring Song: "Brutal" by Olivia Rodriguez

03:00pm Sunday 18th August 2024, Robertson, Brisbane

When the light hit your eyes you grunted and rubbed them with your fingers until they could handle the new bright light around you with the blindfold off.

You shivered staring up at him. Your eyes were still moist.

He had not changed his clothes. He was smiling softly down at you. He held something against your skin. Trailing the soft material along the goosebumps. Looking down at his mysteriously soft item you shrieked.

“No! No not the rope please stop! Not the rope!” You scooted away from him to the top corner of the bed, “Anything, tape, chain, ziptie but not the rope.”

His hand grabbed your ankle and dragged you viciously back to him. His hand pressed down hard on your chest and trapped you on the mattress.

You started screaming and hitting him. Punching his arms and kicking your legs. He slapped the rope beside your head and laid on top of you until you struggled to breathe and fight. His weight hurt so much, pressing on you arms and hips.

He shoved his forehead on top of yours. His nose nudged your cheek as you wept hard and blinked with those wet lashes.

“Please, don’t,” you whimpered, breaking back into another sob.

He exhaled and pressed his lips to your ear. His tongue was wet and breath hot. It felt ticklish and you had to fight the giggle in your throat. It came out in a horrid choking sensation. Tears peaked and fell down your face, wetting his.

“….the rope is the gentlest on the skin….” He purred heavily, “Why are you so frightened of it, huh?”

“Be-because,” you blubbered, “because my da-ad he-he-he….with rope.”

He sat up off you, letting you breathe and suck a healthy breath of air. You were frozen, laying down, too petrified to move.

August grabbed the rope again and twisted the tip with his fingers, “Is it because he hung himself?”

Your eyes widened. It was like a switch or spark or strike. Something lit the bubbling fuel of rage that had been sitting and mellowing deep in your belly.

'How dare he...'

You flung yourself forward and slapped him the hardest your body strength could manage. A loud ring of the skin bounced on the walls of his large empty home. His eyes were wide and his smile grew wider.

'How dare he!'

You felt the tsunami of anger and fury explode out of you. Your nails swiped him. You caught the skin of his neck and the back of his hand as you tried to claw out his eyes screaming from the bottom of your belly.

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Don’t say that! Don't you ever fucking say that again! You take it back! Fuck you! Fuck you!”

You tried to kill him. You pounced at him from the bed and gagged loudly as the collar and chain snagged your throat. You must’ve looked like a feral animal. Your teeth were nashing and your hands curled like claws at him as you screamed and yelled incoherently.

He grabbed your wrists and held them above your head in the air. You were no match for his strength. Your legs couldn't stretch out and try to kick him either. Your 'claws' were unable to scratch at any of him. His face wasn't smiling smugly. Instead he looked at you with confusion, perhaps pity?

You choked as your body seized, "Fu-ck you Aug-" you took in a shattering breath that burned your lungs, "Fuck you August! You piece of fucking shit!"

A part of you wanted to hear him take it back, to prove nothing very happened. Deep inside you yearned for no one to ever speak of those events because you could just pretend deep inside that it never ever happened. The shame and anger wouldn’t exist, the loss wouldn’t be as bad and permanent. You wanted to kill August for even mentioning it. He wasn’t allowed to talk about it, 'he has no right'…how did he even know? God you hated how much he probably knew about you.

'How much stalking did he do?'

He waited for you to stop screaming and waited until your sobbing had died down again. Your head pounded loudly in your ears as you let it fall and hang. Your tears dripped quietly on the bed covers.

August very slowly released your wrists. You lowered them and held them to your chest. They were sore.

You half expected August to slap you. But when you dared to look back up at him, towering above you still, he was untangling the folded rope. You gulped.

He pressed a knee onto the mattress and laid a hand on your naked chest. He barely needed to use much force, shoving you onto your back. You whimpered. Too scared to try and fight back again.

“O' my sweet, darling girl, Shhh” he cooed, his knuckles brushed the sweat beading on your face “How life has dealt you a poor hand…” he soft rolled you to lay on your front.

You felt your body relax. He rubbed your spine with the flat of his hand smoothly. You shut your eyes and hiccupped loudly.

You were tired and especially depressed. You didn't want to go to sleep but you also wanted to wake up from whatever nightmare this was. You sincerely hoped he would just kill you at that point. Why did he have to torture you like this?

August grabbed your two wrists and tugged them behind your back, sending you into a shock again feeling the line of material on your skin.

“Please no rope!”

You couldn't pull your hands back but twisted and turned pulling and making it difficult for him to tie any safe knit around your hands. He clicked his tongue and smacked your hip.

“Look at me,” he said and waited until your eyes glanced at him, flooded in glassy tears, “You’re safe, I won’t hurt you with the rope. I promise.”

“Y-your promises mean fuck all!” You hissed with wobbling lips, “You sick fuck!”

You heard him drag out a long. His thumbs rubbed the inside of your wrists.

“And I promise you’ll regret that comment, but I digress…I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?...Help me!?”

You screamed as he began to wrap the cord around your wrists again, “Stop! Get off me! No! Please!” You sobbed hard and tried to kick him but it was met with a sharp slap to your backside, “Please! I’m begging you. For the love of God, stop! No rope!” He tightened the tie around your wrists and push you totally onto your belly.

His hands wrapped your ankles tightly and started to push them up your wrists. Your face turned to the side and you squeezed your eyes shut attempting at the last second of anything that could get him to stop.

You swallowed any sense of pride you had left.

“Daddy….” You panted, “Please Daddy stop it. Please stop tying. Daddy please.”

His fingers paused and he left go of your ankles. It was a hiccup of relief that left your mouth.

“Good girl,” his hand said subbing his thumb over the back of your neck, “You’re learning.”

The air in your lungs was disappearing, you hated yourself for submitting to him like this. You tightened your lips and tensed as his breath fanned your face.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded, you obeyed.

“Look at me,” he said, you obeyed.

He had a softened expression on such a hard face. He had this Dr. Jeckle and Hyde side about him.

He would look so sweet and kind and then the next turn into this hardened angry man.

He scared you.

He pushed you to roll back in your back. Your tied arms were crushed underneath you. You were helpless and scared.

He unlocked the chain from the collar.

“Deep breath in,” he asked and laid a hand on your belly. You obeyed.

“And out.”

A breath came out sounding like a gasp and yawn and moan. You were exhausted.

“Now, you are going to not fight me, not squirm. I have kindly let you through your tantrum, now you’re going to be a good girl and lay across my lap. I want you to talk to me and if you stop talking, I’m going to spank you. Do you understand?”

You pouted, “No.”

“No?”

“I don’t want you to hit me,” you whined.

He chuckled and ran his thumb gently cross your cheek, “Good, because I want you to talk.”

“About what?” you sniffled loudly.

“How did you find out. About him…your father.”

Your eyes widened and you shook you head dismissively, “No, I don’t want to talk about that.”

“You will,” August recounted.

“I won’t…you c-can’t make me!” you snapped.

Within seconds he sat on the bed and hauled your body over his lap, delivering three hard and loud spanks. As you wailed he rubbed the rising welts on your backside. The heat of your blood screamed to the top of your skin.

“You said that with a little too much confidence,” August muttered, squeezing the stinging flesh, “Let’s try that again, yes?”

“You knew he…” you choked, unable to share the gruesome truth yourself, “did that with the rope. That’s how. That's all there is to say.”

August’s hand left another scorching mark across your arse cheek. You tried to squirm, you tried to push away but his other arm tightly hugged your middle.

“Say it. How he did it,” August commanded.

You spat back with a screech in you tongue, “You already know!!!”

He spanked you again before yelling, “Say it!”

“He fucking killed himself!” You roared, “Is that what you want to hear, you arsehole!? He took a piece of rope, tied it to the ceiling fan and fucking hung himself!!!”

You swore the whole room shook along with your anguished voice.

“And why did he do it?” The billionaire asked the billionaire question.

You hissed, “Go to fucking hell August!” Another stinging wack of his palm.

You could hear the venom drop from his tongue as he grabbed the back of your neck and pinchingly pulled.

“Why did he do it!?”

“Because he fucking hated me!" You squealed in defeat, "He hated me! He couldn’t stand to look at me! I was his mistake!”

Your throat was sore and scratched. He let go of your neck.

After a few embarrassing moments of silence you could hear his voice softenly ask, “And how are you his mistake?”

“Stop!”

He grabbed the back of your head and tugged it up, he grunted into the shell of your ear, “How? Tell me or I’ll belt your arse so raw it’ll bruise and you won't sit for a fucking week!”

When you put up more silence, you were pushed forward and could hear the clinking of his belt coming undone.

“Teen pregnancy,” you hastily blurted, wincing, hoping he wouldnt just use his belt already, “He didn’t know my mum was underage. When she had me, she left us, she left me with him. He took custody. He couldn’t find anyone to replace my mum, he hated me for it- I know he did. He got girlfriends and they didn’t last long…they didn’t want a kid so soon in their lives, so his heart was broken more than once.”

You took a gulp. Your hands behind your pack trembled. His fingers rubbed your inner thigh and pinched your backside.

“Is that the only reason he hated you?” August asked softly.

“No,” shaking your head you shuddered, “it’s not.”

“Why else?”

It hurt, god it hurt to say it…to be forced to confess the honest agony.

“Because I wasn’t a boy and even as a girl I wasn’t pretty. He never said I looked beautiful or pretty when I asked, he just looked away and shrugged...why was I so ugly?” You complained, “Why do I have to look so much like the worst parts of my parents? It’s not fair!” Your nose sniffled as your eyes began to sting hot.

Your kidnappers soft voice then asked, “What else wasn’t fair?”

“H-how he loved his wife more than me. He picked her up one day and said I needed to start calling her my mum and I couldn’t, she was only eleven years older than me, it was weird. I didn’t understand why he chose someone who was only twenty years old at the time, and why he didn’t believe me when I told him how she hurt me when he was at work….he only hit her once he walked in on her choking me…when I started to bleed from the cut on my face. She moved out and started cheating on him. God, I hate how he still loved her.”

“He saw her hurt you like that…and he still loved her? How did you know she was cheating on him?”

His fingers started to do wickedly things. The tips tickled at your labia and dip down to dance along your clit. You hissed and tightened your thighs around his hand, but it didn’t stop him rubbing and molesting you.

You talked, not wanting another spanking and know full well there was nothing to stop him trying to pleasure your cunt.

“Her boyfriends would come around asking to see her. They’d try to come in and touch me too but I’d threaten to call the police and they’d be flying out the door.”

August sighed happily as he felt your heart beat throb against your pussy. He condescendingly asked, “Your dad knew this was happening?”

You whimpered and shook your head, your cheek rubbed the duvet. Your shut your eyes and grunted as a finger prodded your hole. You knew this was sick.

“Yes! And then he tried to slit his wrists to guilt his bitch wife to come back but I called the ambulance in time and got the blood…the bleeding to…to stop….”

“That explains the scars. But that's not what killed him.”

You nodded, he was right.

“He…” you paused as August slid two fingers into your pussy and slowly pushed then in and out, your breath hitched. It was wrong what he was doing to you. And it was wrong you softly moaned.

“Dad got out of the hospital after forty eight hours.”

Your hands clenched in fists, August could see that, you grunted, “They let him fucking loose! I was so angry at him. I told him he could kill himself only after I finished highschool.”

You remembered that look on your dads face as he pouted in his recliner refusing to look you in the eye. What did you expect after you spent hours screaming at him? You were only seventeen. You had to go to school knowing your dad was in hospital and there was a chance he could die….all that blood….red was your least favourite colour for a long while. You didn’t say anything to teachers, you didn’t need to deal with the police asking questions and making things worse with child protection.

Your sighed and felt August’s fingers stop fucking you gently. They paused and pulled away. Your breath hitched as your body felt empty of his hot digits. He drew soft lines on your ass with your wetness.

You heard him warn,“….you know what happens when you grow silent or should I remind you.”

You said nothing and bared the pain of the spank. A hissed caught through your lips but you whispered.

August didn’t catch it at first and made you repeat. You felt flushed. You couldn’t believe you were actually asking him.

You weren’t crying anymore, you didn’t want to, you were angry and sad.

“August…if I call you Daddy…will you let me sit up and…hug me?”

The sound of his inhaled was like a contemplation, “I’m not sure…that’s a special privilege…why don’t you try and ask nicely?”

You opened your eyes and looked over your shoulder at him and whimpered, “Pl-please hug me Daddy.”

He slid a hand beneath your chest and held your hip as he pulled you up and turned you around. He crossed his legs on the bed and swaddled you in his arms. Your hands were still behind your back, your hot bottom stuck onto his trousers.

“C’mere sweetheart,” his voice broke you, you started to whimper and dug your face into his shoulder and cried into his warm cotton shirt.

“Daddy’s got you, all safe now.” He said as he rocked you and let you compose yourself. You pressed your cheek to his collarbone and shut your eyes.

How could a cruel man like him become soft?...

He asked and held your cheek as he rocked very slowly, “And what happened after you gave him permission to end his own life?”

'It wasn't permission, it was a last chance to plea...'

“He did as promised…he waited…and waited…and then when he said he was going to end his marriage I was actually happy for him.” Your voice trembled, “I said he was smart and told him that he…he…wait…no…that’s not right...I-”

You swallowed and squeezed your eyes opened as horror and realisation poured from your puffy mouth, “I said ‘It's about time…’ and the-then he gave me all of his cameras. And left. A few hours he came back, he told me he went to see his wife and I knew he meant he went to go sleep with her….I got so angry.”

You sighed, “I threw something at him?…a cup? A plate? It doesn’t matter. I didn’t even feel guilty for doing it…I was happy I made him sad…for the first time I fed off the glee that he felt shitty…I said he was a ‘fucking loser and a dumb ass.’ I said he shouldn’t have ever had me, should never gotten married and if he was going to keep letting himself get fucked over by his wife he should….”

You cut yourself off. You whimpered and buried your nose into August’s armpit.

Why did he have to smell so good? Why didn’t this man have terrible body odour?

You heard him tut and pulled your shoulder away from him. He cupped your jaw and ran a thumb over your bottom lip.

“What did you say?…Y/N?”

“I said…” you gasped and cried, “he should go fuck himself and stop the pity party because it was me that should be sad and suicidal, not him.”

With another suck if air you growled and glared into August’s eyes, “But…God…deep down I said in my mind that he should kill himself and make it easier for me to hate him. It’s all my fault.” Your eyes looked up to the ceiling while your face contorted.

August leg go of your face and brushed his fingers through your hair as he said soothingly, “Your thoughts didn’t kill him.”

Your naked body pressed into him. You couldn’t hold the balance for to long and leaned against him. Your nose touched his and you frustratedlg groaned, “B-but I was so mean to him…I threw a plate at him. I called him names. I bullied him and argued…I…I killed him. I know it was me.”

August kissed your cheek and slid you down back to his chest to hug you. He turned your hips out and patted your bottom softly.

You didn’t need prompting anymore from him.

“And normally every night I’d always ask him at dinner how his day was, I’d tell him I’d loved him and that I was going to bed and would see him in the morning before he’d go to work. He would get up at four am and leave at five am. He drove a truck around town, delivering to the Asian grocery stores and bars, he was their favourite delivery driver…they’d give him presents and free food all the time.”

“Yea?” August cooed, “What else? Did you wish him a goodnight?”

You mewled, “No, I didn’t. I-I was so m-mad. I told him I hated him and I said he wasn’t allowed in my room. I slammed the door so-so hard…he didn’t go to work and I felt like he was grumpy at me, his door was shut…When it was six am I made him some breakfast and I put it outside his door because he didn’t answer my knocking…”

You took a pause and swallowed to stop yourself crying, you forced a pitiful laugh from your mouth, “I was such a cunt…I remember saying something stupid like ‘’fine be a prick.” I started to clean my room and do the laundry and by nine am he still hadn’t grabbed the porridge. I got…a little frustrated -but I felt sorry for throwing the cup or plate and I knew he was upset. I went in to go wake him up or to apologise…”

You grew totally silent and August waited patiently.

You whispered into his neck, “His feet…I-I saw his feet first and you know what’s sick?” you smiled weakly.

August smiled and whispered back, “What’s sick?”

“I laughed and asked dad, ‘’how did you figure out how to float like that?” And I remember the stab of shock that jolted in me the moment it clicked…” you licked your bottom lip and shrugged, “his forehead was swollen and his eyes not fully shut. Lips a little blue… It was awful. I can’t forget that look.” You sighed and looked August in the eye, “He….he looked like he was made of wax…the moment I knew what he had done I grabbed his legs. I tried to pull him down. And when I couldn’t figure out how to get the rope off the fan I tried to use his phone to call help. His phone was flat. I tried to run to my room and grab mine but I tripped over the bowl of porridge and hit the ground hard.”

You remembered the loud this and the slippery wetness on your side. Your face cringed and you pulled your knees up in August’s lap a little more. He continued to pat your backside.

“I was screaming. I remember the pain in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I had to crawl to my phone because it was too painful to walk. I barely remember the woman on the phone. But she tried to ask me to check his pulse and I didn’t want to go back into the room.”

You gasped, “God I didn’t but I did….I had to. And I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t hear his belly move or his heart beat. I remember standing for a very long time, just holding his legs trying to get him to stand up on my shoulders or, to move. He was freezing…he…I don’t know how long….but…the um…the officers came in, they…I don’t know how they got in…maybe they picked the lock. They got him down and took him out. I got mad they didn’t let me come ….one officer told me it wasn’t an ambulance so I couldn’t come…I don’t think I was able to accept that he died, not until they wrung me up a week later to tell me he was ready to be released and have a funeral set up. A part of me thought he would wake up like a miracle…like he could just do some supernatural shit…like he would come home that evening or the next morning and ask me to make him porridge. And he’d smile and say he just felt sad or something and-and that he would buy me some noodles or some sponge cakes when he went to work tomorrow...”

You angrily whined, “But he didn’t…fucking arsehole. He left me…he…died…he…hated me and chose….the easy way out…”

August rubbed your back and whispered, “Cry.”

“What?” you shuddered not understanding what he was saying.

“You’re allowed to cry. You want to cry….so cry,” he said.

Your blinked once, twice and then the damn broke entirely. You wept into his shoulder and just started to blabber, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Pl-please don’t spank me Daddy.”

He sympathetically crooned, “O' my sweet girl, no more, you don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to, daddy has heard enough.”

After some time of more sobbing and rocking in his arms you rubbed your eyes and yawned.

“I’m so tired,” you moaned and smiled sadly at the feeling of his warm chest vibrate with a chuckle.

“I bet you are poppet, lay back” he pulled away and lifted the bed covers. He lifted you up and slid your legs inside beneath the layers. “You can have a nap,” he whispered sweetly as his fingers tugged at the knot of your bound wrists. When the came undone you curled them Infront of you and rolled onto your side facing him. He locked the chain to your collar and smiled at you. You smiled back.

Jesus…your brain felt fuzzy about that…he forced you to talk about your father and how it was your fault, he humilated you worse than when you cummed in the recliner in your apartment…and you….wanted to fucking thank the man….'what the actual fuck?'

Something made you want to accept this condesending treatment as long as he held you and cradled you and let you cry without a fear of judgement.

To this day you’ll never understand what possessed you to do it… but you could never take it back. As he started to shift away and move off the bed, your hand shot out and wrapped itself around his wrist.

“N-no, don’t leave me, please,” you begged, your eyes soaked the pillow while your wet lips trembled.

He looked down at your hand and softly sighed, he leant down to your head and kissed your temple, “I’m right here, I’m not going far, I’m going to grab you some painkillers because I know you’re going to have a headache soon.”

“N-no!” you whined.

His eyes widened before his voice hardened in a commanding grunt, “Y/N…let go of me…be a good girl…”

You didn’t….you couldn’t. Your hand squeezed tighter. He touched it with the rope and noticed how you flinched off him in seconds like the rope had magically burnt your hand.

He nodded and pursed his lips, “I promise I’ll be back in five minutes.”

He made true to the promise…he returned in four minutes and forty seconds…how did you know? Because you desperately counted ever single one until your abuser returned.

A cup in his hand and a pill in his palm. You didn’t have the guts to ask if it was a pair killer or the same drug that forced you unconcious when he first fucked you.

“Open up those pretty little lips.”

Your mouth parted, he popped the pill in and held the edge of the cup to your thirsty chapped lips, “Drink.”

You guzzled the water down and let out a relieved gasp as he set it aside on the table. “Good girl.”

As he turned, you realised he was going to the door. Leaving… “W-wait!” you called and weakly sat up.

He paused at the door. His fingers traced the metal handle, “Yes?”

“D-don’t leave me…” your sucked in a deep and demeaning breath as you pleaded to him, “D-daddy please don’t go.”

You peeled the blankets back and struggled to crawl out towards him. His blue eyes blinked. He reached up and scratches his chin, observing your pathetic state. He tilted his head.

“What do you want?”

“I…I…” You struggled to answer, your bottom lip buried beneath you teeth, you sucked hard and whispered, “I want you to stay…I want…you to cuddle me again…please.”

A smirk spread in the corner of his mouth, “And what will I get in return?”

It was wounding…the concept you had to earn his affections now…where was the free treatment from that day you first met him?

You didn’t even know what you could offer him.

“I don’t have anything…I…I have barely any money...I don't know what you've done with my purse.”

He chuckled cruelly, “You have a commodity…your body. You have a mouth…”

Your eyes widened. It clicked what he was hinting at. You were unsure if you really want to just for a hug…but after such a long couple days and confusion in your life, you would offer anything for a moment of peace.

“I’ll suck your cock…” your mouth quivered, “Please just hold me…I’m tired and I’m scared. Please!”

He looked you up and down one last time before sighing and nodding. Your hands reached out like a sad needy puppy. His fingers cupped them and guided you back to your original spot.

He moved the chain away from you both. You kneeled and shut your eyes waiting for him to just use your mouth….

“Y/N…scoot over. You can do it in the morning.”

Relief washed over your head like a cold ice bucket.

He pushed your body away as he took off his shoes and socks. He slipped beside you and dragged you to his side.

He playfully scolded you, “I spoil you rotten.” His finger tapped your nose. He kissed your forehead and watched you happily sigh.

Your eyes started to grow droopy. You knew it was the unknown drug he used on you weeks ago. You grew tired too quickly for it not to be.

As your body felt motionless and gooey you let your head roll onto his shoulder. Your mouth uncontrollably starting to drool onto him. He was smiling and stroking your head almost lovingly.

You weren’t sure if he was going to use you while you fell into your drugged sleep but you were happy to have this small peace. Even if he killed you…you were going to die at peace.

“Goodnight,” you heard and fell into the mindless nothingness.

08:02am Monday 19th August 2024, Robertson, Brisbane

You had absolutely zero knowledge of what day it was, how long you had been with August, or where he had kept your clothes…when you woke up though, your eyes watched the ticking of his expensive looking watch. It’s handles moving slow at a time of eight am.

Your head slowly rose. Your chain reflected from the morning sunlight burning from the windows.

You held down the yawn building in your throat and glanced over your shoulder.

August was out cold.

His face was totally relaxed. His bushy eye brows however left a certain hardness to his face. His lips were slightly parted and a soft snore left through them.

He was handsome and it hurt you knowing that beautiful men could be as evil and abusive as ugly men. A beautiful man was probably more ugly because they could hide their evil better.

You gulped and tried to move carefully. You had no idea what waking up a man like him could do to you…and you remembered sincerely of the promise to suck his cock.

You had never sucked cock before...and it disgusted you to think about...

'Men pee from there, why do people even do blow jobs?...ew.'

But you promised, in exchange for this. A loving cradling in a bed with him. And as wonderful as it had felt for a brief moment, you couldn't help but resent your past promise to him.

The more time you put it off, the better.

As you moved you felt something metal press against your ass. Your fingers slowly and carefully picked at it. Lifting the small object to the light…it reflected light into your eye.

A tiny silver key…

The key….

To your chain….

You didn’t hesitate, you slowly unlocked it, trying to be as quiet as humanly possible. As the pad lock clicked open and the chain grew loose. You settle the chain careful on the pillow and away from his arm.

It was scary, the tension of moving your backside across the bed sheets. Your toes touching the carpet. Trying to move slow enough to move nothing. You pushed up and stood.

He hadn’t woken up not moved a inch. You swallowed and stood away from the bed. You stood confused and naked. You couldn't think about searching for clothes in this bedroom. You didn't know where he had stored your stolen gown. Your feet tiptoed to the open door.

You didn’t know if there was a home phone on a wall somewhere. You wondered where he had your clothes and most importantly your purse with your phone.

You recalled him stepping on your phone in the park and considered that it was probably destroyed and thrown away...August had such a fierce look about him. You shuddered and worried to see it again if he woke up soon with you missing.

You looked at the key on you and…you were desperate.

Shoving the metal in between your teeth, it slip to the back of your mouth and your eyes screamed as it swallowed and scratched the entire way down your throat.

There was no way you wanted him to chain you back to the bed. And something suggested confidently to you that the padlocks on the gag and blindfold were the same as the bed chain.

You found his room. You knew the millionaire would have a closet in his own master bedroom.

It was beside the bathroom. A walk in. Your purse was sitting on the centre island. You gasped and ran to it and dumped the contents. You found your phone and almost sobbed… the screen was shatter and it wasn't turning on.

With all the strength you mustered you kept your mouth closed and your brain calm. Your costume dress was still missing, you didn't have time to waste. You stole one of his shirts. It was hanging in a long collection, organised by shades of white, navy, grey and black.

'Definitely a psychopath. No one is this particular or maybe his housekeeper is. Does he have a housekeeper? Surely? He is rich enough.'

His shirts, trousers and blazers where either folded neatly or hanging in the open spaces after all being beautifully ironed.

You buttoned the shirt up. You couldn’t find his underwear. You found some sweat shorts and tried tightening them around your waist. His shorts that probably cut off at his knees ended at your mid calf.

God he was so fucking huge. It made you remember why he was so intimidating. His height…

You took your purse and even broken phone. Dashing out his closet and room you bolted down the hall and staircase.

You tried your best to remember where everything was, including the exit. You found the kitchen and stole a carving knife from a butcher block set.

If he or anyone wanted to fuck with you, you wanted to make it clear that there was gonna be a blood spill.

You would be okay going to jail for assault if it meant you got out of this shit alive. You just needed to run.

You got to the glass doors that led to the outdoor pool in the gardens and patio it would lead to the back yard or some sort of garage where you might find a security button to open the front gates and sprint to the nearest bus stop. Unlocking every piece you smiled as the glass easily slid open.

You felt the cold morning air hit your face and body. His clothes were light and did barely anything against the wind.

You stood onto the concrete platform and heard something shuffle around the bushes of the garden. For a moment you thought you were crazy hearing a growl…a animal growl…a dog growl…your eyes glanced to your side. Your fingers tightened around the kitchen knife.

You held your breath as you met the sight of a dog, no- no, a big fucking dog. A small bear if you might humour yourself. This dogs bottom was in the air while his head was on the floor, teeth bare and growling.

It’s massive coat was pricked up and defensive.

And when it pounced, you squealed and ran back inside, launching the glads door back closed. You heard the beast yelp as you closed the door on the tip of its nose.

It’s teeth was gnashing and biting as it barked at you through the glass.

You held up your hand to block the door from gliding open. You frantically turned the knob to lock it.

Fuck! August would wake up and find you missing if this wild animal kept barking. You felt like an idiot. Of course August would have at least one guard dog.

The moody guard dog huffed and turned around before bolting back and slamming itself onto the door.

The shock had you falling on your arse.

Or rather...into someone’s arms.

His strong muscle appendages caved around you. His hand grabbed your knife wielding hand harshly, twisting your wrist until you were forced to let it go.

The blade clattered loudly as you screamed and grunted pathetically.

August held you strong and walked backwards until he could sit on the couch with you squirming in his lap.

“Oh look at you, miss escape artist…” a whine caught in your throat as his nose shoved itself against your jaw. His voice heavily rasped, “Planning on trying to run off? O' believe you me…” he patronised, looking at his aggressive dog back at you “That would be a terrible idea…”

He slapped your inner thigh. You jumped and hissed from the sudden pain.

This morning would be one to remember for a while.

“I see you’ve met Kal!” His fingers dug into your sides. You sneered at him and grabbed at his hands, weakly pulling him off.

“You didn’t have a dog last time!” you whined as you squirmed.

He snickered and forced your legs over his hips. His hand snuck down into the stolen shorts and he kisses your neck as he rubbed at your clit.

“He was here last time, I swear but he was in his kennel that day and I wanted you all to myself.”

You sighed as his large fingers played and soothed you to a unpredictable horny mess.

There was no use fighting when he had you so caught up. You really weren’t sure if he would beat you but the memory of the recliner and the spanking in the guest bed were fresh to remind you how he could play with you if you refused or displeased him.

You wanted to get out alive. He caught you out of bed with his stolen clothes, your broken phone and a knife in hand. It wasn’t a good appearance.

He didn’t let you cum. No. He pulled his hand away before you reached the sweet completion.

Your bum felt his bone hard erection and struggled to move away from it.

“Do you know how much trouble you’re in? Answer me Y/N,” he softly pressed.

You shook your head and tried craning your neck back to kiss his prickly cheek.

“No…no I…I just…”

“Just thought you could leave without making good on your promise? You have a cock to suck… are you ready for that?”

You shook your head again and confessed strongly, “No, I don’t know how to do that….I said it because I was scared.”

He laughed again and chewed the bottom of your ear, “Oh? Then this will be exciting.”

He pulled your dazed body off and pressed you onto your knees on the carpet rug. Between his thighs, you swallowed and looked up at him. Smirking with a sadistic tilt to his head, August looked like a fallen angel.

You gagged as you watched him lift the hand that was just fucking you up to his lips. He licked and sucked each digit like they were a delicious treat. His exaggerated moans of pleasure had you rolling your eyes.

After another moment he put his hands back and jerked his chin at you.

“Well? Unzip me. Go on.”

His dogs barking made it hard for you to hear him but with your eyes following his lips and direction of eyesight you knew what he wanted out of you.

He watched with a lazy gaze as your finger tips pinched his zipper and tugged down the opening.

His flaccid dick, unprotected from any underwear greeted your sight.

With warm hands and a wish you had for any chance of forgiveness from him for trying to run out on him; you collected his cock into your palms.

It felt warm and lame for a moment before a great pulse cause you to jump and the member to flinch and twitch. His veins bobbed slightly.

You tried thinking about what girls in porn did…they always did this hugging thing with their breast. Motorboating? Tit surfing? You unbuttoned his stolen shirt in one hand while holding and squeezing his heavy cock in the other.

He was staring as you shed the silky shirt to the floor. You sat at his feet with your breasts bare. You wondered what was going through his head…he wasn’t just a lustful predator….he was a calculating business man.

That led you to ponder on if this was like a business transaction? You asked for his kindness and in exchange you had to debase yourself as his personal unpaid whore…

To make matters worse, you were unsure if catching you trying to escape would lead to some sick punishment like how he caught you in the club.

You were annoyed that if you made it out alive there was no evidence of those deals or the murder of the Melbourne Embezzler.

You were still behind in your plot of revenge and as tempting as it was just to bite his cock off with your teeth, you’d never leave this place alive…not even a chance…

You sat up a little on your knees and shuffled closer. You pulled at his cock some more until it was entirely hard in your palm.

He smirked before he mockingly asked, “Are you going to fucking suck it or am I just waiting here until you turn me off enough to lose interest?”

With widened eyes, you sheepishly stared at the pink thick sausage in your hand and cringed.

Your tongue timidly poked out and you licked at his tip. He sighed, but it was full of impatience. A strange anxiety filled you… overwhelming fear of disappointing him. You knew logically it was dumb. You didn't respect August why did you care what he actually thought of you? You just needed to get out of there alive.

Your tongue and lips spread kisses along his wide shaft before you opened your mouth as wide as you could and attempted to put him in your mouth. You looked crazy. Your teeth trying to stay wide open but your lips peeled back away from them….

August laughed at you, “Are you planning to bite my cock off with those rows of fangs?”

Eyes filled with confusion and self-conciousness fluttered up at him. His thumb rubbed along your cheek and he told you to wrap your teeth up in your lips and to stick out your tongue more.

Now it was truly humiliating…following his instructions and wagging your tongue out like some dog.

Your eyes glanced to the left where the glass doors were now empty of his fluffy beast.

His hand pushed your mouth down a little further. Your cheeks felt full with his girth along and when his head hit the bag if your throat, you loudly wretched and pulled back but found his hand forcing you back down onto him. Your spit flew out messily on his cock. Your eyes watered instantly at the irritating sensation. You felt suffocated and choked in his thick appendage.

It was confronting to have something so big being pushed back into your mouth. You gagged on just two fingers, you had no clue what you must’ve looked like with a cock a third of a way in your mouth.

He did it over and over until you scratched at his hand and he let you pulled back, falling back on your ass and rasping for breath.

You heaved and swiped your mouth and tears. You hoped you wouldn’t have to ever do that again and next time you wanted something from him you’d never promise a blow job.

“If you want to leave today, you have to do something for me…”

You were stupid…you were desperate…you asked “What?”

“Open your mouth.” He commanded.

You winced, afraid he would shove it back into your mouth…you obeyed. You didn’t expect the assault of his thick cum spraying across your face. Some dropped into your mouth as it flew. Most of it stuck in your hair and dribbled down into your eyes.

He chuckled at the sheer horror of shock written over your face covered in his pearly cum.

You were about to wipe it away until August grabbed your wrist brutally and shook his head.

“You belong to me. I own you. You aren’t going to clean this off until you get home. Do I make myself clear?”

A shuddering breath escaped you as you nodded.

'Home?'

He was letting you go…you couldn’t understand why he was so lenient with your freedom. You accused him of rape and yet you lived…he killed a man just for a small crime of embezzlement…

But you were graciously relieved.

You were surprised he let you put on his stolen shirt again. He pinched a nipple but he gave you back your purse and broken phone while he called someone to pick you up. A driver. Jude.

August took you out front of the house once the black vehicle arrived and slipped inside of the car with you. He leant across and buckled you in reminding you that he liked this power dynamic even through the little things. Wiping you clean, buckling your seat, feeding you...you wouldn't call it infantilism the entire way...it felt like the motive was to humiliate, not to take care of you...The entire time was filled with a stretchy and uncomfortable pull of tension.

You didn't face the rearview mirror in case Jude could see all the embarrassing white cum drying on your face and in your hair.

“I…I-” you tried to ask but fell silent and afraid. The cum was drying on your face, a perfect reminder of your place. Beneath him.

He looked at you with interest, “What’s on your mind?”

“I am…confused…why haven’t you just killed me yet? I’m disposable, and I know you already know if I go missing…no one is going to look for me…”

He didn’t take his eyes off you and you couldn’t even meet them. Your knees rose up against your chest.

His finger touched the skin beneath your chin and made you look at him.

“Because…Y/N…I am not someone to throw away my toys so easily. You are a important posession and it would be very stupid of me to waste you."

He leant in and kissed you softly, breathing against your soft lips, "You’ve got a tight cunt and a dead father to thank for that.”

That made you lunge…you slapped his face hard. The sound cracking. Everything was dead silent. Even Jude was holding his breath. You turned your body away and cowered in the door.

“Fuck you…fuck…you.” You sobbed. You didn’t like how he mentioned your dad. It made you think on how he forced such a terrible confession from you about the days that it all went down.

You expected him to hit you, to make you beg for mercy.

Only his cheek flinched as his pale flesh became a mean pink in the shape of your fingers. He sat back and nodded slowly.

He knew that was too far. He smirked..

'that selfish fucker.'

He didn’t harm you like you feared he would.

He brought you home and you half expected him to invade your space, rape you again for your outburst in the car. But no…he took you up the stairs. Unlocked the door and returned your key.

He chuckled at the sight of all your installed locks, "Here I thought Jude was pulling my leg..."

He shook his head and smiled. Before you could run inside and slam the door shut he blocked your path with his hand. He leant his head down and purred. With his other hand he fingered the leather around your throat.

And then he asked, “Mind telling me what you did with the key to the bondage gear?”

Your hand cupped your throat…you still wore the collar…fuck…

You bit your lip and shook your head, “I ugh…swallowed it…” you confessed.

His eyes slowly widened in disbelief. His laughter grew harder, “You are truly a special one my little dear, fret not I’ll have another copy made and we can take the collar off you. Or not…I mean I do love the look on your face as you wear it.”

August pulled you close and hard as he planted his mouth over yours and viciously kissed you before turning around on his toes. He waved a hand at you.

“Until next time sweetness!” he called, "Don't forget to clean your breakfast off your face!"

You sighed and felt your knees buckle. You rushed through your door and locked every deadbolt and chain across.

You rushed to the kitchen and vomited in the sink. Your face felt crusty from his cum. You hissed as some peeled from your skin.

Your eyes watered. You stumbled back to your room and struggled to charge your phone. It refused to turn on. It was fucked.

'I need to talk to someone, I need to make sure Lloyd is okay, please dear god make sure he made it out of the Lions Lounge den. Fuck you August!'

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#TNOSP #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #august walker x you #august walker x black!reader #august walker x ofc #august walker x reader #august walker fic #dark!august walker #dark!henry cavill

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prettyboysdontcry · 2 months

Text

Late June

I’m still standing in the doorway. Corvid hasn't technically invited me in, and I'm terrified of them doing so, as I've become painfully aware that the only furniture in the room I could plausibly sit on is the bed. Not that that's stopped them, sitting cross-legged on the floor, rummaging through a clear plastic bin of what appear to be fabric scraps. Crunchy electric guitar and whiny vocals are still leaking from the busted speakers of their iPhone 6, shoved into the back pocket of their jeans. It's not awkward yet, so I take this opportunity to take in my surroundings.

At first glance around Corvid’s bedroom, the namesake is obvious. The room is warm and dark, a perfect opposite of Claire’s, and it’s exactly how I would imagine the slightly more human version of a crow’s nest.

It's messy and cluttered, but in a comfortable way. Every shelf and corner is crammed with shiny, colorful treasures. There's fabric hung in every upper corner, draping down from the ceiling to meet the outstretched limbs of the dozens of potted plants. The bed, which takes up the majority of floor space, is just a thick mattress on the floor, a nest of soft-looking blankets and well-loved stuffed animals. I find myself admiring Corvid’s lack of shame about these sweet childhood comforts, as well as, with heat rising in my face, wondering how comfortable the bed really is.

My eyes continue their ascent, from the bed to a large curtained window, and still higher to several haunted-looking clown figurines, pots of trailing pothos and ivy, and a wealth of camera paraphernalia that sit on shelves which appear to be made from scavenged wooden planks. Based on our earlier conversation, an image of Corvid and Claire digging through a dumpster for the shelves and their occupants takes shape in my mind.

The ceiling and walls of the room are each painted a different color, but those colors are nearly invisible under overlapping art prints, photographs, band posters, and cardboard signs. A few words jump out at me from this collection of media: “Black Trans Lives Matter,” “I got it at ReRun,” “Car Seat Headrest: Teens of Denial,” “We The People Protect Each Other,” and, somewhat notably among the others, “Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers.” As I skim the walls, I realize it would take me hours to process every word on every piece of paper. I shake my head, making a mental note to talk to Corvid about each of these wildly varying interests later, and continue my scan of the room.

The closet from which Corvid retrieved the fabric scrap bin is wooden, claw-footed, and painted a sunset orange, chipped from what looks like years of abuse. On top of it are stacks and stacks of plastic bins and baskets just like the one they have in front of them now, each full of a million colors of fur and fabric, beads and string, paint markers and bottle caps and rolls of film. Shoes are piled by the door, on which are hanging a dozen or so jackets and hats, a bike helmet, a gas mask, and a pair of ski goggles. A garland of small disco balls, a string of multicolored paper cranes, and pink and orange twinkle lights are draped around the room. The rug is circular and colorful and threadbare. A lamp on a low bedside table casts a dim yellowish light over the room, making everything look soft and lived-in, warm and welcoming. Everything about the room feels exactly that. Exactly like Corvid themself. It’s immediately comfortable, somewhere that I know I never want to leave.

My musing is cut short as Corvid suddenly shifts their focus from the fabric bin back to me. They slip the long hair behind their ear with a pinky, reintroducing me to the mischievous shine in their dark eyes. They lift up a few scraps from the bin to show me.

“Here’s what I got. C’mere, get a look at your options.” Their voice jolts me back to reality, and, knowing that they’ll have to drag me back out kicking and screaming from this wondrous room, I accept the invitation into the crow's nest, settling beside them on the scratchy rug.

#writing #creative writing #drabbles #queer #gay #nonbinary #transgender #trans #transfem #transgirl #trans joy #lgbtq #corvid #crowcore #cluttercore #t4t

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cartoonhostage · 9 months

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I've been going slightly (more than slightly) feral over this comic by @intotheelliwoods, and after rotating it in my mind I was hit with the sudden overwhelming urge to write almost a thousand words about it at 2am

Leo was in a white void. There was a wall of dark goo at his back, clawed hands of ink wrapping themselves around his arms.

“Gh- Sprout-” he grunted, trying to shake the hands off. Even more grabbed on, beginning to pull him into their mass.

“Sprout, I’m SORRY!” he screamed. The goop had fully trapped his legs, rendering them useless, his right arm fought against a tentacle trying to pull it into the wave, and his left reached out desperately.

“I’m sorry!” The last syllable came out as more of a screech than a shout. The goo was pulling him in, it took his right arm, hands yanked at the scarf around his throat from out of sight. The only parts outside of the ick were his head and his left arm, still reaching. His tears fell into the muck, rolling off it like oil on water, while it continued to consume him.

“SPROUT!”

Leo gasped as his eyes shot open. His left arm was reaching at the ceiling, and there were tears in the corners of his eyes. The blanket was constricting all of a sudden, it was wrapped around his legs, his torso, his-

He sat up straight, throwing the blanket off, and put his hand to the spot his shoulder used to fill, panting heavily. Where his right arm had been, where it had been trapped in the dream. It had been gone for a while now, and himself from the future had been helping him, making sure it healed okay.

“Sprout…” he murmured, looking down at his hand. That was what future him had told Leo to call him, that must’ve been who he was reaching for in the dream. But… in the dream he was older, much older, even older than future him. The arm he’d been reaching with had had three stripes like big him, instead of just the two that adorned his shoulder and upper arm.

He slumped back against his pillow, kicking his blanket away, and staring up at nothing. He was still tired, but that dream had felt so viscerally real, he didn’t think he was going back to sleep anytime soon.

He couldn’t have been dreaming of Sprout, he was missing his right arm like Leo, and way younger too. And Leo had been calling for him, it wouldn’t make sense for him to be shouting his own name, apologising to himself like “himself” was a separate entity.

Leo paused a moment, considering the irony of what he’d just thought.

For probably a solid two minutes he was seized with the fear that he’d been dreaming of himself from the future. Not Sprout, him, all grown up, begging for forgiveness from his older self. But there was something nagging at the side of his mind, some part of him that knew with absolute, unshakable certainty that wasn't right. Not Sprout, not exactly him either, what in the world…

I’m sorry Sprout, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve it, I want you to know I’m sorry.

Whatever the dream was, those thoughts definitely belonged to him, to Leo. He didn't know where they were coming from, but the feeling that he had to apologise to Sprout was overwhelming and his, like an instinct. His mind was too foggy to think of why. Part of him knew the reason, or maybe it used to.

Leo slid carefully off of his mattress, tiptoeing out of his room in an attempt to make as little noise as possible, the floorboards creaking quietly under his feet.

He managed to open the door to Sprout’s room silently. His future self seemed to be sleeping soundly, faint snores emerging from his snout. Leo stepped nervously closer, worrying that he might have to wake him up or just get into bed with him for some level of comfort from the nightmare, but Sprout cracked an eye open before Leo was even close enough to touch him.

“Poptart?” Sprout started getting out of bed, setting his blanket aside. Leo was still getting used to that nickname, it didn’t make any sense to him, but it did feel just a bit more right every time Sprout called him that.

“Stump hurting again?”

He hadn’t noticed since he could only seem to think of the dream, but the stump where his right arm had once been was aching slightly. He decided it wasn't bad enough to constitute medication right away. He screwed his eyes shut and ran forward to hug Sprout as best he could with his one arm, cutting off whatever he was about to say, probably an offer to get pain meds.

“Sorry,” Leo peeped quietly, pressing his face into Sprout’s shoulder.

Sprout’s arm wrapped comfortingly around Leo’s shell, the tips of his fingers gently rubbing up and down the carapace.

“What for?” Sprout asked softly.

“I…” Leo felt like he should know, that the reason was right on the tip of his tongue, but it was missing. He felt like crying.

“I don’t know.”

“Mm, well,” Sprout hummed, “whatever made you sorry, it’s alright."

He moved his hand from Leo’s shell to cradle the back of his head.

“You’re just hurt and scared,” Sprout said calmly, “No need to be sorry for that.”

Sprout squeezed a little tighter. “You were just hurt.”

Something in Leo’s mind told him that Sprout wasn’t just talking to him, or more like it was more focused on something deeper inside of him.

“You were just scared.”

That part of him heard.

Leo sniffed, a tear rolling down his cheek and getting all over Sprout’s shoulder.

He opened his mouth to say thank you, but Sprout beat him to it.

“Thanks, Poptart."

Leo craned his neck to look at Sprout’s face, confused.

“What for?”

Sprout smiled. “I don’t know.”

Inspired by the fact that Poptart dreamt that he was big Leo

#two arms left #rottmnt 2 arms left #rottmnt 2al #2al #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #star’s fanfiction shenanigans #2 arms left #2al fanfic

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kdogreads · 1 year

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Dean and redheads is something I never thought I’d love 😩😩 Can you do more?

The Devil’s Work

Dean x Reader Smut (18+)

Summary: Dean pays you a late night visit with one thing on his mind.

Warnings: oral sex (fem-receiving), hair kink(?), very slight degradation, rough sex, unprotected sex (don’t do it), cursing; please let me know anything else

Word count: 2184

A/N: Ask and you shall receive, my fiery friend. Please tell me what other redhead adventures you want to see Dean go on! Enjoy at your own risk 🤤

This is the second part of my Dean x Redhead series of one shots. Please send suggestions this way! Read the first one here

Requests are open! Message me :)

———————————————————

A firm knock rasped on your bedroom door and echoed through the cavernous hallways of the bunker. You figured both the boys were in their rooms by now, so your mind wandered with all the terrible reasons one of them could be coming to get you this late.

Dressed only in an oversized t-shirt and plain underwear with your crimson hair tied up in a loose braid, you cracked the door open and stood mostly behind it.

There were only two possibilities as to who could be the body behind the knock, but you were still surprised to see Dean standing in the dimly lit hallway.

“Hi?” Is all that escaped your lips, looking up at him with furled eyebrows.

“Hey, y/n. Ya busy?” Dean questioned you in a low, slow voice.

“As busy as you are, sunshine,” You replied suggestively. You could read Dean’s intentions all over his face like an open book.

You looked at each other a moment longer, Dean’s eyes wandering down your body to your bare legs as you stepped out from behind the door. You toyed with the end of your soft braid that fell over your shoulder.

“So, you comin’ in or stayin’ out there?” You swung the door open further and motioned for him to come in.

Dean took a swift step in and cupped his hands around your face, pulling you closer to him. His eyes shifted to your plump lips as his tongue swiped across his own bottom lip subconsciously.

“Can I kiss you?” Dean whispered to you, his warm breath filling your senses.

“You better, Winchester,” A devilish smile crept across your face.

Before you could take another breath, Dean’s lips crashed into yours. Your hands melted into his skin, clawing at his back and his neck, fingers twirling through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

The two of you took another step into your room, lips never parting, and Dean kicked the door shut behind him.

His hands slid under your shirt and pulled it over your head in one quick motion. Just as swiftly, his hands went to the back of his neck, pulling his shirt over his head and onto the floor.

You pressed your bare torsos together again and you shivered as the warmth of his chest contrasted the cool air around you.

Dean walked you backwards until the backs of your knees touched your soft mattress. You slid your hands down Dean’s firm chest to his stomach before reaching the buckle on his belt.

His tongue was now swirling around your mouth, sloppily kissing you. Desperate for your touch.

You undid his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, fumbling with the stiff fabric before he took over from your hands and slid them down his legs kicked them off. You stood there, pressed together, with only thin pieces of underwear separating where you most desperately wanted to touch.

His lips parted from yours for the first time as he sat back onto your bed. Eyes screaming for you to come get him.

You lifted one leg and swung it onto the bed next to his, grabbing onto his shoulders for stability, while he gripped your other thigh firmly and pulled you onto his lap.

His emerald eyes met your dark ones as his large hands glided up your body. Both of you savored the view of lust-filled eyes and heaving chests in front of you. Dean’s cock grew harder under your aching center as you slowly rounded your hips into his.

Dean’s large hands reached your loose red braid. He twisted his fingers around the furthest ends while you tugged at his own short spikes on the back of his head.

He loved to play with your waving auburn locks, and you loved seeing the look of desire on his face while he did.

Carefully, he slid his fingers through the loose gaps.

Before you even realized it, he took a firm hold on your locks and tugged your head back. You let out a gasp as the sharp pain made your throbbing core grow wetter.

“Why don’t we let this down, hm?” He breathed into your ear and all you could do was nod while your whole body ached for more of Dean.

He carefully slid the hair tie off the bottom of your thick crimson braid. His fingers intermixed between the loose gaps and slowly unfurled it piece by piece until your flaming waves were falling all around you both.

Dean tangled his hands into the soft fire engulfing your shoulders and pulled your face back to his, kissing you with a slower, deeper pace than before.

He pulled away from you again, drawing a low whimper from your lips, already missing the pressure of his on them.

“On your back,” He growled into your neck, leaving a small bite just above your collarbone.

You hissed at the sensation and felt the pit in your stomach stir, the tension already building up.

“Do I have to ask again?” Dean spoke louder this time, grabbing a fist full of the hair he loved so much and yanking your face to his.

“No,” You panted, “No sir.”

“Good girl,” Dean hummed into your lips as you climbed off of his lap and laid back onto your mattress. Your locks fell around you like a halo of fire.

“Don’t they say the devil made you redheads?” Dean questioned, lips pouted slightly with his head tilted to one side. He looked at you like he was taking in every inch of your soft body, memorizing all the lines and curves.

“I didn’t think to ask,” You breath out with a snarky tone, sliding your underwear down to your knees before Dean pulls them the rest of the way off. He made quick work of his boxers and gave his throbbing cock a few pumps in one strong hand.

Dean smiled a cocky smile before grabbing your hips and sliding you closer to him. He ran a thick finger up and down your glistening folds drawing a sharp inhale into your lungs. He dragged the slickness up to your swollen clit and drew tight circles over it, sending your head back sharply and your hips to buck into his hand.

“This eager for me?” Dean spoke as he slid the thick finger to your entrance and broke through the opening. A low moan escaped from your throat.

“This wet?” He pumped his finger slowly at first before adding another and speeding up the pace.

“Unholy,” He breathed through a crooked smile, his tongue poking out to lick his lower lip. His pace never slowed and you cried out when his thumb swiped over your aching bud.

“Beg,” He growled.

“Dean,” You whined, “Please.” You could think of nothing but how desperately you wanted Dean inside you, filling your walls and stretching you in the ways only he could. You would have said anything he wanted.

“Please, Dean, I need you inside me,” You grabbed a handful of bedsheets as you felt your walls tightening around his calloused fingers.

“Maybe you are a good girl after all, hm?” He leaned down to place a playful bite on your left breast, fingers still pumping in and out of you, drawing you closer and closer to your release.

You whimpered when his fingers suddenly disappeared.

“I love that look on you, baby girl. So desperate for my cock,” Dean hissed as he lined his throbbing tip up with your dripping core.

You bit your lower lip, your eyes rolling back at the anticipation of Dean sinking into you.

You let out a sharp exhale as Dean slowly slid his throbbing tip into your anxious entrance. Groans escape both of your lips as he works his way into you, tight walls stretching to adjust to his demanding presence in your aching core.

He backs out until only his tip remains past your entrance before plunging back into you, bottoming out as his thighs meet yours.

“Oh, fuck, Dean,” You gasp between thrusts, “God, you feel so good.”

He keeps a punishing pace, throwing your legs over his shoulder and grabbing hard onto your thighs. The new angle sends you spiraling towards your high, each thrust crashing into your deepest sweet spot.

“I- I can’t,” You try desperately to articulate the tension threatening to break deep in your core, “I’m so close, Dean”

“That’s my good girl,” He hums, “Cum for me baby. Let me feel you.”

His words were enough to cause the string in you to snap. Your eyes slam shut, head falling back while your back arches off the bed. Dean’s hand reaches for your clit, the small circles of his finger tip sends you gasping for air. Pleasure courses through your veins as the world disappears around you and all you can focus on is the way Dean’s large cock feels inside you, the way you can feel every move all the way in your toes. The noises escaping your lips are like music to Dean’s ears.

He rides you through your climax, a smirk growing across his face as your eyes flutter back open, grounding you back to the earth.

Dean’s pace slows for the first time as he slides your legs back down to meet the mattress. He slowly slides his still rock hard cock out of you and you let out a low whine.

“So pretty, baby,” He leans over you and kisses you, his tongue fighting its way into your mouth, “Turn around, sweetheart. Let me see that pretty red hair I love.”

You quickly obey, eager to feel Dean deep inside you again. He grabs you by the hips and moves you to exactly where he wants, instantly gliding his tip over your dripping folds.

He swiftly slides all the way back into you, eliciting a deep moan from your parted lips. You lift your head slightly as he resumes the rough pace, allowing your loose waves to fall around your shoulders, bouncing up and down with each thrust.

One of Dean’s large hands remains glued to the flesh just above your round ass, slamming you into him and watching the way your body rolls and jolts each time he plows into you. His other hand glides up your spine, sending shivers over your shaking body, and grabs a fistful of the messy auburn waves, pulling your head to the side so he can see your face.

“Stunning, baby,” He bites his lower lip, his face contorting into looks of painful restraint, “‘m gonna make a mess out of you.”

You slam your body back into his, his cock poking your cervix with each movement. The hand that was gripping into your flesh wraps around your thigh and reaches for your swollen clit. His rough fingers skillfully draw you towards another orgasm as he nears his own.

Your vision blurs as Dean’s thrusts become more desperate. The waves of pleasure take over your senses as your walls tighten around him and your legs threaten to give out beneath you.

You moan out Dean’s name as your head falls back, his fingers still tangled in the flaming locks. The shockwaves coursing through your dripping pussy send Dean over the edge.

“Ah, fuck, y/n,” Is all Dean can manage before he hurriedly slides himself out of you and releases his load onto your arching back. The sticky warmth reaching up to your shoulders and into your messy red mane.

A cocky grin spreads across Dean’s face as he comes down from his high. You lay your head down against the bed as Dean quickly grabs his discarded shirt to clean you up.

“Always a gentleman you are, Dean,” You tease as you flip over to your back once his hands leave your reeling body.

He lets out a chuckle in response as he climbs onto the bed beside you, pulling your blanket over the two of you. You curl into his side, instinctively tangling your legs with his and place your hand on his chest.

“Anything for you, my little fireball,” Dean cooed into your ear as he planted a soft kiss onto your temple. He reached for your messy crown and played with it absentmindedly while you settled into him.

“I’m going to have to wash this now, you know,” You playfully complain as he keeps twisting pieces around his fingers.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” He whispers into the top of your head and you feel a laugh vibrate in his chest.

“No you’re not,” You quip back with a smile.

“No, I’m not,” Dean answers with a laugh. You lay comfortably together for another long moment.

“Y/n?” He whispers to you.

“Hm?”

“You’re the devil’s work for sure,” Dean proclaims playfully, landing another kiss on your temple.

You looked up at him and rolled your eyes, placing a light smack onto his chest. Both of you laughed as you took your place back on his chest and let the post-high calm wash over both of you and send you into a content, satisfied sleep.

Join my tag list! Thank you so much for the love ❤️ @this-is-me19

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean #dean smut #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester smut #supernatural one shot #spn #Dean x redhead #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester one shot #kdogreads

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