#Injection Pressing Machine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coldfanbou · 1 year ago

Text

Clinical

Hi Everyone! Here's the piece for the week. I mentioned that I felt like I could make it a series, but I'm still not a hundred percent sure about it. So, I'll wait for some feedback on it. Anyway, prepare some time with Karina that involves a little rough sex and some breeding.

Length 2K

Karina X Mreader

In what could best be described as a hospital room, Karina pursed her lips and considered how the night would go. “Depositor entering the building,” A robotic voice says. Karina stared at the light by the door to her room; if she were chosen, it would light up a bright green. She had been on the list for a long time and wanted it to be her turn to finally get the chance to be bred. She recoiled as the shining light turned on. The door to her room opened immediately afterward; a nurse walked with a carefree smile.

“Today’s the day, Karina. Would you like the shot?”

Karina nodded, “It’ll be easier like that, right?”

“A lot easier. Just consider that it’ll be hard to control yourself for the day after. You’ll be like a dog in heat.” The nurse responds with a slight chuckle, having experienced it herself. “Do you still want to take it?” Karina agreed to it, and the nurse prepared the injection and Karina’s arm. “This is going to sting a little.” The nurse presses the needle into Karina’s skin, puncturing it and injecting the serum into her. “The system will notify you and your partner when you’re pregnant.” Karina felt her body heat up as those words were spoken. She rubbed her legs together; they became slick with her juices in moments. Her breathing became heavy, and her nipples hardened, rubbing against her skin-tight outfit. She moaned lightly; her body was becoming incredibly sensitive. The nurse quickly cleaned the wound, applying a bandage before heading out. She pressed a button on the wall and left with the door shutting behind her.

“Serum applied. Toys have been unlocked.”A voice says before a cupboard opens, revealing a myriad of toys. Karina eyes one of the dildos and goes for it. She moves the bottom of her one-piece to the side and pushes it inside as she bends over the counter.

“Mhm, Ah,” Karina groans as she pushes the dildo inside her cunt. A thin layer of sweat develops on her skin as she fucks herself. Karina’s walls squeezed down on the toy as she moved it. Karina needed more, though. She grabbed at her breasts, shaking when her nipple rubbed against the cloth of her one-piece. She groaned but continued to play with herself, licking her lips as she imagined a real cock fucking her. “Fuck,” the dildo wasn’t enough for Karina. She needed more; dropping the dildo, she scoured through the cupboard until the door to her room opened.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Thank you for your selection. Please proceed to the next room immediately,” the robotic voice of the vending machine says as it spits out a plastic card. You walk forward, scanning the hall as you head to your room. “Please scan your card.” You do so, thinking of the ridiculousness of having to scan the card it just gave to you. The metal door slides open, shutting behind you as you step inside. To your left was a screen that played a video you had seen dozens of times at this point. You sat down on the bed in the room and watched it. It seemed like nothing would happen until it finished. You were a little anxious about it all but happy about being chosen. Not many got that opportunity, much less with a selection as popular as you had. “Your partner is approaching; please remove your clothing,” says the same robotic voice of the room intercom. You follow the instructions and sit on the bed, waiting for your partner.

The door slides open, and your partner for the night, Karina, stumbles through. She was wearing a skin-tight, high-waisted metallic one-piece and nothing else. Karina’s stiff nipple poked through the one-piece, and the one-piece itself was pulled high; her lower lips were completely visible, and her thighs were coated in her juices. The first thing you heard from her lips was a moan. Her eyes remained on the ground as one of her hands went to cunt, rubbing it roughly as the other squeezed her heavy breast. You knew how this worked. In making conceiving easier, the women were given the option to take a unique concoction that raised their libido and the likelihood of getting pregnant. Karina slowly raised her head, her eyes became glued to your cock, and she rushed to you. She dropped onto her knees and rubbed her face against it. Her tongue poked out from between her lips and ran along the underside of your cock, “A real cock,” Karina moans, dragging her tongue along it again before wrapping her lips around the tip. The slippery warmth of her mouth makes you groan; adding to your pleasure was the sensation of her tongue running back and forth over the tip. Karina placed her hands on your thigh as she pushed herself down on your cock, reaching the base. Karina’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she slobbers over your cock, her low groans flowing as she facefucks herself. You place your hand on the back of her head, forcing your cock down her throat. You feel it flex around your shaft, tightening around you.

You push Karina away from you, knowing you are getting close to cumming. Her mouth is stained with saliva; her eyes are teary. You catch her rubbing her cunt through her swimsuit. While you had pushed Karina’s mouth away, you hadn’t stopped her hands. They gripped your cock tightly, running along your shaft and stroking you. Your cock began to throb in her hands, and your strength left you. Karina pushed her way back to your cock, wrapping her lips around the tip and lapping at your cock. You lay back on the bed, trying to last a little longer, but it was useless. Karina’s muffled moans are all you can hear as she drinks your cum, placing her tongue at the tip and milking your cock by jerking you off. You look at her, watching as she revels in the taste of the salty liquid.

Karina jumps on you a moment later, “I need more,” She mumbles as she grabs your cock, and points it to her cunt. She moves the bottom of her swimsuit to the side with her other hand. A moment later, Karina sinks onto your cock, filling herself. Karina squats over you, bouncing on your cock with enthusiasm. She bends over, running her tongue along your nipple. “I want your cum. I want you to put a baby in me.” She repeats with every bounce. Karina works the muscles, tightening her cunt around your cock. Her slippery walls had coated you in her nectar and made sliding further inside easier. The pleasure was overloading you, and you could barely move as Karina had her way with you.

Your body clapped as she pressed her weight against you. “Karina, I’m going to cum,” You groan.

“That’s okay. I want you to fill my needy pussy with your cum.” She whispered into your ear as she impaled herself on you. Your cock was beginning to throb inside her. Karina felt it and moved quickly, slamming herself onto you. “I’m so close. I’m so close.” She said, her saliva dripping onto you. As you near your climax, you watch her bouncing tits; they are hypnotizing. You reach out for one, cupping it and giving it a soft squeeze. “OH fuck!” Karina shouts dropping herself onto your cock. Her walls clamp down on your cock and force your climax. Karina remains seated on your cock as a torrent of your baby batter rushes into her fertile womb. Karina grinds against you as you calm down from your climax. You get into a seated position and run your hands along Karina’s back, unzipping her one-piece. She follows your lead, pulling her swimsuit off her body. Karina’s heavy tits swing as she forces the top half off her body. “I want more,” she groans, rubbing her clit. “I’m not pregnant yet.”

You roll Karina onto her back and pull off her one-piece, leaving her completely naked. You spread Karina’s legs and rub your cock along her slit. You remember the videos and find Karina’s swollen clit and flick it. She throws her head back and roars. The sensation made her toes curl, but it didn’t end there. You pushed your cock inside her cunt, slipping inside with ease. Karina holds onto the bedsheets as you begin thrusts. “Shit, fuck me,” Karina says through gritted teeth as you play with her body. You reach over with your other hand and pull on the hard nub of her left tit. Karina cries out in pleasure. Her sensitive nipples were being toyed with now, and she loved it. She wrapped her legs around your waist, using her feet to push you in deeper. Playing with her tits and clit was having its effect on Karina; she began to babble as you have your way with her. You lean over Karina, attaching yourself to her other nipple. You bite down on it and pull back, stretching her flesh and making her roar.

You feel her walls tightening around you, her nails digging into your skin and scratching your back, marking you. “Cum,” Karina whines, struggling to get another word out as you drive your cock against her womb. Each thrust drags some of your cum out of her, and it pools around her.

“I’m going to cum too.” You moan as your cock begins to throb inside Karina.

She feels it and pulls you in close. “Cum inside me, give me a baby!” She whines. You continue to slam against her pussy, her walls gripping you, trying to keep you inside. Every movement pushes you and Karina closer to cumming. You shut Karina up with a kiss and roughly squeeze her tit as you bury yourself inside and dump another load of your semen inside her. You feel her body shake as she goes through another orgasm, and her mind goes blank. You give her a few soft thrusts, enjoying the way her cunt gripped you before pulling out. Cum leaked out from her, dripping onto the bed.

“Congratulations, pregnancy secured.” The robotic voice blares through the room’s speakers. “Candidate, please proceed into the next room,” it follows. You grab your clothes and move to the next room, your eyes watching Karina before the door separates you. “Thank you for your participation in creating the next generation. A nurse will be with you soon.” The voice said. You didn’t know whether to put on your clothes, but before you could start, another door opened, and a nurse walked through it.

“Allow me to clean you up, sir.” She says before kneeling before you. You read the nametag on her as she wraps her lips around your cock and begins to clean you up.

“Thank you…Taeyeon.” You groan; her deft tongue slithers along the underside of your cock, before moving along the sides. She slowly pulls back, kissing the tip before inspecting her work. She glances up at you and smiles, opening her mouth to show you all the cum she collected before swallowing.

Taeyeon slowly rises to her feet. “You’re free to leave now, sir. Should something happen to your partner’s baby, you will receive a call so you can impregnate her again.” She says before leaving the room. You get yourself dressed and leave the clinic, hoping you get to return in the future.

Taeyeon was right about the serum's side effects. Karina could hardly control herself after the breeding was done. She was kept in a secluded room on a fuck machine. Bound with some chains, Karina was given orgasm after orgasm. The toy pumped her full of fake cum at certain intervals, helping satisfy that need. Her belly was bloated, and cum flowed out of her with every thrust, but she still wanted more.

Once the serum wore off, Karina returned to her usual self and was given a tape of the experience to watch if desired. She couldn’t help herself and watched it that night. Seeing herself be nothing more than a beast in heat turned her on. She rubbed her lips, masturbating as she watched her time in the clinic.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #karina smut #aespa smut

1K notes · View notes

leyavo · 2 months ago

Text

Hacker!reader that joined the military as a political prisoner. You were found as part of a freedom fighter movement, forced to use your skills for a small military operation in exchange for prison or worse sent back to your strict cult family.

You now work as a hybrid technician in the field, still got a very short leash though. - tracker injected into the back of your arm. Maybe one day you’ll earn that freedom you desperately seek.

Freedom, is something you’ve fought for years. Escaped the cult you grew up in using technology. Nothing but a busted up phone and a concussed group leader, the type of grit and determination Captain Price likes when he reads your file. Slipped into databases and breached security systems like you’ve built them yourself. All in the name of bringing down shady operations and war criminals just like John Price.

He’s a lesser evil though if you want to help the greater good.

Taught to obey the same hand you were trying to break, the system you were trying to destroy. And your superiors all knew that, even gave you special treatment (not that type though). You’re more of a feral dog, a stray tied up to a lamp post and made to beg for scraps.

That’s how you get your call-sign, Lucky. Some sick, twisted joke of how your superiors liked to remind how fortunate you were. “Lucky, you’re still breathing…” when you’re in fact on the floor, your blood dripping on the training mat as a lieutenant looms over you. “Lucky I ain’t knocking you out.”

“Should think yourself lucky, I’d rather you rot away in a cell.” - everyone telling you to be thankful, to kiss the hand that trapped you. To play the good little soldier and be rewarded with a decent meal, a bed or a moment of silence without someone breathing down your neck.

The task force 141 changes that though, your handler pissed at how they can go above him and request your presence without him. Doesn’t stop him from controlling the situation. How your hands are cuffed to the bar on top of the table, left to wait five hours till John Price enters the interrogation room. A thick file thudding in front you, yours.

“This just might be your lucky day,” John says, flicking your file open and jabbing your mugshot clipped to the first page.

Gone is the handler whose boot presses on the back of your neck, the one to keep you down. You’re thrusted into the base with buzzing computers, whirring drones and you can’t help but lean into the hum of machines lining the task force’s room.

No, you’re new handlers a ghost. A silent observer that watches you from afar and gives you space to work. Lieutenant Riley, you don’t know if he cares about you really. Like it’s all part of the job working with the enemy. Doesn’t speak to you much, only barking orders out in the field or when he requests some research, intel.

The only one you can stand is sergeant Garrick, some sort of moral compass and voice of reason within the team. Someone you learnt to stay on side with as he’d probably be the only one questioning your wellbeing. Johnny Mactavish or Soap as they call him, too brash…the type your mother would wash their mouth out, make them hold the bar of soap until they stop speaking with such disgusting tongue. He gets the job done though, pulled you out by the scruff of your top a few times whilst bullets were flying.

Captain Price though, he’s oddly fair and you convince yourself it’s his way of manipulating you to do what you’re told. Not used to scheduled check-ins on your work or the good job he throws your way when you do what’s asked of you. In the back of your mind though you remind yourself what these people really are…

[Masterlist]

284 notes · View notes

pome-seed · 2 months ago

Text

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 11

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Defeated and knowing the end is near, you do what you can to say goodbye to the Soldier. Regretfully, you soon find out that death isn't so soon to come.

Warnings: Captivity, Canon-typical violence. Heavy violence. Torture. Electroshock. Blood. Mention of starvation. Guns, weapons, fighting. Intimate sadness between reader and Bucky. Please skip the middle of this chapter if its too much.

Authors Note: Hi guys! This chapter is quick, but very dark. Please be warned. The middle of the chapter is descriptions of violence. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Song Rec: Desperate Decision by Aleksey Chistilin

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

You knew your time was up.

You did what you could; you gave him his last injections, then took a wrench to the giant machine the Soldier never left. He was shocked when you first started tossing shit around, maybe even enjoyed it.

“They're using trigger words,” you told him, smashing the wrench into a big box on the side of the seat. “And using electro pulses in the brain.” You grunted, yanking at all the wires you could.

“Plug your ears, do what you can to not hear those words, okay?” You panted, throwing metal scraps aside. “The control panel- and I think probably a device your handler keeps on him- they control the pulses in your brain.”

You stumbled over a stray cord and caught yourself on the bench where his metal arm was trapped. You rested your hand on the cold steel. “Break what you can, okay? Just- remember this. Remember that it’s all a lie.” You panted, your stomach twitching and twisting. You brushed your cheek against your shoulder, wincing as the bruised tissue in your face met your shirt.

“Remember that they are all lying to you- You're not safe, and you need to get out. You're a person, okay? You were something before this.” You whispered. "Remember that."

He watched you, his brows tilted up, a crease knitted between them. You reached out and brushed your thumb between them, smoothing the wrinkle. “They’re going to make you kill more innocent people. Please, please fight.”

You tucked a few stray locks of dark hair behind his ears. “I should have cut your hair again.” You said, the lingering thought spilling out. There’s so many things you wanted to do. So much left undone. “But it's okay, long hair suits you.” You smiled bitterly.

“Why are you-” He paused, the muscles in his jaw tensing. “Why are you accepting this so easily?” He stared at you in bewilderment, the terrified rabbit of a person, who was accepting their own looming death with a smile.

He watched you with this tragic look, all too real and too tender. But he was helpless. He couldn't save you. Not like this. Not yet.

“Because there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.” You traced your fingers over his hairline. “I can bite and kick and scream, but they have guns. They have torture.” You swallowed heavily. “They have you.” You pressed your lips together, bittersweet as you met his gaze. “I don’t have any other option but to accept it.”

He shook his head, your fingers brushing his temple. You didn’t know when you had gotten so comfortable with touching him.

Maybe it was because you were scared, and you were dying, and that he was the only constant thing in your life. Maybe it was because he was the only thing around you that you weren't scared of, and you missed the softness of affection. Maybe it was because you were terrified to die, and all you wanted was to hug your family.

His lips parted, words on the tip of his tongue.

The door behind you slammed open.

“Oh god-” you tried to hide the tremble of your hands as you dropped them from his face.

Footsteps stomped behind you.

You grabbed the wrench and slammed it harder into the metal power box on the side of the chair, again and again, fragments and sparks flying, until pairs of hands yanked you away. You yelped, the wrench falling from your hands. Your feet kicked out, but hands wrapped around your ankles.

“Fuck you!” you shouted, tears burning behind your eyes. “Fuck all of you!”

You cried out as someone kneed you in the side. Your body hit the ground, the hands around your arms dragging you back towards the door. “Remember what I said-” you shouted, your blurry gaze set on the furious form in the chair. “Remember what I said-” you begged.

Just before the doors slammed shut, you caught a glimpse of those sad blue eyes.

“You want to know how we did it? You’ll get what you want. We’ll show you.”

The terror you felt prior was nothing compared to the weight those words hit you with.

Weeks passed. Weeks.

In darkness.

When younger, you always thought you would die of old age, or from a sickness passed down in your family. Then, when you were taken, you assumed it would be one swift bullet to the brain. You weren't useful enough for any extra trouble. That’s what you thought.

Turns out, you were wrong.

And they took their time with you.

They started with sensory deprivation. You spent days in solitude. Absolute silence, darkness swallowing up your every sense. You were strapped down, immobile. You were gagged and bound, attached to wires and starved.

For the first few days you were fully aware of yourself. You spent your time shaking and terrified, counting the seconds like you’d grown so used to. But as the days passed, you started to lose yourself. You stopped being able to tell the waking world from the one inside your head. You barely ever realized when your eyes were open or closed.

Then things changed.

Then came the pain. It started with holding your head underwater until you slipped under the veil of unconsciousness, then yanking you out and shocking you to life.

You were stripped of your clothes- stripped of your dignity. You were freezing, the ice cold water sticking to your bare skin. You felt humiliated, you felt like a thing rather than a person.

That was the whole intention, you imagined.

They wanted to break you.

And they did.

As the weeks passed, you lost yourself in the long bouts of strenuous torture.

They repositioned you days ago, switching your chair for a pair of cuffs and some chains.

Chains rattled above your head. Cold air bit at your naked skin. Blisters dripped blood down your forearms from where the cuffs rubbed your wrists raw.

Shivers wracked your body, making it hard to keep still. You tried and failed to balance on the tips of your toes as they scraped the ground. You slipped on the curdled blood that stained the cold floor.

You blinked slowly, your body sagging. You battled between keeping your eyes open, staying on guard, and succumbing to the warm embrace of sleep.

Voices floated around you, lights blinking on and off. Your head hung low, chin tucked to your chest. You couldn’t move, your muscles feeling shriveled and weak. You heard a man counting. Your heart picked up in your chest.

Saliva pooled in your mouth around the rubber mouthpiece shoved between your teeth. Trembles wracked your body, fear surging through your veins.

Click.

Switch.

Electricity surged through your body, your nerves feeling sliced open and frayed. A shrill, animalistic scream ripped from your throat, echoing in the large lab. Your whole body locked up, the tissues of your muscles rippling in agony.

Your eyes rolled back in your head. You couldn’t hear anything except the buzzing in your ears and the hum of electricity. You wanted to cry and beg for relief. You wanted to admit defeat.

You wanted nothing more than to go home.

In an instant the flow of electricity flipped off. Your body went lax, trembling and twitching. You huffed like a sick dog, sucking air in through your locked jaw.

They gave you sixty seconds to breathe, as they always did.

Click.

Switch.

Agonized wails tore from your throat.

And it repeated like that.

Again.

And again.

You didn’t hear it.

The first sounds of death. You weren't aware of anything but the rippling pain in your body. But the men around you noticed. They were scrambling, frantic as they shut down their computers and ran for nearby weapons.

Gunshots sounded outside the lab.

Grown men cried out, shouting and screaming.

The doors to the lab blew open. Metal grinded against metal. A small metal ball rolled into the room, knocked against a control panel, then rolled to the side.

Then, boom.

Gas erupted from the small ball as shrapnel rained down around it. Gunfire showered the room as a large body emerged from the broken doorway. He moved like a shadow through the fog, sparks of light following gunfire. Bodies dropped, one after another, their screams of terror cut short.

You could barely keep your eyes open, your own body still bearing the weight of your last round of electrocution. You couldn’t feel anything anymore. You couldn’t even feel the necessary fear as you heard heavy bootsteps draw closer.

The gunfire had ceased.

Everyone was dead.

You saw the tips of black boots.

A single gunshot went off, your chains fracturing.

Your body went crashing down, limp. A cold metal weight wrapped around your waist and hiked you up. You blinked, your gaze cloudy and confused. Warm fingers gently gripped your jaw, massaging the hinge for a moment. Your jaw loosened slightly, the shock of the electricity wearing. He pinched your chin and slowly worked the rubber mouthpiece from between your teeth. A string of saliva connected from your lips to his fingers. He wiped his thumb over the corner of your mouth, then tossed the rubber to the side.

You were weightless in his arms, tossed over his shoulder. Your bound hands hung low, swaying with every step the man took.

A heavy metal hand held firm against your backside, keeping your steady. Your face pressed against his lower back, cold leather meeting your cold skin. You knew you should fight. You knew you should struggle and cry and kick, but you just couldn’t. All of the fight you had left was beaten out of you a long time ago.

It took all you had not to black out then and there. And with just that, you failed.

You thought you were blinking, because that's all it felt like. But every time you opened your eyes, things were very different.

At first it was quiet, just boots on concrete, walking through dark halls. Then there were sparks raining down on you, lights shot out from soldiers charging down the hall. Then you were being set down, body slumped against the floor. Blood spattered on the walls, knives pierced flesh.

Then you were being scooped back up, tossed over a broad, thick shoulder.

Then, you felt the kiss of sunlight against your skin for the first time in months.

It was so warm, and so bright, you thought you were dying. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your face into the man's lower back.

You thought you would revel in it, turn your face up and gasp the fresh air greedily. But in all reality, it was just too intense.

It was so bright it made your eyes throb in your skull. The fresh air on your naked skin made goosebumps travel down your back.

You took two deep breaths before everything went black again.

A/N: Forgive me :D I'm very sorry for the angst. But hey, the next chapter will be something very different! Please enjoy, comment, and be kind!

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05 @cupids-mf-arrow

235 notes · View notes

bellaxgiornata · 2 months ago

Text

Life Worth Living |Chapter One|

Pairing: Matt x mutant!fem!Reader Word count: 6.7k [Series Masterlist] [Matt Murdock Masterlist]

tags/warnings: 18+; dark themes/content, canon typical violence, emotional hurt/comfort, PTSD, smut, plot twists, fluff and angst, torture, mentions of sexual abuse, canon divergence, Reader has a fake name & is Matt's neighbor

Summary: All you'd ever wanted was your freedom–a chance at a "normal" life. Under the simple guise of Olivia Allen, you move to Hell's Kitchen in New York in an attempt to escape your past, but your past can't stay buried when your powerful and dangerous ex finds you. Forced to come to terms with who you are in order to protect the life you've built, you eventually learn there's secrets about yourself that you never even knew...

a/n: Some of you may recognize this as an old Matt x OFC fic I wrote a few years ago that's been on hiatus forever because I don't write OCs anymore. I'm completely overhauling this series and rewriting it now (I ripped out a few things and added over 1k to just this part). There's things I disliked about the original and I'd been contemplating back and forth on rewriting the series with a Reader, so now I'm undertaking the project since a vast majority on a poll I posted were interested. The original already stood at 240k, so there's a lot of content I'm polishing/rewriting. As always, feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @kmc1989

Multiple leather straps were buckled over your wrists, ankles, and neck, the thick cordage keeping you secured to the reclined leather chair. Eyes darting around the familiar sterile room, the straps pressed against your skin, gripping tight like strong hands. There was a faint tremble running through your body in anticipation of what was about to happen as Doctor Barlowe finished placing the final electrode to your forehead. Focusing back on her, you desperately attempted to catch her eyes behind those thick, black glasses she always wore.

“Please,” you begged softly. “I don’t like this one. Please don’t make me do it again.”

Her hands paused for just a moment, fingers lingering against your skin. Her eyes shifted from where her hands had paused along your temple to your face, an unreadable expression on her own.

“Please,” you tried again. “I’ll–I’ll try any of the other tests, I swear. Just not this again. It…it hurts.”

“Now, now, hush 647,” Doctor Whitlock’s harsh voice echoed through the room.

The door closed with a solid bang behind him as he entered the testing room. Seconds later, he appeared just beside the place where your legs were strapped down to the chair. His expression was serious and stoic like always, not the slightest hint of sympathy anywhere on him.

“You know why we do this,” he told you.

Swallowing hard, the usual anticipatory fear began to swirl in your stomach as Doctor Barlowe took her place at the nearby machine. Turning your head against your chair, you saw a metal cart with a surgical tray placed on top. You recognized the two syringes filled with a familiar vibrant orange liquid laying in the tray, your eyes now fixated on them. Uselessly, you tugged at your restraints.

“647, let’s not make this more difficult than necessary, hmm?” Doctor Whitlock hummed. “You know what you have to do if you don’t like the pain.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the ID tag on his white lab coat obscured at the gesture. His eyes focused on Doctor Barlowe from where she sat at the machine beside you. “Administer the first dose of MGA.”

The younger doctor lifted one of the syringes and slid her chair across the tiled floor, coming to a stop beside you. Eyes snapping shut, you felt the sting of the needle in your forearm as she injected the first dose. Shortly after, the telltale burning raced its way up your right arm, igniting like wildfire in your veins. Your eyes clamped shut even tighter as your head slammed back onto the leather of the chair, a pained whine escaping your lips.

“Why don’t we increase the voltage a bit this time?” Doctor Whitlock mused aloud to Doctor Barlowe. “Maybe that will be the bit of motivation it needs.”

“No,” you pleaded between gritted teeth. “Please.”

“You can end the pain yourself, 647,” Whitlock answered. “If you don’t want to feel the shocks, stop them. Use your mind.” There was a pause before the sound of footsteps approached the other side of you, then Whitlock’s voice issued the order. “Begin, Barlowe.”

Sharp, burning pain immediately jolted your brain, your body abruptly tensing at the shock as the electricity coursed through you. Arms and legs straining against your restraints, the leather bit sharply into your skin. As your back arched involuntarily off the chair, your airflow briefly halted as the restraint around your neck bit so deep into your throat that the passageway momentarily closed. For a moment, you hoped you'd pass out just to have an escape.

But then a few seconds later–though it felt far longer–the pain disappeared and your body momentarily slackened in the reclined chair. Tears were stinging behind your closed eyelids as a light sheen of sweat began forming across your body. Breathing heavier, your veins still feeling as if they were on fire, your head weakly rolled to the side.

“Hmm,” Whitlock hummed thoughtfully, eyeing the monitor beside Barlowe. “It is showing more brain activity with the increased voltage this time.”

“There’s definitely a noticeable increase from the last time,” Barlowe agreed.

“Please, stop,” you whimpered. Eyelids fluttering open, you glimpsed Whitlock rubbing his chin in thought, his focus still on the monitor. You knew it was useless to beg because they never listened to you, but that didn’t stop you from trying. “No more,” you choked out. “Hurts.”

“Try again,” Whitlock ordered, disregarding you. “Increase the voltage.”

When another rush of electricity went racing through the electrodes on your forehead, a scream shot out of you before your body seized up at the pain. Your mouth clamped shut as bright white flooded your vision behind your closed eyelids. The pain was so strong, so pervasive, that you couldn’t think or feel anything else.

Eventually, the shock dissipated and a ringing filled your ears in the absence of the pain. Disoriented and worn, it took a moment for you to make out what the voice beside you was saying.

“It’s bleeding, sir,” Barlowe pointed out.

“Just bit its lip, it’s nothing serious,” Whitlock replied simply, his voice cutting through the ringing in your ears. “Though I suppose you should get the gag again, we don’t want it to bite its tongue off next.”

There was a rustle of movement in the room as you lay strapped to the chair, your body exhausted from the electrical shocks. Tears were freely rolling down your cheeks as you stared up at the white ceiling with its blinding bright lights above. Barlowe’s face came back into view, the clear mouthpiece they often shoved into your mouth when the electrical shocks had first begun now in her hand. Eyes widening, you sent her a pleading look, attempting to shake your head, but she kept her attention focused on the lower half of your face. Her gloved fingers roughly wrenched open your mouth before she forced the uncomfortable plastic inside. Choking back a sob awkwardly around the contraption, the hard edges cut into your gums.

“Let’s continue, shall we?” Whitlock said.

The electrical shock once more shot through your body before you seized on the leather chair, a strangled noise flying from your throat.

A scream escaped from your mouth before you bolted upright in bed, chest heaving as your breath came in hard. Momentarily confused and panicked, it took your brain a few moments to recognize that you were laying in your bedroom and not the testing room that often plagued your nightmares. A light sheen of cold sweat covered your body as you lay tangled up in the dark gray sheets of your bed.

It was only a dream–a memory.

“I’m in Hell’s Kitchen,” you murmured to myself. “Not The Facility. I’m home. I’m safe.” Closing your eyes tight, you drew your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms tightly around them. “They can’t hurt me. Just a dream. Wasn’t real.”

Trying to focus your attention on your breathing, you inhaled slowly and held the breath. You counted to five before exhaling it out long and slow. Repeating the process, you continued for a few minutes until your breaths gradually became more even and controlled. Slowly, you felt your body begin to relax back into a calm state. When you opened your eyes again, wiping a hand over your sweat-dampened forehead, you began to disentangle your legs from how they’d twisted into your sheets while you’d been thrashing in your sleep.

Reaching over to your nightstand, you grabbed your phone. The screen lit up in the darkened bedroom, causing you to squint your eyes while they took a moment to adjust. It was only 5:37 in the morning–still early. Setting your phone back onto the nightstand, you rubbed the heels of your hands roughly against your eyes. You’d calmed down from that dream, but you were certainly too wound up for sleep now. With a huff, you threw the sheets off of yourself and swung your legs over the side of the bed. Raising your arms up over your head, you felt the pull of muscles as you stretched before making your way to your dresser. Opening the middle left drawer, you dug around for a sports bra and a pair of leggings.

Beginning to change, you removed the loose tank top that you’d been sleeping in over your head before slipping on the sports bra. Swapping your sweatpants for black leggings, you tugged them on before crossing the room to your closet and pulling the door open. Eyes landing on the navy track jacket hanging there, you pulled it out and tossed it on. Afterwards, you headed back to your nightstand and grabbed your phone before sliding it into the pocket of your leggings. You grabbed your earbuds next before heading out of your bedroom and down the short hallway outside of it.

The living room of your new apartment was still covered in shadows cast from the lights just outside of the large loft windows. Outside, the sun still hadn't risen quite yet, leaving the city dark and quiet–or as quiet as it could be for Hell’s Kitchen. Pausing by one of the large windows, you took a moment to enjoy the beautiful view of the city that you had from up on the sixth floor. This place hadn’t been cheap to rent, but it was worth it for that view while you worked–a vast difference from your life spent nowhere near a window.

But that’s not what you wanted to think about.

Sliding the earbuds into your ears, you turned and walked over to the entryway hall, stopping to lean against the wall before tugging on your running shoes. Before stepping out of your apartment, you grabbed your keys from the console table near the front door. Taking a moment, you locked the door behind yourself as your mind focused on only one thing.

You knew what you needed right now–an escape. Something to clear your head and refocus yourself. To keep your mind level for the day. As you headed down the end of the hall and pushed the call button for the elevator, you knew that a quick jog would do exactly that.

While you waited for the elevator to reach your floor, you pulled your phone back out and spent a moment looking for something to listen to during your run–something to distract yourself from your thoughts. A minute later, the elevator doors opened and you stepped inside, pushing the button for the lobby before slipping your phone back into the pocket of your leggings. Music began to play through your earbuds, but as the elevator lurched downwards, the jarring movement somehow caused your dream to resurface. Wincing, you raised a hand to rub at your temple as the memory of those shocks returned.

“If you don’t like the pain, 647,” Whitlock chided, “use your mind. Make it stop.”

Shaking your head back and forth rapidly, you tried to push the sound of his voice out of it. That was not what you needed right now.

“No,” you muttered to yourself. “No, you’re not here. Go away.”

“You were born for this. This is your purpose,” Whitlock’s cold voice said. “Be good and sit still or we'll get the restraints.”

Your jaw clenched at the memory of his voice, tooth grinding hard against tooth as your nails dug into the palms of your hands. The elevator doors opened with a ding that barely registered around the music playing in your ears as a mixture of emotions welled up inside of you. Stepping out of the elevator and into the lobby of your apartment building, you moved with a determined purpose straight for the exit. The second you were outside and your feet touched the sidewalk, you took off at a run.

Pushing your legs past their limit, you felt them beginning to burn after you'd been running for a while. But you ignored the pain building inside of them, your focus only on your breathing and the music in your ears. Everything else faded out around you–which was exactly what you needed right now. As close to nothingness as your mind could reach.

It wasn’t until it felt like your lungs were on fire inside of your chest that you finally came to a stop. Breathing heavily, you threw your hands up over your head in order to catch your breath while you walked at a brisk pace, your heart racing inside of your chest. You could feel a sharp pain in your left hip with each step, but the pain only served to further ground you in reality.

Just above the multitude of skyscrapers looming over you, the sun began to peak its way up over the city of New York. All the dark shadows of the night gradually were replaced with the beautiful orange glow of the morning light. And with that change from dark to light, you shoved your fears aside and took a right turn, heading back towards your apartment building. You’d need to sit down at your desk and start work in almost an hour, but you wanted a shower before you settled down for the day.

The walk back to your apartment had taken just under fifteen minutes since the traffic had picked up with the rise of the sun. With a clear head, you made your way through the lobby and back to the elevators, grateful when a man exited one and left it empty. Stepping inside, you pushed the button for the sixth floor before leaning against the wall of the elevator, running a hand across your forehead as it began its ascent to the top floor.

Retrieving your phone from the side pocket of your leggings, you turned off the playlist you’d been listening to before taking the earbuds from your ears. You felt better after that run, your mind and body both relaxed and that nightmare mostly forgotten. Which was what you’d needed to keep yourself calm and level today. You didn’t need to get emotional. You didn’t need to give into fear.

You were safe here.

When the elevator doors opened, you pulled your keys from the other pocket of your leggings, focused on your task of getting back to your apartment. Vaguely you were aware of a man knocking on the door across the hall from your place, calling something through the door. Out of politeness when you neared him, you sent him a smile before turning your attention to your own apartment door.

“Hey, you’re the woman who just moved in, right?”

Pausing at the man’s voice as you’d stopped in front of your door, your hand with your keys hovered over the lock. Your mouth twitched as you stood there with your back facing him, not having expected him to acknowledge you.

Normal people make small talk, you reminded yourself.

Letting your hand drop to your side, you plastered a friendly smile onto your face before turning around. The man who’d addressed you was unfamiliar to you, your eyes scanning over his shoulder length blonde hair and the bright, friendly smile on his face. He was dressed in a white shirt with a light blue tie, a gray suit jacket and matching gray slacks. In his hands he held a tray with two coffees and a brown paper bag that you assumed held some sort of breakfast food judging by the smell.

“Yes, just last week,” you answered him.

The man adjusted the bag and the tray of coffee in his hands before he crossed the small distance between you both in the hall. He held his now free hand out towards you, the friendly smile still drawn wide over his mouth. Eyes dropping down at the movement, you eyed his hand warily.

“My name is Franklin, but everyone usually calls me Foggy,” the man said.

He seemed either unaware or unconcerned with your stillness and hesitancy. Clearing your throat, you slowly extended your own hand towards his before giving it a brief shake.

“Olivia,” you replied.

It was a fake name, one you’d chosen for yourself not too long ago. It had seemed simple and you’d liked it–and you’d never had one before it.

Foggy’s smile somehow further widened in response. “Nice to meet you, Olivia,” he greeted warmly. “I was actually just waiting for my friend, Matt–he’s your neighbor. We work together.” He paused for a moment, straightening up as he readjusted his hold on the food and coffee in his hands. “We just started up our own law office, actually.”

Head tilting curiously to the side, you raised a brow as you silently studied him. He seemed genuinely friendly, albeit very eager to connect with you. You weren’t entirely sure why. From your experience, most people in the city weren’t this forthright. But before you could respond, the apartment door behind Foggy opened and drew both of your attention. You spotted the white cane before you caught sight of the man emerging through his apartment door. Your neighbor, you assumed.

“Ah, buddy, there you are!” Foggy exclaimed, turning and making his way back across the hall to his friend. He watched as the man locked his door, shifting the tray of coffee and bag of food in his hands once again. “I was just meeting your new neighbor, Matt,” he told him, his warm gaze returning to you across the hall.

Your neighbor’s head turned in your direction, the red glasses covering his eyes glinting in the overhead lights at the movement. For the briefest moment, his expression was entirely unreadable at his friend’s comment, but then a slow, friendly smile spread over his lips.

Something strange happened in that moment as he smiled at you. You felt an odd, soft vibration pass over your skin–as if you could feel him looking at you. Breath catching, the hair on the back of your neck slowly rose as a small shiver tickled its way up your spine. His smile briefly faltered before he recovered, your sharp eyes catching the minute movement.

“Were you now, Foggy?” your neighbor asked. That smile remained on his face, though it seemed slightly altered now. “I haven’t had the pleasure yet.”

You stiffened when the man took a few steps in your direction, his cane lightly tapping along the floor. What he’d said was true, you hadn’t met him yet despite having been living across the hall from him for a week already. Though you had heard some loud banging late at night coming from his apartment on occasion, you'd yet to actually cross paths with him.

“I’m Matthew,” he said, stopping just before you and extending his hand in your direction. “But you can call me Matt.”

Eyes trailing down his face, you found yourself distracted by how attractive he was, your gaze scanning what wasn’t hidden by his dark glasses. Gradually, your eyes lowered, taking in the sight of his broad shoulders and the muscles of his arms and chest that were noticeable even under his black suit coat. Eventually your eyes dropped down to his awaiting hand.

Swallowing thickly, still aware of that strange tingling along your skin, you extended your own and wrapped it around his. His hand was warm and calloused as he gently shook yours, the sensation causing something odd to stir in your chest at the contact. You’d never felt that before.

“I’m Olivia,” you offered softly, still confused by him.

“Well, Olivia,” Matt said, a small grin tugging at his lips as he released your hand, “it’s a shame it took us so long to meet.”

Behind Matt, you caught the way Foggy rolled his eyes at his friend. “Can you not charm every beautiful woman you meet? Just once?”

You felt your cheeks heat at the implication in Foggy’s words, your attention shifting back to Matt as he chuckled. He looked over his shoulder at his friend, that grin still on his mouth.

“I do not charm them all,” Matt disagreed.

“You do and it’s weird, man,” Foggy countered. He looked past Matt, focusing on you with a conspiratorial look as he cupped his hand still holding the bag of food awkwardly around his mouth before he whispered, “It’s like his super power.”

“Flirting with beautiful women?” you questioned in confusion.

Matt laughed loudly in response, the warm sound filling the hallway. Foggy rolled his eyes, a smile returning to his face as he lowered his hand back to his side.

“No,” Foggy answered. “Knowing that a woman is beautiful is his superpower. He always somehow knows.”

You shrugged in response, finding these two men to be more enjoyable company than you’d first anticipated. “I wouldn’t exactly consider that a superpower. Seems a little useless.”

Foggy’s eyes lit up with curiosity immediately, a look of interest washing over him. “What would you consider the most useful one then? Because I personally think–”

“Fog, we should probably let Olivia go,” Matt said, cutting his friend off.

Foggy’s face fell, his shoulders dropping a bit. A sympathetic smile spread over your face in return. You were surprised to admit it, but you found yourself a bit disappointed that they needed to go. But unfortunately, so did you.

“I do need to actually get ready for work myself,” you agreed.

“Right, I’m sorry,” Foggy said, gesturing to your workout clothes. “You just finished a workout, you probably want to have a chance to shower without being late.”

“Well,” you admitted, “I work from home so I doubt I’d be late. But yes, I would like to grab a shower first.”

“Either way, we shouldn’t keep you,” Matt said, a charming smile on his lips.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you smiled at them as the three of you exchanged goodbyes. While they headed down the hall towards the elevator, you turned around and unlocked your apartment, finding yourself missing the interaction already. It wasn’t often that you had an opportunity to connect with others.

By the time you’d gotten back into your apartment, you had a half an hour to quickly shower and dress before you needed to be logged onto your computer. Getting ready in a rush, you moved as if on auto-pilot, though your mind kept wandering back to those two men you’d just met. More specifically, your mind kept returning to your curious neighbor who quite literally made your skin tingle. You’d never before met someone who could do that before and you didn’t know what to make of it.

Once out of the shower and dressed, you headed back to your living room and over to your desk that was situated between two of the large windows. Your computer and dual monitors sat atop the oak desk, the surface of it featuring a herringbone pattern you’d been drawn to when you’d first seen it. Beside both monitors sat a pothos plant and a few potted succulents–because you'd developed a fondness for plants.

Reaching your hand out, you turned on your computer before setting your phone down on top of your desk. You still had a few minutes before you needed to be at work, which meant your run hadn’t made you late today. Settling into your computer chair, you began to pull up a handful of programs, logging into them and letting them start. But as you did, you could feel the exhaustion in your body from waking so early and your eyes shifted towards your kitchen. With a sigh, you pushed yourself out of your chair, deciding you’d make yourself a coffee before really starting the day.

Absently you set to work in your kitchen, grinding the appropriate amount of fresh beans into the portafilter before tamping the grounds down while your espresso machine heated. Then you slid the portafilter onto the machine and reached up onto one of the open shelves above you, grabbing down a mug to set underneath it. A double shot of fresh espresso began to pour out, the comforting aroma filling your apartment.

As you waited for the espresso to finish, you headed back into the living room and picked up the television remote from your coffee table. Switching on the television mounted along the wall, you settled on the news. There was a fluff piece currently on, discussing a new local business that had opened up today. Increasing the volume, you turned and stepped back into the kitchen and began to finish making your morning latte.

A few minutes later, with your morning caffeine dose in hand, you were ready to focus on work. You walked back over to your computer chair and set your mug onto a coaster before making yourself comfortable. Pulling up the first email of the day, you began to skim through it, responding to a co-worker of yours before moving onto the next email. As you worked, you listened to the background noise of the news until a particular story caught your attention.

“Breaking news on last night’s murder in Hell’s Kitchen,” the reporter on the television said as the news segment changed. “The woman responsible is now in police custody. Hope Shlottman is currently under investigation for two counts of murder–both of them her very own parents. The young athlete shot them both dead in an elevator last night, and despite video surveillance, she is still claiming to not be responsible for their deaths. Her defense? She says that a man told her to kill them.”

Tensing at the reporter’s words, your head slowly turned towards the television still playing across the room. There was a video of a young blonde woman being dragged out of an apartment building in handcuffs, blood covering the front of her. She was crying, her face red and splotchy with a twisted expression of genuine grief drawn over it. She kept repeating over and over: “It wasn’t me! He told me to do it!”

A cold chill ran down your spine as you sat there staring at the screen. The hairs along your arms rose, a prickle of fear running through you. Breath coming in a little sharper, you glanced around your apartment, eyes sweeping around the entirety of the space. There was no one else here, though. You were alone.

Coincidence, that’s all, you told yourself.

Rising from your desk, you made your way back over to your coffee table and snatched the remote from off of it. With a hard press to the power button, you turned the television off, your apartment falling silent once more. Pausing for another moment, you looked around your living room and kitchen, both bathed in the soft glow of morning light.

No one else was here.

Walking three blocks while carrying six full bags of groceries by yourself wasn’t easy, but that’s what happened when you spent the past week putting off doing any real grocery shopping. You’d only grabbed a few things for quick meals, choosing to order takeout most nights instead of cooking. But after work, you’d gone for yet another run to ease that feeling twisting in your stomach, and on your way back home you’d decided to stop to grab groceries.

Now, you found yourself struggling to navigate your way into the elevator with three large and very full grocery bags in each of your hands. Pushing the button for the sixth floor with your pinky finger, you willed the doors to hurry up and close. The plastic bags were threatening to cut off the circulation to your hands at this point.

Almost there, almost there.

Huffing a relieved sigh when the elevator reached the sixth floor, you groaned a second later when the doors felt like they were opening slower than normal. But as soon as you stepped out of the elevator, you paused. At the end of the hall was the blonde lawyer you’d met just this morning–Foggy, if you recalled correctly–and a pretty young blonde woman in a dress standing beside him. They were banging against Matt’s door and laughing loudly, and it was clear that the pair of them were obviously drunk. With a resigned sigh, you knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid them, so you set off down the hall towards your apartment.

“Come on, Matt!” Foggy shouted, slamming his hand against the door.

The young woman loudly shushed Foggy between giggles, resting a hand lightly against his shoulder. Smiling wide, Foggy reached out a hand in return to her as he stepped back, waving at the apartment door.

“You try,” Foggy slurred to the woman. “Maybe he’ll listen to the pretty girl.” He leaned towards her and attempted to whisper, “Pretend I’m not here.”

Your brow quirked as you neared the pair of them. He'd just been banging on the door, there was no way she could pretend he wasn’t there. Unable to stop yourself, a small, amused smile slipped onto your lips as you neared your apartment door across from them.

“Matt,” the young woman called out, her voice cracking a little at the pitch as she leaned her weight against the door. “It’s Karen,” she continued, voice slurring. “And I’m very, very sorry about this. If I were you, I would not come to this door.” She paused, glancing at Foggy and giggling before she continued. “But I think I also drank the eel.”

Clearly forgetting the part about wanting to pretend he wasn’t present, Foggy began shouting again beside the woman known as Karen, his attention so fixed on the door that he hadn’t noticed you across the hall as you came to a stop in front of your own. Attempting to carefully set all of your grocery bags down so you could pull out your keys, you couldn’t help overhearing the commotion behind you.

“And we are now filled with mighty eel strength,” Foggy shouted, pounding on the door again as Karen broke into yet another fit of giggles. “Matt! Come on! We’re staying out until sunrise!”

A soft gasp came from across the hall just as you managed to slip your key into the lock.

“Oh, no,” Karen breathed out.

As you unlocked your door, you heard Foggy’s distinct voice call out your name.

“Olivia!” he exclaimed.

Eyes widening, you pulled your key from the lock, shifting your head over your shoulder towards the pair. Foggy was already stepping across the hall towards you, roughly clapping you on the shoulder.

“Do you know if Matt is home?” he asked.

A breathy laugh left you before you looked over at the door they’d been yelling at for a few minutes now. “I mean, he’s blind and not deaf right?” you replied. “I’m pretty sure he’d have answered by now if he was home.”

Karen let out a laugh from her place against Matt’s door. “She has a point,” she said, pointing a finger at you.

Foggy’s eyes dropped down to the bags at your feet, his brows furrowing for a moment. Then an overexaggerated look of surprise flew across his face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you were carrying all of those!” Foggy exclaimed.

Without warning, he began quickly scrambling to take the grocery bags from off the ground, lifting them into his own hands. You stood there shocked, but Foggy completely ignored the dumbfounded expression on your face.

“Foggy, you shouldn’t just–” Karen began, but she broke off on a laugh at his overeagerness and didn’t finish her thought.

“Let me help you bring these in,” Foggy said, somehow holding all six bags in his hands as he looked up at you. “It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

Your lip tugged upwards at his words, a hint of a smile ghosting over your mouth. “But you’re not my neighbor,” you pointed out.

Foggy only sloppily waved a hand at your words, your eyes going wide as it looked like one bag was dangerously close to tearing.

“Potato piñata” he answered simply.

Looking over at Karen who had taken a few steps closer, you hesitated and contemplated the offer. They seemed harmless enough, just incredibly sloppy drunk. And it did feel nice to not be carrying six bags.

“Alright, fine,” you relented, turning and opening the door to your place. “I appreciate the help.”

Waving a hand at your opened door, you allowed the pair to enter first. You followed in behind them, closing the door after yourself and tossing your keys onto the console table. Karen and Foggy had already made their way into the kitchen, the pair laughing about something as they disappeared around the corner.

When you finally made your way around the entryway hall, you saw Foggy had already placed the bags he’d brought in onto the kitchen counter. He was pulling items out and curiously scanning them in his hands as Karen leant against the breakfast bar, her chin resting on one of her hands. But when you entered the kitchen and her eyes met yours, she stood tall and held her hand out towards you.

“I’m Karen,” she introduced herself, a friendly smile on her face despite the way her eyes were glazed over from the alcohol. “Suppose that’s important.”

You reached out, accepting her offered hand. “Olivia.”

“They mentioned you this morning,” Karen said as she released your hand.

Stepping over towards the counter where your grocery bags were at, you looked curiously back at her. “Who mentioned me?” you asked.

“Foggy and Matt,” she replied.

Your eyes turned slowly towards Foggy, watching the way he was eyeing a head of cauliflower in extreme interest. His cheeks were pink and you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or embarrassment at what Karen had just told you. Slowly, your gaze traveled back to Karen who was grinning. Leaning against the breakfast bar, mimicking Karen’s relaxed posture, you found yourself unable to resist asking her for more information–you hadn’t forgotten the way your skin had oddly tingled when Matt had ‘looked’ at you earlier. That wasn’t normal.

“And what’d they say about me?” you asked.

She leaned in towards you as she spoke, that smile still on her face. “Apparently Matt thinks you’re sweet. And interesting.”

Feeling your palms beginning to nervously dampen at her words, you absently wiped them against your leggings. You knew that information wasn’t important. You didn’t do relationships. You’d only been in a relationship once and–well, you weren’t going to think about him. But apparently your racing heart and the heat creeping into your cheeks didn’t appear to care about that fact with what Karen was telling you about your handsome neighbor.

“He’s met me for all of five minutes,” you casually pointed out.

You pushed off the counter, focusing on putting away groceries now. Though you couldn’t completely ignore the way something pleasant unfurled in your stomach at her words.

“Well, Matt told us that he’d been trying to find a chance to bump into you in the hall for days now,” Karen continued, her smile growing wider.

Your hand momentarily paused on the fridge door, her words catching you off guard. Opening it, you knelt down and began unloading some fruit from a grocery bag into the fruit drawer. He’d been wanting to meet you for days?

“He said he’d…overheard you screaming a few times at night,” Karen added, her tone abruptly switching to something a little softer. “Said he’d wanted to check on you but that he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You swallowed hard at that information as you placed a bag of apples into the drawer. He’d heard you in here? Crying out in your sleep? That did make you uncomfortable.

“Sounds like he’s paying far too much attention to my apartment,” you commented.

Foggy appeared beside you, cauliflower still in hand. He held it out to you and you took it, placing it in the appropriate drawer before he began handing you more vegetables from a bag on the counter.

“I told you,” Foggy began, his words still partially slurred. “He always knows when there’s a pretty girl. And usually he’s a sucker for the ones with questionable morals,” he told you, “but I think he’s got a bigger soft spot for damsels in distress.”

Snorting at his comment, you glanced up from your position on the floor in front of the fridge. “I am not remotely a damsel in distress,” you replied.

“I don’t know,” Foggy said, his tone already taking on a note of disagreement. “You are a young woman.” He waved his hand at you as if to prove his point. “And he says he’s heard you screaming a few times in the middle of the night–”

“I get nightmares,” you cut in defensively.

Foggy raised his hands in a placating gesture at your words. “I’m just saying, you sounded in distress. Ergo–damsel in distress.”

You let out a quiet, frustrated grunt before getting off of the floor and closing the fridge door. Making your way back to the counter with the grocery bags, you began grabbing more items out and putting them away in the pantry cabinet next.

“Unfortunately for him,” you began, trying to sound disinterested, “I don’t do relationships. Or one night stands. Especially not with…guys like him.”

“What’s that mean?” Foggy asked.

Closing the cabinet door, you turned and focused on him and Karen. They were eyeing you curiously now, both of them wearing serious expressions on their faces despite the alcohol in their systems.

“Flirts,” you answered simply.

A sheepish look crossed Foggy’s face at the word, slowly nodding his head. “Yeah, I’ll admit, Matt is pretty popular with the ladies.”

“Yeah, not my type,” you stated flatly.

Clearing the grocery bags from your counter, you could feel both Karen and Foggy watching you. You expected them to pry further about your dating history, or to question you more about Matt. But you were surprised at what came out instead.

“You want to come out with us tonight?” Karen asked you.

You paused at her question, not having expected it. Meeting her gaze with a raised brow, you stood across the counter from her.

“It’s just, I don’t feel like being alone in my apartment right now,” Karen said, the words practically spewing from her when she saw the look on your face. “And we were planning to stay out until the sun rose. Matt said you just moved to the city this past week, so I’m guessing you don’t know anyone here yet. So,” she paused, catching her breath before asking again, “would you like to come out with us?”

Biting your lip as her invitation hung in the air, you saw the hopeful look Foggy was sending you. It was true, you didn’t know anyone in the city. And having friends would be nice, it was something you didn’t usually get to have. But you also weren't great at relationships–the lack of experience from growing up in The Facility made sure of that.

But it was something you’d always wanted. A normal life. Friends. Maybe someday a normal, healthy, safe relationship. And you’d truthfully been antsy in your apartment all week, unable to really settle. If you stayed in, you’d most likely just go to sleep soon. Probably wake up from another nightmare covered in sweat and spiraling mentally.

…or you could go out with these two seemingly friendly individuals and attempt being “normal” for once.

“Yeah,” you answered slowly. “I’m not doing anything right now.”

Foggy pumped his fist into the air while releasing an excited noise that startled you, causing you to jump on the spot before a light laugh fell out of you. You definitely liked him. Across the kitchen counter, Karen let out an excited gasp, clearly surprised you’d given her that answer.

“Really?” she asked.

You shrugged a shoulder. “Sure, why not,” you replied. “You’re right, I don’t know anyone here. Might be nice to make some friends.”

“Yes!” Foggy exclaimed. “I can absolutely, positively assure you that you will not regret making friends with us.”

Somehow, you had a feeling he was right.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #matt murdock angst #daredevil

237 notes · View notes

luetta · 2 years ago

Text

i saw someone joke about robot girls as an example of kinks that are just impossible to ever be made reality, like they're completely in the land of fiction. but ... that is just not true!

you can set the mood in your room. turn off the lights but put on some little coloured purple and blue blinkers. sit her down on the edge of your bed and sit down behind her. let her eyes flutter closed since there's no reason to keep them upon in this dark, safe room. softly coo into her ears, she's been such a good robot day! doing so many tasks so efficiently! making everyone around her so happy. but, silly her, she overdid it. so you're just going to have to do a tiny bit of repair work. "will that be okay, dear?" of course it will be. she trusts you completely. you're her admin. you created her. of course she has a safeguard preventing just anyone from powering her down, but she lets you override that with no resistance. such a good girl.

press your finger into the back of her neck, and then drag it down her spine. as she powers down, glide her limp body softly onto the bed. put her feet up so she's lying down completely now. maybe hold her limbs up a bit and let them drop. yep, she's powered down now. she's not unconscious, just mental faculties are capped at 10% and body autonomy is disabled. all you have to do now is find where she's sustained some damage. trace your fingers all along her chassis, poking in with a "screwdriver" to take her outer layer off and examine the wires and joints. hmmm... oil is a bit thin. these wires are too close together, could cause sparking and overheating. goodness, your fan is dusty. you've been working so hard, haven't you? gently turn her over onto her stomach now. it's time to investigate her processing unit, her software.

make sure her arms aren't stuck underneath her. once she's all comfy, you can unscrew her entire back panel. make sure to trace your fingers all around her back and spine as you do, robot girls love that shit. the soft human touch is heavenly to a machine of metal and electricity. and such a well designed chassis too, so beautiful. but off it comes, what's underneath is even prettier! oh, even now, it's still hot to the touch. you've been thinking so much today ... you don't need to think anymore though. just let me explore you. read out her event log for the day. algorithmic neural plasticity score. joint lubricant levels. corrupted data percentage. things like that. they're like scores to her. praise her if she's gotten good ones, tease her if she's gotten bad ones.

i could write so much more and maybe i will...like roleplaying injecting a virus into her neck or chest, and feeling the code flow all down her body...your cock can even be the usb!

also, at some point lay your whole body weight onto them - arms over her arms and legs over her legs. to calibrate pressure sensors or something. bc lets face it if she's a robot girl then she is 100% a neurodivergent cutie who'd love that sm <3

#robot gf #oops i wrote a lot #but i'm passionate about this okay #iridescent

3K notes · View notes

icu-fetish · 4 months ago

Text

What happened to me?

This surgical cap is quite comfortable. Cold sensors are attached to my forehead – sticky electrodes pulling thin wires, like a spider web catching my every breath. The hair, damp with sweat, no longer bothers – it has been neatly removed so that the medical devices can work without hindrance. On my chest – other sensors, their smooth edges chilling the skin, and the wires descend to where the heart beats unevenly, as if succumbing to the rhythm of alarming signals. I hear the squeak of the monitors – a quiet, monotonous sound that whispers that my condition is stable… for now.

Sometimes the air becomes thick, as if I am swallowing it with force. My chest tightens, and each breath is a struggle, causing sweat to appear on my temples. I've been pricked with needles – countless times, the sensation of sharp metal under my skin still throbs in my memory. Lidocaine, morphine, something else – I've lost count. But there is no relief, only heat in my veins and trembling in my fingers. The oxygen cannula sits firmly under my nose, its plastic tubes chilling my skin, and the oxygen flows into my lungs – dry, but vital. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe it's my heart giving out? Or my lungs, which betrayed me at the worst moment?

Nurses constantly check my condition, their fingers – quick and cold – glide over my skin, adjusting the sensors, measuring my pulse. Their eyes, hidden behind masks, seem indifferent, but I feel fear gripping my throat. What if I become a medical vegetable – immobile, dependent on these humming machines around me? Will I fall into a coma where everything disappears? Will I be fully connected to the machines – tubes, wires, needles becoming a part of me? I try to push these thoughts away.

Breathing is still difficult – the air seems to get stuck in my chest. I've been fitted with an oxygen mask – its plastic fits tightly against my face, chilling my lips, making me feel vulnerable. At first, it's annoying, but then… the oxygen penetrates my lungs, cool and clean, like a foreign whisper bringing me back to life. Breathing became easier, and I feel warmth slowly spreading through my body, although the fear remains with me.

I dozed off – briefly, intermittently, as if falling into darkness that receded only for a moment. I woke up to a presence – nurses and a doctor are near me again. Their voices hum quietly, but the words blur, not reaching my consciousness. They removed the regular oxygen mask, and I felt a chill on my lips where the plastic still retained the warmth of my breath. Instead, they put something else on me – a different oxygen mask, attached to a thick hose. Oxygen bursts into my lungs – strong, sharp, as if foreign lips are forcibly breathing life into me. And that sound… the low, rhythmic hum of the machine nearby. Is that it? Artificial ventilation? Is it really that bad?

Their hands are on me again – quick, relentless. A new injection – the needle pierces my vein, cold liquid spreads under my skin, leaving heat and a slight tingling. What is it – a sedative? Painkiller? Will I be able to fall asleep, escape this nightmare into soft darkness? Or maybe it's the last thing I'll feel before…

Did I wake up again… This tube… A breathing tube in my throat – cold, foreign, like a harsh kiss from an artificial device. I've been intubated. I feel this tube – hard, plastic, it presses against my tongue, makes my larynx tremble with each mechanical breath that the machine drives into my lungs. The artificial device makes a noticeable sound – a low, rhythmic hum that fills the room, as if its breath has become mine. I can't move – my body is still connected to wires and sensors, as if I've become a part of this medical room, its living detail. My condition… is it finally terrible? What happened to me? My memory blurs like fog, and my heart pounds under the cold plates of the electrodes. Will I remain like this forever – trapped in the embrace of this machine, dependent on its rhythm…?

215 notes · View notes

luvvixu · 1 year ago

Text

mind over matter pt. 3

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: yooooo, finally an update!! thanks for waiting everyone~ i actually took a small break because my friends and i had a beach outing and that was great!

previous / masterlist / next

you feel like you had the longest dream in your entire life the moment you slowly open your eyes and reveal the white plain ceiling with matching beeping sound coming out from the machine.

it takes a second or two to realize that you're in a hospital.

like a seemingly newborn, your half lidded eyes traveled across the room until it reached the sight of some peculiar white haired male with his face buried on your arm, sleeping uncomfortably while sitting on the cold hard chair.

you could feel your whole body ache when you tried to move some parts of your body to stop it from numbing when you noticed some kind of empty feeling—like something was missing.

it did not take you a while to realize that your stomach feels so empty right now, and you know it's not because you're hungry, but because you couldn't feel your baby anymore.

an anguish screech escapes from your mouth when you realize that the baby isn't part of your body anymore. tears stream like a waterfall as your body automatically sits up and hugs your lower body, specifically your stomach, because you cannot accept the fact that your baby has been taken away from you.

this immediately woken satoru up and started to console you. “hey, hey, y/n! i’m here. i'm here.” his voice was soft and comforting but there's a hint of shakiness due to your sudden outburst.

“satoru, my baby! i can't feel my baby! my baby is gone!” as an upcoming loving mother, it hurts you so bad that you'd rather die than to accept this.

the sound of the machine keeps on loudly pulsating, meaning that your heart rate is rising quickly and it's dangerous for you to get stressed since you just came out from the operation.

“y/n! the baby is fine. our baby is fine. they were being cured by the best doctors so don't worry.” pulling your body close to his, satoru caresses your hair and keeps on murmuring some comforting words to calm you down.

but it seems that his actions were no avail when he saw your lower stomach bleeding. feels like his own blood had disappeared, his pale face becomes more paler when your extreme sadness cry turns to extremely painful cry.

his body seemingly moves on its own and presses the button to call for help while still managing to calm you down.

“where's my baby? g-give me back my baby! satoru, do something!” it pains satoru to see you like this. a whole crying mess who cannot even digest the fact that her baby was in intensive care so they can become better.

suddenly, the door in your room opened, revealing the doctor and their nurse—shoko was there too. they immediately inject you with midazolam to calm you down and it works almost instantly. satoru watches your body go limp as your wound continues to bleed.

satoru and shoko were instructed to wait outside as they transfer you to another room to tend your wounds. after you were scouted to exit the scene, satoru fell on his knees and leaned his back on the wall.

god, what did you do to deserve this kind of thing?

letting out a soft sob, satoru prayed once again—something that he just learned yesterday. he prayed that all of your pain, burden, suffering, and all must disappear because satoru couldn't list any single reason why you must suffer like this.

“you should go back at least for now, gojo. i’ll handle things here while you freshen yourself up.” shoko suggested but satoru just shook his head, refusing to leave your side.

“don't be a fucking stubborn. you still have other things to do, don't forget that.” shoko hissed.

“but i need to be by her side. i need to be there to support her whatever i can.” satoru slowly let himself up and looked shoko straight in the eye.

“do you think she still needs you to be by her side? oh please, not after what you had done.” the doctor rolled her eyes as she toys with the unlit cigarette on her lips.

for some reason, satoru was having a deja vu, it was like they're in her clinic once again and they argue where you heard things that you shouldn't have. as much as satoru would like to shut her down, he's worried that you might hear him say nasty things that he didn't mean to say.

“shoko, please…i know you're mad at me and you wanted to be hostile towards me. i actually don't care if you hurt me or insult me, just not now. i need to stand by her side and i don't need you to tell me what to do.” satoru stood up and his gaze on shoko became hard.

the doctor just tsked and decided to drop the conversation for your sake. there's a whole silence in the atmosphere when satoru suddenly thinks about your little breakdown earlier. you're looking at your child and he is too. he really wants to go to the baby but he thinks it would be better if the two of you are together.

satoru was excited to see his baby, sure. but something inside stirs up something that he personally couldn't explain. was it because he remembers your conversation when he first knew of your pregnancy? that he found himself unable to answer your questions during that night?

but whatever the reasons are, satoru was ultimately willing to ignore it and just focus on becoming a better husband and now a new father towards his child with you.

the strongest sorcerer of his generation, the one and only satoru gojo, the pride of his clan, your husband on papers, your most hated person, your child's father—swore to himself that he will treat his son as his own flesh and blood, not as the heir that will dethrone him from being the pride.

and most of them all, he swore to himself that you will be treated way, way better than everyone, specifically and especially him. satoru will patch up the wounds that he had caused you.

but not all wounds can be treated by a mere bandaid.

an hour had passed and now you're once again in your room, but this time, you're more than calm as you finally understood the situation—thanks to shoko who patiently explains everything to you.

like right now, she's standing by the end of your bed while satoru was on his seat just like the first time you saw him in this hospital. shoko carefully and softly explained what was going on with you and gave you some sort of assurance.

“you suffered from placenta abruption which caused your placenta to detach from the inner walls of your uterus. it unables the baby to receive oxygen and nutrients with the placenta detached. that is why the doctors had no choice but to put you into a cesarean delivery so it can save both of your lives.”

“and about your baby, don't worry, they're in safe hands. currently in the neonatal intensive care unit where the baby is under process of developing it since it came out during your six months of pregnancy and is premature.” she continued.

then, shoko put a hand on your shoulder, slightly massaging it to give you some comfort. “worry not, y/n. we're not going to let anything hurt your baby. they're safe here and are guarded with blessings and restrictions so no other curses or unauthorized people could touch your child.”

all this time shoko speak, your head was hanging low and it seems like you're having a hard time digesting everything. but you still get what she meant by putting you under a cesarean because it's the only way to save you and your baby's life—which you're incredibly grateful for.

“c…can i see my baby?” your tone was quite hushed, probably because you hadn't really talked to anyone after what happened to you.

shoko gently shook her head and gave you an apologetic smile. “i am so sorry, y/n. but you need to rest first and we, the doctors, recommended you to not move too much since it can open up your cesarean stitches once again.”

to everyone’s relief, you nodded at her words, like you agreed to get better first before seeing your child.

“alright, i gotta excuse myself now. i have an appointment later this afternoon.” shoko gives you a smile before sending a knowing gaze at the man beside you, saying ‘you better not forget that you still have other things to do’ look.

“mhm. take care and thank you for helping me during all of this, shoko.” you replied tried to return the same smile but it only reached a have, you just wished she could feel your sincerity towards her.

“i don't accept thank you’s, yet. i can only accept it if i see you in a much better condition. so if you want me to say you're welcome, then get better.” her words make you giggle a little but you take that as a note.

giving you a one last smile and a secretive glare at your husband, she finally left the scene…and that leaves you two, you and your husband. silence engulfs the whole room, only the sound of your beeping monitor keeps on echoing and adds awkwardness to the atmosphere.

you take a small peak at satoru who's looking at an empty space somewhere, looking like he's in a deep thought. you're not sure if you want to talk to him or not, but taking the preceding events from earlier, you see no reason.

on the other hand, satoru was lost in his thoughts because he's trying to construct everything that he needed to say to you. he's kinda bad at impromptu when it comes to you and mostly forgot his points and other subtopics because he's being blinded by the emotions that keeps on distracting him.

satoru also noticed your small gazes towards him and it feels like you're not planning to talk to him first, so he finally initiated a conversation.

“do you feel any pain in your body?” he asked you.

however, it took you a while to answer because you're not sure if your following responses are gonna be normal, sarcastic, or not answering at all. but you choose the first one because the two other choices would most likely put you into stress and makes your healing process becomes slower.

“my tummy hurts but i'm fine…and i'm also hungry.” you replied, that's it.

satoru was glad that you're answering him…well. anyway, he smiled at you and carried on with the conversation. “if the pain gets worse or it causes you discomfort, you must tell me immediately. and about that hunger, we still need to wait at least eight hours for you to eat something heavy. but for now, you can only take liquids and…the doctor said you could eat oatmeal and eggs—maybe we should get that. the doctor also to avoid greasy food and it would take at least six weeks for you to recover, and then…what are the other things he said again?”

while satoru was busy yapping, you slowly think that he's speaking to himself more than he's speaking to you because of how concentrated he looked and it somehow brings some sort of warmth in your chest because he really tries himself to remember all of the things that the doctors had prescribed him for you.

“satoru…” you called out to him, but he's still busy talking about do’s and don'ts and keeps on going while you occasionally call his name.

“satoru.” he's still busy talking.

“...satoru?” yep, still talking.

his yappings are getting too long and you're running out of thin patience, so you hold into his arms and that makes him look at you and stop talking instantly. breathe in relief, you finally stopped him from his own shenanigans.

“i—i’m sorry, i talked too much.” satoru awkwardly chuckles to himself, but you just shrugged it off. “anyway, what is it?” he asked.

“satoru, i was wondering…how did i end up here? all i know is i was in my room, i feel my tummy hurts really bad and it got me so worried about my baby. then all of the sudden, there's blood seeping down on my legs then everything black out.” you said.

“well…” then satoru proceeds into another minutes of yapping about what happened based on what they had said to him back then. you'd understand that yuuji and megumi were planning to cheer you up by a surprise room visit when they smelled blood and that made them instantly realize that something was going on with you. so they called shoko and yaga to break into the room, and there they saw you lying in your own pool of blood.

nodding slowly, the question that was formed because of the preceding events were finally put into the end. “oh, so that's what happened. anyways, do you think yuuji and megumi could be here tomorrow? i wanted to thank them.”

“sure. i’ll come with them tomorrow. but now, let's get you some light foods so you can sleep tonight.” satoru stood up but he froze as his feet were not walking. you watch him turn back to you while you give him a confused look.

“will you be alright being alone for like…five minutes? i’m just gonna be quick and get you some food. i promise i’ll be back before you know it.” you just let him do what he wants and just continue watching him. satoru looked at you for a long seconds, rather seemingly so hesitant. but you told him you'll be fine and just do his thing, so satoru assured you once again that he'll be back then uses his teleportation.

now, you're alone (for a while) in this room. your thoughts wandered towards your baby who you knew is in the same building as yours. you really want to run towards that room where they are located but you forcefully shut yourself because it'll just make things worse. you're still in the process of healing and you want to be at your strongest when you're with your baby.

but something was still arguing inside your head. it's the desire to run towards your child and the desire to get better—

“y/n.”

“shit!”

something—no, someone was suddenly in the room. it was satoru who's pouting at you like a puppy who got lost. his sudden appearance makes the beeping machine beside you go wild as you curse out profanity because you're that shocked.

thankfully, your heart beat becomes normal again and nothing bad happens. but you'll be sure to send out a death glare to your husband who's still pouting.

“what the actual fuck, satoru?! do you want me to die of a heart attack?!” you glared at him, still your hand is at your chest.

“i'm sorry about that. but i cannot bring myself to leave you like that even for a minute.” he said.

“i told you i'll be fine. you don't need to guard me 24/7 anyway, so go and grab or do whatever you want.”

“no!” satoru whined…and that surprises you, because this might be the first time you saw him whine like a child, especially without any involvement of alcohol or sugar to activate this kind of his system. this was just a new sight to you.

“then how are you going to get some food?”

“i’ll just have them deliver it here.”

“seriously? you're going to order and deliver oatmeal and eggs?” your eyes were wide at his crazy idea. like yeah seriously, for an oatmeal and eggs? he could literally get it from a convenience store.

“what? i'm gonna order some food for myself too, you know.” he pouts, again.

“okay, you order your food online. and we'll get mine at a convenience store.”

“what? no! i told you i don't want to leave you alone.”

“then i’ll come with you. we'll go and buy my food together if you're really that worried about leaving me alone.” you said sarcastically.

“what the hell is that suggestion? absolutely not!” satoru gasps. he's so dramatic.

“well then, i’ll just starve!” you huff at him before turning your head away from him.

“i—wait, i'm sorry. i really can't force myself to be away from you. i'm just scared that when i'm gone even for just a minute, s-something might happen again and i’m not there to help you out instantly.” the sad look on his face is back, similar to what he looked like when he confronted you in the hallway.

after hearing his explanation, you turned back to him and said, “there are things that come unexpectedly. you cannot also force yourself to stick with just in case an emergency would occur, you'd be there. for all that i know, you still have other things to do, like you have your priorities.”

“but you're my priority,” he said seriously. well that caught you off guard.

“whatever, just go and get me some food.” you brush it off.

“...”

“...ok.”

the night ended with satoru eating his ordered food happily while you were still glaring at the man because he really stick to his words and ordered your food online instead of just running to a convenience store or buying the hospital once. although, it makes you wonder, how is there a plain, plain! oatmeal and a boiled egg that has been selling online?

well, whatever it is, at least your hunger has lessened and your relationship with satoru has gotten…at least a little better.

[part 4 is up tomorrow! and you know the drill, for those who would like to be added to the taglist , just comment — ©luvvixu2024]

taglists: @mistymuii @kalopsia-flaneur @sherryuki-callmeyuki @aish777 @tttttttf @username23345 @slyhersophia @netyxms @rirk-ke @lvstru @roscptalsaa @labelt-san @shinruo @yaninnaacu @testrella @sad-darksoul @kurookinnie @mountvesuvu @chwesuh-imnida @cole-silas @elernity @buttermilktea11 @berenevenstarzetaestelar @maddie-jayne @yozora7154 @kawaiivillainess98 @jiupark @forourpoets @aishies-stuff @numblytemporary @souyasplushie @hotsauce247 @catarinemirandax @aerithsthingss @h1gh4ru @ssetsuka @jskodn @khoiyyu @the2ndl @veryverysadauthor @vebbiewuzhere @kouyoumarryme @dreamyescapesfromreality @local-mr-frog @haesify @openthenyoor01 @blkmystery @slowlyshycomputer @babybarbs12 @thickemadame @bleppt @leavem3al0n3 @arminloverlol @roscpctals99 @megumisthirdog @shirabane @skepticalleo @sheismaryy @tragicgirl444

a/n: istg guys i'm trying my hardest to get y'all tagged but some really did not appear when i @ your blogs huhu. but don't worry, that won't stop me from tagging y'all, so i am just going to manually mentioned you on every chapter update ;)

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #anime #jjk gojo #fanfic #luvvixu

449 notes · View notes

crimsoncandy04 · 6 months ago

Note

omg love ur writing in the scaramouche tag and was wondering if i could place a request because i thought of scaramouche with a stubborn reader who refuses to submit to him so he punishes her via fucking machine until shes broken down and begging for him... its just some brainworms of mine

*scuttles out from underneath your bed and gently tucks my response underneath your pillow before returning to my nest*

Marry Christmas ya filthy animals lmao

(Hehe. I've been excited to write this)

(Bondage Scaramouche!)

You sigh softly as the gentle hum of the large vibrators fill your ears. Your wrists are handcuffed to a wall behind you on either side of your head. a locked metal chastity belt prevented the painfully enormous insertions from slipping out of your ass and cunt. This had been HIS sick way of punishing you for spitting in his face yesterday when he originally had tried to kiss you.

Scaramouche.

The fucking Balladeer.

You hated that self absorbed and condescending humanoid bastard but unfortunately for you, he had grown attracted to you.

He had wanted you.

And he had gotten you.

It was as simple as that. Or was it?

"Enjoying yourself?" A cold voice suddenly sneered from somewhere in front of you. You knew even through the blindfold that it was him. As if you could ever get off from something as disgusting and evil as what this sociopathic harbinger had done to you. Grabbing you. Pinning you to the ground beneath him as he had attempted to press his lips to yours.

He was lucky you didn't bite his tongue off instead of just spitting at him.

"Fuck you!" You hiss through your teeth. Your body is still trembling from the unwanted orgasms you were experiencing. You could hear the keys to your belt jingling from somewhere on him.

"Is that right now sweetheart? Finally come to your senses?" He reached out and ran a gloved hand across your cheek.

"Absolutely not you disgusting bastard! You know what I meant!"

A silence follows as you feel him pull away from you.

Then you feel a sharp sting in your neck.

"Ah! What the hell are you doing!? Stop!"

"You can't say I haven't been nice. I thought you would have seen reason by now but it appears your stubborn attitude will need correction first." He whispers in your ear. His cool breath sending shivers down your spine.

"This should make you a little more agreeable you ungrateful little cockroach."

You start to feel hot suddenly. You want to scream as you hear him still kneeling in front of you. Yet as you hear the click of a button being pressed and the vibrators deep in your holes start to move faster than before, you can't do anything but gasp suddenly and try in vain to close your knees and ignore the way your body quickly begins to tingle.

"I hate you! I won't... Ngh~" you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Whatever Scaramouche had injected you with was causing you to lose your composure fast. And also...become unbelievably overwhelmed with lust.

"Does it feel good? You like the way my toys are fucking that tight little cunt of yours?" He purrs as you feel him spread your knees apart and move to kneel between them. Scaramouche reaches out and pinches one of your nipples. Tugging on the sensitive peak ever so slightly as you squirm and writhe.

"You know, if you stop acting like such a pain in the ass, I could make it all better. Make the uncomfortable feeling in your body go away. Make you want me." You feel him lean in. His lips graze yours as he whispers.

"Why don't we try that kiss again hmm? This time, if you know what's good for you, you won't pull any more foolish stunts."

Before you can respond in any way, Scaramouche's lips are on yours. He moves his free hand to play with your hair as he continues to fondle your breast with the other. After a few seconds he shoves his tongue into your mouth and for a moment you almost falter. You want nothing more than to moan and cry and scream for this man to touch you. To fuck you. But as you suddenly jerk your head away and curse him under your breath, you come back to your right mind and immediately feel violated and enraged over what this lowly bastard is trying to do.

"No! How dare you! Don't touch me!"

You hear him get back to his feet. Feel his sharp and sadistic gaze on you as you are forced to cum again thanks to the toys buried in you still.

"You don't want me to lay my hands on you?" Scaramouche asks in a sinister tone. He chuckles softly.

"Well then, have it your way dear."

You try to kick as you feel him suddenly move close to you again and prick your neck a second time. But he's too fast and far too strong for any normal human to be able to apprehend on their own. And as you feel the new medicine quickly coarse through your veins and cause you to feel drowsy, you swear you hear Scaramouche laughing again and the sound of keys jingling.

You open your eyes sometime later and feel your wrists and head aching. You lift your head as best as you can in your semi-conscious state and realize that you're just dangling from the ceiling with your feet about a foot from the tatami floor beneath you. Your wrists are bound together by a red rope that is attached to a thick wooden rafter high above you. And to make things possibly even more humiliating, one of the ropes was tied carefully through your long hair and was tethered to something in your ass that caused your scalp and asshole to ache every time you tried to move your head or lower body. It was all so uncomfortable and yet you couldn't even adjust yourself without feeling your wrists burn or your hair getting yanked.

"you're finally awake. I was hoping you hadn't gone and died on me before we even got to the best part yet."

Scaramouche strode over to where you were hanging and reached out to feel your wetness. His long slender fingers easily slid into your sopping cunt and began to move. Wiggling around inside and teasing you before he abruptly removes them entirely. Leaving you irritated and slightly disappointed that he had left your aching sex empty again despite how aroused you still were from the earlier injection.

Scaramouche brings his fingers to his lips and grins mischievously as he licks them clean, commenting on how nice you taste as he watches a light blush form on your face.

"What an interesting expression. You want me to play with your cute little pussy more? Too bad. Don't blame me though. I'm simply giving you what you wanted. You don't want me to touch you. Remember?"

You felt burning hot anger suddenly rise within you. He wanted this.

That vile bastard wanted you to beg for him and plead for him to fuck you.

Archons, was he so grossly full of himself.

You grit your teeth and force yourself to glare at Scaramouche as you now struggle to fight the intense and overwhelming feeling of lust that plagued every inch of your hot feeling and quivering form.

"You won't break me you sick fucker!"

Scaramouche raises an eyebrow at your words.

"You think so huh? Well, let's just see."

He moves fast. Too fast.

One second he was standing in front of you and then you blinked and now he was behind you. You heard something big being placed just behind you. Mere inches from your throbbing sex as you hear Scaramouche comment about how he's going to enjoy watching you lose yourself after this and before you can figure out what he's planning, suddenly the sound of a machine buzzing to life fills your ears. Seconds after a thick dildo suddenly forces itself deep into your pussy and begins thrusting. Slowly at first, but after a few seconds it gets faster. You feel the silicone tip pound against your cervix. The thickness fills every inch of you and stretches your pussy to its limit. Making you shudder and finally...moan.

It was accidentally. You immediately regretted it.

But Scaramouche had heard it.

"Oh? Enjoying this are you? You seem to like my toys a lot huh?" You feel him rub his hand across your ass cheek and then squeeze a little.

"What if I were to remove this hook and fill your fat ass with something particularly large instead? Like the one in your cunt. Would you moan? Cry? Beg for more? Or would you continue with this annoying attitude of yours and let me ruin your perfect little holes in the process?"

Scaramouche suddenly slaps your ass hard. Making you whimper a little as you try to close your eyes and regain control. But as you try, suddenly another painful slap stops you.

He continues to spank you several more times before pausing and caressing your sore cheeks with his hands again. After that he began again. Your ass hurt, your pussy clenched and fluttered around the dildo as it thrust in and out of your oversensitive cunt, as the sensation of both pain and pleasure overwhelmed your senses, suddenly you gasp and let out a small whine as you feel yourself squirt.

Scaramouche laughs a little as he finally moves from behind you after that. Staring at you with a smug expression as you go limp while still being fucked by the machine behind you.

"That was quick. Clearly someone enjoyed themselves." He places his hands on either side of your face. The gesture is oddly gentle.

"Just relax. Stop fighting me. I don't want to punish you. It gets boring after a while. But if you continue to defy me, I won't hesitate to remind you of your place." One of his thumbs rubs a tear from your cheek that you weren't even aware had fallen.

"If you give in now, I can make you feel better than any mortal ever could. Don't you want that little bug? Humans like feeling good. Doesn't this all feel uncomfortable? Humiliating? I can make it stop if you just quit resisting." His touch was softer. But Scaramouche had no affection behind those indigo eyes of his as he gazed at you intensely.

You just gave him a look of reluctance as another small moan was forced out of you.

"Looks like you still need some convincing." He lets go of your face and suddenly reaches into the small pouch near his waist to retrieve a small remote. He smirks as he pushes a button and suddenly makes the dildo in your pussy begin to vibrate. He then increases the intensity. Your legs begin to shake as you finally stop trying to stay quiet.

It's too much.

"Fuck! It's hitting so deep! Scaramouche... I can't!" You try to wiggle your hips a little but the hook in your ass suddenly yanks on your hair again and you struggle to remain still.

You just...need more. You need to cum. You can't take this anymore.

Scaramouche unties his belt as he watches the machine continue to ravage you. It drops to the floor and after that you watch as he tugs down his shorts a little and reaches for his cock. He starts jerking off to the sight of you and even presses another button on the remote with his free hand that makes the dildo piston in and out faster.

"If it's too much. Just ask for me instead. Give in. And I'll make it stop." He leans in and kisses you again as he gets off to you. Swallowing your moans and sounds of pleasure as you feel yourself cum again. Finally as you feel another overwhelming wave of pleasure and swear the room sways a little around you as scara backs away, you finally give up.

"Scaramouche please fuck me. I can't stand this anymore! I want...i want your cock in me."

"Are you sure? You don't sound like you do. Maybe if you convince me I'll oblige."

Gods no.

He was making you beg.

You lowered your gaze as you felt your pride wither.

"Please Scaramouche, I don't want this fake cock in me. I want your dick. Please fuck me. Please...i need your big cock in my pussy!"

You don't even realize you're cut free from your binds after you finish pleading until you feel yourself hit the floor.

And feel Scaramouche grabbing your ass from behind.

"Who am I to deny such a needy girl? If you insist then I'll fuck you stupid you pitiful little worm."

He roughly shoves himself into your throbbing core to the hilt. Digging his nails into your hips before fucking hard into you. His movements are quick too. Scarily quick.

You feel yourself turn to jelly in his hold as he slams into your g spot and makes you squeal. You cry out as you feel yourself climax violently and yet he doesn't stop.

You don't want him too either.

"Scaramouche you feel amazing!" You gasp as you feel him reach for a tit and squeeze. His finger teasing the nipple.

"I know sweetheart. Just keep taking it. You feel so tight. Just like I knew you would." He groans before leaning down and wrapping his arms around your middle. Fucking you fast enough to make you scream as you feel yourself squirt again on his thick shaft.

"Fuck I'm gonna keep you. This cunt of yours is perfect." You hear the sound of electro before you feel it as Scaramouche suddenly tightens his hold on you and ejaculates.

A powerful jolt is sent deep into your womb and makes you climax again instantly. You feel a small lingering tingle in your belly and as Scaramouche releases you, you turn over slightly and notice that a strange mark has formed on your lower abdomen. It glows to life as Scaramouche rubs his cock against your slit and after that you feel yourself get excited again despite being beyond exhausted.

You hear him hum a little as he slowly slips into you once more.

"Don't worry about that my little insect. This just shows that you're mine and prevents you from enjoying anyone else. It has some special properties that will affect you but nothing unpleasant."

He begins to thrust again.

"After this, all I need is to knock you up. Shouldn't be too hard now that I gave you that. Then you'll be by my side forever. My pretty little toy~"

You can only feel pleasure as Scaramouche begins to use your pussy again. Deep in the back of your mind there's a small nagging feeling that this is wrong. But how could it be when everything about it just felt so right?

#genshin impact #smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche #genshin scara #scara

264 notes · View notes

commanderhearteyes-r · 2 months ago

Text

The Program

Lottie Matthews x fem!r w cock

Warnings for: forced breeding, “medical setting”, knotting, non-con, and probably more that I’m forgetting (literally depraved shit below) 18+ only

Lottie blinks her eyes open and sees a blinding white light. Well not actually blinding, but it may as well be with how fucking bright everything looks. She tries to take a deep breath, but something restricts it. Lottie feels a slight panic run through her body, and realizes she can only move her head a slight bit. Everything else is held down to a weird table sort of thing. The more Lottie wiggles the more she can feel each individual strap around her arms, torso and legs. Fucking great, she thinks, what the fuck has she gotten into now.

Startling her out of her thoughts the sealed door opens with a quickness.

“Good morning Lottie, I’m Dr. L/N. I’ll be facilitating your care while you’re here.” I say as I enter the room and lock the door.

She notices I’m dressed in scrubs and a white jacket, but she can’t lift her head enough to see my face.

“Sorry about the wake up, I know normally our subjects tend to have a bit of panic. I tried to fight for an easier wake up. Maybe sitting up or lying unrestrained. But the big wigs weren’t up for that. Something about time management,” I mumble the ending sounding slightly annoyed. Lottie hears me moving some things around and hear wrappers peeling and needles being set down.

“Well let me just get right into it. This is the new breeding program. We’re still a fairly new setup.” I say as I take a seat in one of those rolling doctor chairs. I start to roll towards her and press the side button on the table to lift it up. She is now about eye level and can see my face for the first time.

“What questions do you have for me before I begin a better explanation?” I ask sweetly.

“Well I guess you said what this place is, that’s pretty self explanatory. But I never volunteered for anything like this…” she says with a very upset tone to her voice.

I chuckle a little as I grab a needle and inject it into her neck, “Sorry just a little pinch.”

She groans at the poke to her throat and gives me a scowl.

Lottie begins to have fuzzy vision and hears me say, “We don’t run based off of volunteers here, you were hand selected… by me. You’ll be bred and producing for us in no time.” Before she fades off again.

When she wakes up the second time she can feel the chill of the room on her bare skin. She must’ve been stripped, flipped over and placed back on the table. Her legs are now spread apart and her boobs must be hanging down through holes in the table. She hears me working behind her and then feel a suction on her nipples.

I hear the machine kick on and say, “sorry to startle you with that, they kick on when you wake up. They are essentially like high grade breast pumps. I’ve given you a drug that induces lactation within 48 hours. Unfortunately it takes some stimulation to work most times. So I’ve just hooked you up and gotten the ball rolling.” I explain to her. She stays silent just waiting to hear what else I’m going to say. But more words never come, she just feels her vagina being entered by something cold and metal feeling.

“This is just to pre-stretch you, I’ve had some enhancements to ensure breeding quality and let me tell you. The first time adjusting to me is not pleasant without a warning.”

The metal object inside of her starts to unlatch and open and she feels her muscles try so hard to contract around it and stop the gaping of her hole. But it’s to no avail, it must be a machine.

“Please stop, it’s so cold and it hurts,” she pleads and shivers.

“Ope, yeah no can do I’m afraid. I picked you, I was very interested in you. This part will only take about 15 minutes. It shouldn’t be too bad, it’s all the way open now.” I smile and give her a lingering look.

“You said you’ve been altered? Im confused.”

“Yes.”

“…okay?”

“Oh you want to know how. I’m sorry I don’t pick up on cues very well. I was born with a… member, but in order to breed I have been given treatments that enlarge the girth and when I finish, I now have a knot. You will be my first breeding. So I don’t really know how it works yet.” I say excitedly.

I then leave the room and don’t return until her 15 minute stretching time is up. Upon my return I press a button and her cunt collapses back down and the muscles try clenching to their original tightness to no avail. But the temporary relief doesn’t last long, something else pokes into her. It goes all the way to her cervix and then she feels a gel being emptied inside of her.

“Okay miss Matthews, that was a gel that tricks your body into ovulating. I don’t know how that one works actually, but it takes about 2 minutes before it kicks in. In the meantime, I will get ready to breed.”

She lifts her head and eyes to see me stripping off my pants and boxers. Lottie sees my dick and visibly pales. It’s nowhere near the normal size for a human and suddenly she understands why the stretching was necessary. “Um a-are you sure I’m stretched enough for that doctor?”

“Probably not, but I didn’t want to take all of the fun away from myself,” I smirk laughing at her.

“Okay, now I’ll lower the table and we should be about ready to go, just waiting for the timer. I’m not into um… moaning, I don’t know if you’ll enjoy this. But try your best to not let me know if you do. It’s a turn off for me.”

Lottie just makes a disgusted face and huffs, “As if, you fucking sicko, fuck you.”

I pay her no mind and start grabbing my member with two hands and stroking myself. I have a tub of lube next to her hips so I grab a scoop of the thick stuff and place it inside of her stretched vagina.

“You took well to the stretching, I can see inside of you already. You’ll take well to childbirth for sure,” I sound pleased and I am, I made the right pick.

On the other hand she felt a hand reach inside of her with no resistance and leave a handful of cold lube sitting against her cervix. It’s not pleasant, but it’s not the worst she has to admit. Then she hears mellow music start playing. Lottie recognizes it as the timer, she hears me shut it off abruptly and then feels hands on her hips. She takes a deep breath and waits for the stretch she knows is coming. It comes sooner than expected and she screams out. It feels like someone is trying to shove a football sized up item up her vagina and she simply can’t take it. It hurts so bad she starts cursing me out and crying. Unable to thrash out of my grip she panics. I like it.

Meanwhile her crying is making me harder and harder, I feel my head pop into her cunt and I let out a moan of relief. It feels so good to finally be inside a vagina again. I grab her hips and push forward as hard as I can to get Lottie to take more of my cock than before. I know I’m fucking huge, but it’s such a pleasure watching small un-stretched vaginas take my cock for the first time. There’s always some blood and crying. I’ve been conditioned to get hard for it now.

Lottie feels me getting deeper and deeper and she prays I’m almost bottomed out by now. But before she even feels my hips press against hers she can feel me start fucking into her. With every thrust she grunts out her discontent through tears and snot. She can hear me happily humming to myself from behind as I get to fuck my first breeding pick. Immaculate taste I must say.

She prays I finish quickly so she can finally feel normal again. Her wish seems to come true, or so she thinks. It doesn’t take long before she feels me start to stutter with my hips and then feel my knot pressing against her lips. Already fully formed and twice the size of my dick. Lottie starts to scream bloody murder as it presses against her opening. It feels like it’s splitting her open and she’s thrashing around in her restraints. Wishing she could crawl away and hide in a corner forever. Wishing that this pain inside of her would end and she could just close up.

I keep doing my job with ease, thrusting my knot against her hole and feeling incredible. When I notice my knot has already fully formed I put my hands underneath her hips to prop her up and pop my knot inside of her hole, sealing us. I feel her body rearranging around something so big intruding it. Then without a second thought I start cumming. I cum for about two minutes before my spurts taper off and become weak. Lottie feels her stomach expand with every burst of cum. Till it feels like she’s pregnant off of the cum in her pussy, giving her a belly bulge.

I give her a pat on the back while she’s still whimpering quietly and decide to have a small mercy on her. I press a button on a remote that I have on the table next to her head. And all of the sudden there is something latched around her clit. It’s absolutely not enough stimulation to cum with the pain she’s in. But even through the pain of being ripped open it feels good to be sucked on. And since I kind of like her, I picked her, I’ll allow it.

We stay knotted for about a half hour before my knot starts slowly deflating, it has only gone down slightly, but I’ve had enough and I rip my dick out of her, the knot seemingly ripping her again on the way out. This is when a flood of semen drops out of her and onto the floor. It splashes back up onto her face and the part of her boobs that are exposed for the pumps.

“Well miss Matthews, I’m throughly tapped. I don’t know about you. I’ll be back in the morning to clean you up. Don’t go anywhere now,” I giggle as I pull my scrub pants back on and leave the room….

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets smut #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #smut #barely proofread #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews smut

104 notes · View notes

averagewriter-inthedark · 4 months ago

Text

Super Strength & Super Love 💪 | Johnny Storm Headcanon

Marvel Masterlist

note: I have a full length imagine planned with this same concept as well as a Johnny x 40s!super soldier.

content warnings: slight suggestive/nsfw

Johnny Storm in a relationship with a super soldier would look like:

Johnny and the Fantastic Four had resecured you from the organization you'd been kidnapped and experimented on where you were injected with their own attempt at the super soldier serum. Having been the only successful asset, you were highly valuable to them and forced to do their bidding. That's how the FF stumbled upon you and worked to put an end to the organization. From there you were an associate of the FF and remained at Baxter Building alongside them.

The relationship between you and Johnny progressed following months of flirting, lingering glances, saving each other from psychos, etc. The Four were betting on how long it would take before one of you caved in and asked the other out. Sue won, naturally.

First of all, Johnny is amazed by you. Everything about you really is captivating to him but he is just so attracted by the fact you can stop a speeding car with your bare hands, casually throw him and others over your shoulder, and take on Ben in a sparring match.

You're the first person the Four go to when they need help moving something 💀 "Y/n, could you please lift the couch for me while I vacuum?" "I need this machine next to this one if you don't mind." Even Ben is coming to you for assistance when he's working on the car and will have you lift the vehicle so he can slide underneath.

Along with super strength you also have super reflexes. Johnny loves how you don't even have to look at him to know he tripped passing by you and you're instantly reaching to grab the back of his t-shirt to pull him upright. He'll get all flustered, look at you like you're the embodiment of a God/Goddess and go, "You're so hot, you know that?" "That's very flattering coming from the man made of pure fire."

You two are the life of the party at events. Johnny will show off his flames and you'll display your strength---sometimes lifting Johnny on your shoulders which causes people to stop and stare in amazement.

During missions you'll tag team--him usually in the skies while you cover the ground. Then when you get cornered at a dead-end and need to break through an opened window he'll be like, "Wanna give me a boost, babe?" as if he needs one but you'll squat anyway with your fingers interlaced for him to push off of.

Johnny will watch you work out even if you don't need a spotter. Placing more weights as you bench press, timing your sprints, replacing the punching bag when you send it off its hinges. And when he's feeling naughty Johnny will sit his perky ass on your back as you do pushups while counting as you go. Or he'll lay his whole body as you plank, trying to distract you with cheeky kisses to your neck and shoulder. "Baby, I'm sweating and gross, can you not?"

When Johnny says he loves your strength, he loves it. Especially when you two are making out and your hand comes up to the base of his throat. It'll make all the blood rush down and heat rise as you teasingly grip him as an act of showing how strong you are even in the most vulnerable moments. Of course he knows you'd never intentionally hurt him but just knowing you can roughhouse him turns him on so bad. "Do that again." "Oh Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. You have no idea what power you've given me."

Speaking of roughhousing he fucking loves when you take control by pushing him against the wall, door, bookshelf, whatever flat surface you can find. Like the hand on his throat it gets him all hot and bothered. Once he's had enough of the teasing he'll display his strength by picking you up and throwing you on the bed.

#johnny storm headcanon #johnny storm imagine #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm fluff #johnny storm x y/n #johnny storm x you #mcu johnny storm #fantastic four headcanon #fantastic four fanfic #fantastic four imagine #marvel headcanon #marvel fluff #marvel fanfiction #joseph quinn #joseph quinn johnny storm

117 notes · View notes

eternallyordinary · 4 months ago

Text

“He Belongs to You” - Part 6

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡

Series Masterlist<3

Summary: During an Access Hollywood interview meant to introduce you to the public, an unexpected guest turns it into something else entirely. Tension lingers even after the cameras stop rolling, leaving you uncertain about what comes next.

Warnings: detailed description of sexual assault, trauma, anxiety, death, violence, controlling behavior, age/gap relationship, smut, foul language

*:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* ˚₊· *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧✧・ﾟ: *

You and Homelander finish showering. You try to brush off his earlier comments about your attackers—maybe he’ll forget.

Maybe he was just trying to impress you, show off a little.

But actually believing that?

Not likely.

You push it aside, burying the thoughts deep.

Unwilling to let him see the worry creeping in.

The pain you’ve worked so hard to suppress.

Disassociating, you go through the motions of your skincare routine.

Your hands steady, even as your mind teeters on the edge.

His words won’t stop playing in your head:

“They’re dead. They just don’t know it yet.”

And his words? They should horrify you.

Instead, they linger, gnawing at something dark inside you.

The truth is, you don’t care if they live or die.

After what they did, after what they took, death is a kindness compared to what they truly deserve.

They should feel pain.

They should suffer.

It’s been years, but when you stare into the mirror, they’re still there.

Their hands.

Their laughter.

The smell of them.

The pain your body felt.

You remember it all.

The way you slumped against the wall, your head lolling to one side, struggling to keep your eyes open.

The way they took turns sticking their dicks inside of you, laughing, high-fiving, cameras flashing as they marked you with their semen, treating you like some object without a pulse.

The itchy rug burning against your bare skin.

The throbbing pain between your legs.

The stares.

The whispers.

The way your mother called you a whore while your father was the only one who believed you.

The way the cops dismissed you, shrugged off your horror, called you the girl who cried wolf.

That’s when your father realized law enforcement wouldn’t protect you.

That’s why you were injected with Compound V.

The threats had been too much.

The fear too suffocating.

He wanted you safe.

You? You wanted something else.

The doctors warned you.

The risks were high. Compound V was meant for infants, not teenagers. But you didn’t care.

The best-case scenario? You’d have strength. Confidence. The power to protect yourself.

The worst? You’d die.

And really, would that have been so bad?

Now that Homelander knows someone hurt you, all the broken pieces you’ve spent years trying to discard will come back to haunt you.

What if he looks at you differently?

Or what if he stops looking at you at all?

He treats you like something fragile, something delicate. But little does he know—

You’re already shattered.

“How do you feel about the interview?” His voice pulls you away from your thoughts.

The way he shifts—possessive and protective one second, encouraging and supportive the next—is jarring.

For most people, that kind of inconsistency would signal a disorder.

For Homelander? It’s just how he was built.

A machine trying to mimic emotions.

“Sweetheart? Sweetheart?”

You flinch.

The reaction is immediate, instinctive, like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

“Yes? Sorry,” you say quickly.

His expression flickers, his sharp eyes reading you too easily. He knows something is wrong.

But he’s trying.

Trying to be normal—as normal as a man with lasers for eyes can be.

“Easy there, tiger,” he teases, coming up behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Go put on your suit. We have to head down soon.”

“I rather put it on after hair and makeup,” you reply, glancing at him through the mirror.

His grip is firm as he cups your jaw, that tight-lipped smile that isn’t really a smile. “I didn’t ask.”

You roll your eyes as you head to the closet, tugging your suit off the hanger.

Homelander doesn’t miss the gesture.

He makes a mental note to punish you for that later.

“Wait—you said we. You’re coming?”

“Duh,” he says, as if it’s obvious.

You want to argue. To push back. You’ve only been here for one day. Can’t you handle one thing on your own?

“Why do you want me to put my suit on now?” you call out from the closet.

“Because if it’s showing too much, they’re going to fix it.”

You step out, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Fix it?”

He gestures for you to spin.

You sigh and humor him, slowly turning.

“Stop.”

You freeze, back facing him. He steps up behind you, smoothing his hand over the fabric.

“See, this—” he taps the small of your back, pushing slightly, making you arch against him, “this isn’t going to work. Your ass is hanging out.”

His fingers tug at the shorts, pulling the fabric tighter, making them ride up even more.

You straighten. “Homelander,” you huff. “You’re pulling them up. They’re fine.”

His gaze darkens. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

You smirk, wrapping a leg around his hip, your doe eyes flickering up at him.

“Don’t you trust me?”

He clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to grab you by the throat and teach you something about trust.

But before he can respond, there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

A timid PA peeks in.

“Um, hi—hair and makeup is ready for you downstairs. If that’s, like, okay. If you want to.”

You cast one last glance at Homelander before heading for the door. When he knows you’re out of earshot, he turns to the PA.

“Get her some new fucking shorts.”

“What?”

He doesn’t repeat himself.

—

Downstairs, you sit in the makeup chair as stylists work around you. You’ve never been one for attention, never liked being the center of it. But maybe, you can get used to it.

Homelander watches the way you interact with them, the way you ask about their day and actually listen. How you smile at them like they’re people, not background extras.

You have powers, but you’re more human than anyone he’s ever met…

You’re just, real.

The hairstylist chats as she works, her tone warm, maternal. “How’s NYC treating you so far?”

“I like it. But it’s only been a day. Ask me in a week,” you joke.

“Oh, you’ll love it. Just you wait. You’re young, beautiful, single—”

“She’s actually not single.”

Homelander’s hands land on your shoulders, his tone casual.

“And can we tone this down a bit? I’m not letting my girlfriend look like a fucking porn star bimbo on Access Whatever-the-Fuck. Thanks.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and walks off, presumably to go yell at A-Train.

The room falls silent.

“Sorry…” you murmur.

The hairstylist sighs, lowering her voice.

“You’ve been here, what? A day?”

You chuckle softly. “Barely.”

She hesitates, then leans in slightly.

“You’ve heard the stories, right?”

Of course you have. More bad than good.

“Just… be careful,” she says gently.

“He might be America’s hero, but in most people’s storybooks? He’s the villain.”

He’s the villain.

Her words hit differently than they should. Maybe because you want to live in the fantasy—where the biggest superhero in the world is head over heels for you. Love at first sight, fairytale type shit.

But deep down, you know there’s darkness in him. And you just pray you never have to see it.

Pasting on a smile, you force a lighthearted tone. “Can you make my hair a little less… what did he say…. porn star bimbo?”

The hairstylist lets out a quiet sigh, reaching for the teasing comb without another word.

She doesn’t realize you’re ending the conversation to protect her.

—

Once they finish your hair and makeup, you look in the mirror—you don’t recognize yourself, but you like what to see.

You turn around and make your way back to the green room. After Homelander’s claim on you last night, you’re hoping for a chance to redeem yourself. But your focus is interrupted when you catch Homelander talking up the female reporter.

You feel it—jealousy. Fuck. Not this. Not now. Not with him.

What the hell is going on with you?

You never let anyone in. Ever.

And yet—here you are.

It’s been one day, and you’re already feeling these twisted, tangled emotions for a man twice your age.

Not just any man.

A superhero.

Or—a monster. A god. A villain.

Depends on who you ask.

—

The studio lights shine bright, the cameras rolling as the Access Hollywood host, Karen Scott, sits across from you, her signature grin plastered across her face.

You keep your posture poised, legs crossed, hands resting neatly in your lap.

The branding behind you screams:

“Vought Presents: Meet the Seven’s Newest Star!”

You’re ready. This is your moment.

Karen leans forward, beaming. “We are here today with the newest—and might I add, one of the most highly anticipated—members of The Seven!”

She gestures toward you as the audience off-camera cheers. “She’s powerful, she’s stunning, and she’s already taking the world by storm! Please welcome—”

The sudden sound of footsteps cuts her off.

You don’t need to turn your head to know who it is.

A heavy, commanding hand lands on your shoulder just as Homelander steps into frame, his cape billowing behind him like it was designed for dramatic entrances.

“Now, now, Karen,” Homelander drawls, flashing his perfect, too-white teeth. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He squeezes your shoulder, feigning warmth.

“Wouldn’t want people thinking she got here all on her own.”

The tension in the room shifts immediately.

Karen, ever the professional, chuckles nervously.

“Homelander! Wasn’t expecting you to hop in—”

“Surprise,” he interrupts smoothly, settling into the chair beside you, legs spread wide, completely owning the space.

“Thought I’d sit in. You know, give the fans a little insight into why we—” he glances at you, the smirk never leaving his lips, “—chose her.”

You clench your jaw, keeping the polite smile on your face.

Of course, he’s doing this.

Of course, he couldn’t just let you have this moment.

You want to fight back. You need to. But you know how dangerous that game is. So instead, you take a slow breath, steel your nerves, and decide—if he wants to play, then fine.

You’ll play.

Karen shifts in her seat, glancing between you and Homelander. “Well! Since we have both of you here, let’s start with the obvious question.”

She turns to you. “What’s it been like, joining the most powerful team in the world?”

You open your mouth to speak—but Homelander beats you to it.

“Well, Karen,” he says, his voice smooth, rehearsed. “It’s been quite the adjustment for her, I’m sure. New city, new responsibilities, and, of course—” he turns his head, his piercing gaze locking onto you, “—new relationships.”

You bite your tongue.

Karen nods, completely eating up Homelander’s performance.

“Absolutely! And what about you? What made you see her as a fit for The Seven?”

Homelander hums, tilting his head.

“Oh, where do I start? She’s strong. Fierce. Dedicated. But more than that, she understands…” He lets the pause linger, looking at you like he’s daring you to interrupt.

You don’t.

“…who she belongs with.”

A dangerous silence lingers for just a second too long before Karen, slightly caught off guard, laughs.

“Well! That’s, uh… very high praise.”

You don’t let yourself react. Instead, you turn to Karen with a practiced, charming smile.

“It’s been an honor to join The Seven. I’ve worked my whole life for this opportunity.”

You place a delicate hand on Homelander’s arm, feeling him tense under your touch.

“And I couldn’t have done it without him believing in me.”

He eases slightly. You knew that would stroke his ego.

But you aren’t done.

Karen nods enthusiastically. “And the fans are already loving you! You’re being called ‘the fresh, young energy The Seven needed.’ I’m sure you’ve seen the online buzz?”

You flash a bashful smile. “I have, yeah. It’s… nice, knowing people are excited about me.”

You put emphasis on the last word, your gaze flickering toward Homelander just briefly enough for him to catch it.

His jaw twitches.

Karen beams. “Well, you are the moment! And a lot of that excitement is also, of course, about you two.” She gestures between you and Homelander.

“Social media is already flooded with clips of your… let’s say, undeniable chemistry.”

You barely have time to react before Homelander lets out a deep, pleased chuckle.

“What can I say?” he murmurs, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger against your skin. “People love a good power couple.”

The words send a shock through your spine. You school your expression into something neutral, refusing to let him win.

Karen raises a brow. “So, can we confirm that? Are you two…?”

This is your chance.

You could go along with it, let him have this claim over you—again.

Or… you could do what you really want.

You shift in your seat, batting your lashes as you turn to Karen. “Oh, Karen.”

You lean in, resting your chin on your hand.

“Now, that would be spoiling the mystery, wouldn’t it?”

Homelander’s entire body stiffens.

Karen laughs. “I love that answer.”

You can feel the heat radiating off Homelander.

Good.

He hates not being in control. You can tell he wants to say something—maybe correct you, maybe make some grand declaration of ownership.

But he doesn’t. Not here. Not where the cameras are rolling.

Instead, he settles for gripping your thigh under the table.

Tight.

Painful.

But you can take it.

—

The interview wraps up, the cameras still rolling but the closing music signaling the end of the segment. Karen thanks you both, shaking hands, oblivious to the silent war happening in front of her.

Homelander’s grip on your thigh is bruising.

He hasn’t spoken since you dodged the question. Since you humiliated him. In front of millions.

You can feel the rage radiating off him, an unstable storm brewing under that carefully controlled exterior. But he doesn’t snap—not here. Not where people can see.

Instead, he flashes a dazzling smile to Karen. “Pleasure as always.”

His voice is smooth, but you don’t like his tone. You imagine it’s the same voice he uses before lasering someone into dust.

You don’t move. You wait.

Homelander stands first, his cape whipping behind him as he gestures for you to follow.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

It’s not a request.

You hesitate, just for a second.

He extends a hand to you, his grip forceful but calculated as he helps you up.

“Smile,” he murmurs, too low for anyone else to hear.

“Wouldn’t want people thinking you’re afraid of me.”

He guides you through the studio, the Vought execs watching like hawks. You keep your expression composed, refusing to let him see the way your heart is hammering. You knew he’d be mad. You wanted him to be mad. But now, walking beside him, you realize just how close you’re dancing to the edge.

The second you’re backstage, away from prying eyes, his grip tightens around your throat.

“Did you really think that was funny?” he murmurs, his voice so low it sends chills down your spine.

He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t have to.

His voice alone carries enough restrained violence to make the air thick with tension.

You look up at him, batting your lashes in mock innocence, struggling to breathe.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

His nostrils flare.

“Don’t play with me.” His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your chin up so you have to look at him. His thumb brushes against your lower lip—gentle, almost loving. But his grip? It’s unforgiving.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

You wet your lips, your breath shallow.

“What?”

“Teasing me.” His voice, venom-laced honey.

“Denying me in front of all those people. Making me look like some pathetic, lovesick idiot.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because he’s right.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, sweetheart.” He shakes his head, his grip loosening—but only slightly.

“You really don’t know what you’ve done.”

He leans in, so close his breath fans against your cheek.

“But that’s okay,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’ll remind you.”

His hand trails down your arm, his fingers barely ghosting over your skin. It sends a shiver through you. Not from fear—no, you know better.

This isn’t fear.

This is something worse.

“Are you going to punish me?” you ask, keeping your voice steady.

His eyes darken, his pupils blown wide with something dangerous.

He presses his lips to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Oh, silly girl…” He laughs, quiet and sinister.

“I already am.”

And with that, he pulls away, his grip gone, his expression suddenly light and pleasant as if nothing happened at all.

He gestures for you to follow, his voice as cheerful as ever. “Let’s go.”

—

Homelander doesn’t touch you as you leave the studio. That’s the punishment.

He doesn’t press a hand to your lower back, doesn’t pull you possessively against his side, doesn’t hover over you like a protective force of nature. He keeps walking ahead, never looking behind him.

It shouldn’t bother you.

Surprise—it does.

The city is loud, the streets buzzing with reporters still trying to get a shot of the two of you, their cameras flashing in bursts of white-hot light.

They call your name.

His name.

Homelander doesn’t acknowledge them.

Neither do you.

The moment you’re both out of sight from the cameras, he sweeps you into his arms and takes off into the sky. You both are soaring over the skyline, the wind whipping against your faces.

Normally, this would excite you—the thrill of being in the air, the rush of speed—but now?

Now all you can feel is the tension.

You land on your balcony. Before you can even turn around, he’s already inside, pacing through your apartment like a lion in a cage. His hands flexing at his sides.

He’s waiting for you to speak first.

You don’t.

Instead, you close the balcony door and lean against it, watching him.

“So…” you finally say, feigning nonchalance. “You’re mad.”

Homelander stops. Turns his head, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Mad?” he echoes, voice deceptively calm.

You know better.

“You humiliated me,” he says, his tone soft but laced with something sharp. “In front of millions.”

You push off the door, crossing your arms.

“I didn’t humiliate you.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You challenged me.”

You inhale slowly.

He’s still keeping his distance, still standing across the room.

He hasn’t touched you since the interview.

Since he whispered, “I already am”.

You tilt your head. “So, what’s my punishment, then?”

Ignoring your question, he walks toward you—slow, deliberate, like he wants you to feel every second of it.

And then… he passes you.

Goes straight to your bedroom.

You follow, your pulse quickening.

When you enter, he’s already making himself at home, sprawled out on your bed like he fucking owns it.

You stand in the doorway, arms still crossed.

“What are you doing?”

Homelander props himself up on an elbow, tilting his head at you. “What does it look like?”

You narrow your eyes. “I meant what you said earlier. About my punishment.”

He smirks. “This is it.”

You hesitate. “…Laying on my bed?”

He grins wider. “Ignoring you.”

Your stomach twists, your fingers clenching at your sides.

That’s what this is?

Homelander has spent the last 24 hours consuming you—smothering you, obsessing over you, refusing to let you out of his sight.

He’s claimed you over and over, left bruises where only he can see, reminded you that you belong to him.

And now?

Now he’s withholding himself.

It’s petty. It’s cruel.

And it’s working.

You roll your eyes, feigning indifference.

“Okay, fine. Be dramatic. I have stuff to do.”

You turn on your heel and walk toward the bathroom.

You don’t make it two steps.

Whoosh.

He’s in front of you.

His smirk. His arrogance. Gone.

“Try that again,” he says, voice low.

Your breath catches.

And then—he steps back.

Your frustration spikes. And it confuses you.

Because you want him to touch you.

You want him to pin you down and remind you who the fuck you belong to.

But he knows that.

So, withholding is the punishment.

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Go ahead,” he says, nodding toward the bathroom. “Take your time.”

You walk past him, closing the door behind you with more force than necessary.

And in the silence, as you stare at your reflection, you realize…

This might be the worst punishment he’ll ever give you.

Depriving you of his touch.

But the moment he breaks?

You’re fucked.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ˚ ༘ ⁺˚⋆｡

128 notes · View notes

loreleiloon · 3 days ago

Text

(Variation of my other post)

What if, due to fighting villains so much, Hero contracts a serious illness that threatens to completely debilitate them.

Hero is nothing without their crime fighting work, so they seek out one of the best doctors in the city.

The doctor gives Hero a drug that keeps the illness in remission. But Hero needs to come in for injections twice a week.

Hero complies with this schedule religiously. After a few months, not only is the illness almost gone, but Hero feels better than they have in years.

And the doctor is so kind, so understanding. They never ask Hero where they get their bruises or broken bones, just patch them up good as new. As if they know exactly where Hero was injured.

For once in Hero's life, they are the ones being taken care of. They forgot how incredible that feeling was.

One day, the doctor steps out with a flustered nurse while Hero is getting injected.

"I'll be back soon," they promise on the way out. "Just sit tight and wait for me." Then with a swish of their doctor's coat, they disappear behind the door.

Hero obliges, letting the drug soothe the aches in their bones. But then the machine cuts off abruptly. Hero looks but the IV bag is still half full.

Confused, they ease off the operating chair. The plug is attached to the outlet. All the wiring seems fine.

Then Hero notices that the doctor left their clipboard behind. Hero's never read the clipboard. They can't even remember the last time the doctor let the clipboard out of their sight.

Hero knows they shouldn't but the notes are about them, after all. Besides, they want to know what the doctor thinks of all their strange injuries so poorly explained.

The first page is normal medical jargon. Hero flips through the second, third, fourth.

It's not until they reach the last page that they find handwritten notes.

"Strongest at .5 meters"

"Test 3mg more of Haepoxulin."

"Monitor activities during witching hour more closely."

"Do NOT taser right leg. Femur still healing."

Hero tested their step on their right leg. The leg felt healthy, better than healthy. What did the doctor--

A sharp pain shot up Hero's leg. Their knee buckles. Hero clutches the arms of the operating chair, agony locking them in place.

"You've been wanting to read that, haven't you?"

Hero's eyes whip towards the door. Supervillain stands in the doorway, holding the doctor's coat over their arm.

Hero tries to lunge, but the pain keeps them in place.

"What did you do to the doctor?" Hero yells, hatred burning from their gaze. "If you touched a hair on their heads, I'll--"

Supervillain shakes their head. "Ever the savior. To busy asking what I did to them," shaking out the coat, Supervillain pulls it over their shoulders, "to wonder what I did to you."

Hero's blood freezes. There's that roguish grin the doctor always wears, that stubborn cowlick the doctor can never comb down.

"You--you're--how?" Hero's heart twists with rage, confusion, hurt. "Was it all a lie?"

"Of course not. I couldn't have my favorite Hero dying. Who would thwart my plans? Life's so boring when everything goes your way," They press a small button on the device in their hand, "Don't you think, Hero?"

A thousand shock waves jolt through Hero's body. They crumple to the floor, writhing from the neurons coursing through their blood.

Supervillain clicks the button again. The agony stops at once. In its place, healing strength flows into Hero's muscles.

Hero's eyes roll back in their head. Consciousness weakens and the world swims into darkness.

Before Hero can fully pass out, they turn their head to ask Supervillain one more question: "Why...?"

Supervillain's, no, the doctor's roguish grin is the last thing Hero sees before the world goes dark.

"Why not, Hero?"

83 notes · View notes

userluhna · 2 months ago

Text

࿔⋆ IN MY HANDS

paramedic!kang daeho x f!reader

words: 1.2k

warnings: established relationship. angst angst angst. no good ending. physical injury. mention of blood. car crash. death. alternative ending

enjoy! :(

the crash was brutal. direct. you didn’t have time to react. no time to hit the brake, not even time to take a breath before the impact hit. the call came through: “car crash. two people involved. one female, aged 26. one male, aged 45.”

daeho and his team were already moving, fast and focused. loading into the ambulance, strapping in gear, scanning the screens. minutes later, as the vehicle sped through the city, the voice on the radio crackled again: “down the avenue. male unconscious. plate 11 6290. female unresponsive. plate 11 43—”

they didn’t need to finish. daeho knew those numbers. he knew them by heart. and then, he saw it.

your car. or what used to be your car. now just a mess of metal crushed in the middle of the road. he jumped out too fast, too hard—protocol forgotten. the firefighters were already there, working to open your door. you were trapped.

his boots hit the ground with force as he ran. they finally got the door open and he rushed forward—gloved hands steady, but his heart racing. and then he saw you. your eyes barely open. blood at your temple.

your chest rising too slow. not right.

he crouched down carefully beside you, not touching anything yet, trying not to move your spine. his gloved fingers brushed your cheek, barely there.

“hey, baby. it’s me. it’s daeho. i’m right here.” his voice shook. but he held it steady for you. you didn’t respond. your eyelids didn’t even flutter.

he reached for your wrist—checking your pulse. it was faint. but there. “okay, okay. you’re with me. you’re still here.”

he carefully stabilized your neck with a collar, signaling to his colleague to get the backboard. they worked fast—gently easing you from the wreckage, keeping your spine straight, protecting every fragile inch of you.

“you’re doing so good, love. so good. stay with me, okay?”

he kept whispering. his eyes never left you. he helped lay you down on the stretcher, strapping you in. when your eyes threatened to close, his thumb gently brushed your cheek.“hey. no, no—stay with me, love.”

blood soaked his gloves. it was on his arms, his uniform, everywhere. he pressed gauze to the wound at your temple, his hands working automatically while his heart screamed. “you’re gonna be okay. i swear. remember the trip you kept talking about? we’ll go. just stay awake for me. please.” he slid the oxygen mask over your face, adjusting it carefully.

his hands moved with practiced skill, but they trembled beneath it. in the back of the ambulance, he stayed right next to you—helping the team monitor your vitals, bandage wounds, keep you stable. the worry behind his eyes was raw. his jaw clenched. he didn’t cry, but he looked close. your eyes were half-lidded. his face leaned close to yours.

“that’s it. that’s my girl.” a single tear rolled down your cheek. he took off his glove with one hand, wiped it gently away. “i’ve got you.” but then your body jolted and stilled. your eyes closed. the monitor screamed. a flatline.

“fuck.” he muttered, already moving.

scissors cut through your shirt. he started cpr immediately. his hands pumping hard, desperate. “no. no. come on, y/n.”

he leaned down, gave you breaths. then more compressions. one, two, three, four—your body stayed still.

he didn’t stop. even when minutes passed. even when the others looked at him with silent heartbreak. “don’t leave me. not now. not ever.”

tears mixed with sweat on his face. his gloves were off now, hands on your bare chest, pushing harder. his voice barely a whisper. “breathe, angel. please.” when they reached the hospital, he was still at it. bloody, trembling, soaked in your blood. they tried everything. the doctors rushed in, machines readied, adrenaline injected—but it wasn’t enough.

your heartbeat never came back. daeho stayed beside you. when they called the time, his forehead dropped to yours.

your skin was cold. his hands were burning.

his thumb brushed your cheek like he didn’t want to believe. his lips pressed to your forehead, shaking, wet with tears. he didn’t say anything at first. his sobs did all the talking.

loud, broken, helpless.

no one moved him. they couldn’t. he clung to you like maybe you’d come back if he loved you hard enough. and in the quiet between sobs, he whispered one thing, the only thing he could hold onto.

“i hope you felt safe with me.”

masterlist

requests are open!

#squid game #squid game headcanons #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #kang daeho x reader #kang dae ho x reader #kang dae ho #kang daeho

76 notes · View notes

kabr0ztrousers · 3 months ago

Note

I love your writing and I also love your world building and lore!

How about a human farm on a remote planet and the fem reader is one of those cows? She has been physically altered (larger lactating breasts) but unlike the others she has kept her mental faculties.

It gets attacked by a smug group of aliens looking to wreak anything from the Chitnids. The leader and his men initially saw no value in these humans and thought it better to kill them. The reader convinces him that they are valuable and she will demonstrate it.

By giving the leader a lactating titjob.

It's very convincing.

Kabr0z Writes Episode 77: The Raid

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: combat; power imbalance; coercion through threat of violence; degradation; fellatio; titjob;

A/N: Another story, another alien race to create. The Roswell fellas are a little less warlike in my mind, more like the Asgardians from Stargate, so you get to see my not-Klingons instead

###################################

A thousand lightyears from Sol, on the other side of the Chitinid empire. A compound under the violet sky. This was your home. Things could be far worse, you had the run of an acre or two of land, along with a hundred or so other women. A lot of the livestock are kept in much worse conditions, by some quirk of fate the company that bought you adopts a "free range" policy.

That's not to say organic, however. The first thing they did after snatching you from your home planet was to inject you with mutagens. You doubt you'd recognise yourself now: the Chitinid drugs made you gain weight dramatically, all of it in your thighs, hips, and tits. Not to mention the aphrodisiac mixed into the food and water. Most of your fellow cows have already succumbed, minds liquefied by the constant haze of arousal. It was difficult to resist, joining the near-constant orgies taking place around the field would be all too easy. The draw to give up, to stop fighting and accept your fate...

An explosion thundered across the field. Alarms blared as guards hurried towards the breach in the fence. The flash of energy weapons. You hit the ground. Women panicked around you, stray bolts flashing overhead. Ozone and seared flesh filled the air. A beam caught a woman running past you. She fell, a smouldering patch burned into her shoulder, skin blistering as she howled in pain.

You ignored her. It's not like you're able to field dress a burn, and hopefully it's just a flesh wound anyway. You made for the breach. Who knows what you'd find there, but as you hauled your wobbling bulk towards the fight, you knew only that it had to be better than this.

The fighting started to die down, one side had won, though it didn't seem to be the Chitinids. Figures strode across the field, standing straight in their dull red armour. Whoever these people were, they weren't Chitinids. You watched as they stalked around the field, taking pot shots at the monitoring gear and the milking equipment suspended from gantries above. Sparks showered down as the alien hardware caught fire, gobbets of molten plastic dropping from the busted machines. The invaders ignored your fellow humans as they cowered them or cried over injuries. Not you. You hauled yourself onto all fours, then onto your feet, lumbering towards the column of smoke on the edge of the paddock. Picking over burned and twitching Chitinids, you reached the blown-out edge. The invader's ship was there, the same deep metallic red as their armour. The door was open. You stepped in.

The interior of the ship was hot, you felt sweat start to bead on your skin as soon as you walked in. You blinked in the gloom say what you want about the Chitinids, they like a bright room. This race rather didn't, the lighting was deep red like everything else, bathing the interior in shadow. You felt your way into the chamber, pressing a glowing button on an inner door. You winced as it scorched your hand, but the airlock began to cycle.

The inner door opened to a room even warmer than the airlock. Your eyes were adjusting to the dark, there was something in front of you. It was a rifle.

Your hands shot up. Your tits bounced with the sudden movement. The alien in front of you barked an order. You didn't understand the guttural language

"Human?" You kept your hands up, hoping they understood that you didn't. The rifle lowered. The alien's head cocked slightly. You could see it a little better now. It was feathered, this one was wearing a cloth uniform rather than armour, a beaked face regarding you with cold, predatory eyes.

"Hu-man. Enemy asset. Destroy." The rifle raised again

"The bugs?" Your hands waved in the air "They're my enemy too! Chitinids bad! Human friend!"

This seemed to calm the alien a little. Your hands dropped down. Still out, just not straight up.

"Prove"

Now it was your turn to look puzzled "What do you want?"

"Prove friend. Hu-mans pets for enemy. Be pet for Chak-Tak"

Chak-Tak? Is that their race, or just this one? "I'm not a pet. I'm a person."

The alien laughed "Not Chak-Tak. Not person. We drop you at starbase. For now, pet."

The alien opened his uniform at the waist, yanking down his waistband. A tapering appendage stuck out, several inches in length. You could tell what he wanted.

It was already oozing a sweet liquid. You licked it gently, tasting the thin fluid as it ran in rivulets along his length. You reached the tip, poising it between pursed lips. The sweet fluid seeped between your lips as your head bobbed on the alien cock. He was groaning as you sucked him off, probably a good sign. He lay down on the floor. You hefted your tits onto him, squeezing his cock between them as you continued sucking. Milk leaked from you as you rubbed him between your breasts, you felt it starting to cover your hands as it squirting out, landing on his uniform. He didn't seem to care, lost in the feelings of your mouth around his member.

You redoubled your efforts. He seemed to get louder when you focused on the tip, especially when you ran your tongue around it. You gently sucked out his juices, massaging the pointed end of his member, listening to his groans and growls get louder. He roared out, the fluid thickening all at once as it flowed faster. Your mouth filled in an instant. You choked down the thick, stringy cum. The sweet taste clung to your tongue, pump after pump oozing out in a ribbon of sugary slime, like trying to drink soda syrup. He held you to him, hands clasped behind your head, hips bucking against your tits, holding the tip of his cock in your mouth as it sprayed more and more.

It died down at last, you felt the flow stop just as the airlock behind you cycled. You turned, the attack force had returned, carrying their smoking weapons on their hips. A dozen rifles trained on you as the one covered in your spit and milk stood up, covering his crotch. A barked exchange. A guttural laugh from the armoured ones. Then a selection of alien cocks, all dripping with that same sweet fluid.

Looks like you're going to earn your passage

#####################################

I'll almost certainly use the avian Chak-Tak again, they're not as evil as the Chitinids, but they ain't nice.

I've been a little lax on soliciting requests recently! If you have anything you want to see, let me know! I'll try to make it happen

77 notes · View notes

el4ise · 1 month ago

Text

⊹ ࣪ ˖ COLD HANDS

pairings ⤷ caleb x reader

genre ⤷ angst

warnings ⤷ child abuse, mentions of blood

synopsis ⤷ what are you? a monster? a weapon? a machine? or a child? stuck in an endless loop of being destroyed and recreated for the purpose of destruction— you could only count on one thing to keep you sane, caleb.

THE ALARM BESIDE YOU RANG, signaling the start of another day. you couldn't b other getting up. the events stayed the same. eat at seven, bathe at eight, tests on ten, rest on twelve. the list goes on. there was no freedom, no choice, no nothing. simply like puppets on a string. you ask yourself the same questions everyday.

why me?

why am I still here?

how can I still get up?

the noises of the machines, connected through the wires that were inserted in your body echoed through the hallway. slow, deliberate steps that gently made its way to the lab.

you entered, seeing a familiar dark haired boy sitting on the usual table you sat everyday.

“y/n! you're awake!” caleb. your one and only friend, your reason, your will, your everything. you didn't even remember when it started, or how it started. but what you do remember is caleb being by your side the second it did. his presence never falters, never leaves, never hesitates. he's always there.

“mm. have you eaten?” you replied with a soft voice. he exclaimed happily, nodding. he gazed at you as you ate. his little feet swinging back-and-forth on the seat. you were about to say something when the room's metal door busted open. it's time.

“A-01, it's your schedule.” a hand grabs my arm forcefully, with an immense grip. his hands pick me up along with the machineries connected to me. caleb tries to stop them, “no! stop! she hasn't finished ye—” he couldn't finish his sentence as the man slaps his cheek. the loud *slap!* sound echoing amongst the walls. “you know the rules, X-02. keep it shut until it's your turn.” he sat there, a red hue in his left cheek. I saw a glimpse of his teary eyes once more before we completely vanished.

the man set me down on a chair. strapping the restraints on my wrists and waist. a few more people came in, some with masks and other equipment.

a familiar raspy voice spoke infront of me. “you know the drill. you can take it.” she suddenly stabs an injection in my neck as I suddenly feel a powerful gush inside me, I let out a loud scream, the fluid mixing with my blood. my eyes become a white shade, an orange line that glows starts to flow on my face. I cloaed my fists, an orange-blue mist starting to form inside them. I hear one of them yell, “she's finally controlling it,” before my vision starts to blur. the excruciating pain going to my head to my legs. I shake uncontrollably on the chair, I can feel the fluid's motion inside my body, clearly.

“.. please! p-please— i-it hurts!” one of them signals to the other, a lady presses a button on the chair, and it puts a ring on my head, it starts to power up. I feel my forehead heating up. the tears flow to my cheek. it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.. caleb heard your painful cries outside the room. he didn't believe in faith, in gods, but for you, he'd pray to them all. if it meant all your pain would be transferred to him.

my eyes open, the sight infront of me is a plain white ceiling, no windows, no furniture. only the bed I'm laying in and one desk. I'm in my room. my head feels heavy. I noticed more machines have been attached to me. I failed to endure it, again. each day, we take turns in experiments. sometimes they put a serum in me. one that solidifies some of my blood cells. it's suppose to.. strengthen my evol. if anything, I feel weaker.

I walked out of my room. I heard a deep, loud scream. “LET ME G—I CAN'T!” who could.. caleb! I ran as fast as I could, reaching the laboratory. I was too short to reach the door's windows. “caleb!” a lady, with grey hair.. my grandma. grabs my wrist gently, pulling me back. “A-01, stay back.” I shook my head eagerly, I can't. I can't leave him. “n-no.. caleb!” he let out a painful scream, before the room fell silent.

one of them came out of the room, I got a glance inside. caleb was standing, his hands strapped to a metal wall with cuffs. his head was hung low. did he pass out? “X-02 managed to endure the mechanic. we can proceed to nullifying.” I turned my head up. nullify? his evol? “what're you going to do to him?!” the man bends down to his knees. just to reach my height. “maybe if you weren't so weak, you would've endured it like him. and you wouldn't be stuck redoing the same injection everyday. yeah?” he paused for a moment, patting my head. “if your body still rejects the serum later on, we have no choice but to put you in the chamber.” my eyes widened. chamber?.. what chamber?

I waited patiently in my room, the quiet beeping of the machines connected to me. suddenly, caleb walked in the room. his skin almost white. his face has a glowing orange line, flowing across his cheek. “caleb.. what'd they do to you?..” I walked towards him. he sighed. shaking his head. “I don't know.. but don't worry! I'm gonna be fine.” caleb's always like this. he acts strong, as if he can tolerate anything. but you know he does it in order to make you feel safe and protected. but you know just how fragile he was. the small cracks that falters beneath his tough act. “caleb, I'm scared of losing you..” I murmured under my breath, shaky. “hey, shh. I won't let that happen. I can't lose. I have someone I must protect.” among the last lines, his hand cradled your cheek. caressing it softly.

as the days pass, the experiments get harder and harder to accept. each one worse and more painful than the last. you had wires on your hands and legs, barely managing to still stand up and walk. while you and caleb were sitting around in the room, a group of scientists barged in. “A-01. we'll be putting you in a chamber. your body will connect with the serum.” caleb then grabs me, his arms holding me close to him, gripping me tightly. “no! what do you mean?! you're not putting her in a chamber!” one of them gestures to the rest, suddenly they go on either sides of us, trying to pry us apart. “caleb! I'm scared!” my eyes were filled with tears, my hands desperately holding on to his. “let her go! let her go!!” to their struggle of getting me, my grandma.. pulls a remote out of her pocket, she pressed a button and suddenly, caleb lets out a painful wail. electricity surging inside the wires, coursing through his body. “CALEB!” they wasted no time, carrying me out as I watched caleb's weakened body fall. his eyes meeting mine before I disappeared from his view.

I pounced my hands on the back that was carrying me. they let me down on the front of the big tube. wires and monitors connected to it. “please.. please don't do this, grandma.. please! don't let them do this..” she simply turned away, letting the people shove me inside. the doors closed with a silent hiss, the floors of the tube started powering up. the last thing I saw was a flash, before my vision blurred.

I woke up in a blank room. where am I? I look in the mirror, my left eye isn't hazel. my pupil a plain, white color. but I can see. to my surprise, a familiar boy comes in. “you're.. alive? oh my god, you're alive. I thought I lost you- I-I heard them say your heart stopped but they m-must've done something, oh my god.” huh? my heart stopped? and who is this boy? you gently pushed him away from the tight hug he had. “.. I'm sorry, but who are you?” caleb's heart dropped. you.. don't remember him?

the hands that once held his for comfort, were now pushing him away in fear.

sho's note ◜ᴗ◝ this is so crappy ugh, I'm sorry if this isn't super lore accurate, but I tried my best T^T. this is based off of caleb & mc's childhood where they were experimented on :) hope u guys enjoyed

#sho writes ☆#caleb xia #caleb love and deepspace #caleb angst #xia yizhou #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb lads #love and deepspace angst #love and deepspace au #caleb fluff #caleb x mc #love and deepspace fluff

44 notes · View notes