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jonathansthickthighs · 6 months

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My Sweetest Heart: Yandere! Fushiguro Toji x Reader

Description: You have a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

Part 4 here

Part 5 here

Masterlist

Trigger Warnings: nsfw, yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, AFAB reader, toxic behavior, stalking, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), alternative universe (no curses), daddy kink, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s)

A/N: hello! this is my first time posting anything here. if anyone reads this, i hope you enjoy. if you do, i might continue it :)

Not edited!

You were uncertain how you ended up with your legs on each side of your head as this beast of a man you didn’t even know thrust deeply into you. You weren’t even aware you were this flexible before this. However, you weren’t complaining as you felt the tip of his thick, hard member collide with your g-spot repeatedly. He had made you reach your peak three times by now and it was evident that stopping wasn’t in his plans. His grunts and moans only fueled your horniness, hearing a man make some noise during intimacy could rile any woman up.

“This tight lil’ pussy is driving me crazy, sweetheart. Fuck— you gonna let me feel you come on me again? Lemme feel you flutter around my cock, baby, please.” He begged into your ear, his low, raspy voice sending waves of pleasure all over your body. This man knew what he was doing to you.

You moaned loudly, feeling his dick twitch inside you. “I need it, Toji! Don’t fucking stop!”

“That’s right. Say my fuckin’ name, baby. Tell me who this pussy belongs to.” You thought this to be impossible, but he started drilling you harder, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull and forcing you to succumb into the delightful sensation that his large prick brought you. The room was filled with the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass repeatedly, your juices pooling on the sheets of the bed. It didn’t take long for your pussy to clench around his dick, announcing the arrival of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck! I’m gonna— I’m g-gonna come, Toji!” You gasped as you squeezed his cock, making him shudder. You were forcing him to come.

“Holy s-shit.” He cursed as you milked his cock. Long, thick spurts of semen started painting your walls white, making your combined juices overflow from your abused hole. He stilled inside your pussy as he finished riding his high, laying his head on your breasts once he was done.

You thought it was over, until you felt him starting to suckled on your nipples.

“Lemme take you again, sweetheart.” He groaned, his voice muffled by your breasts. Jesus, does this man have unlimited energy? He flipped you over onto your stomach on a swift motion, as if you weighed nothing to him. Somehow, you still had enough strength to keep yourself up on your hands and knees. He spread your ass cheeks open and watched as his seed dripped out of your cunt slowly, like it was seducing him into sliding himself inside you once more. He hissed, feeling his dick get painfully hard again.

“Gods, what a beautiful sight.” Toji grasped his shaft, stroking it a few times before pressing the tip against your entrance, forcing a moan out of you. “You want it, you slut? Wanna feel daddy’s dick splitting you open again?”

You weren’t experienced with men.

In fact, this was your very first one night stand. You wanted to experience for once in your life what it meant to be free and to have control over your own body, so when you saw Toji looking directly at you from across the bar, you knew he was going to be the one fucking your brains out tonight.

You had decided to go out with your girl friends to decompress from work when one of them pointed out the dark haired, exquisite looking man that had been staring at you the entire night. You didn’t know if it was the fact that a man that looked like that had been eyeing you up this whole time or if you were just tipsy, but you got a sudden burst of confidence that pushed you to go talk to him.

He seemed extremely pleased you approached him, excited even. He was noticeably older than you, but not old enough to be your father. You had never paid much attention to men his age, but something about this absolute hunk of a man pulled you to him. Looking at him up close made you nervous, the confidence you felt earlier, slowly turning into shyness. This man was definitely the most handsome man you’ve laid your eyes on. Judging by the smirk on his face he enjoyed your shyness. He thought it was cute.

To your surprise you had a very fluid, enjoyable conversation. He knew how to have a good time. You could feel a sincere interest coming from him, he wanted to get to truly know you, asking you questions about yourself, your likes, your hobbies and your life in general.

It was a shame you only wanted to fuck him.

At this point of your life you weren’t looking for a relationship. You had just gotten out of a five year relationship with your first ever boyfriend a few months ago and you simply weren’t ready to get into another commitment just yet. You had been with you first boyfriend since you were teenagers and you never got to explore what it felt like to be young and single. You wanted to learn how to be alone.

So you cut Toji short politely inviting him over to your place and he didn’t even hesitate to agree.

This is how to ended up with this man pounding you sore pussy from behind like a madman.

You moaned wantonly as he spanked your ass red, your ass jiggled with each harsh thrust. “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good, baby. The bes’ one I’ve ever felt.” Toji was so pussy drunk, he could barely form words.

You looked over your shoulder wanting to see his expression and god was the sight gorgeous. His mouth hanging open and his brows furrowed, his body dripping with sweat. Then he opened his eyes and looked directly into yours. You both had the same expression.

“Oh, don’t you give me that slutty face. I’m not gonna last.” Toji grunted, delivering another slap to your ass. You smirked and let out a moan as you started pushing your ass towards him, trying to meet his thrusts. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you.

“You fuckin’ whore. You want me to fill you up with my cum again don’t you?” He said between a moan and a chuckle. “Tell me you want it, baby.”

“I want it so bad, daddy. Please empty your balls inside me!” Your fifth orgasm was approaching as well.

“Take it!” He bottomed out releasing his seed straight into your womb, making you scream as your own orgasm took over squirting all over his crotch and thighs. Your legs finally giving up as you crashed onto the bed.

Toji pulled out slowly, groaning at the sensitivity. He laid down besides you, admiring your sweaty, red face. He thought you looked the most beautiful like this. “How about we take a shower together, sweetheart?”

So you did and you let him spend the night.

After all, how bad could it be?

The next morning you woke up with a pair of strong arms wrapped around you. You almost got scared until you remembered what happened last night, you could not believe you actually had sex with a stranger. You covered your mouth as you giggled quietly in disbelief. You knew this wasn’t going to become something frequent, you weren’t the type to sleep around, but you had to admit it had been a great experience and you were glad it had been with a man as experienced as Toji. It probably wouldn’t have worked out as well if it wasn’t for him, so you had to give him some credit.

Speaking of which, you could feel Toji stirring awake. You turned around to look at him and you were received with a sleepy smile. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

“Morning.” You replied back feeling your shyness take over.

“Don’t get shy with me now, I saw your entire being last night.” He joked, giving your cheek a sweet kiss. Are men usually this affectionate after causal sex?

You blushed from embarrassment, he really did see your entire being. You started to get up, only to be stopped by a hand grabbing your arm. “Where you going so early, baby? Let me keep you warm for a little longer.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Toji. If I don’t get up now, I’m gonna be late for work!” You answered giving him a courteous smile. You weren’t certain why he was being so doting, you didn’t know if this was normal behavior after a one night stand. What you did know was that, that’s all you wanted it to be. Simply a night of good, casual sex with a hot guy you met at a bar. A man you would never have to see again and to you it was safe to assume that Toji was the type of man looking for the same thing as you.

“I see. Well, maybe we could grab some coffee and I can drop you off at work. How does that sound?”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Lunch?” He insisted.

“Toji—“ He cuts you off by pressing his scarred lips to yours, tangling his fingers with your hair.

He pulled away, his finger still holding your hair. “Baby, don’t worry. Just give me your number and we can schedule something for when you’re available.”

You felt odd. How can you get out of this situation? You hated this, you’ve never been in a position like this before. You felt helpless as you hesitantly agreed to give him your number. The weirdest part being that he never let go of your hair until you entered you contact information into his phone. It felt threatening in a way, even if his grip on you was loose.

He let go of your hair when you handed him his phone back. “Perfect. Let me just call you real quick so you can save my number.” Good thing you didn’t give him a fake number. “I’ll get going then. I’ll text you later, sweetheart.” Toji smirked, pecking your lips before walking out of them room.

You let out a sigh of relief once you heard your front door slam closed. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until now. You were feeling exasperated, you were already praying he never contacted you.

Maybe last night was a mistake.

Toji was a troubled man. He knew it. The people around him knew it.

They say no one is born evil, but from the moment he gained conscious he doesn’t remember a moment when he was truly good and quite frankly, he preferred it stayed that way. He had been raised around pain and suffering. He was brought into this world to become an assassin from a young age. He was brought to inflict nothing but agony and that’s all he knew how to do. He doesn’t remember a single moment of happiness from his early childhood to his adult life. He was made to believe he didn’t deserved love and he believe it because he never did anything worthy of it. He knew he wasn’t a good man.

He knew he wasn’t a good man and that’s why he didn’t feel guilty about all the times he followed you as you walked back to your place from work.

The moment he laid his eyes on you, something changed deep within him. There was a feeling he’d never felt before and it felt… good?

You first saw Toji at that bar, but Toji?

Oh, Toji first saw you at least two months before that.

Rain was pouring over him, but he could care less because what he was witnessing right now was perhaps the most breathtaking, heart-bursting sight in his entire existence. It was you. The answer to all his problems just walked past him in the torrential rain. He was amazed that not even the rain could conceal your beautiful face, he could see it perfectly clear. You were wearing some type of uniform that clung to your body thanks to the weather. Toji couldn’t help but admire the shape of your body, instantly getting hard at the sight of your nipples hardening from the cold rain under your white shirt. You had only walked by him for a few seconds, but to him it felt like an eternity. It was almost as if you were walking in slow motion. In spite of being distracted by your beauty, he was still an extremely observant man and was able to descry the name of the company you worked for on the logo planted on your shirt.

Toji wasn’t a good man. That’s why he stalks you any time he can, to him he’s just making sure you’re safe. That’s why loves breaking into your place and stealing your clothes and anything he can get his hands on that will make him feel closer to you. He particularly loves laying on your bed and smelling your sheets, your scent was simply divine. That’s why he tugs on his cock any time he caught sight of you. That’s why he would drag any man that dared approach you —hell, even look at you— to an empty alley and beat them to a pulp without a care for their sorry lives. He was an assassin, it’s all he knew how to do.

Toji wasn’t a good man, but he wanted to be for you.

He couldn’t stand hiding behind your shadow any longer, he was growing desperate. He felt pathetic, this feeling was alien to him and he hated it. He needed you to notice him.

Imagine his luck when he saw you walk into the bar that night. Toji was over the moon. Both of you were finally at the same place at the same time and he didn’t even need to fake a scenario for it to occur.

Toji was having an internal battle with himself, trying to find a way to approach you where you wouldn’t find him creepy. You were with your friends which made it harder for him to come up with a way to swoop you away. He never had trouble getting any woman to bed him, but you weren’t just any woman. You were special to him. He wanted to keep you, provide for you, protect you, love you.

He didn’t realize how long he had been staring at you until he noticed one of your friends point him out. He freaked out internally until he saw you move your gaze towards him and he swore his heart could come out through his mouth at any moment. This was the first time he ever made eye contact with you and he couldn’t wait to hold your gaze for the rest of your lives. To his surprise, you smiled at him.

He observed as you whispered something to your friend before standing up.

You were walking towards him.

All this time thinking about how to approach you and now you were coming to him.

That night he had the best time he’s had in his life. Getting to talk to you, look at you up close was indescribable to him. Although he wished he could’ve spoken to you more, he didn’t mind how the night ended at all. Getting to enjoy your delicious little body was the best part of it. He gave you his all. He wanted to make sure you were ruined for any other man, he wanted you to only think of him from that night forward.

He really thought he had achieved that.

But the next morning you were so cold to him it broke his heart to a million pieces.

But that’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll win your heart over. ♥︎

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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months

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prefacing this by saying I have absolutely no information on this period of history, but Rome was sacked and ultimately destroyed by Germanic tribes.

And naturally, the first thing I thought of upon learning that was Invader!König X Roman Maiden!Reader. Similar to your story, I’m thinking he decides to take the Reader as a trophy of war similar to his comrades. You and plenty of other maidens are tied up, thrown across horseback or across shoulders, and dragged off back to Germania. Depending on how dark you want it, König could wait for his little prize to want his cock, or he could have no patience at all and fuck her as soon as he gets a chance. Of course, he’s still somewhat of a gentleman, he’ll make sure she enjoys it, but like it or not his cock’s going in her.

I think this is an opportunity to lean even further into the barbarian König idea, with varying levels of darkness.

Save me dark barbarian!König... 🖤💋

CW: dark content, noncon groping, noncon cuddling, fear of SA, König's idea of hot sex is problematic to say the least, reader's level of enthusiasm/consent is ambiguous

He doesn’t care about your delicate sensibilities or noble background, he’s here to bring your Empire down and your weak men to their knees. It’s about time someone burned Rome to the ground; no amount of foreign perfume can cover the smell of shit in these streets…

But he won’t say no to gold or jewels, they might some day decorate his future wife's neck and wrists perhaps. Neither will he ride homeward without a slave to keep him warm. He hasn’t had a woman in months, the only thing closest to a cunt has been his calloused fist and he’s grown tired of that, nothing can compare with the real deal so a soft little female is exactly what he needs to keep him company when he and his warriors return North.

Your options are either freezing to death or crawling inside this giant’s cloak when he holds it open for you come nightfall, the voyage to Germania bringing with it the first snow and cold winds straight from Hades. You have no option but to go to this man for some body heat, the low rumble in his chest resembling the pleased purr of some untamed beast as he envelops you in wool and a hungry embrace.

He never speaks to you, only talks with his hands that roam all over your body as you cling to him with clattering teeth. Examining the wideness of your hips, the plumpness of your ass and tits, he serves himself a handful and some pinches as if he’s sampling fruit at the marketplace. Rubs your nipples between the pad of his thumb and pointer until you flinch from pain, mutters something pleased when he sees your skittish reaction. He won’t allow you to pull away however, not when you’re finally here, so back to his arms you go as he crushes you against his chest.

He’s amused at your attempts to both huddle closer and squirm away: why are you being so difficult when clearly, you want this too?

He saw how you looked at him back there when he was drenched in blood, that’s the reason he chose you. You’re sweeter than an apple, didn’t even scream when he swept your hair from your face to have a better look at you, you only eyed him with challenge when he inspected your lips, waistline and hips. A scared female would have avoided his eyes and begged not to be killed or worse, but you only lifted your chin and spat on his face, practically begging to get fucked…

And now you’re acting like you don’t want his cock while at the same time, you continue to stare at him like a deer in heat. If you don’t want him to fuck you then you should stop making him hard, but in truth König is only glad that he chose you out of all women. The ride back home won’t be dull with a fiery fox woman like you, he has to be careful that he doesn’t get bitten and bruised… How his men would laugh in the morning if they found out that the vixen he stole has made him hers, little teeth marks decorating his skin and betraying everyone your claim.

He would only be proud of you if you did that; women are quite adorable when they have some fire in them. But make no mistake, he won’t let you go no matter how hard you act like you hate him… Everyone here knows you want to jump on his cock; had he decided to inspect your pussy too while covered in your husband’s blood, he could’ve bet all his fortune along with his horse that you were already wet for him.

He could take you right now on this cold, hard ground, try to see how long it takes to make you wet and pliant. The only thing really keeping him from doing so are his men, no doubt wanting to see how a Roman lady takes their giant leader's cock. But he’s not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing you naked, let alone watching him fuck you, he'd have to kill them all afterwards...

So he settles for making his naughty little slave warm, and both of you a little breathless. He can find a more discreet place for you tomorrow, order a break or two to ease the heaviness of his sacks, the aching hard ons he’s had ever since he saw you. He has to be careful not to break you, and remember to kiss you on your neck, he heard that that’s the key to make women wet and willing.

You seem so fragile and frail when you fall asleep, finally surrendering to him, your body yielding and molding against his. In the morning, you whimper sweetly when he squeezes your now warm, plush body, and plants kisses on your face, your neck. You have no idea that the warriors are already mocking him for “making you wait so long”, that he has listened to stupid jokes all morning with you securely tucked inside his cloak. You bite him when he tries to come too close, all the brutes around you burst to laughter as he howls from pain.

Not feeling at all sorry for him when he rubs his neck and looks at you with drowsy curiosity, you rise and spit again on the ground as if you had just tasted something vile. He can’t stifle his smile then, your idea of foreplay is much more fun than what he had in mind…

And you aren’t flung over his horse, but actually get to ride it with him, the arm around your middle like iron as he keeps you as close to him as possible. You don’t know that he’s reluctant to take an unwilling woman, and that this preference makes him the laughing stock of the group. Neither do you know that König has already pictured you inside his hut, baking bread and scolding children like the firebrand that you are, giving him a naughty little wrestle and a fistfight every night before bed... Shuddering from want like you do now on his horse as he exposes your breasts to the approaching winter.

You are about to faint as tiny snowflakes land on your nipples, melting instantly as this man starts to fondle your tits. Slumping against his blazing form, you can do nothing but accept your fate as the horse keeps walking and the men around you shout and whistle at the sight of your breasts. The rough barks of your captor quickly end their excitement upon seeing your exposed tits, the whistles stop and the men turn their eyes quickly away from you.

The man behind you is now perfectly content, riding in the crisp morning air while pawing your breast with one hand and holding the reins with the other, his groin grinding against you with the movements of the horse, making it clear that he might soon stop this torture altogether and take you to the nearby woods for a quick fuck…

#barbarian!könig #dark content #spoils of war #historical au #tw: slavery #tw: dark themes #cw: dark content

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inkblot22 · 4 months

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Give You Something To Cry About

Yay, my time management skills continue to be straight ass. Sorry to the anon who has waited so patiently for this, and thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write this depraved ball of snot. Headers by @/cafekitsune. Also don't believe everything you see on the internet, there's no scientific proof that certain things work for your skin. I think Vil would know that, considering.

This Fic Is For: Anyone who can handle it! Once again, I tried to make it as gn as possible, considering Rook's use of Franglais, but I'm delusional and will say I did exactly that. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, and no real allusions to specific body parts are made for them.

TW for DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, forced dieting, non/dubcon, mentions of death, questionable use of magic, captivity, someone has a case of dacryphilia and a strong sadist streak, won't say who, Rook Hunt because he freaks me out, unhealthy relationship dynamics, abuse, forced BDSM if you squint, I feel so bad for the reader in this one, toxic relationships, possibly OOC characters.

“I am not going to tell you again, my love.” Vil bends down to get in your face, already wearing his ceremonial robe and heels. He points a finger in your face, like you’re a small child or a dog, “If you continue to pick at your skin, I am going to let Rook punish you this time.”

You swallow and look away, and Vil pinches your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling your head so you’re looking at him again. His violet eyes bore into you, and you swallow again.

He looks offended, almost, “Well? Have you forgotten basic manners? Speak.”

Your voice sounds dry and weak, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

He seems satisfied enough with that, moving around as he continues to prepare for whatever school-wide assembly is happening today. He elegantly tucks his hair behind his ear and sighs, scrolling through some page on his phone.

You remain standing where you are, turning your head to look out the window. It’s so pretty outside, but you only get to leave this room whenever Rook is watching you or Vil sends you on an errand. It’s always spring, never too hot, never too cold, but you’re sweating anyway.

Vil approaches you again and tilts your face back so you’re looking at him with a hand on your cheek. His eyes narrow a fraction.

“Your skin doesn’t seem to like this foundation. Make sure you discard it today; I’ll get you a new one.” He bends down again, this time to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He rubs his own together after pulling away and smudges his thumb over your bottom lip, “Hmm. What lipgloss is this?”

Your voice doesn’t sound so dry, but it still doesn’t sound like you, “Uh… The dark red one with the metallic purple? ‘Electric Berry’?

He’s silent for a second, just staring down at your lips as he cups your chin, and then he sighs and turns away, “It’s sticky. I’d tell you to wash your face and reapply your makeup, but that’d be a waste. Make sure you put on lip balm next time.”

You swallow, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

“I have to get going now. You’d better be at least halfway done with that list by the time I return.” He breezes towards the door and gives you a last, long look. He’s completely silent before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Your palms ache. You stiltedly wander towards the list pinned in the closet, glad to see it’s not insane today. All you need to do is tidy the bathroom and skim through Vil’s mail to see if it’s anything but hate mail or advertisements. Tack on getting rid of that foundation and that’s it, at least until he returns at lunch.

You relished this time to yourself, even if it was just cleaning or whatever else. Vil always said that motion is good for you, a structure does the mind good. You didn’t care much anymore. As you sat down to search through his mail, finding nothing but the usual hate mail and what appears to be a poem from Rook (why did he even mail that? He’s not even down the hall from this room,) you catch yourself craving something sweet.

The diet Vil has you on sucks. He has assured you that your body is lovely, and he is having you eat like this to help clear your skin, but really you just want something. Anything, you’d even take a breath mint over this lack of junk food. You’re young, what young person doesn’t enjoy gratuitously unhealthy food? A basket of french fries? Ice cream?

You frown to yourself and toss the last of the mail into the recycle bin. You know he’s just going to check it over again anyway, but at least you’re moving around. That’s what he would say.

By the time you’re almost done scrubbing the tub, you hear the door open. You don’t want to go greet him, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything and keep cleaning, making sure to disinfect the non-slip mat that resembles a bunch of ugly gems glued together.

You hear him clicking towards you, and his hand rests on your shoulder, “Going above and beyond today? I have lunch, come eat.”

You school your expression and stand up, pulling off your cleaning gloves and hanging them on the rim of the tub before you follow Vil. He ensconces himself in his desk chair, leaving you to awkwardly lift the stool near his vanity. He hates it when you push the furniture.

He clucks his tongue, not even looking at you, “Lift with your knees, darling. As much as I’d love to massage your back if you pull something, I simply don’t have the time.”

You can’t help it. You shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster as you lift with your knees, right as his eyes flick up to meet yours. You nearly drop the chair as his lips curl into a cold smirk.

“Do you have something to say?”

You hastily shake your head, “No, Vil-”

“Then don’t allow me to see that expression on your face again.” He bites, “Come sit down.”

You put the stool down a little harder than you mean to and take a seat beside Vil at his desk. He passes you your nice little container containing one of several things he gets you- a pile of leafy greens and chopped veggies on a bed of quinoa, fresh fruit, and a murky green smoothie topped with chia seeds.

You don’t like chia seeds. They remind you of frog eggs- a bunch of slimy lumps, sliding down your throat. You accept the straw Vil passes to you and stir the smoothie before eating in silence.

Vil doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him for feeding you. Since he’s keeping you here, it’s pretty much the least he could do. Still, it doesn’t make up for hearing about his boring day.

“This morning’s assembly was complete and utter chaos, as usual.” He muses, sipping his own smoothie. It’s a soft purple. “It’s ridiculous. Those brutes never wear their robes correctly.”

You don’t respond. There’s two reasons: first of all, you don’t care, and secondly, there’s a knock at the door. Vil hums, as though he’s been waiting for someone, and turns to face the door.

“Who is it?”

That boisterous voice you are so used to hearing echoes past the door, “‘Tis I, Roi du Poison. I have come to join you for lunch.”

You can hear the smile in Vil’s voice, “Oh, of course. Come in.”

As Rook walks in, you feel a stab of jealousy in your chest. He takes a breezy seat on the loveseat in front of Vil’s bed and glances at you. You break eye contact and dully pick at your salad.

Vil treats Rook so nicely. He considers his feelings and opinions, although he doesn’t always listen. He speaks to him as though he’s a person. You suppose Vil’s obvious care for Rook trickles down to you in some capacity, but it hurts. Vil claims that the two of you are lovers, but really you’re more like a doll.

“Do you mind meeting me in the lab later on, Rook?”

Rook chuckles from where he is and you cast another glance at him. His eyes meet yours, again, and you look away, again.

“I can always make time for you, beautiful Vil.”

You lamely pick at the fruit, having finished the salad, before you decide to save it for last. You take a sip of your smoothie after stirring it again and openly recoil, trying not to cough. You didn’t smell it, but there must be ginger in there, because there’s a mellow burn alongside the bitterness from the kale. It makes your eyes water and settles in behind your nose.

“Mmm. Something wrong?” Vil smiles at you.

You shake your head, blinking rapidly so you don’t start crying. There’s not enough tears to fall, but taking your chances is stupid, “No, Vil. The ginger just caught me off guard.”

“Oh. My apologies, I should have warned you. I don’t want you catching a cold, and you’ve been a little irregular. The smoothie also has spinach, kale, avocado, chia seeds, and, of course, a little mango.”

You nod and force yourself to smile, taking another sip and soldiering past the rush of that aromatic pain in your sinuses. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, darling.” Vil turns away from you to speak to Rook again, “What else did you have planned?”

“I thought I might take a walk. It is a wonderful day, non?” There’s a slight mocking tone to Rook’s voice, “Hardly the type of day to be cooped up all day, hmm?”

Vil furrows his eyebrows as you choke down the last of the smoothie. His voice is curt, “You can say what you mean.”

“Est-ce que je peux? You are not very open to suggestion.”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, taking a deep sip of his smoothie before he places it on the coaster sitting upon his desk. He uncrosses his long legs and stands, walking over to sit with Rook on the loveseat. Rook watches him approach with a smile, the same pleasant one he usually wears before he shoots you a beaming grin and turns to look at Vil.

Their conversation is hushed, and you can’t really make out all of what they say. You can hear someone say your name, Vil’s tone swiftly turns vitriolic, then sweetens once more, and Rook chuckles under his breath. When their little meeting is over, Vil walks back over and finishes his smoothie before petting your head like you’re some kind of cat.

His hand strokes the crown of your head, then smooths over your cheek, he cups your jaw and thumbs over the swell of your lip, all while staring at you with a look you cannot read. And then he tilts his head, and smiles.

“Make sure you thank Rook. And you mistook a letter from my father as garbage.”

“Yes, Vil.” You reply obediently, “Sorry, Vil.”

He smiles. Your palms ache, and you have to bite back the urge to move, to peel at your cuticles or scratch the sides of your fingers.

“I’ll see you in class, Rook.” Vil says politely before he tilts your face up and pecks you on the lips.

You’re left alone with Rook. He doesn’t get up, not yet. You remain where you are, looking at your slippers. You hear Rook stand up and discard his garbage. You can feel him come up to stand behind you.

“Has today been particulièrement difficile? My poor dear… You seem so sad today.” His arms wrap around you, looping them around your shoulders so they warm your collarbones like a scarf and he can rest his cheek against the back of your head. You hear him take a deep breath in.

With Vil, you don’t even try to speak anymore. You know he won’t really listen to you, because he knows better than you… But with Rook, as long as you wait a moment to make sure he is done speaking, he welcomes and even encourages you to speak your mind.

Your breath hitches and you swallow, “Uh, I mean… I guess I’m just having a bad day. It’s really been the same as usual.”

“Hmm.” Rook hums, completely devoid of emotion. You feel him turn his face so his nose is buried in your hair. He presses a kiss against your hair and sighs, “Ah, yes, the monotony of life is très épuisant, mmm?”

You wait for a second, then deliberately don’t answer the question in favor of asking your own, “Um, he said I should thank you?”

“Perhaps you should ask why more clearly. I have convinced our very own Vil to allow me to arrange a surprise for you.” Rook removes himself from your back and turns you around to face him, “And thus, I believe I have earned a kiss from you.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t get time to really back away or tell him to explain, as Rook squishes your cheeks with one of his gloved hands until your lips part.

His grip isn’t as harsh as Vil’s, but this is still something that only happens when you’re in more trouble than usual, so you involuntarily wince and close your eyes, cowering away from Rook as he dips his tongue into your mouth and slithers it between your teeth.

It is very easy to like Rook. He is passionate, and he’s far more kind to you than your supposed lover is. He’s intelligent and has an adonis-like form, and if not for the taste of blood on his tongue from whatever he ate for lunch or the grip he has on your face, maybe you would enjoy this kiss. But the big issue is that Rook honestly frightens you a little.

It’s absolutely not his fault, not entirely. Upon first meeting him, it was hard to tell if he was being genuine. He’s difficult to read, as he is often wearing the same set of expressions and his tone is always a bit melodramatic.

His hand releases your face to clamp around the base of your head, his tongue twisting in your mouth, pressing against the crevices in your teeth.

Not only is Rook hard to read, he is also uncannily observant and will not hesitate to ask somewhat invasive questions about his observations. The fact that he dresses in a way that conceals his mass is also disconcerting, as you were unaware that he had such a build until you saw him roll up his sleeve one time. You were aware Vil could do a lot of damage, but that was the day you realized that Rook was capable of doing about as much as Vil, if not more.

He purrs into your mouth, the vibrations feeling oh-so-wrong, and his other hand clamps down on your shoulder. He sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s not a good feeling, as he is literally stealing what little air is in your mouth. When you feel something feather light flutter against your lashes and cheek, you feel a bit confused for just a moment, not even a second, before you realize that Rook just blinked. His eyes are open.

He pulls away and sighs, almost dreamily. You suppress your distressed sputtering, holding your breath as Rook stares at you.

“Ah, enough time has passed. I will need to leave you, mon lapin. Thank you for indulging me; your kiss was divine and tasted sweeter than the finest fruits!” He presses something into your palm and adjusts his hat before he casts you a wave and shuts the door.

You stand there, your lips drying out from the saliva left on them and your cheeks feeling a little odd from the way he was holding your face. You’re processing, because, ever as always, Rook is simulated spontaneity. So many things just happened, and you don’t…

You blink a few times and look down at your aching palm stupidly. The crimson cellophane crinkles as you unclench your fist. He gave you a piece of candy.

Just looking at it makes you start crying. One second you’re staring wide-eyed at the little lump of sugar, and the next your vision is blurring and you’re crying off your makeup, plump tears cascading down your face. Your nose begins to run and you sniffle. You can’t find it in yourself to sob, because you’re mostly certain that these are happy tears.

Unfortunately, you can’t eat the candy now. If you threw the wrapper away, Vil would notice it in the garbage and you’d get in trouble for “breaking your diet plan.” So you hide it in the very back corner of the drawer of Vil’s armoire. You’ll be tidying it on your own anyway, and Vil never reaches all the way into the back of it.

Once your tears have stopped, you stand up and go back to cleaning the bathroom. It’s spotless and smells like lavender and lemons about an hour before Vil gets back, so you decide to skim one of the books on the shelves.

It’s not long before you’re bored with that as well. You carefully put the book back and wander over to the lattice window, staring out of it. The window, paired with your usual low mood, made you sort of feel like a bird in a very ornate cage.

From where you are, about three stories up, you notice a familiar figure notching an arrow before he unnotches it and takes a knee. You blandly spectate as he fiddles with the bow.

Partway through him notching the arrow again, you see his hat tilt. He’s far away enough that you can’t see his eyes, but you can feel his stare. His gloved hand bends his brim and you jerk away from the window, only to bump into someone.

You don’t get to shriek, as a hand clamps over your mouth. It’s just Vil, but you don’t relax yet as he drags you towards the bed and deposits you there.

“How many times must I tell you to stay away from the window?”

He’s never once told you to stay away from the window. Not as far as you can recall, at least. Your lips tremble and you decide it’d be more wise to keep silent.

Vil glares down at you and you feel the rest of your body start to tremble. His lips curl into a displeased sneer, “You didn’t wash your face after crying?”

“N-no, Vil-”

“We do not stutter.” Vil hisses, bending to get in your face. He stares at you for a moment before standing straight again, “Speak up.”

You swallow and clench your hands into fists, “No… Vil. I… got rid of the foundation like you, um… asked me to. I wouldn’t have been able to redo-”

“Alright. Go wash your face.” Vil interrupts you again.

You jump up and rush into the bathroom, going through your skincare routine. You can feel Vil staring at you, your skin crawling under his gaze. As you rub moisturizer into your skin, Vil finally says something.

“Did Rook do something to you, darling?” His tone is soft, tentative.

You glance at him, blinking a few times. What does he mean by ‘something’? He did do something, but it wasn’t bad, or particularly different.

“Um… Not exactly.” You say, massaging your forehead.

“I see. What did he do?”

You look down at the sink. You’re not saying anything about the candy. “Rook kissed me?”

“That should not be a question.” Vil says. You see him shake his head through your peripheral, “Would you like to change your clothes before I redo your makeup?”

You’d like to ask what he’s talking about, but instead, you look down at your clothing. You don’t have a proper Pomefiore uniform because you’re not a part of this dorm. You’re an interloper- or a caged bird.

You don’t know what to do here. You don’t want to say something wrong and unintentionally offend Vil. Your palms ache. You give him a confused look from where you are.

He doesn’t look impressed, but before he can say anything about you gaping at him, you speak up, “What… am I supposed to do?”

You’ve only seen Vil surprised a few times. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads, then sighs, “Well, I suppose I’d like to see you in something else. I’ll choose your outfit.”

That’s nothing new, he always does that. You wait in the bathroom for him to return. He strolls back in with a mockery of the Pomefiore uniform. There’s a deep purple cloak and capelet, which Vil drapes on the bed before handing you the actual clothes. It’s a very ruffled dress shirt, the long, puffy sleeves cinched into more ruffles at the wrist paired with a pair of black bloomer-style shorts. The buttons are all white and gold, marbled together.

Vil leaves the bathroom and you change, neatly tucking your previous clothing away in the hamper. When you leave, as usual, Vil picks at your clothing, making sure it looks as good on you as he pleases, and then he steers you to sit down.

For however vicious he can be, Vil can be oddly gentle. For every time he grabs you roughly, his touch is feather-light ten more times. He hums a soft tune as he puts light makeup on you, just your eyes and lips, and then he drapes the cloak around your shoulders and places his hands on his hips.

“You look lovely. Go put on the pair of gold boots with the black decals.”

You do as told. He very likely wants to just take pictures of you or something so he can ask that Mira app about it.

Except when you stop in front of him, he doesn’t tell you to go sit in the loveseat or on the table near his window, no, he scoops you up and presses his forehead against your jaw.

“Oh, when did you put on this cologne? What a ravishing smell on you.” He presses a kiss on the column of your throat and breezes out of his dorm room's door.

Almost immediately, you go limp in his arms, like a doll. He never gave you explicit verbal permission to leave this room, so the curse he placed on you when he decided you should be his smashes into you like a giant wave at the beach.

Vil carries you all the way outside and looks at your face, then happily struts along the path behind the dorm. Since you can’t turn your head, you can only go off of the view of Vil’s neck and chin, the sky, and whatever you can hear.

“Ah, I am glad to see you did not change your mind, Roi du Poison. J'aurais été très déçue et triste pour notre chéri.” You hear Rook say.

You can almost feel Vil get a mite warmer, “Yes, well. Hand me the basket. Since you want to make out with them and make them cry, you get to carry them as an apology.”

Rook happily scoops you out of Vil’s arms, giving you a cloying look as he strolls along. He and Vil chat as they walk, something not really worth listening in on, just boring musings about class and “this teacher did x” or “that student did y”. An insect lands on your cheek and you are incapable of batting it away or expressing your discomfort. Its legs tickle the peach fuzz on your face and you remain still, like a corpse.

Rook slides you into a seated position, posing you like a toy before shooing the bug off of your face. Now you can see that you’re in a clearing in the woods, seated on a picnic blanket. There’s a few lanterns staked into the ground, and Rook and Vil are busy with whatever is on the floor. You can’t look down, so your best guess is that it’s a picnic.

Vil leans over and snaps in your face, smiling kindly at you, “Now. If I release you, you are not going to run. You are not going to so much as consider running. We are going to have a nice picnic with no shenanigans from you.”

You can’t nod, so you just stare at him, trying to telepathically communicate.

He looks pleased enough, “Wonderful. I give you permission to leave our room.”

Your muscles relax and you look back, finding that you’re leaned against a log. The picnic spread is very nice, as well. It looks like finger sandwiches. You’re not expecting to get to eat one, as you haven’t had bread since Vil switched up your diet. Vil passes something to you.

“Oh.” You mumble, staring at the plate Vil hands you.

It’s a sandwich. A very wonderful looking sandwich, cut into triangles and with the crusts still on. You blink at it a few times and look back up at Vil.

“Don’t expect this to be a pattern. This is a treat for good behavior.”

You look back down, “Yes, Vil.”

“There’s no need to remind them. They’re being obedient.” Rook’s voice is more firm than you expected to hear him ever speak. Usually his tone is buoyant, and you’ve never seen him outright pick a fight with Vil like this.

“Please. You give anyone an inch, they’ll take a mile.” Vil cuts back, then turns to you and pets your head like a dog or a cat again, “Eat your food, beautiful.”

You take a bite. Bread is just as good as you remember it. The air feels thick, like you’re in a bubble as Vil and Rook communicate through eye contact alone. Before you know it, your sandwich is gone and your hands are covered in crumbs. Rook, still staring at Vil with that happy little smile, wipes your hands and places a glass in your hands. Whatever is in it smells sweet. You take a tentative sip.

Were it Vil, you would have never drank whatever this is. It kind of tastes like a mellow mixed berry juice. It’s very pleasant, actually. Better than the potion Vil used to lace your food and drinks with. You smile into the cup and Vil snatches it from you.

He takes a sip and frowns, handing it back, “Mmm. I have an even better surprise.”

Rook pulls your legs into his lap and gently kneads your calves as you watch Vil rifle through the picnic basket. What is happening? You sip your juice and Vil produces a triangular container. He places a fork on top and hands it to you.

You finish the last of your juice and accept the box, looking conspiratorially at Rook. Something you can’t put your finger on dances in his eyes and he digs his thumb into your shin a little strongly. You flinch and cautiously open the box. It’s a piece of fluffy white cake, with even fluffier meringue and an uncannily perfect cherry wedged into it.

You look at Vil, expecting some kind of trick. Not that he’s ever done that before, usually he’d just take it from you or make some snide comment, things like that, but he and Rook are acting really strange today,

“I know how much you long for junk food, so I spent some time after club activities today whipping up some angel food cake. It’s got agave instead of sugar so it won’t completely break your diet and your skin won’t suffer as much.”

Yeah, this is weird. The cake is good, though, it’s fluffy and sweet. You pace your bites so that Vil won’t make a comment and you can savor this. You can feel both of their eyes on you and it makes your skin crawl.

You lower the cake box and look at Vil, who looks a bit offended for just a second. The fleeting expression is replaced by a pleased little grin, the mauve lipstick making the curve of his lips all the more sinister in the dimming light.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, Vil.” You glance at the cake and then back at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Why?” Rook asks.

Your shoulders jerk as you turn your head to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to say anything. His chest swells in what appears to be a suppressed chuckle as he squeezes your knee. It seems his hands have climbed.

“Uh…” You swallow, “This is just… not what I’m used to.”

“The cake?” Vil looks hurt. Why does he look hurt?

You shake your head rapidly, “No! Oh- No, Vil. I… It’s just been so long since I’ve been out here…”

“Do you want to go inside, chéri?” Rook murmurs.

You do, but you also don’t really want to risk sounding ungrateful. Being outside has stressed you out more than you’d like to admit. You’re not really sure what to do because Vil has you trained like a dog, and none of what he’s hammered into you involves picnics. You’re scared.

Rooks eyes narrow as you just stare at him. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is throbbing, and on the other side of you, Vil sighs.

“Well, I’ll start cleaning up, then. When we get back, I expect you to take a seat on the bed.”

That sounds like what happens every time you get in trouble. A terror shudders through you and your eyes water a bit as you gnaw on your lip. Your palms ache as you fight to keep from picking at your cuticles. Vil packs up everything and Rook offers you a princely hand to help you up.

You can feel the calluses on his hands through his gloves as he essentially lifts you to your feet. You keep between Rook and Vil as you walk back to the dorm.

It’s quiet, since everyone else is winding down for bed. For a moment, you think you spot Epel, but you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway. None of your old friends talk to you anymore. Not since Vil started having eyes for you.

Just as you were told, after taking off your boots you take a seat on the bed and retrieve the silver ruler from the side-table’s drawer. You place it beside you as you look down at your feet. You look down at the streaky bruises on the lighter skin on your palms and try not to start crying. It’s always worse when you cry.

He adds smacks by twos. Depending on what you did, you start with four or six, and then any time you flinch or pull away or make a loud noise, he adds two more. Last time, you spilled one of his nail polishes, and after watching you clean it up, you ended up getting ten lashes.

At least Rook didn’t do it then. He tries to make it quick but that just makes it hurt more. A tear slips down your cheek.

You don’t even know what you did. You tap the tear track dry with one fingertip and Vil and Rook fully enter the room.

“Why is the ruler out?” Vil asks, and then his voice goes sharp, “Are you crying?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Vil.” You sob.

“I don’t know why.” He grabs the ruler and shoves it away before you can raise your hands, “Go wash your face.”

You stand up and shakily do as told, returning to sit on the bed. Vil goes into the bathroom after you and Rook takes a seat next to you, his hand on your shoulder.

He smiles at you, rubbing your shoulder, “You are très précieux, chéri.”

You look at him in a state of hollow bewilderment as he brushes his cheek against yours and presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear.

You hear the bathroom door close and a tired sigh from Vil, “Do you have no patience?”

Your head jerks to look at VIl, “Rook is…?”

“Yes, he’s joining us tonight.” Vil plucks the loop of his sleeve from his middle finger and loosens his belt. You get the feeling that the next words he says aren’t for you, “Well, go ahead.”

You feel Rook’s chuckle more than you hear it. With his lips against your neck, his hands begin to slide. The hand on your shoulder rests on the nape of your neck and his other hand slides down to your thigh, then up to your waist. You try not to cringe against his touch, but it’s difficult.

His hand slides down again as he trails his teeth against the back of your ear. His thumb hooks in your pants and starts yanking them down. You outright flinch.

“Wait-”

“Relax, darling.” Vil mumbles, hanging his clothing in the armoire.

You try. You absolutely try. Rook throws your bloomers aside and rests his hand on your lower belly for a moment. He sighs into your ear and reaches up to unclasp your buttons.

You feel stiff. You want to push him away but you can’t move. It’s as though your body is frozen. It’s not due to a curse, so the only possible solution is that you’re quite literally scared stiff.

He pulls away your shirt and glances at Vil, “Are you prepared?”

“Please.” You can hear the smile on Vil’s lips as Rook turns back and kisses you again, his hand smoothing along your collarbone and shoulders.

Your underwear is the next to go. Of course it is. You fight to keep from breathing oddly, because you’re aware that if you pass out, Vil will get annoyed.

“Mmm.” The devil’s hand glides up your back and you fight back a shudder as Rook leans you backwards into his arms. “How are you feeling, darling?”

You’re honest, “I’m scared.”

“I thought you would say that.” Vil freely manhandles you, shifting you so you’re leaned chest to chest. He slides something off of the side table and passes it behind you, then cups your cheek, “You would save a lot of time and stress if you’d just learn to trust me.”

“I…” You hate him. You hate him so much. He keeps you here like a pet, and you don’t know how he’s supposed to expect you to treat him like a lover when he treats you the way he does.

Before you can articulate an answer that pleases Vil, a wicked burn besets your sphincter and you clench your jaw.

Vil’s voice is sharp, “Rook, please.”

You hear Rook make a noise underneath the harsh sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own heavy panting. Something cool oozes around the ring of your ass and you press your face against Vil’s chest. His robe is lazily tied, which is not particularly like him, and you can see his cock poking out where the fabric separates. You let out a strangled noise and Vil shushes you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Relax. I know, you weren’t prepared. Relax.” Vil soothes.

“I don’t mind if you remain tense, chéri. Mon plaisir n'en est que plus grand. And your little cries and whimpers sont terriblement mignons.” Rook mumbles behind you.

Rook is better than Vil in most areas, but once he gets his dick inside of you, it’s as though he forgets to be caring and kind. The tables flip, with Vil acting the part of a caring lover and Rook becoming a sadistic bully. You let out a ragged sob as Rook rolls his hips and Vil hisses something that you don’t quite catch.

It almost sounded like he was telling Rook to slow down. That very well could have been the case, as Rook eases back a bit and only shallowly thrusts.

Vil continues petting you, coaxing you so your cheek is pressed against his thigh. He is always a perfect warm. He is always perfect, so it sort of makes sense, but his skin is a pleasant temperature. He feels alive, a perfectly human temperature that tells you he’s breathing and his heart is beating. As he fingers through your hair, Rook gives a harsher than usual thrust and you cry out.

“Rook, if you’re impatient then you’re going to hurt them, and neither of us have the time to take care of them all day.” Vil chides, and then his tone softens as he rubs the space between your shoulders, “Are you ready for me as well, darling?” “What…?” You ask, blearily. Somewhere in the back of your awareness, you know what he wants, but you can feel Rook’s thrusts growing impatient and seeing as you weren’t given any prep, you’re in a bit too much shock to think straight.

“Mmm… You’re awfully cute but I need you to be a bit more lucid.” Vil snaps in your ear and resumes his petting, “This isn’t the first time, sweetheart. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

The soft tip of his member spreads his pre like lipgloss against your lips. As you shakily open your mouth, you figure you’re lucky that Vil doesn’t have a chaotic, unhealthy diet like Leona or Ace, that he doesn’t drink coffee for fun or often like Deuce does. The taste of his skin is lightly floral and dominantly human, likely thanks to the body lotion he applies daily.

He hisses and presses against your forehead, “Ah-ah. You’re taking enough from Rook. Just the tip for me is fine.”

From behind, you hear Rook grumble under his breath, “Je n'en peux plus de cette merde…”

“Watch your- unf- watch your language, Rook.” Vil snarls, massaging the nape of your neck as you carefully lave your tongue over his glans.

Rook’s patience breaks, his hands clamping down on your waist, just above your hips. You have the sense to pull Vil’s cock out of your mouth as Rook begins battering into you.

As much as you feel okay about Rook, he is not a doting lover by nature. He’s mean and brutal, chasing his climax, and only after he cums does he bother to think about you or your needs. Your palms ache as you grab Vil’s member and gently tug on it. Vil flinches and snaps at you to get your attention.

You look to the side and for a second, as the pain ebbs, you assume you’re having an out of body experience, and then you realize that you’re staring into his vanity mirror. Rook’s hair exaggeratedly sways with his motion. He removed his hat but just haphazardly displaced the rest of his clothing. He’s not smiling, he’s making some sort of smug expression.

It’s funny. As Vil is satisfied with you weakly jerking him off, his touch gentle, Rook is wild on your other end. Every time you just barely begin to relax, he thrusts harder, which makes you tense and a spike of pain batters through you.

You endure as best you can. You endure every day, enduring through eating the same unfulfilling food, enduring through walking on eggshells around Vil, enduring getting your palms beaten to hell for the most human of errors, so what’s getting sodomized in the face of everything else you can handle?

You bite back a shriek as a harsh pinch on your bottom, followed by a smack administered by Rook. He leans down and blows in your ear, snickering as he leans back, “I thought you had given up the ghost for a second there.”

Vil sucks in a breath and you quietly mumble against his thigh.

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you, mon chou.” Rook’s voice is almost mocking, like before.

“P-please… Rook, I can’t-”

“You can. You’ll live.” He grunts, the steady clap of your ass against his body punctuating his statement.

“It hurts.” You sniffle. You’re not particularly prone to crying, but, then again, Rook and Vil usually prepare you before deciding to fuck your ass.

You sob and Rook’s grasp tightens on your waist, a ragged moan punching out of his chest. He pulls your body flush to his and jerks his hips into you, drilling a bit harder for all of four or five thrusts. And then he’s no longer on you, and you feel your body getting shifted so your head is still in Vil’s lap but you’re lying prone.

You tilt Vil’s dick down to massage the head with your tongue and something warm drips on your back. You hear a noise of disgust from Vil, capped by a quiet moan.

“Absolutely not. All three of us are getting in the tub if you don’t clean that up right now.”

Rook chuckles and coos, “Hmm, but it looks so lovely. My alabaster essence creates a wonderful contrast with their soft and supple skin.”

A flush of humiliation crawls up the back of your neck and you hide your face against Vil’s belly, using your own arm to hide the other half. Vil shudders as he pushes your head down a bit, but his voice sounds incredulous.

“That’s vile. It doesn’t have any proven health benefits, you know that.”

You felt Rook’s hands spreading his semen into the skin on your back and your palms ache as Vil cums in your mouth. He doesn’t do that often, so it hits you like a shock.

You gag but force it down and Vil shoots up, fretting over you.

“Did you just swallow that?” He bends down to look into your eyes.

“Yes, Vil.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” Vil snips, sounding much harsher than he might intend, “I’m going to run us a bath, alright, darling? I’ll make sure you can brush that icky stuff out of your mouth.”

It didn’t taste bad. Vil usually cums on your face as an incentive for you to wash your face very well after a day of wearing makeup, or he has you jerk him off until he cums, but the few other times you did taste it, it was the same as this time. It was mostly salty, not too bitter, likely from his good diet. Regardless, he breezes away and Rook gives your bottom a light tap. You stand up and glance at Rook, who is looking a bit disheveled but pretty pleased with himself.

“How are you feeling, cheri?”

“That hurt.” Your voice is quiet, and your throat is still lined with tears.

“Does it still hurt?” He smiles and tilts his head.

The sound of the tub running is thunderous even where you are. Vil would never tolerate you complaining, but Rook is amicable, “A little.”

“The bath will do you good, then. Come.”

You let Rook guide you into the bathroom, his hand on your elbow. As he undresses and joins Vil on the edge of the tub, you look down at your bruised hands and glance at the slowly closing bathroom door, then at Rook and Vil where they stand near the tub.

You can’t say you prefer either of them, really, but you don't get an opinion. Do dolls at tea parties get to ask for a different kind of tea?

201 notes · View notes

anitalenia · 4 months

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౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙛*𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨 ( • 𝙙𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘, 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬, 𝙨𝙛𝙬 • ) ₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ mummified, Egyptian pharaoh comes back to life millions of years later ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ mermaid boy (merman) takes you to his secret cove after saving you from a shipwreck ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ ghost /phantom takes care of chores while you’re gone and helps you with anything you need (making your bed, brushing your hair, skincare, etc.) ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ siren sings you her favorite song ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ incubus teaches you how to touch yourself for the moments he can’t do it for you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ succubus gives you a makeover ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ cat hybrid loves when you scratch behind their ears ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ bunny hybrid being too shy to talk to you and ask for what they want ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ vine monster always blooms your favorite flowers ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ orc husband needing his tusks sharpened ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ orc husband being a cry baby when it’s just the smallest scratch you’ve ever seen ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ constantly buying werewolf boyfriend new clothes because he shifts in the ones he’s wearing and rips them to shreds ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ vampire boyfriend who only likes feeding from you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ witch girlfriend that makes you remedies and herb mixtures to heal your wounds because you’re a klutz ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ siren afraid of the sea and spends her time frolicking in lakes (idc if they’re supposed to be in saltwater it’s fantasy 😜) OR fresh water siren ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ merman teaching you how to swim ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ alien being confused on human biology and how you’re able to feel arousal ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ orc husband making you the best beef stew you’ve ever had ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ cat hybrid leaving dead things on your front porch ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ demon boyfriend with limitless power and influence whose too shy to talk to you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ minotaur never letting you leave his maze ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ Angel having dirty fantasies about the object (person) of their desires ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ big, beefy, nerdy werewolf boyfriend helps you with your science homework ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ plant monster bursting with beautiful flowers every time you kiss them ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ sleep paralysis demon taking your virginity ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ sexy circus freak fingers you in his tent after the show ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ monster boyfriend who doesn’t fit in your home and constantly has to slouch, his horns scratching your ceiling and head banging into the lights, constantly knocking things over ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ fire bending boyfriend / girlfriend always having such warm hands & hugs ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ ice princess whose breath comes out frosted and wears gloves as to not freeze everything they touch ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ demon king who leaves hell very frequently to visit the girl of his dreams. she can’t go down to his fiery domain / human or angel girl ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ vampire s/o who overindulges in blood and must go to vampire rehab 😜 ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ shy succubus who has never felt the touch of anyone ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ yandere guardian angel who kills any potential suitors until you realize they’re the only one for you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ yandere pack of werewolves that kidnap you for themselves to use as they please ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ demon king’s butler who believes he can service you more than the king can ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ demon princes taking turns with their favorite maid ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ warlock boyfriend teaches you how to cook ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ vampire girlfriend squeamish about killing the little bunnies who hop in her backyard and would much rather kill people because bunnies are too precious ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ monster boyfriend who can read your mind but doesn’t tell you, just likes to listen to your dirtiest thoughts and act them out later ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ gothic hardcore werewolf girlfriend takes cute and precious bunny hybrid girlfriend to rock concert ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ buying your big bad alpha werewolf husband baby kittens because he loves cats ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ forcing your orc husband into wearing Christmas sweaters with you ⟡ ࣪ ˖

꒰ঌ ⋆.˚ bull hybrid boyfriend being stereotypically hotheaded and always getting into silly fights ⟡ ࣪ ˖

209 notes · View notes

fraugwinska · 5 months

Note

Hhggffffffgg… pweasd.. pweasd more Leap of Faith. Part two of them meeting each other in hell. Pretty sure they’d end up in hell since suicide is a sin, iirc?

Uweh wahhhh. Felt it real deep of losing the only meaningful connection, the big sadness taking over. I’m sobbing. My heart—

Your writing is amazing as always. I eat that shit up.

...The people have spoken. I am your humble servant. Please accept this offering...

Heavy themes, religious trauma, mental/physical torture Minors please DNI

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Like a shooting star.

You looked like a shooting star against the purple, starless sky of the pride ring, a glowing gold and teal line trailing behind you like a tail.

Alastor pushed his shadows faster through the streets of the pentagram, not a care who he pushed, sliced or scared out of the way - he had to get to you, had to catch you and not let you crash into unforgiving ground, like it was mundane, like you were any other meaningless, unimportant, goddamned sinner.

He couldn't allow it. Wouldn't allow it.

Faster and faster your form grew shape, and he realized that the big, heavy radio that was still in your arms - still pressed tightly to your chest - acted like an anchor, accelerating your plunge, threatening to shatter you into the hard, stony streets underneath, or worse: Through.

"Let go!", he hissed desperately to himself, pulling and yanking and gnashing and urging his shadows to work to their limit, whipping them into a speed that could break both, him and the damned radio, if need be, if you would just slow down and gain him a few more crucial seconds to get to you. The distance between you and him shrunk until your fall felt close, so close, too close, as though if you'd only be conscious to just reach out and outstretch a hand to him, his eldritch tendrils could grab it.

"Come on." His dark silhouette growled, partly manifesting and elongating himself more to maneuver around the last alley corner. "Almost... THERE!"

As a streak of blinding light, like a lightning bolt, and with the force of a crashing plane, you smashed into his solid, physical demonic form, as Alastor manifested into an extension of flesh and limbs right beneath your descending trajectory, and swallowed you right there in his arms before both of you hit the ground.

***

The void around you was dark. Quiet. Endless and expanding. You couldn't feel anything other than the feeling of nothingness surrounding you, floating but at the same time... not. No ground beneath, no sky above - you didn't even know when you hit the water. Was it even water anymore? Did it matter?

In the blindness, you registered the vanta black around you fading into white, bright and scorching. And that feeling you previously lacked bloomed to the front of your consciousness: Pain. Like a thousand needles poking out from every corner of your skull, making you yelp out and whimper. You shifted your body, or at least tried, only to cry out and curl up into yourself, clutching whatever the big and heavy thing was in your arms, tight as the muscles in your upper body convulsed, twitched and trembled at the burning pain. Where the hell were you?

"𝓦𝓮'𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵, 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮'𝓼 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽.""

A voice made out of a thousand voices spoke, and it resonated from within you – amplified through every cell of your body, booming and mighty and utterly inhumane. You screamed out the pressure it put on your brain, cried as it felt as though something was pouring into you and flowing out all at once, burning, devouring and replacing every fiber, every strand of DNA. You writhed in agony, wanting to beg for whatever it was to stop, but you were in the hands of an infinite power above you, and so, all you could do was howl and weep.

"𝓘𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓷 𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓲𝓵."

It was men and women and children, high and deep and loud and quiet and screams and whispers and it overwhelmed you to listen to it.

"𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓬𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵. 𝓘𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓲𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵 𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮, 𝔀𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓻𝓲𝓹 𝓲𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷."

Your throbbing hands cramped around the object in your arms, nails scratching on the surface. Wood. Soft wood, warm beneath your fingertips.

"Alastor...", you sobbed through clenched teeth, memories slowly pushing through the pain to the front of your mind, clawing their way through the thick haze of the booming voice of the entity. "I want to go to Alastor..."

"𝓜𝔂 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭, 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮. 𝓓𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵."

"He's not..." A low moan spilled past your dry, bitten lips as another wave of excruciating pain crashed down your spine. Tears stained your cheeks as the radio in your arms felt heavier and heavier, dangerously close to slip from your grip.

"𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷, 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓾𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓵𝓾𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾."

The voice was patient, neutral, not showing any sign of rage or warmth or even condescension. It only held a commanding power, like a pull from gravity, unintentional, elemental, to give in, to accept, to repent. But you couldn't. Couldn't even if you tried. The tears that came to your eyes now weren't out of pain alone, but because you couldn't help the insurmountable longing to leave, to not be held back any longer.

"Alastor isn't evil or wicked...", your cracked voice whispered. "Not to me..."

"𝓓𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓬𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓸𝓯 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮. 𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝓲𝓯 𝓭𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝔂, 𝓽𝓸𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓪 𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓪 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓽𝔂. 𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓾𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓷, 𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭."

Torture. It felt as though someone was physically digging through you with dull claws, sawing into your very soul, bending, ripping, breaking and rearranging, molding the picture you had of Alastor to a villain, a torturer, a destroyer, a greedy animal without reason, feasting upon human despair and wailing screams, wreaking havoc and taking lives laughing along the way as he rips fangs into flesh that looked like your own.

"That... isn't him.", you mouthed breathlessly, forcing yourself to focus. "You're a liar."

You fought to come back, with the sound of Alastor's smiling voice, molten with static and spoken with feeling. 'And I can most assure you... pretty is a well fitting word to describe you.'.

"Liar... liar... LIAR!"

The illusion the entity conjured around you began to shatter, as did the images it showed you, breaking and tearing away like rotten paper from the ones you wanted to hold on to... The hours and days and nights spent together, the long and entertaining conversations over meals, his teasing comments and your quick-wit responses, the little things that made his voice lift an octave and a tiny huff, which you learned over the weeks was him trying not to chuckle at your banter. The softness in his tune when he realized you were drifting into slumber. The way he called you his dove.

"𝓦𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮. 𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓾𝓼 𝓼𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭."

the entity said, though their tone had begun to waver, echoing withing the faint sound of breaking glass.

"𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓭. 𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵, 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭, 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓪𝓵𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, 𝓸𝓻 𝓫𝓮, 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓸𝓭."

You felt heat creeping up your legs, as if your skin was bubbling, burning and it was hard to speak, as the smell of cauterized flesh and blood filled your nose. Bones were shifting, limbs trembling and twisting as if they wanted to turn you inside out, skin color changing and fading into palish white, nails growing into slender blue talons, something rough and rigid sprouting from your back and shoulders. But you only tightened your arms around the radio, eyes pressed close and teeth grit together.

You've had enough.

"Fuck your lies, fuck your salvation and FUCK. YOUR. GOD."

Gravity returned in an instant, like someone cut a hole through space, the air and heat from your lungs gone as it ripped you from the strange white with unexpected violence – malevolence even - body flaying in the sudden wind of the descend.

Purple and red shades swirled before your eyes, wild strands of glittering golden hair fluttered in and out of your vision, barely recognizing them as your own. The heat of the air and the sight of a black pentagram on a red sun, sinking slowly beyond a tumbling horizon were the last things you noticed before unconsciousness reached mercifully out to claim you again.#

***

“Angel! Get Charlie over here, I found 'im!”

Husk stared down the crater, trying to wrap his head around the sight before him. His ears flicked as he heard Angel shouting something unintelligible to the girls, his footsteps quickly nearing the place where he stood.

“She's comin' in a sec, she and Vagina ran ova' to the maneater colony to get Rosie and... what in Satans left ballsack?!”

The spiders' eyes widened when he saw what Husk saw - Down the deep and wide cavity, right in the middle, was a twitching, faintly green glowing mass of tentacles and limbs. A distorted groan rumbled from below, thick and riddled with static feedback as Alastor's corrupted form slowly receded to normalcy – as normal as he was. He was lying on his back, curled around the motionless form of a naked female demon. Her legs were pulled up, a limp hand with short, teal talons pressed against the side of the radio demons wild, madly grinning face, while the other was trapped and hidden in between both bodies.

Both Angel and Husks hairs stood on ends at the sound he made, not daring to move or draw attention to themselves until Alastor had regained full consciousness and, most of all, reason back. The unknown sinner that was pressed against Alastor's chest had gray, crooked looking wings sprouting from her back, various shades of teal staining the ragged tips. Her skin was white, bordering on cream with some spruce and azure specks that traveled over her neck and shoulders. From where they stood they could see blonde locks tangled in Alastor's claws, shimmering in hell's twilight as if they were made out of real gold.

Angel gave his partner a nervous side glance, as if expecting him to say or do something. "Should we... holy mother of shitballs, this is so fucked up... umm... should we get them out of..."

"̷S̷̷ T̷̷ A̷̷ Y̷ ̷W̷̷ H̷̷ E̷̷ R̷̷ E̷ ̷Y̷̷ O̷̷ U̷ ̷A̷̷ R̷̷ E̷."

Husk had only heard Alastor's voice like this on a few occasions and those instances had almost always ended in bloodshed. He shook his head at Angel in a silent warning, gripping one of his wrists when the blackened pits of the radio demon found his, glaring at him with glowing crimson iris'. It sent a shiver down the cat's back, and Angel, feeling the tremble of his partner and sensing that this was a rare occasion where he should keep his usual, lewd remarks to himself, cleared his throat.

"I-Is a'ight Smiles, we're not movin'. Charlies' comin, and she's bringin' Rosie, so just... chill, okay? No one's gonna hurt y-your uh... girlfriend?" Angel forced himself to remain eye contact, swallowing against the growing lump in his throat.

Alastor didn't answer for a good minute or two, eyes shifting over Husks' grim, but wary face and Angels worried one, before looking back down, the flames of anger and fear dying as soon as his gaze fell on the woman cradled in his lap. Her pale, motionless face was partially hidden by her hair, but the features he recognized were much like the ones she had before she did the unthinkable. Her breathing was slow and shallow - but, above all, she was here, right here, next to him, unbroken from the fall, safe in his arms...

He brushed a few stray strands of her golden mane aside, watching closely as her chest barely heaved and fell, transfixed at the movement, the guarantee that she lived. He lifted one his hands to caress her cheek, the motion much more careful and tender than either Angel or Husk thought him capable of, wiping off tiny pieces of debris from the radio she had carried like a lifeline. It had been burst by the impact, splinters of mahogany wood and shards of metal wiring scattered around them both. The top of her left wing had suffered some damage, no doubt the result of the force of his grip as he caught her, little cuts and smears of dried blood covering her sides.

"My dove. My foolish, silly, lonely girl.", his strained voice breathed, his usual filter missing, as he turned her unresponsive face gently with the tip of his claw, hoping to see any indication that the girl that he had driven to the lengths of sheer, reckless stupidity was still here with him.

The sound of steps on the broken concrete made his head turn with a sickening crack. Alastor was now curled completely over you, his arms wrapped tightly around your figure, hiding your vulnerable and exposed body from view. Rosie had arrived alongside the princess and her partner, all of them short of breath and as shocked and confused as the other two demons to find the radio demon and a freshly fallen sinner, locked into an awkward embrace.

He watched her kneeling next to him, her expression was best described as compassionate curiosity. When he didn't move, didn't talk, didn't acknowledge her presence around him, his form only slightly moving to shield your motionless frame away, Rosie, ever the understanding and pragmatic lady she was, carefully reached over to him and set a gloved hand onto his shoulder in reassurance. Her razor sharp smile was soft as she held his blackened gaze for a heartbeat.

"Seems like I will meet your little dove after all, my dearest friend. But now, let's get you both somewhere safe."

***

You opened your eyes to red. All red. Everywhere red. Warm and bright and comforting.

A sensation tickled your head and nose, feathers, brushing the top of them with a barely there touch. You wanted to brush them away, but your arms felt heavy and warped and strange, unable to be lifted. Slow blinks put your eyes into focus, like the lens of a camera that was getting adjusted on it's intended shot.

You were looking at a red painted ceiling, and when you strained your aching head to tilt a little your eyes slowly wandered over luscious, ornate wallpaper in burgundy's and scarlet's, morbid looking horns and skulls mounted on the walls next to slightly askew, empty picture frames. A heavy, dark bookcase on your right was full of tattered tombs, books and magazines, small models of twisted looking skeletons and an old, vintage... radio...

Everything clicked back into place.

Alastor, gone.

The bridge, dark over the water.

The black and the white.

The voice and the pain and the lies and the fall...

Your breath hitched, and your heart started to pound faster and louder, thrumming violently in your ears as you fell into panic, eyes frantically forcing your body to move, to search, until you realized you were stuck underneath the weighted presence of a head that rested upon your sternum, tufts of soft black and red hair draped over your chest, slightly covering a face hidden away in the crook of your neck. A low, quiet hum of white noise came from the person the head belonged to, sitting at your bedside and upper body half-slumped over you... a sound resonating deep within you, stirring up all too familiar feelings.

He was still, but clearly breathing, and he hadn't moved even though your pulse must've skyrocketed. A raspy gasp of relief and astonishment escaped you. It had worked. You really had done it. And Alastor...

You started to sob, loud and violent, your chest burning and heavy, but not out of fear or panic anymore but the impact of a thousand feelings of pure happiness. The sounds woke the creature slumbering on your shoulder, his shoulders twitched, and you could see him lift his head to slowly look up, dark circles under his crimson eyes.

Your name rolled over this demons lips, not a word, no greeting, only a longingly whispered name, spoken with a broken, ragged, familiar voice. It made you finally cry, tears spilling from you uncontrollably, unable to stop, unable to think. You heard him call your name again, saw the widening grin of his mouth through watery eyes, his arm reaching out to brush your tear-stained cheek. He didn't manage to even fully extend his fingers when your shaking hands reached out to grab his lapels, pulling him into you so that you could finally touch him, feel him instead of just hearing him. Finally tangible, finally underneath your fingers as well as your skin.

"It's you... i-it's you right?", you stammered breathlessly, voice wrought with tears of happiness. "A-Alastor. I found you, I'm not dreaming, You're Alastor..."

"At your service, my dear...", Alastor shushed softly, one hand gently caressing your hair as you leaned into the warmth of the touch. His wide smile wavered for a moment, gaze shifting to something sad and mournful as he pulled himself away to look at you.

"But you shouldn't be here, my dove." He sighed, but as he looked back to you and saw the frightened, horrified expression on your face he shook his head, leaning his brow against your own, a gesture of assurance.

"I never intended for you to be here. You didn't deserve this death, and hell doesn't deserve you."

"H-Heaven can take a long walk off a short pier..." You tried to speak with a steady voice, but failed, as your whole body began to shudder in bubbling anger at the mere implication of this cursed entity. The one that claimed to be merciful salvation but had no problem with cruel manipulation. You blinked a couple of tears away, drawing a trembling breath, before meeting his tired eyes.

"I was... in some strange place. I was offered redemption, if I..."

You frowned, sitting up slowly, careful not to make him withdraw more, holding onto the sleeves of his jacket with stiff, aching hands.

"They wanted me to denounce you. If I renounced you they... would've let me enter heaven. When I didn't want to, when I said I wanted to go to you... They showed me things while hurting me. Horrible, disgusting lies."

Your breath quickened and the corners of your vision darkened, and you realized with a shuddering panic that you were close, way too close to breaking down into sobs again. Your claw-like nails dug into the material of his sleeve as you struggled to compose yourself, ripping tiny cuts into it. You took a deep breath, pushing through the memory, reliving it until...

Your shoulders shook. For a moment, you felt him shifting, as if he'd expected you to burst into tears again. Instead, you laughed. You laughed despite your chest hurt, and even harder when you saw his floored, surprised face.

"I basically told god to go fuck himself."

For a heartbeat or two, silence enveloped both of you. Alastor blinked once, then twice, the third time his grin fell slowly. Another beat later he buried his face in the crook of your neck and...

...the boisterous, unmuted laughter, roaring, insane cackling, so deep and resounding, you could feel it in your stomach, erupted from him. Alastor almost toppled over as he tore himself from you, raking a hand trough his hair as his head shook, a manic, wonderfully impish grin tugging on the corners of his mouth.

"You know I don't think you were honest with me about your name, dove. Your initial answer of 'crazy' seems much more fitting."

Alastor was laughing so hard, his whole body was trembling with the effort. You felt yourself giggle, then unrestrained laughing along, but it died in your throat when his lips found yours in a sudden swift moment. It was full of everything. Full of curiosity, of promises and hope, it was the saving grace you sacrificed heaven for. You smiled into it, moved your lips against his, gentle and chaste, before he pulled away too soon and pressed his forehead against yours. You could feel his warm, slow breathing against your cheeks.

"How fortunate for you that I work best with 'crazy'."

Your beaming smile slowly faded, your hands finding his face to make him look at you. There was one more weight you had to lift off.

"I'm sorry.", you whispered, closing your eyes. “I'm sorry for...”

"Don't be, dear. I was at fault, fearing our connection would... weaken me." He sighed. "You might not understand it right now, but I will tell you everything, once you're fully recovered. Can you wait for that?"

You nodded, a small, grateful curl forming on your lips. You opened your eyes to stare into his, crimson, bright and intense, and yet soft and affectionate. Eyes you always tried to envision, although nothing you imagined came close to the real thing.

"Do you... still think it?", you asked, voice shaking slightly.

Alastor hummed a questioning noise, prompting you to continue, which you did, after a second of hesitation. "Me, weakening you. Do you still think it?"

His quiet laughter resounded in your ears, filling you with warmth and making your heart skip a beat.

"My silly, darling dove. With the woman on my side who dared to throw curses at the face of our very creator - What could ever stop me now?"

And, as Alastor's smile grew wide, and your own mirrored it, you were claimed by red claws and a hot, eager mouth once again, kissed again by those soft, sinful lips, the lips of your friend, your savior, your love - the devil himself, whispering the answer to his question unspoken through your skin right into your heart.

Nothing could stop the both of you now.

Nothing at all.

Taglist for the most awsome people that walk the earth: @littledolly2345 @sleepywritersworld @crescentparadise @rapturenyx-blog @phisen @alastorsgirl48 @mullet-mother @sirens-and-moonflowers

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #charlie morningstar #hazbin husk #rosie hazbin hotel #angst #fluff #happy ending because WE NEEDED IT #TW: dark themes #religious trauma #for the frauchen #I almost died writing this what even is sleep

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adelheidvonschicksal · 8 months

Note

JJK crew with Fem sweet S/O who’s been heavily abused verbally and sometimes physically by her relatives, the only family she has left. They make her do chores and they make her sleep outside in a tent. She feels like she owes them for taking her in so despite being hurt and malnourished, she does whatever they say. JJK crew including Gojo, Itadori, Megumi, Nobara, and anyone else in mind?

A/N: Honestly, the majority of the students are throwing either hands or words. I combined two requests because I felt like I would’ve been repeating myself otherwise, and the requests share more similarities than not so smoosh! The main difference was the second request asked for a reader immuned to cursed techniques because their family would curse them out of jealousy and for being mixed/hafu. I also tried to focus more on the reaction than the actual abuse.

Tags: non-graphic abuse mentions, hurt/comfort, fem!reader

•---------•

Maki

Maki has seen this story before – the hateful stares and the mocking laughter, stepping down on even the smallest hope to dream. Being told again and again how useless you were, how worthless, that clinging to dreams, wanting more was all pointless.

When you reveal that the reason you’re so strong is because others made you feel weak, she encourages you. “Then, prove them wrong. You don’t have to live your life the way others believe you should.”

She tries to get you to speak up more, not necessarily to your family but about everything. You’re a kind person and quiet but she feels like you never truly speak your mind, wanting to please everyone.

Whenever she sees someone trying to berate or annoy you, she’s quick to ask why they’re fine talking down to you in private and not in front of her. She may never say it out loud but she’s a bit overprotective of the people she likes.

She eventually offers you a choice: when she takes over her clan, you should join her in building a place where you both can be accepted.

Geto

He’s intuitive to tell you don’t like your clan. The few times he’s met them, they weren’t the politest to him either since he comes from a non-sorcerer family but it’s still strange that they treat a total stranger way better than their own clan member. It clicks more when you explain he’s “pureblood” and you’re not, so they like you even less.

He becomes a bit more protective of you after that, inviting you to hang out with him since you two non-sorcerer blooded people should stick together. It seems to take some of your apprehension away.

It still makes him angry to think about though, even more frustrated whenever your other clan members ignore his speeches on how you’re all sorcerers and that they should treat each other with more care.

They obviously don’t appreciate it, but you do. So, his main goal is to at least make you feel better about the situation through little jokes here and there and trying to convince you that you shouldn’t worry about them because the school can be your family now.

He knows it doesn’t completely fix everything, but he hopes you can see that at least the rest of them care about you.

Megumi

Like Geto, he can tell beforehand that you’re uncomfortable talking about your family. You get the same look he does when someone new accidentally asks him about his family, both his father and his connection with the Zen’in clan.

Megumi always figures it’s not in his place to ask, when you’re ready to talk about it, you will. It’s as simple as that. It doesn’t really become an issue until he sees you actually interact with your family, and how nasty they could be with you, overtly and the disgustingly passive, micro-aggressive way that only old family lines could pull off.

As much as you hate how your family treats you and as much as you hate explaining it to him, you’re more worried that telling others will make them realize that you’re no good and that the other students wouldn’t want to be your friends anymore if they found out about your status and the fact half your family weren’t from here, let alone sorcerers, which is a big reason why you never shared the information.

Megumi doesn’t really care about what most people think especially people who he considers trash. You’re sweet and kind, and that’s really all that matters to him, so you shouldn’t think that he nor the others wouldn’t be your friend because of your birth.

He has no problem telling your nosier cousins that he’s friends with you because he thinks you’re the most outstanding member of your clan—only when asked though.

He will never give you the time to question him or to doubt your relationship together. Any “buts” or “Megumi—” about you not wanting to bring him into your family life or to try to distance yourself is met with “Don’t care” or “No,” to shut down that line of thoughts.

It becomes a little more common for you to spend the night over in his dorm instead of going home at night but he’s still working on convincing you to give up your family entirely like he did.

Gojo

Gojo keeps trying to wiggle himself in your life any chance he gets. He really likes meeting new people especially during high school, you’re included in that when you join his second year.

Unfortunately, you don’t like him for some reason, you don’t like him. You keep avoiding him and barely talk to him, and it’s killing him to know why. Because who could hate him?

It takes a long time of poking at you (your sides specifically) and teasing you to finally get you to admit that your family told you not to talk to him, not to draw his attention, don’t so much as breathe near him. Because you should be lucky to go to the same school as a member of the Gojo Clan, let alone THE heir, and that you shouldn’t be a burden to him.

“Oh, is that right?” Once you tell him your clan’s name (the name you couldn’t use because they didn’t want you representing them) then he fully understands. He knows them well enough.

He immediately wants to go to your house. He wants to visit, in fact Suguru should go! And why not Shoko, too? He’s going to live up the royal treatment from your folks, even as you protest for him not to go. Maybe he’ll ask for all the good drinks and put his feet up on their fancy table?

But why not? He just wants to talk to them and tell them about his new best friend in the world: you. He wants to tell them how he’s so happy how well they treat his adorable little underclassman. And, oh, your room is so tiny, smaller than his walk-in closet, and there’s nothing in there, almost like they only now remember the room exists since he asked about your room. Haven’t they ever thought about getting you a bigger space? Oh, they were planning to let you move into the guest room? Great idea! Wow, then you’re definitely going to need some new clothes to fill that nice new closet, he’ll have to send some. And it’d be rude if he sees someone else in the clothes his clan gifted specifically for you, huh?

When asked why he decided to do that, he says he already told you why: you’re his cute little underclassman.

And he always treats you as such too. Always buying you things to take home and pampering you. Always inviting you out to eat with him and telling you to eat up because he can’t finish it all by himself, and that pretty girls should eat a lot and that you should try every dessert at a new bakery with him.

He constantly asks about your family life now too, to make sure you’re still doing okay, and that when you graduate you should leave them because you don’t owe them anything for being a child who needed help.

Nobara

She’s seeing red when she sees you hurt or when she sees you cry. Society already treats women so awful, and it hurts seeing you be treated evilly by people who are supposed to care about you.

There’s no stopping her when she puts her mind to something. Normally, you could convince her not to retaliate against your family but when she sees any mark on you it’s the last straw.

She’s going to gather your things and kick over that stupid excuse for a “room” they’ve given you and bring you with her. She doesn’t care if she has to share her small space with you as long as you’re safe. She’s sure Gojo can get a new dorm ready for you in no time flat, so it isn’t even a big deal to be sharing a bed for a little while with you.

It feels warm and safe in her hold, and she doesn’t forget to ever tell you how much she loves you and how wonderful a person you are, that she admires you for always being so kind despite your upbringing.

She isn’t afraid to tell you that you don’t owe those people shit while also promising to take you out for new clothes and something to eat. The guilt eats at her for not protecting you sooner, and it makes her want to punch the wall every time she’d think of how dizzy you would get somedays. She had her suspicions but didn’t trust her gut. She promises herself not to make that mistake again.

Anytime you need to do anything with your family, she makes you promise to tell her and let her come with you or one of the others.

Itadori

You manage to pull the wool over his eyes for longer than you expected. You tell him that your family means well and that it’s tough love. Itadori understands that to a small degree. His grandpa was a little ornery, but Itadori always could tell that his grandpa loved him. Megumi can be a bit abrasive, but Itadori can tell Megumi cares about them. With your family, he doesn’t get that vibe.

It’s even worse than he thinks when he finally hears from your own mouth what’s going on, so much that he wants to cry for you because you won’t do it for yourself because you’ve gotten so used to the treatment that even your own body adapted, all because you feel like you can’t be ungrateful and leave your family.

He’ll do the best that he can to help, assisting you in running your errands so that you can have a break, but he still feels so lost because even if he wanted to fight them, he can’t attack an entire clan, and he doesn’t have the weight to do something about it himself especially when you beg him to keep between the two of you.

He’s trying so desperately to convince you that none of your home life is normal while you bury down that fact that you know he’s right.

Itadori quickly makes it one of his ultimate goals to save you like he wants to do with everyone else he meets. Sure, he can’t save everyone, and sure, he can’t exactly get rid of Sukuna just yet, but you’re right here in front of him, and he should be able to save you because he loves you.

•---------•

P.S.A. Please remember to reach out to someone if you’re undergoing any type of abusive situations from family members or other domestic partners, or if you suspect someone is going through those things.

#jjk x reader #megumi x reader x yuuji #gojo x reader #geto x reader #yuuji x reader #maki x reader #nobara x reader #jjk angst #tw: abuse #tw: dark content #tw:abuse #tw:darkcontent #tw: dark themes

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dottiro · 23 days

Text

A Dear in the Headlights

Unreliable summary: Your date doesn’t show up after hours of waiting; in frustration you drive over to Pantalone’s house, knowing he’ll always comfort you. / You get into a car accident due to a deer in the headlights—deer, dear? Does it matter? Warnings: Yandere, car crash, implicated kidnapping, Pantalone is rich, descriptions of dead/mangled body(ies), DEAD DOVE DON'T EAT Note: This is a rewrite of THIS fic from my old blog.

"Hey, it’s me. Your phone has been going to voicemail for a while—you’re probably asleep, but I'm almost at your house. I know, I know, I shouldn't have come to your home in the middle of the night, but once again; you were right."

You press your lips together during the silence that follows. The road ahead is dimly lit by lanterns that do a poor job of showing the way. Only your solitary headlights indicate what's ahead of you.

Disappointment has yet to leave your system as you recall the events from a few hours before."It’s annoying. I wish I could see through people like you do."

Earlier in the evening, you'd been getting ready for a date with a guy who never showed. Unfortunately for you, these occurrences have become normal. The worst part is that hope remains within you. No matter how often it happens, you still believe the next would be better.

You wonder why those assholes bother to chat when they never plan to show.

A bitter sigh escapes your lips. You’re rambling again… how embarrassing.

For a moment, you hope Pantalone will leave his voicemails unread. Perhaps that’d save you face when you’d wake him up in the middle of the night—but you know better. Pantalone does not let anything go unnoticed. Sooner than later, he’d pick up his phone to hear your aimless talking and waste of time.

“Anyhow, I’m almost there. Since you gave me the keys to the gate; I’ll be entering your property. Sorry, not sorry.”

There is a short silence before you end the voicemail.

Although you know you shouldn’t drive and call, the road to Pantalone’s home was—and will always be—abandoned. Not once have you seen traffic coming in or out. Keeping one eye open will be enough.

As you continue forward, the gates surrounding his estate come into sight, and no matter how often you see it, you continue to be in awe at how much he owns.

You’re not sure what his job exactly concludes, Pantalone is a private person, but you know he organises parties for nobles in Snezhnaya. Only the top percentage of people are invited—vision wielders with high ranks, the top businessmen, and daughters born into money pleading for his attention; they all flock for an invitation so they can have the possibility to fall in his graces.

By now, you’ve been able to guess he works as a finance minister for Snezhnaya. If not, something similar will be the answer.

Yet, despite his charming personality and social life, Pantalone continues to appreciate the quiet over the chaos of Snezhnaya’s capital.

At the end of each week, he’d return home to his mansion for the weekend.

You can't blame him.

With one last turn, you arrive at the entrance to the large gate. Usually, it’s closed. However, tonight you find them wide open.

You can’t find a reason why they should be.

The car slows down as you hesitate to intrude into his property.

In the distance, a gentle light is cast inside his mansion.

Is he still awake?

With uncertainty, you let your car roll past the gates, speeding up in curiosity. Wanting to be secluded, Pantalone has surrounded himself by nature to hide. You have to drive through the dense greenery before you reach the lights in the distance.

Your frown turns into a smile when suddenly the upbeat tune of your ringtone echoes through the car.

“Pantalone!” You pick up, holding your phone to your mouth. Your voice is upbeat—you didn’t expect him to call back so soon. You’re surprised he doesn’t comment on its loudness.

“Dearest, would you be so kind as to tell me where you are right now?”

You raise an eyebrow before a chuckle escapes your lips. “Did you or did you not listen to the voicemail?” you ask.

Only a mere few minutes have passed since you ended the one-sided call. If he had listened to it, he would’ve known that you were on the way—already approaching his home.

Background sounds on his end of the call muffle his reply. For just a second, you take your eyes off the road to turn up the volume.

“Are you busy? I hear lots of people.”

You glance at the road as you keep one hand on the wheel. Then, you turn back to your phone, trying to adjust the volume again.

“Pantalone? I can’t hear—”

A loud crash makes you drop the phone before you finish your sentence. In a panic, you release the gas pedal; trying to break instead, resulting in the car drifting as it loses control. Instinctively, both your hands reach for the steering wheel. With all your power, you try to go against the current your car is trapped in—hoping to stabilise it, but failing as you drive over a hobble. Instantly, a thud is created, and something slams against your window, breaking it and shattering shards of glass across the front seats.

Your arms fly up in front of your face, losing your grip on the wheel as you brace yourself. In seconds, you fly forward as another crash happens; and this time your car comes to a full stop. Instantly, the airbags register, pushing your body back into the chair with immense force.

Your ears buzz as you struggle to breathe, feeling like the wind has been pushed out of your lungs. A million thoughts enter your mind and at the same time, you can’t register any of them. Time passes too fast, yet too slow. You try to grasp what happened, watching darkness swallow you whole when the headlights flicker one last time before turning off.

ㅤ

It’s dark, it’s silent.

Faintly, somewhere distant, you hear the motor continuing to hum.

The sound becomes louder and louder until you hear a familiar voice.

“Y/n—?!”

Pantalone?

You hear Pantalone’s voice through your phone. A dim white light tells you it must still be in the car. With only the artificial- and moonlight to guide you, you try to recall your surroundings. Did your phone get thrown back to the back or front during your crash?

As the sound of voices continues to increase, they become deafening. With a throbbing head, you push the deflating airbag out of your way, clicking the seat belt loose and climbing out of your seat with shaky legs.

You take steps forward.

One…

then two…

—you think you stop after that.

Cold air falls into your face, embracing you like death’s hands tickling your face as he debates whether or not to take you with him to the afterlife. Behind you, the front door of the car falls shut. After the slam, the blinkers go off; beeping as one of the orange lights flashes on and off.

You take a deep breath.

Your entire body pulses as your body sways. You have to put your hand on the car to keep yourself upright. Slowly, your other hand reaches for your head. Aside from the confusion, you don’t feel any pain. You wonder if it’s the adrenaline.

Right.

What did you hit again?

A deer?

You block out the distant voices as you make your way around the car. By keeping one of your hands against the metal surface, you circle it without losing your balance.

Without the headlights shining the path ahead of you, it’s hard to see what might be on the street. But, even without lights, no one can miss the mangled silhouette crawling forward. Its legs are bent; one loose to a point where you fear it’d fully snap off if it continues to drag its limbs across the cement.

Suddenly, its head turns up and it cries out like a human. The sound brings chills to your bones and the hollow feeling it leaves behind makes a sob escape your lips. A small button nose lifts into the air as it looks at the moon shining above the gates.

You are paralysed.

A button nose?

The figure crawls again, using its twisted arms to move forward and dragging what remains left behind onto the concrete floor.

You blink through your tears. The world continues to spin and you eventually force your eyes closed. The voices in the background are becoming increasingly louder, making your head scream as it becomes too much. Almost instantly, your body starts to feel warm as pain floods over your being.

The silhouette on the floor is still there when you open your eyes.

Long hair is matted with blood and dirt. Eyes threaten to cave in as the circles under its eyes claw holes in its skin. Sharp cheekbones peek out, cutting through the air as it drags its nails through the rubble, inching forward slowly but surely; much like a poor animal.

You now realise it’s crawling away from the house.

Right…

Pantalone.

You turn around back to the car. With the adrenaline leaving your body quickly, you need to tell him to call for an ambulance.

Before you can do as much as turn, a light is cast upon you. At that moment when you see her clearly, the girl screams in agony—not in pain but out of despair.

Her clothes are ripped, and blood pools up around the middle of her body and she seems skinny, underweight even. Likely, she was already in a bad state before the crash; underweight and starving at the least. Her figure is already dishevelled and now deformed because of you.

Hysterically, she claws forward, further gashing her skin and leaving more blood in her trail.

The thick long stripe of blood going from her body to the end of the car; down under your feet.

Did you hit…?

…No…

“Y/n.” Pantalone steps between you and the girl. With ease, he shields the sight from your eyes. His eyes inspect your body,

Much as if you were his priority.

“Can you move?” he asks.

His figure is blurry yet his face is so perfect… much unlike the girl. Your limbs feel weak as the image is etched into your mind like an ugly scar. Every time you close your eyes, you see her. Even as the people surrounding you reach over to Pantalone to help, the cries only double and combust into a choir of anguish.

Pantalone says something to you, but you can no longer process what he’s saying.

He seems calm…

You think of how easy it’d be to fall in his arms and believe everything to be a dream. Surely, it must be—!

The back of his hand comes up to caress your cheek, dragging a line of thick blood from your forehead to your chin and staining his gloves

His eyes open, and the intense colours of his irises flood sense into your brain. With his hand keeping your head steady, he says, “you’re alright, my dear.”

Then, he repeats it.

You’re alright.

Pantalone wouldn’t lie to you. He hadn’t lied in the past, and neither will he now. You choose to believe him.

His hands hold your face. He brings you closer until his lips fall next to your ear.

You diminish your thoughts as you let his voice carry over.

You got into a car crash because you hit a deer. You lost control of your wheel, ran into a tree, and as a result of the impact you got a concussion—your mind is scrambled, trauma making your memory warped and untrue.

He repeats it, whispering the words like a gentle song as his arms turn you around. One hand creeps up to your neck, while the other pushes the small of your waist forward.

Lights shimmer onto the roads. For a moment, you’d believe they’re fireflies. Voices surround you, either barking orders or following them with timid voices. Pantalone’s presence stands out among the others. His warmth makes you continue forward. You want to continue forward with him.

He repeats the words.

You got into a car crash because you hit a dear. You lost control of your wheel, ran into a tree, and as a result of the impact you got a concussion—your mind is scrambled, trauma making your memory warped and untrue.

The next time you open your eyes, you’re in Pantalone’s room.

His silken sheets are a beautiful dark violet. They feel soft against your skin. When you place your head against the pillow, you smell his natural scent mixed with a soft lavender. It's different from the perfume he wears daily—more subtle and inviting—but you find that it suits him. You wonder if the lavender is a remnant of the many bath scents he uses.

You savour the short moment of your headache disappearing. The fresh and calm scent makes you want to turn around in his bed for longer. Your fingers dig into the mattress, enjoying the remaining warmth, and then you close your eyes.

You think of last night.

You clearly remember the date date-gone-wrong; and the crash too, but you fail to recall how you got to Pantalone’s house. Did you pass out?

You know you shouldn’t have called without driving, and you know you shouldn’t have assumed his roads would be abandoned as always,

But…

What got in your way…?

As you shovel through your memories, Pantalone enters the room unannounced. His expression shifts from a frown to something you’d describe as relief.

He apologises for entering before knocking.

“It’s alright. I’m the one who should say sorry. I…”

Your headache returns as you try to remember what happened.

“I can remember crashing my car but everything after is fuzzy, like… a scattered memory or dream…?”

You stop, taking a moment to find your following words.

“It’s like my brain stopped working.”

Pantalone sits next to you on the edge of the bed and places his hand near yours. His fingers snake forward, reaching to intertwine yours in his. “The doctors tell me you suffer from a concussion. I believe it’d be best for you to remain in my care until you’ve recovered.”

“I’ve already made a big enough mess. I wouldn’t want to bother you more.”

You place your hands down on the blanket that covers your legs. Your fingers fiddle with the fabric as a way to distract yourself. Only now, you notice that you’re dressed in an oversized pyjama, which you assume is Pantalone’s. You are left to wonder when and how you got changed.

Pantalone tilts his head, eying you down from over his glasses. You know that look, he’s sent it many times before. Never does it fail at making you feel small.

He brushes his thumb over your knuckles and you realise he has shed his gloves. It’s a rare sight and you take comfort in his natural warmth when he squeezes gently.

“You can depend on me, dear. I’ve informed my assistant that I’ll be home this week. You only need to recover; let me figure out the rest.”

You sigh, letting out a mix of disappointment and frustration pointed towards yourself.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have called while driving, but—“ You groan in frustration. A fragment of yesterday flashes through your mind. “It just… ran in front of my car. I don’t know what animal would do that.”

You recall the first impact into the second. The pain in your body is a reminder of what it felt to take one hit after another.

When you lift your head from your hands—you gaze at Pantalone. The hand that had held you is now under his chin. He appears to be lost in thought, slightly frowning with lips pursed as a habit of focus.

“’lone?”

His frown turns into a soft smile at the sound of your voice and he puts his hand on your knee. “Sorry, dear. Just thinking.” He continues, “let me fix your problems. In the meantime, rest. I shall be here if you need anything.”

You watch him stand up from the side of the bed, patting your knee affectionately before disappearing into the corridor.

As much as his presence calms you, you sense a feeling of dread.

You’re missing something.

You try to summarise last night’s events one last time.

It starts with the date. An hour before you left for the restaurant, he had messaged you; telling you he was excited and ready to see you. Then, when he fails to show up, you call him, but end up with an ‘unknown number’ response. He had blocked you.

After this, you drive home, only to turn around as you arrive home and decide to head to Pantalone’s instead. You try to call him, feeling guilty for showing up unannounced in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t pick up and you leave a voicemail instead.

You pass his open gates—did you open them?—and your cell phone goes off as Pantalone calls you within mere minutes of the voicemail being sent.

When you can’t hear him—why couldn’t you hear him?—you turn up your volume.

You crash… but you run into something first.

What did you run into?

Something ran from the woods into the pathway.

You remember vaguely getting out of the car, but you’re not certain…

What comes next…?

No matter how much you try to shuffle the events; certain things remain a mystery. Gaps are left unfilled as you toss and turn under the soft sheets. On the feathered pillow, you lay your bandaged head in defeat.

You try to push the questions out of your head, letting the lingering scent of Pantalone consume your mind. When you close your eyes, you force the cries of last night out of your mind. A vague image of a mangled body comes up. You try to remember Pantalone instead.

His reassuring words, his gentle touches. His generosity and never-ending patience with you; even in this situation. You think of how calm he is and how restless you are.

Sooner than later,

It’s not enough.

You sit up and toss the covers from your body.

The cruel cold embraces you. A chill crawls up from your feet to your neck. You remember it similarly last night.

If you could, you’d stay in his bed forever. Alas, your mind plagues you and even he could not bring comfort in your darkest hours.

The room has been darkened, yet, stipes of stubborn sunlight continue to escape the cracks of the thick curtains. The time is evident to you even before you pull open one side. In the late morning sunlight, all of Pantalone’s property is visible.

Unlike last time, you now see his beautiful garden. At the window, you can see the gardener tending to the plants available in Snezhnaya below you. You see the few servants walk around at the front of his mansion. Then, your eyes follow the gravel path that’s framed by trees.

Your car is gone,

But the long trail of blood on the street remains.

To your surprise, it drags into two directions, as if there were two separate entities. One seems to have combusted into a pool at a tree, while the other continues to drag towards the gate for a few meters.

The image of a mangled woman pops up in your head. You remember her dirty and worn-out clothes, her leg that had been twisted at an inhumane angle, her bones that stuck out from beneath her skin.

“Y/n.”

You let the curtain fall from your grasp and you turn around.

Another flash pops up in your mind. You remember the stranger that walked up to you with the flashlight, the other people who Pantalone yelled at, the way the mangled woman started begging for her life when one of the men crushed her skull with his boot.

Two hands place themselves sturdy on your shoulders. You jolt backwards, but Pantalone’s hands keep you close.

His expression is peaceful. Gentle. Calm.

So many things you’re not.

He calls out to you again, dragging one of his gloved fingers like a familiar habit over your cheek. So so familiar.

His eyes remain closed and he users you back to his bed, telling you that you’re still unwell and that you need rest.

You ask him about the mangled woman.

He frowns.

“Dear, your brain is shaken from the crash. When I, alone, came to your car—you were passed out. I had to carry you back to the house.”

You ask him about the trail of blood and your missing car.

“I first called a mechanic to drag your car away, then I called a friend who works as a vet to carry the deer away.”

Pantalone holds your head in both of his hands. His thumbs brush over your cheekbones, and he brings you closer to place his lips against your forehead; leaving chaos in its wake.

“The doctors told me your head suffered from injury after the impact. I feared I might’ve underestimated it. Your mind is already filling these gaps of your mind with horrid ideas. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you.”

He looks solemnly down at you.

“That, my dear, is why you should stay here. I can take care of you until you’ve recovered. I’ll call a private doctor for a check-up. He should be able to tell you if it’s advised to go home or stay under someone else’s care.”

You nod your head.

It’s slow and unsure, but you show your trust in Pantalone.

You’ve been friends for so long… He wouldn’t lie to you.

You trust him.

After all…

A ludicrous laugh escapes your lips at the notion.

ㅤ

“—as if a woman would be running at your property. It’s nonsensical, right?”

He smiles;

“Yes, it is.”

©dottiro. Do not copy, repost, translate, feed to AI, or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thank you for reading ♡

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iloveaustinelvisandmannymore · 6 months

Text

Forever, mine.

Pairing: Astarion x reader

Warning: Dark themes, Smut, Concubine reader, Augst, Yandere Astarion, Possessive Astarion, Arguments, Creampie, Fingering, Bloodsucking, One-side love? (Fanart, not mine). Part 2

Summary: don't you know you're his?

You recall the first time you met your master, the white clouds blocked the warm light of the sun. You sat down at the edge of the path of the town where you were confined. Ladies and gentlemen alike walked pasted you, who would pay attention to a beggar? A woman at that who was covered in dirt and grime, hair rattan and tangled, with cloths holed and torn. You sniffled as your vision blurred, barely seeing people walking until tears fell.

That's when you saw him.

It was like the world slowed for his outworldly beauty. A ray of sunlight appeared from the cloudy day and shined upon him, a man of pale skin, white hair that was styled to perfection, eyes an beautiful burgundy, and he was adorned with the finest of fabrics, a smirk full of genuine confidence.

Your breath shorted as the man stopped in front of you once he noticed your glaze, the Heat of embarrassment flushed in your cheeks, and your lap became quite outstanding. Unexpectedly two fingers lifted your chin and your glaze had once again fell on the man. He kneeled on one knee and smiled softly at you to your surprise. Leaning back you surely smelled caused a frown on his lips. "You do not have to fear me pet. I wish you no harm, quite the contrary." his voice was as regal and enchanting as his blessed beauty, "Take my hand." he offered his other hand, you musted of hesitated more than he liked he spoke again "I know how hard this life is. Having to beg for the tiny bit of kindness of cruel people." he looked almost pasted you like he was reminiscing. "I'll take you away. You won't have to worry about your next meal nor surviving another cold, winter anymore. For I will clothe you, feed you, keep you safe and warm. All your wants and needs will be met." he rubbed some grime from your cheek.

"What do you say?" you took his hand that day and his words rang true. If only you knew what it would come to.

The dancing of the candlelight shined light upon the sinful dance of passion you shared with your master, in the otherwise dark room.

Your mouth dropped open as you let out a strangled moan, Astarion's hold on your hips tightened in response. "My beautiful concubine." Your master growled as he lost himself in pleasure called you, his usual maintained curls, messy from the grip your had them in earlier, and laid over his ruby orbs, He was even more beautiful this way. "You ruin me!" He gasps as you clenched around your poor master, his thrusting stuttered before he began to pound into your squelching, wet cunt. The sent of your arousals and sweat thickens in the air "Harder." You bucked your hips "please, harder." You begged of your master and he surly answered. "As you wish my pet." He chuckled darkly as he throw your legs that rested around his waist onto his shoulders and bend down, driving his already deep cock deeper in your wet cavern. The world seemed to disappeared as your heated glazes locked together, it was just you and him in this moment of passionate, as you both reached your climax, he whispered her name. The name of his beloved runway, Tav, the one you were brought here to just replac. You faked a moan and a shudder, faking your orgasm as your master release his pearly cum deep within you. Filling you with everything he had but his love.

Disappointment and bitterness were a feeling you knew all too well and while he lay beside you it felt like he was miles away, so scared to get close, he saved you and he favored you yet that meant nothing, and it meant nothing as Astarion held you close, your head resting on his chest, snuggling into his side as the moon raised high in the sky. It was nothing and you would always being nothing to him.

As the sun took its place among the clouds of the day, you awoke to his disappearance, likely busy with his duties as the vampire Lord, and a note with your beloved master's beautiful handwriting.

My dearest concubine,

I regret to inform you that I will be occupied for the remainder of the day and night as there is no rest for rulers. I hope you will miss me as much as I miss you.

With love,

Astarion.

You sighed, pushing away the ache in your heart as you sat down on your vanity chair, and began to brush your hair. Despite being only a concubine, you were an extension of your master and you had to look of importance in your master's castle. Once your maid helped you into your gown your duties commenced. You were to make sure things were done to perfection, and that no mistakes were made to give people a slight idea your master reputation was not up to hold.

The kitchen bustled with life as the chefs and the maid prepared for one of the master's many ball events, which would feature various races. Your maid, Lyra, took notes as you checked with the chefs about the dishes. "My lady," she whispered gently, poking your arm to gather your attention away from the head chef's demonstration of the selected dishes. A familiar pale man smiled at you, his teal eyes lighting up as you glanced in his direction. Soren Nightingale, a young man who was clearly infatuated with you, and you felt the same way about him.

Soren took your hand, and you both ran to the garden. Your back hit the tree as his lips met yours. Little did you know, angry ruby eyes were watching from the castle window.

"This how you repay me!" Astarion hissed, slamming the door of his chamber, the moon had raised again shrouding the room in moonlight, "Giving another man love and affection!" He yelled, glaring at you with such rage that you stepped back each time he walked towards you till your back met the wall. "I gave you everything! My love was yours but how would you care!! You still love her? " you yelled back. "You forget yourself. You belong to me! All of you." He grabbed your arm and pulled you into a kiss, his hand tearing away at your gown and underwater, his rough kisses trailing from your lips to your neck, his sinfully hot tongue licking a stripe before his fangs pierced your skin. An unexpected moan forced its way out of you as your master drank from you.

You yepped as his fangs ripped out your neck and you were thrown onto his bed. Your face burned with embarrassment, and frustration as your pussy became wet with your arousal. "oh my pet~" Astarion cooed as he climbed above you, his body bare of clothes, "Your body knows it's mine, why can't you? " he mocked as his cold nimble fingers playfully dips the tip of his finger into your entrance. You glared at him, your lips curled into a snarl "I will never-" your words were cut off as your mouth dropped into a perfect o as his long finger finally pushed it away in. In no time his finger was joined by another as they curled into your sweet spot and they thrusted with practiced ease. Slick coated the silken sheets as well as your master's palm, the coming bliss of your orgasm was taken away as he pulled his fingers from your depths.

"Now we can't have that, you've been a bad pup." Astarion grinned wickedly as he saw the look of anger on your face, he wanted to prove a point and he would, lining up his cock to your core and without waiting slammed in, groaning as he felt your wet walls. You cried out, your body shook from his intense thrusts, his hips snapping, driving his cock deeper and deeper nor did he slow. The bed creaked under you as your bucked your hips to his ponding, and as his cock head hit your cervix, your sweet releasing finally washed upon you. "You belong to me and don't you ever forget it." Astarion growled as he slammed into you, his cock throbbing and twitch as his cum filled you in hot spurts.

You will always be his and he'll never let you forget it. He will make sure to let that little boy know as well.

#tw: dark themes #astarion bg3 #yandere astarion #astarion x reader #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #astarion smut #astarion x you

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bearw-me · 5 months

Note

This is kinda dark so if you don't wanna do it it's cool. Can I request Carmilla running into a son reader? [Years before she had her daughters she had a son but she was too strict/serious on her boy which led to him...taking his own life. The experience made Carmilla realize she mightve been too hard on him so when hid sisters come around she showers them with love] The reader thinks carmilla is going to scold him, scream at him or anything but she just hugs him hard and tells him she's sorry and that she loves him

i'd like to put my author's note up here before you guys read what i wrote/make a little disclaimer!

TW: mentions of harm

I wouldn't write the act, per-se, but i had absolutely no problem with your request because it doesn't really involve those details (fic wise) this one is mostly about comfort and a nice reunion!

just before you go, know your best-friend mal is always here for you <3 this and every other fic i write is my silent love-letter to you

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐨 — 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

𐐒 includes : carmilla carmine x son!reader, odette, clara 𐐒 cw : angst, hugs, kisses, comfort 𐐒 summary : after a few decades in hell, you decide it's time to stop putting it aside and visit your mother for the first time since you've appeared in hell. as anxious as you are, she receives your visit with open arms. 𐐒 word count : 1.1 k

The metal body of the cab rattled against the broken highway, the sights of Pentagon city flashing past you in a pink florescent blur. You sighed, slumping into the leather seats.

Were you really doing this?

The thought made your stomach bubble with new found nerves. Rolling and wrenching the muscles in your stomach so hard you suddenly had to lean forward in your seat. Forced to stare at all the dust and garbage littered about the floor.

"Oh god I'm gonna be sick," you mumbled to yourself.

"Don't throw up in my car kid," the driver growled at you, suddenly adjusting his rearview mirror so that he could keep an eye on you.

You tried not to roll your eyes, taking a quick glance out of the window just in time to witness the change in districts.

"Might wanna keep your head down kid! We're in Carmine's district now," he laughed, a hoarse sound filled with cigarette smoke.

You had never actually been in this part of hell. After all these years you've been here, watching as the districts had shifted between hands in the great soul exchange. . .

All those years until you realized she had fallen here just like you.

And you didn't really know how to process that thought just yet.

The once chaotic district was now more silent.

Shadows skulking between buildings and alleyways, making deals to sell weapons and bartering for money.

You grimaced, opting to let those images blur in your mind and let your head fall against the rattling window.

What possessed you to see your mother after all these year? Who knows. . .

It just felt like it had to be done.

Soon, the tall white building had come into view, a place you heard the overlords of hell met up.

And today, Carmilla would be here, same with your-. . .

Odette and Clara.

You stepped out of the cab, soles hitting the pavement with a tap. You paid what you owed to the driver and waved a quick thanks as he sped off, the devil on his heels.

That left you alone, standing like David against Goliath with the empire she had built.

She's. . . kept herself busy.

It's all you could think about. Staring at the gleaming tiles of the building with hesitance.

What would she say to you? Should you have told her you were coming? That you were here?

The sickness that seemed to be plaguing you had come back in waves.

The last time you had remembered seeing her, you were both alive on Earth, screaming at each others faces.

"One day, mi hijo, you will have to do everything for yourself! You will have to take over the business! YOU have to carry all that burdens us and I NEED you to be ready for that! Why can't you just see that! I won't always be here for you! YOU NEED TO STEP UP TO THIS!"

But. . .

You just couldn't do everything she had wanted of you. The standards, the rules, the burden. . . it was all too heavy for one person to carry.

And now here you were, on the white-waiting room couch unannounced.

To sayy. . . what exactly?

You bit at your nails in thought, leg bouncing up and down as you waited for your name to be called.

It was pretty empty today.

No one was really sitting in here with you.

That was a great thought.

A deep, strung-out exhale shook its way out of your lungs.

Nerves, you figured.

You didn't even know what to do with your hands, running them through your hair and rocking back and forth in your seat, wondering if it was too late to just stand up and leave-

"Um. . ." You stopped completely, turning your head towards the sound of your voice.

Just before the office doors, two small sinners stood side by side, holding a clipboard up to their faces as they eyed you with surprise.

Odette and Clara.

There was no mistaking them.

"That's. . . me?" You rose from your seat like a ghost, not really feeling anything but utter surprise.

It was the first time you've ever seen them. The same cream colored hair, the same eyes, they even stood en pointe like her.

Odette and Clara.

"Come with us," Clara beckoned, her curly hair and grey skin. . . did she look like that too? Now that she was a sinner?

Thank goodness the girls turned away from you quickly, giving you just enough time to wipe a stray tear from your eye. Estranged siblings that you've never even met. . . and you were so full of emotion at just the sight of them.

Did they know who you were?

You watched them wearily, the two exchanging quick glances at each other and occasionally, at you.

"She's right in here," Clara trailed off.

Odette glanced at you through her round glasses, a hint of worry lifting her eyebrows up "She wasn't expecting you today."

"Alright," you shrugged. I mean, it was a fact you already knew, but to hear the two of them say it to you was the final slap of reality you weren't sure you entirely needed.

The two of them opened the doors for you, watching intently as you shuffled into the room, and back at each other incredulously.

"Ay dios mio, I said I didn't have time for meetings. . ." you heard her mumble, face covered by a laptop screen, hunched over and lost in her work.

It was how you remembered her.

"Mamá," you called out, finally taking a seat in front of her desk, unsure of who or what you'd find on the other side of that screen.

With that one word, she froze still, a pair of demonic red eyes peering over the top of that silver screen.

"Mamá," you said again, a choked sound now that you realized it was her.

It was actually her.

A sinner, your mother, an overlord, who was finally before you.

It was like all the things you had planned on telling her had thrown themselves together and crumbled beneath the sight of her.

"Mi hijo."

"Mamá, I know you're mad at me," the tears came without warning, and you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, unable to keep looking at her as the sobs wracked through your body, pleading for her forgiveness "I tried my best! I tried! I-"

"Mi hijo, I'm so sorry," your mother flew into your arms, the familiarity of her love so striking that you became undone in her arms.

She cried into your neck, a sound you've never heard before "Oh mi hijo, no heavens could ever keep me away from you, never, and I and never letting you go again,"

"I love you mi hijo."

#hazbin hotel #imagines #fic #oneshot #carmilla carmine x son!reader #male reader #hazbin carmilla #hazbin carmilla carmine #tw: dark themes #angst #comfort #hazbin odette #hazbin clara #tw: mentions of harm #hugs #sending hugs anon #accidentally posted this too soon lol #tags

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konigsblog · 1 month

Text

Homewrecker!Stepdaughter!Reader x Stepdad!König (🌽 link)

TW/CW: INFIDELITY, STEPCEST. MDNI 18+

You knew exactly how to rile your stepfather up, how to earn yourself a reaction from a sexually frustrated man.

You'd wear the tiniest skirts without any underwear beneath, taunting the poor, depraved moron by bending over backwards, allowing him to admire your bare cunt from afar while he scolded you for being mischievous and disobedient. You'd accuse him of being a pervert when his eyes would begin to wander to your supple breasts, the sight of your stiff and perky nipples staring back at him through your transparent tank top becoming too hard to resist.

König would punish you for your constant mischief.

He'd bend you over the kitchen countertop and show you how men truly act, how animalistic and violent they could become. He'd spank your rear, leave you wincing and apologising profusely with tears staining your cheeks. You'd promise to obey, only to break it. He's not oblivious, he can see the desperation in your gleaming eyes, how you constantly push his buttons, longing for a reaction. König attempts to fight the way his large cock hardens and throbs at your seductive misbehaviour, but how can he resist an opportunity like this? He becomes a deranged mess at the sight of you; intoxicated and vulnerable with your dress rolled up your rear, barely conscious and fighting exhaustion.

He'd teach you a lesson. Rut into you for hours, attempting to silence and fulfil you. How is he supposed to act normal and fatherly with your hand down his tight boxers, toying with his half-hard morning wood and stroking him gently? Your mother doesn't satisfy him like you do. That young, tight hold feels like heaven for the old social recluse.

You're a tease. A successful and seductive one at that.

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jonathansthickthighs · 3 months

Text

My Sweetest Heart 5: Yandere! Fushiguro Toji 𝐱 Reader (Toji’s POV)

Description: You had a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.

Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, toxic behavior, DARK CONTENT, GORE (slight), murder, jealousy, possessive behavior, stalking, desperate toji, slight smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), mentions of baby trapping, breeding kink?, daddy kink, masturbation, alternative universe (no curses), age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s)

A/N: Greetings, reader. I wanna thank you for all the love you showed this mini series, I really really appreciate it <3. Without further ado, here is the final chapter! It’s a little different as it is written completely in Toji’s POV and it’s also slightly darker that the previous ones, so read at your own risk! Hope you enjoy :)

Italics = flashbacks

NOT EDITED!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Masterlist

You’re mine.

The instant my eyes landed on you, I knew that was my destiny— the sole purpose for my existence in this floating sphere we call Earth. From that fateful night onward, I became aware. I became aware of what a man truly in love is capable of. All things suddenly made sense, and I felt everything. The gentle breeze caressing my skin was almost like an imitation of your soft hand running through my tough-to-the touch skin. The sun kissing my face with the same passion as your tender lips. Those romance movies and novels I once detested now played endlessly in my mind, imagining it was us, living our own life as a happy couple.

You make me vulnerable.

Vulnerability used to be such a foreign feeling to me, not even experiencing it as a child. It makes me feel weak— you make me weak. But I’ve learned to accept this newfound fragility because I love you. This vulnerability, it’s truly a disconcerting sensation, like exposing an unarmored heart to the world— to you. You’re my world. You’ve taught me more about life than I could have ever imagine, something I wouldn’t expect from someone so young. At your age, I was nothing more than an ignorant boy who didn’t understand or cared about anything. Yet, in your presence, I’ve come to see vulnerability as a strength. Loving you has taught me that this feeling is not about weakness, but about trust and intimacy. Allowing you to see the depths of my soul and getting the same in return from you has made me find solace in those moments. I now embrace the beautiful feeling of vulnerability because thanks to you, it makes me feel like the strongest man alive.

I know I have one or two… loose screws.

I can be an incredibly jealous and territorial man when it comes to you. Insecurity floods my mind at any minimum interaction you have with a man, in particular men your age. No matter how much you reassured me on your desire to only be with me and my age not being an issue to you, there was always a little voice in my head that made me erupt. I know you had lost count of how many times I had caused a scene in public, getting all up in the other man’s face with threats of violence. You’d barely manage to drag me with out of the place, apologizing profusely as you begged the owners to not call the police on your problematic boyfriend. Remember those times? I’m deeply sorry, sweetheart, I’m aware of how much I embarrassed you. It wasn’t my intention, but each occasion I would spot a man eyeing you up, I couldn’t control myself from going ballistic. You are every man’s dream, a vision of beauty too pure for this ugly world. That’s why I can’t let them have you— I’m just trying to protect you.

Even when you didn’t like situations I put you in, I am certain you loved the aftermath. Pistoling my thick cock in your heavenly hole, claiming what’s mine always made my jealousy and insecurities dissipate. Your scream and moans only confirmed how much you enjoyed giving yourself to me. Make up sex with you was so intense and passionate, it almost made me want to start fights with you constantly. Your slick juices coating my cock was evidence of your arousal. You loved make up sex as much as I did. I can’t help myself from remembering how many times you moaned into my ear that me you belonged only to me, making my heart leap in joy. I stay up night after night reminiscing in those precious moments, those are memories I will always hold close to my heart and continue to long for.

“F-fuck me! This pussy is yours, Toji! I belong to you, only you!” Your whines were muffled by my hand placed on the side of your face, pressing your head into the mattress, thrusting my cock into your dripping cunt from behind. The way you moaned my name, telling me you were mine making my cock throb from the overbearing arousal. You could never fully grasp how you make me feel because it transcends anything this world could offer. It’s something beyond words, beyond earthly experiences, as if it belongs to a place untouched by time and space.

“You better not be lying to me, sweetheart. No other man can have you like this, this pretty little hole was made for my cock only!” Delivering a harsh slap to your ass, I could feel myself getting riled up at the imagine of another man seeing you in this position. It wasn’t your fault men wouldn’t stop throwing themselves at you, but I just wish you weren’t so fucking nice about it. Your kindness only encourages them and it makes me sick. It makes me feel like you like the attention and I’m not here for it. All your attention should be on me!

I continued spanking your now sore globes, hearing you let out whimpers, not able to identify if they’re from pain, pleasure or a mixture of both. I was so angry at you I couldn’t bring myself to care. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. “Toji, I’m not lying. I’m only yours. P-please!” You sobbed and I felt my heart drop when I saw actual tears falling from your eyes. This is were I draw the line, if there was something I couldn’t stand was seeing you cry. Forcing myself to stop, I removed my hand from the side of your face to wipe your tears away gently, calling your name.

“No! Don’t stop! It feels s’good, Toji!” My eyes widened briefly, but I couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped my lips. You were crying from pleasure. As much as I hate to see you cry, I can’t keep myself from thinking about how absolutely beautiful you look when you do. The way your skin glows, your eyes sparkle and your lips puff up is like a work of art. An art piece of incalculable value that nobody but me can admire.

“What a fucking slut. You like -hah- being punished don’t you, baby? You like being used by me.” I hissed as I started thrusting into your tight pussy fast and hard, loving the way your ass bounced with each rough stroke I gave you. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, your ass received another firm slap from my hand, making you cry out as your cunt clenched around me. Gods, your pussy is delicious. Nothing felt better than you. Our first night solidified our bond, the connection between us felt so strong I thought it to be impossible for you to not feel the same way.

I could tell by your constant clenching that you were going to release your delectable nectar all over my pulsing cock, which made a wave of relief wash over me as I’d been holding my own release from the moment I felt your slickness engulf me. I absolutely love coming inside you, but it’s a shame you’re on birth control. Those damn pills never cease to piss me off. My intention from the first time we had sex was to impregnate you. It mortifies me to admit that one of the main reasons I came inside you so many times that night was in hopes of baby trapping you so I’d be in your life one way or another, but now that you’re my woman I truly desire to become a father for reasons beyond tying you to me for life. I want to have a family with you.

“Are you gonna let me put a baby in you, huh, sweetheart?” I dare to ask you as I move my hand down to play with your swollen clit because I know how much you love it when I do.

“Yes, daddy! Please, fill me up.” I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling back from the pleasure, you’re just so good to me. I knew your answer wouldn’t be as positive if my dick wasn’t inside you, but I enjoy the way you feed into my delusions when I’m fucking you, knowing you’d say yes to anything I ask as long as I’m rearranging your insides. Your little plea was all it took for me to paint your insides white, releasing rope after rope of semen hoping that this time you’d be part of that 0.1% of the cases where birth control fails. I felt you coming around me, milking me of all I had, squeezing me so tightly I felt as if I might be trapped inside you forever.

“I love you so much, Toji.”

You broke up with me.

The way you told me you loved me replayed in my mind every hour of every day since that moment. For the first time in my life, I cried. I cried in front of you, raw and vulnerable, and I begged you not to leave me. Despite my tears and pleas, you still walked away, leaving me with a hole in my chest. It’s a cold world, but I’d be lying if I said didn’t drive you to this point.

You found out. About everything.

You hadn’t heard from your friends in months and you weren’t aware of their reasoning for ignoring you so cruelly. You noticed they had blocked you, noticing your messages weren’t going through, the same as your calls. I knew you were thinking to yourself if ditching them a few times good enough reason for them to kick you out of their lives like you meant nothing to them. Years of friendship and memories down the drain because something as insignificant as this. It made you ponder if only you had managed your time more wisely maybe you would’ve still had their friendship.

I listened to you vent about it, trying to understand what you did to deserve this treatment. I was your shoulder to cry on. I had been nothing more than supportive towards you. In a matter of a few months I became your unconditional companion, the greatest reason for your happiness. I could tell you were developing an emotional dependence on me and I knew it startled you, but I liked it. Having you depend on me gave you another reason to not leave me and I would rely on that for as long as I could.

In spite of your growing dependency on me, you felt our love was too good to be true and that’s when you started digging.

You ran into one of your former best friends at the store and despite her efforts to avoid you, your feet strode towards her with unyielding determination and you confronted her. You could tell she was nervous. She had all the reasons to be. After our phone call, I decided that wasn’t enough to keep her away, so I had one of my… “coworkers” pay her a little visit, but only to give her a scare. Nothing serious, only a threat to end her life if she did as much as look in your direction. She’s a bad influence to you, doll, and you know it. Always going out clubbing, encouraging you to talk to men and to let them put their dirty hands on you. Always telling you that there’s nothing wrong with wearing revealing clothes in public like you’re some common whore. You know I don’t like it when you show off what’s supposed to be preserved for my eyes only. I can’t allow that type of friendship. Don’t you understand that’s how relationships get ruined? I’m just trying to protect you.

With hesitation, your best friend spoke to you, her fists gripping the handle of the shopping cart tightly. Her face twisted with pain as she began to speak, her words seemingly causing her physical discomfort. She told you everything, and you stood there, a perplexed expression on your face, unable to believe a words she uttered. You yelled at her for even attempting to tarnish my image in such way, and you have no idea how happy that made me. Yet, despite your anger, the hairs in your skin stood on end, a silent signal from your intuition urging you to believe her.

Remember the shaken feeling you got when I grabbed you by the hair the morning after we first made love, sweetheart? That’s exactly how you felt this very moment. But to my benefit, you were in denial. I knew she’d be a problem from the start and after all my efforts, she keeps getting in the way of our love. That stupid bitch. She went as far as telling you, through tears, that she feared for your life. As if I would do anything to hurt you. She even suggested fleeing from Japan with her. The mere thought filled me with simmering rage. I would never allow such a thing, and you were ever to disappear from my life because of her fault, I would search every corner of the globe, every hidden crevice, until I found you.

You stormed out of the store feeling agitated, trying to control your breath. I could tell you wanted nothing more than to stomp into my place to yell and scream at me, but to my surprise, you were calm when you arrived. You were so serene it was almost frightening.

That night you let me have my way with you, but it was different. The usual sparkle in your eye had vanished, replaced by a lifeless, hollow stare— I could barely get a moan out of you.

“Sweetheart, you seem out of it tonight. Is everything all right?”

I inquired, stopping my thrusts, concerned about your lack of emotion. I had always been able to read you, but this time I couldn’t decipher your thoughts. The only thing that I could think of was that you believed your best friend’s words, but what were you thinking about doing about it? Your confrontational nature had fooled me into thinking you’d touch the topic with me right away, but the way you were so inside your thoughts made anxiety bubble up inside me.

“I’m fine, Toji. I’m just tired. Let’s keep going.” You answered offering me a smile, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes like it usually did.

I can’t explain why I kept going, but I did. You started moaning, but to me—someone who has made you moan like a bitch in heat innumerable times— it was obvious they were fake moans. I could feel my body trembling from a mixture of pleasure and apprehension and I came inside you the same way I did every night. You didn’t orgasm that night. All you did was wait for me to roll off you as I held you with my face buried in your neck. I held you like it’d be our last night together. As soon as I moved away from you warm body, you rushed to the bathroom to take a shower as if you were disgusted about giving yourself to me.

“I love you, sweetheart.” I hesitantly said as I got up to walk after you, but the only answer I got was a door slammed in my face.

That night, I should have held you longer.

Hours turned into days, days turned into a week without a single word from you. My phone became a repository of unanswered texts and calls, each one a silent plea for your return. I wandered past your house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but it stood empty. Your absence was haunting me. No physical or mental torture I had endured compared to the pain I felt. Thoughts invaded my mind, did you actually go along with your friends’ plan and fled the country? Noticing all of your important belongings were still at your place, that couldn’t be a possibility.

I sighed deeply as I lay on your bed, the familiar scent of your shampoo enveloping me as the aroma clung to your pillows. I let my eyelids fall shut reminiscing in all the nights we spent together on this very bed, in particular our first. I couldn’t stop my cock from hardening at the combination of your scent and the memories. My eyes landed on your laundry basket, a black thong catching my attention. I recall the time you wore it for me, you looked absolutely immaculate in this little piece. I rose from the bed making my way towards it, gripping it tightly in my fist as I brought it up to my nose. My cock twitched as the ghost of your scent still lingered on it. This brought back old memories of the times I broke into your apartment before you even knew of my existence. All the countless times I sprawled myself on your bed, messing up your bedsheets as I masturbated to your scent. All those times I would orgasm merely from the feeling of your silky sheets on my bare cock as I would grind my hips against them.

I fell back on your bed as I continued to inhale what was left of your scent, feeling the tent in my sweatpants grow larger. Biting my lip, I pulled the waistband down, feeling relief as my erection sprung free from its retrains. I let out a shaky breath as I gripped the base of my cock. I missed you so much, going a week without seeing you, hearing your voice— a week without your touch, had been excruciating.

I stroked my cock slowly, trying to mimic the way you would tease me. “P-please, sweetheart. I n-need you.” I beseeched into the air, hoping that would make you somehow grace me with your presence. I proceeded to pump myself faster, using the precum that was accumulating on my swollen tip as lubricant, making my cock slick and shiny— only a mere imitation of how your juices coated it.

Running my tongue over the spot where your scent lingered, I squeezed the base of my cock to prevent myself from coming already. “I need to taste you, baby. Please, please, please.” I felt pathetic having to recur to these methods again, but the desperation you caused in me was mind-boggling. The stimulation was too much for me, I couldn’t hold it anymore. I removed your underwear from my face before I started stroking my cock with them, feeling it pulse, knowing those panties that were now touching my member, were once so close to your pretty cunt.

“Please, come back to me.” Wincing, I felt my cock throb painfully, my tone laced with exasperation. Salty tears welled my weary orbs, each drop a testament to the growing ache of your absence. The pain of not having you with me becoming unbearable with every passing moment. I can no longer endure not having you. It was in this moment that I saw clarity, I deemed taking drastic measures necessary if I wanted to hold you in my arms once more.

“F-fuck, baby. I’m gonna come! You gon’ take daddy’s cum?” I whimpered, feeling like my cock was about to burst from excitement. My movements were lacking coordination at this point and I rutted into my hand as my cum started tainting your panties, shivering as my toes curled at the delightful sensation something as simple as your underwear brought to me. Clinging to your sheets, I breathe as I attempt to control my breath, feeling my remaining tears subside.

As I continued to lay there I started getting flashbacks from our last day together. The day our relationship ended.

“We need to talk.” Your voice echoed through the room the moment you stepped into my place, and my heart leaped, its rhythm quickened with the weight of impending confrontation. You were finally ready to address what had happened at the store with your best friend. I had been dreading this moment, enduring all these agonizing days of anxiety. It was clear you had reached the end of your patience, unwilling to bear the mental turmoil any longer.

I cleared my throat, striving to make my voice sound firm as I feigning ignorance. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” I asked, summoning the courage to meet your face. My heart burned at the sight of your distressed expression on your face. I was so accustomed to seeing you always smiling so prettily at me that the contrast was a reminder of how big of a mistake I made. Perhaps I should’ve found a more subtle way to drive you away from your friends without causing this heartache.

You glared at me as you took a seat at the dining table, and I swallowed hard, sitting across from you. “Never did it ever cross my mind that I would have a conversation like this with you Toji.” You began, a deep sigh escaping your lips as you laced your fingers together in front of you. The disappointment and anger in your tone cut deep, but remained quiet as I allowed you to continue.

“You saw me cry and complain day after day about my friends and you knew. You knew the reason they stayed away from me, yet you still let me suffer.” You let out, your voice trembling with emotion.

“Sweetheart—“

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me. You’re not allowed to utter another word until I am done talking!” You demanded, raising your voice. My eyes widened in astonishment, for you had never spoken to me in that tone before. The look of betrayal on your face was unmistakable, and I knew it was all my fault.

“She told me everything you said to her that day on the phone, Toji. And you sent someone to threaten her too?! Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” You exclaimed, disbelief etched across your face. I couldn’t meet your gaze, my eyes falling to the floor. I couldn’t bear to see the hurt on your usually bright expression. “Gosh, you can’t even look at me. I didn’t want to believe it, but the way you look right now is proof enough for me.” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head.

“And if that wasn’t enough, you already knew that I knew!” My mouth was agape. As those words left your lips, my heart plummeted to my stomach, and I was sure I looked like a deer caught in headlights.

What?

No, no, no.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that, sweetheart. You though you were so slick, didn’t you?” You spat, running a hand through your hair in frustration before continuing. “I saw you, Toji! You were following me and I know you heard our conversation. You knew I was aware of what you had done and fucked me right after I got home from the store like nothing even happened!” By now, you were full on sobbing and I felt a foreign tightness on my throat, as if it was closing up, making it hard to breathe.

It literally felt like a knot in my throat.

Wait, why does my face feel wet?

My eyes felt like they were burning. Salty tears were cascading down my cheeks as my chest tightened, each breath shallow and uneven. I could feel my face contorting with a mix of surprise and agony, muscles twitching involuntarily. After failed attempts to stifle the sob that rose from the deep within, it escaped. I felt a hollow ache in my throat and all I could see was a blurry image of you.

For the first time in my life I was crying.

“Really? You’re crying? This isn’t the first time you’ve followed me has it, Toji?” You inquired, a painful expression painted in your tear stained face. I couldn't keep lying to you any longer and I would most likely regret admitting to this, but I did. All I could manage to do was shake my head, making you burry your face in your hands as more sobs were released from deep within your chest.

“Fuck! How many times? How long?” You questioned, rising to your feet, slamming your hand against the table. I shook my head, refusing to answer as I bit my lips to prevent more cries to leave my lips. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I could only pray this was all a nightmare and that I would wake up from this torment in the morning with you cuddled up in my arms.

“Answer me! How. Long.”

I gulped hard, before mustering up the courage to say, “A while.”

You ran a hand over your face, before taking a deep breath. “W-what does that mean? How long exactly is “a while”?”

“A c-couple of months before we met—“

“Before we met?!” You jaw slacked, and you regarded me as though I hailed from another realm entirely. This entire ordeal forces me to entertain the notion that abducting you might have been a more merciful path to our togetherness. Initially challenging, yes, but eventually, Stockholm Syndrome would set in, and you would come to love me… wouldn’t you?

“Y-you’re t-telling me that night we met at the b-bar, wasn’t the our f-first time meeting?” You stuttered, nerves overtaking your body. Why did you look so scared of me? Hadn’t you realized by now I would never do anything to harm you? At least not intentionally.

All I did was shake my head before I standing from my seat, striding toward you. Your tear-filled eyes widened with fear as my towering figure loomed over you. You instinctively stepped back bumping into the kitchen counter, clutching the edges of it so tightly your knuckles paled.

“Sweetheart, there’s no need to be afraid of me.” I started gently, cupping your face in my large hand, eliciting a whimper from you. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done out of love.” And it was true. I knew I’d do anything to keep you by my side, feeling loved, cared for and protected.

“P-please, stop touching me, Toji.” You pleaded, your voice barely audible.

“Don’t ask me that, sweetheart. You’re breaking my heart.” I responded, my voice heavy with emotion. “At one point of my life, I felt undeserving of your love. I thought such an angelic, beautiful creature would never notice a scum such as myself. But that night at the bar, you approached me! You actually came to me! Oh, baby, I was over the moon.” I confessed, a tearful smile gracing my face as I recalled that pivotal moment.

“I knew from that day on that we were meant to be. My feelings weren’t one-sided, sweetheart. You love me just deeply as I love you.” You regarded me with a look that might have seemed incredulous to others, but I didn’t mind. I would do anything to be grazed upon by those breathtaking eyes wether they held love, hate, fear, or disgust— it didn’t matter, as long as they were fixed on me.

“No. No! Let go of me, you fucking creep!” Your sobs echoed through the room as you pounded on my chest, but I refused to release you, even when my heart ached from your insult. Wrapping my arms around your trembling form tightly, I pulled you closer, my grip firm. With a desperate resolve, I sank to my knees, unwilling to let you slip without a fight. If I had to beg for you to stay I would as much as necessary. Every line in your face contorted with pain, your eyes filled with tears that mirrored my own desperation.

“Please, sweetheart. Don’t leave me.” I pleaded, lifting my gaze to meet your grimacing expression.

Without warning, you swung a bottle of Sake from the countertop, striking me across the head with a resounding crack. Stunned and reeling from the blow, I staggered back, momentarily disoriented by the unexpected violence in your part. You fled, sprinting towards the door in a blur of motion and fear, leaving me behind.

I sighed heavily, sitting up on your bed as I rubbed my tired eyes. The events of that day kept replaying relentlessly in my mind, each replay sharpening the ache of uncertainty. You still didn’t know the truth about my occupation, and that haunted me. If you reacted so vehemently to me stalking you, I shudder to imagine your response if you discovered the full extent of my actions. How would you react to me being an assassin? How would you confront the revelation that I was not only stalking you, but taking lives for you, eliminating obstacles in our path to being together?

For now, there’s no need for you to know that information.

I am going to fix this.

Fix us.

I have to say, sweetheart, you really did a number on me with this one.

Who would’ve thought you’d be my most challenging bounty? Two whole weeks— that’s how long it took me to find you. Never in my life had I spent this long perusing a target, but it’s all right, I enjoyed the chase. I felt adrenaline I hadn’t felt in years, a blend of anticipation and thrill surged through me with each lead I followed. Each time I felt closer to you, my body vibrated in excitement. Even amidst my longing for you, the thought of even spotting you from afar felt invigorating.

Now that I found you there was no way I would allow anyone to separate us. Anyone including you.

You were currently passed out in the motel bed while I stood by the window smoking. The soft glow of your phone illuminated the room as I scrolled through your debit card statements, I noticed you had been hopping from one motel to another. Each entry told a story of desperation and fear, a relentless effort to escape from me. A pang of hurt pierced through me as I realized the extent of your actions. You were really spending all of your savings to get away from me? I had believe, perhaps naively, that you harbored genuine feelings for me. Yet, here was the undeniable proof of your running, of your desire to sever our bond.

It seems I was wrong. Love wasn’t something you felt for me, at least not yet. If you didn’t surrender your heart to me willingly, then I would have to take matters into my own hands.

Next to you, on the nightstand, I had bestowed a wonderful gift for you.

Your best friends’ severed little head.

In my desperation, I had gone to her apartment, to try to get information about you out of her. Yet that bitch kept refusing and refusing to cooperate. Each denial chipped away at my patience until there was none left. When it became clear that persuasion was futile, she left me no choice but to break into her apartment to get the information myself. Seething at the lengths I had to go to because of her obstinance, I rummaged through her belongings and electronic until I found a train booking to a town around two hours away when I looked through her laptop. It was definitely for you as it had been forwarded to your email. Dumb bitch.

That woman had an uncanny talent to get under my skin, so I got under hers. Literally.

Doll, if I told you I enjoyed making your friend scream in terror, it would be an understatement. I’m a man of my word. She knew what would go down if she ever came in contact with you again. I’m merely fulfilling my promise. I do have to admit that cleaning up the mess was a pain in the ass, but I withstood it— for you. I’m not even sorry for what you’re about to witness, it was time for you to see the real me. I tried to be better for you, sweetheart, I really did, but if m being honest, you bring out the worst in me. And I love it.

I wasn’t born to be good and you weren’t born to change that. Our fates were intertwined in a dance of contrast, but expecting you to turn me towards light was a fool’s errand. I am who I am and no one— no matter how pure— could change that. I can only wish for your acceptance and comprehension. No matter what you chose to feel for me, I would keep you by my side and show you the same love I always have. Because you’re the only thing I love in this wretched world.

I heard you begin to stir awake, small whimpers leaving your lips as the effects of the drug I had administered you started to fade away. A smirk crept across my face, flicking the remains of my cigarette out the window before striding to were you lay. You squeezed your eyes before slowly opening them, and I couldn’t stop my heart from surging with joy as our eyes met for the first time in weeks. Gods, I missed you.

Your eyes widened when they met mine, and you instinctively crawled back towards the headboard of the bed.

“Mornin’, sleepy head. Slept well?” I questioned as I watched you trying to writhe yourself out of the bed, bumping into the night stand making your friends’ head flop to the ground. Your eyes widened impossibly further and you let out a high pitched scream, covering your mouth with both your hands. “Sweetheart, you need to be more careful. I got this gift just for you and now it’s on the floor.” I tskd before lifting the head up by the hair, dangling it in front of you.

Harsh sobs started escaping your lips as you realized who it was.

“Why are you crying, doll? Don’t you like it?” I asked, feigning disappointment. You shut your eyes and I could tell you were praying this was all a nightmare, but I’m not a nightmare. I’m real and I’m here to stay with you. “Come one, settle down now, baby. You wouldn’t want anyone else to end up like her, do you?” You immediately shook your head. “Yeah that’s what’s I thought.” I said through a chuckle, before setting down the head on the nightstand once again. I sat down on the edge of the bed, itching closer to your trembling form. My hands reached out, cupping your tear stained cheeks. Your skin felt cold and damp beneath my touch.

“W-why a-are you d-doing this, Toji?” You stammered, your voice trembling with horror. You hugged your knees to your chest, trying to create some semblance of a barrier between us, your eyes wide and pleading for an explanation.

“Sweetheart, everything I’ve done for you is because I love you.” I explained softly, my voice laced with the usual tenderness I always addressed you with. “In order to protect our love I’ve been forced to turnt to these measures. It’s the only way to keep us together, to ensure that nothing and no one can come between us!” You were shaking your head in disbelief and I could tell you were starting to feel nauseous. Guilt started washing over me as I realized what I had just made you go through, so I offered you a sincere smile before saying, “I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll get rid of it and she’ll be out of our sight forever.”

I planted a gentle kiss on your cheek, savoring the moment as I inhaled your intoxicating scent as I lingered there. I had never forgotten how addicting it was. A fragrance I had never forgotten, one that was engraved into my memory and haunted my dreams when you weren’t there. Every thing about you was intoxicating and if you were going to be the death of me, I would gladly allow you to kill me. If loving you meant risking everything, even my own demise, then I embraced that fate with no hesitation.

You are my addiction, my sweetest vice, my sweetest heart, and I willingly surrender to your enchantment. For in your arms, I found a love worth any sacrifice.

I grabbed you by the hair just like I did on our first night together, but this time with a firm grip. “Now, Reader, I’m gonna need you to make a decision.”

Are you going to choose to love me or am I gonna have to force you?

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txemptress · 6 months

Text

“Saintess?” The demon of a man before you coos as he comes closer. He seemed so innocent, his feigned innocence made your skin crawl.

His silken robes are splattered with blood, the same blood of your fellow saints. You couldn't even bear to look into his eyes. Estes stood there, watching you tremble like a leaf in the wind. A dark, wicked grin is on his face while his eyes are full on black with purple pupils.

What was once the sleeping king of the elves was now one possessed and controlled by the demons who have overwhelmed the temple's regions.

A step then another was made as he inched closer towards your shaking figure. Your hands are clasped together for you had been in prayer. And yet when he realized this, he only did so much as laugh.

“How adorable of you to think that the gods can hear you pray and give you help at a time like this...” He continues to step closer while he practically purrs those words. “Need not worry, my darling saintess. I’m not going to hurt you.” He finally reached you, leaning down so he can caress your soft supple skin.

You flinch when his fingers make contact with your skin, cringing with disgust. It took every bit of your willpower not to wrench his hand away from your face.

“W-What do you want from me?” You demand, trying to act tough and failing miserably in doing so. You're still trembling and your voice shakes as you speak. Not to mention, it was very faint and weak due to your fright.

He graces you with a laugh as he continues stroking your cheek, his index finger lifting your chin so that you could meet his fearsome gaze. “I want you.” His answer was so simple and so straightforward. It made you shudder.

Why so? Why you of all people? Sure, you were supposed to ascend to the position of high priestess when the time is right but now that this has occured that time will never happen. This made your heart sink but you remind yourself that the Moon Gods made this happen.

“Why?” You croak out, tears filling your eyes as you feel so scared and pressured to stay right here with him. But he gently wipes those tears away and stares at you with his eyes that filled with you with horror. Those eyes... They looked horrifying, yet strangely had some sort of comforting message in them.

He shakes his head and doesn't answer anymore. Instead he stands, stays there for a moment and then surprises you by dragging you by the hair.

You shriek in pain as your arms flail, trying to free yourself from his unhindered grip. A futile attempt. You find yourself being dragged to the body of the once high priest. His eyes are milky white as his corpse lay there, blood oozing clearly from the mark that travelled from his stomach to his neck.

Your eyes fill with tears once more, you can't bear to look anymore. You shut them tightly, trying not to cry but also trying not to vomit from the stench of blood and body fluids that fills the air.

“Look. The high priest is dead, your time has come to ascend.” Estes’ voice is void of any emotion as he pulls you back by the hair harshly. “I said look.” His voice made you shake your head as you begin sobbing uncontrollably.

“Look or I will make you.” This is his last warning. His voice implies it. You sniffle as your eyes fly open in fear of him doing worse than he already is. The combination of the gruesome sight of the high priest's dead body and the stench that emitted from it made bile start coming up from your stomach.

“Please...no more.” You beg him to not let you look any longer. He nods, satisfied by your obedience and drops you. Your body falls in between the dead, your feet and hands scrambling to get yourself up.

He stands by you, watching. As if he waits for you to do something that annoys or infuriates him. You don't say anything though which gains a rather satisfied smirk from him. His hand moves to grab your hair again, reeling you back so you can face him instead of the bodies around you.

“It will be like this from now on. You will obey my orders, and if you fail well...” He gestures to the bodies piled up around them. “I will drag you back here so you can reflect on your misdeeds.”

You sniffle as you nod, remaining silence for your own safety. He smiles eeriely as he motions you to follow him.

The sky is blood red outside and there are the audible cries of the moon elves fighting for victory against their opponents, the demons. The fight is failing. The king only smiles at that. You can only pray that it doesn't get worse than this.

➷ ( notes ) — no tags at the moment so I'll just give a little insight on this. I thought of making a fic about Estes falling into the hands of the demons and him being controlled by them, now being in the dark side instead of light. Thank you all for reading fully, if you did! If you'd like to be tagged via ask, comment or message. See you in the next fic, thank you for reading! ❀

➷ ( characters ) — estes, mobile legends. ❀

#{ ♡ heartstrings — fics }#mobile legends #mobile legends x reader #mlbb #mlbb x reader #estes x reader #mlbb estes x reader #tw: possession #tw: blood #tw: dark themes

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inkblot22 · 8 months

Text

Truss

Woohoo Malleus woohoo! I'm making the trigger list a bit bigger because I keep thinking about how people will totally skip reading it if it's too small and then blame the writer for their own mistake. That shit is clown behavior but I don't want to be held responsible for someone else's case of stupid, so sorry to those of you who think this looks clunky. Line divider found here: @/cafekitsune. This is also a fic that is wildly self-indulgent, in that I mean that while writing I visualized my own physical form and quirks.

That being said, this fic is written with afab (assigned female at birth) readers in mind. No pronouns other than you are used for the reader, but the reader does possess a womb. Reader's chest is not described in the least, just the lower bits, and even then it's not at length. Malleus also refers to the reader as "beauty," but masculine people can be beautiful too so idk but here's a warning anyways.

This fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. TW for noncon, fae interaction rules used for said noncon, slight bullying if you squint, one (1) mention of blood (I'm beginning to think I have a problem.) Stay safe while reading. Possible OOC Malleus, I haven't read any of book 7 and if you spoil it I'll block you temporarily.

This is absolutely not your fault, and you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. It’s awful. Crewel was for sure his namesake, because this whole thing was a steaming pile of-

Alright, from the top, just to organize your thoughts: you are the only non-magic student in a school of mages. The teachers are mages. Your best friend/roommate/monster friend is a mage. The plants here can do magic, but you? No. Thanks homeworld. Love the gift of nothing.

Thus, the faculty have seemingly created a game of “how to piss off and challenge the magicless student,” in which they give you various tasks to just make you lose sleep. Vargas had you running laps until your legs felt like jelly, doing pushups until your shoulders started sounding like glowsticks. Trein had you learning completely off the wall trivia, such as what type of fabric the Queen of Heart’s favorite bathrobe was made of and why it made her more powerful. That’s nothing, it’s easy because you apparently have so much free time in their eyes. But Crewel? Fuck that man.

When you got the assignment, it sounded fun and exciting. He gave you seeds for a fast-growing rose thing. Honestly you weren’t paying attention to the name of it, but you retained what you needed to know. The plant only grew in moonlight, so you needed to cover it before you went inside at night. It needed a minimum of two hours of moonlight to grow per night. If the basket was overturned and it was exposed to the sun, then the plants would die. Moderate watering, no fertilizer, the usual.

Once the plants bloomed, you were supposed to take the flowers and make some kind of glamour potion, so here you are, failing at doing so. You only had four flowers, and you’re down to the last one. You wasted three tries and you still have no idea what the hell you’re doing wrong and it’s due next alchemy class and you’re breaking curfew on top of all of it. You glare into your cauldron with your latest failed attempt and hunker down to shoulder against the side so you can dump it out and try again.

“Oh, it’s you.”

The voice makes you jump out of your skin. You turn around and you almost want to cry tears of joy, because if anyone can help you, it’s him.

“When I saw a little head duck down, I thought that something strange was happening. A crime, perhaps.” Malleus smiles, and it’s not a kind smile, but you’ll take anything remotely positive at this point, “What are you doing on the floor, child of man?”

“Oh, I have to empty the cauldron.” You puff out, still trying to throw your weight to push the cauldron. You did it twice earlier, so this must be the effects of mental and physical fatigue.

“Oh, that’s right. Allow me.” Rather than waving a hand or anything, Malleus strolls on over and uncrosses his arms, taking one hand and pressing his fingertips against the lip of the cauldron. The whole damn thing tips, the failed mixture pouring out into the nearby drain. With the same ease, he tilts it back and turns to you.

When he looks at you, it’s… weird. You know he’s lizard-like, as dragons evidently are, but even Sebek’s eyes aren’t this jarring. They aren’t soulless or cold or unfeeling, but it feels like he is looking through you. His emotions don’t reflect in his eyes properly. That’s what it feels like. They reflect, but it’s wrong. Fractured. His lips quirk into a smile and you blink.

“Uh… wait, what are you doing out here, Tsunotaro?” You ask, turning to gather more materials, following the transcript of your recording from class.

His smile grows, “Just on a walk. Will you tell me what you’re trying to make?”

“Uh, yeah. This glamour potion? I don’t know. Remember how I was growing those flowers?”

“Of course. And what happened to the rest?”

“I… uh… I messed up the other potions. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong here.”

“No?”

“No. Do… do you think you could maybe… help me?”

“Of course.” Malleus plucks the flower up, twirling it thoughtfully, “Why don’t you gather the other ingredients?”

That was simple enough. Petals from your tediously grown blooms, some kind of floral oil with tiny white flowers inked on the label, a ball of clay no bigger than a pea, something that really resembled a severed finger, something that was hopefully just someone’s baby tooth, a handful of crystals in a rainbow of colors, and water. Lots of water. Malleus watches as you put all your ingredients on the nearby table and hums thoughtfully before dimming the lights and turning back to you.

“And where did you hear that you needed these things?” He asks. It’s not something that he says with any indication that you’re right or wrong. The tone is bland but the words say enough.

He has essentially told you before that he believes you inept, a babe in the woods when it comes to this sort of thing, but it doesn’t stop you from looking as hurt as you feel, “The headmage visited class and gave me some pointers?”

“You personally or the entire class? I don’t personally recall concocting anything like this when I was in your grade.” He says.

You suppose you’re grateful that he’s so blunt, but his flat tone makes the sting of your failure that much sharper. You thought he’d be nicer, since you two are sort of friends, and Lilia has told you that Malleus is fond of you, but it also makes just as much sense for him to refrain from easing up in his flatness because he supposedly thinks so much of you. He thinks you’re an idiot, but he’s not willing to treat you as such.

“The whole class. And no one else in my grade is doing this.” You mutter, staring at your assortment of items on the table.

He approaches the table and plucks up the beaker of water, twisting it in his hand, “Did you distill this?”

“What?”

“Tap water often has various minerals in it. If you haven’t been using distilled water, you’ve been adding an extra ingredient. Typically, most potions are much more forgiving and you can use tap water with little issue, but this particular potion is known to be disagreeable.” He murmurs, crossing the room with your beaker of water and setting it up to distill with a practiced ease. “That’s why it’s typically saved for fourth year students’ aptitude testing.”

The revelation hit you like a ton of bricks. You’d like to protest but it unfortunately makes sense. Malleus looks over at you, somewhat blandly, then turns around to face you, looking half concerned.

You answer his question before he can ask, “I didn’t… know that. I guess it’s my fault for being from a different world…”

His lips twitch into a smile, and for a moment you can see amusement in his eyes, fractured with the underlying coldness, “Oh, it isn’t. It may be your fault for failing to ask questions, but having someone who is unused to this type of work take on an advanced project is cruel.”

“You think so?” You ask, voice lilting with hope.

“Of course I do. Why you’re expected to make a potion of this caliber is beyond me.” Malleus states blankly.

“Uh, yeah. I- I don’t know either. But thank you for helping me!”

His expression flinches. It lasts for less than a second before it smooths into an odd grin. You’re not quite sure what that means, but you’re too happy to stop and think about it. The water finishes distilling and you carefully begin crafting, using the tips Malleus occasionally mumbles towards you. Don’t put that ingredient in yet, stir clockwise, you need to grind that up with the oil, don’t rush you have time, et cetera, et cetera, and then you have a gorgeous violet mixture, glimmering with a pearlescent golden sheen.

Your jaw drops. Somehow the few ingredients you threw together is enough to fill several bottles. Malleus is making a smug face as you rush to the shelves of empty bottles and choose several fluted bottles, quickly using a ladle to deposit the final, successful potion into the bottles. You’re so giddy with your success that you hardly notice as Malleus walks towards the door and locks it. But only hardly.

“What was that for?” You ask, not actually caring. You’re too happy to be worried.

“Oh, we’ll need privacy.” He responds.

That part confuses you enough into caring. You turn around from where you’ve safely wrapped the bottles and slipped them into your bag and shoot Malleus a frown, “Privacy? For what?”

Malleus doesn’t say anything. He walks over to the table and you feel your body stand up, void of your control, and stagger over to stand in front of him. If you were concerned before, you’re frightened now. Malleus looks down at you with his strange gaze and folds his arms.

“Wh-what’s happening?! Why can’t I move?”

“You really don’t know?” He asks. Something about his tone sounds mocking, but you’re certain he doesn’t mean it to be. It’s his version of sarcasm, he’s spoken to you like this before.

Your body hops up on the table, taking a seat, and Malleus turns to stand before you, looking down at you with a soft smile. You shift your hips- what the fuck is going on- and Malleus very gently hooks his hands in the pants of your dorm uniform.

Your dorm uniform is legit whatever the hell you want it to be, so it would change on the daily. Today it was a pair of jeans and a hooded jacket. He kneels to remove your shoes and stands back up, leaning close as he tilts your chin up. His breath fans over your lips.

“You didn’t tell me that you were so lovely beneath your clothes.” His hand on your chin shifted to your cheek, and his other hand laid flat on the table. “And… your smell is much stronger. Are you aroused?”

“You can’t just ask me that! I don’t know what you did but you’ve got to let me go.”

“I didn’t do anything. This is your doing.” He retorts, pecking your lips very chastely.

“What are you talking about?” When he didn’t respond, instead pressing the tips of his hand that was on the table against your exposed sex, your heart jumps but your body doesn’t move. You can’t, “Don’t do that!”

“Lilia informed me that making someone climax is similar to binding someone to you.” He mumbles, kissing you again as his fingers slowly slip inside. “It makes them fall in love with you. Isn’t that the most binding contract of all?”

You don’t know why he isn’t listening, but even less than that, you don’t know why he thought you could handle two fingers, much larger than your own, penetrating you. You squeal, but your body is incapable of tensing. Malleus pulls back, looking at you in a soft confusion.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“With me? What’s wrong with you? That’s too many- it’s uncomfortable!”

He blinks at you and withdraws a finger, which feels much better. You sigh. If you’re going to be forced to do this, you may as well not get hurt in the process. You close your eyes and Malleus hums.

“Is this better? You’ll have to forgive me. I haven’t had a dalliance with a human before.”

“I- I don’t think I’ll be able to… to forgive you for this.”

“No?” You can hear his smirk and the squelching noise as he pumps his finger gets louder. He slips the second finger in again and the burn isn’t so bad as last time, “Well, maybe you can decide that for certain after the wedding.”

“The wedd-” You have to bite your tongue to keep from moaning. Your body leans back, laying on the table, and your gentle assailant curls his fingers, leaning forward to mouth at your neck, “There’s not gonna be a motherfucking wedding. You’re-”

You can hear his horn scraping against the table, “Hmm. I didn’t think you were so entitled. You’re squeezing around my fingers. Are you close?”

“No!” You’re a liar. A ragged gasp leaves your throat and you feel the drop in the pit of your stomach, the burst of euphoria traveling up your spine as his thumb presses against your clit.

Malleus laughs, then leans up off of you. The sound of clothing hitting the ground is the first and only warning you get, but you can’t move, so it might as well have been silent. You feel something on your stomach, coming up about a half inch below your belly button. It’s… almost cool to the touch. You would think it would be warmer, but it’s not. Your eyes round as you stare at the ceiling, and Malleus’s face leans into view, his eyes boring into yours as though he’s reading your thoughts.

“You’re very warm. I’ve always thought this. You must be boiling inside.”

“I- what?”

He doesn’t respond, leaning back up. You feel the velvety head of his cock press against your entrance and as much as you want to jolt away, you can’t move your body. You can’t even look down to see what he’s doing. Your lashes flutter as the stretch sets in, the pressure worse than his two fingers. It burns, especially along the bottom, where his weight lays heavy thanks to gravity. You’re capable of wincing and letting out a whine, but nothing else.

“H-hey, that- that hurts.” You babble.

“Does it? You are squeezing me like a vice. I’ll stay still for a moment so you can relax some. Let me know when it stops hurting.” It’s very peculiar. Although he speaks with an animated tone, his voice is often detached. You would think he’d have more emotion since he’s inside of you.

You blink rapidly and decide that now is as good a time as any to ask, “What the hell is happening?”

“Must you tease me so?” He responds, his voice tense.

“What? I’m not teasing you. I can’t move!”

“Of course you can’t. You only just bound yourself to my will.”

“I what?” You shout.

“What, did you think I enslaved you? I could have, when we first met. You’re too free, giving people your name, thanking them, taking gifts freely… it drives me mad.” You feel a flash of heat, something warm rolling against your skin, like standing too close to a gas stove, “And now I find that you didn’t even know? I didn’t think you were such a fool.”

“That’s just called being polite!” You protest. “Oh my god-”

“I suppose I can’t blame you, really. Relax, lest I harm you.” He murmurs, rolling his hips further as though he can slide in deeper.

You squeak, “N-no, that’s-”

“Too much, yes. Tell me, in your world, do faefolk exist?”

“I- I mean, if they do, most people don’t believe in them.” The oddity of the situation felt like a blanket. Having a semi-conversation while your friend- not after this- used you as a dick holster. It was almost comforting. “I don’t- I don’t understand.”

His voice was deeper than normal, an underlying rasp to his voice, as though it was coming from somewhere deep in his throat, “I will explain. I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know. But after I explain, I will begin to move.”

“H-hey, no-”

His voice sounded choked, half strangled as he stifled a groan, “I apologize for not being clear earlier. Among the fae, verbal contracts are common and binding. You do not give someone your name. You wonder why I never directly gave you mine? It is a way to bind someone to your will. You do not accept gifts. Invitations are fine, but a gift is a sign that you owe someone something. My help- a boon- is a gift. Typically it is repaid with another kind turn. And, most importantly, you do not thank someone without the sufficient power to break their hold.”

You felt him draw back, that wave of heat rolling over you again, and then he slammed forward. The slick noise and dull smack were muffled by your squeal, his cockhead punching your cervix like it stole from him.

“Foolish little thing. I suppose it makes you cute.” He sneers, and your body sits up, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

The angle makes his motion a bit less painful. He’s no longer bumping against your cervix, thank the Seven, but the stretch remains. Your eyes flinch shut and Malleus tilts your chin up to kiss you again.

“St-stop- stop!” You whimper, “You’re hurting me!”

“If you would relax, beauty, that would not be a problem.” His chuckle is dark, the squelching from your coupling making a wicked duet that makes you feel dizzy, “And you said it to me so easily as well. Thank me again.”

“Wh-” One of his hands slipped under your hips, holding your bottom just under the split in your cheeks, and nipped your neck as a flat thumping echoed from where your bodies met, your legs bouncing with the motion. His member had gone back to bullying your cervix, and you wailed in the hopes that he would stop, “Thank you!”

“Heh… it escapes your lips so freely. Tell me, beauty-” He cut himself off with a grunt, panting against the column of your throat. “Tell me, what is it that you’d like? I would give you the world on a platter, should you want it.”

“I- ow! Y-you’re hurting me!”

There was a possibility that he was getting off on the pain he was causing you, just as much as there was a possibility of him not understanding that he was hurting you. With every motion of his hips against yours, despite the wicked pain, you felt that ever evil tug in your gut, like a stone growing heavier and heavier.

You tried again, because if this had to happen, if you were under his control now, you may as well not get injured. You would not be pissing blood if you could help it, “It’s too deep!”

He listened. It was odd, but he listened, his voice warming as he slid back a bit and continued ramming into you, but no longer beating the hell out of your internal organs.

“I didn’t realize. Is that better?” His voice sounded warmer, echoey against your shoulder. His teeth grazed over your skin again when you didn’t respond. He choked out your name and you sort of came back to yourself.

“U-uh- I guess?”

“Wonderful.” He mumbled, his free hand reaching between your bodies and slicked with your sweat, to tweak your clit.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you reached your height. Whoever he had been with in the past couldn’t have been so sensitive, since you felt his body jerk against you, an uncontrolled undercurrent to his motions. You let out a quiet, squealing moan and barely even felt the break when Malleus bit you to muffle his own groan. You didn’t feel him climaxing inside of you. You felt the control return to your body and flopped backward onto the table, your hoodie damp with sweat. Malleus took a step back, then carefully redressed you, then himself. You looked up at him and saw nothing but adoration in his eyes, not the fractured appearance of such. It was like he was actually looking at you.

When he spoke to you, leaning forward to cup your cheek, his voice was warm, warmer than ever, “Now, let’s start planning for the wedding, my beauty.”

#twisted wonderland #tw: dark content #disney twst #tw: dark themes #tw: yandere #twst #malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x reader #tw noncon #tw bullying #fair folk #tw blood #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #yandere male x reader #cervix bruising #you cannot convince me that getting your cervix penetrated doesn't hurt like hell #Because getting it touched is just about the worst feeling i can think of next to getting stabbed #equal pain my friend

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arlerts-angel · 4 months

Text

REMEMBERING SUNDAY — k. hanemiya

determined to show kazutora what love really is, the two of you become surprisingly close... but one day, kazutora disappears without a word.

💛 note: heed the warnings. it is not my intention to romanticize dv in any way, shape, or form. if this is triggering for you - skip this one and i'll see you next time <3 this fic is my first contribution to the fics for gaza initiative! thank you @reiners-milkbiddies for the donation and i hope you love it. 🫶 @ficsforgaza

⚠️ warnings: dark content. allusions to dv (kazutora's dad) | brief mention of murder x2 | hurt no comfort | canon-adjacent | gender neutral + physically ambiguous reader

if you asked kazutora what love was a couple of years ago, his answer would've been his fist in your face.

that's what he learned from his father.

you were determined to show his broken soul what real, true love was.

every day.

you pissed him off every day in the first year. so much so, that you learned how to take a punch.

slowly, but surely, kazutora started feeling remorse for his actions. he realized he didn't like hurting you when all you did was show him compassion.

it was a hard realization for him; that you were a lot like his mother, who only ever loved him, and his father, even when it hurt her.

you quickly became his solace. kazutora would start using different coping mechanisms until he learned not to be violent in the name of love.

some days were harder for kazutora, and he'd need some time alone. "healing isn't linear," you told him, "i'm here when you're ready."

he started going to your house instead of his every day - it became his home away from hell.

he'd tell you all about this new gang he founded with a few of his buddies. he knew you didn't like it, but always assured you that it was good, and it was good for him.

a couple years passed and the two of you grew together, as did your feelings. you never addressed it. the way your relationship was, there was no need to. you were happy. he was happy. "if it's not broke, don't fix it" type of thing.

he held your hand every day to and from school. he'd walk you home even if he had a meeting with the gang.

he'd go over to your house and stay as long as he could on sunday's until your parents said it was time for him to go home. he'd kiss your forehead in secret and say "i'll see you in the morning".

but one monday morning, kazutora didn't show up to your house.

he didn't walk you to school and he didn't walk you home.

you heard through the grapevine all day that he went to juvie for third degree murder.

your parents explained to you what they saw on the news. kazutora had, in fact, been sent to juvenile detention for killing his friend's brother.

kazutora...? no... not my 'tora.

the only people allowed to call or visit were his immediate family.

you didn't see him for two years.

you didn't hear from him for two years.

two agonizing years.

at your locker, you heard a jingle. soft, yet loud enough to grab your attention. it came from someone's earring. he had a thousand-yard stare, as if he'd been through the trenches. his face seemed familiar.

kazutora?

he looked at you only for a second, and in that second you swore the life returned to his eyes.

maybe he didn't forget...

he blinked, and his eyes were lifeless again. he muttered to himself and carried on - he never looked back.

kazutora wanted nothing more than to hold you and cry. it pained him to walk away from you, deep down.

i don't have time... must kill mikey...

banner + dividers by cafekitsune

taglist: @milky-aeons @lees-chaotic-brain @katkusuo @tetta-kissaki @priv-rose

@toji-girl-main @blueberrisdove @darkstarlight82 @kodzukein @trevengersprincess

@little-miss-chaoss @i-literally-cant-with-this @ravereina

#tw: dark content #cw: dark content #cw: dark themes #tw: dark themes #tw: dv #cw: dv #tokyo revengers angst #kazutora hanemiya angst #kazutora x reader #tokrev angst #tokyo rev angst #tokrev x reader #kazutora angst #hurt/no comfort #fics for gaza

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angelgoeslewd · 7 months

Note

Hi, love your omegaverse hc about bsd guys 🩷🩷 I wonder how do you view others like Nikolai and Fyodor as Alphas? how would they be like with their omega?

thank u so much!!! i love u now 💕 also— my quest to omegaverse-ify the world is nearly complete

⚠️ warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI, graphic mentions of violence, brief mentions of manipulative behavior, what can be considered non-con behavior, stalking, kidnapping, drugging, murder, and sexual content. 18+ concepts of Omegaverse, like slick, mating, knotting, heats, and ruts, some BDSM concepts for Fyodor’s part — spanking and talk of role dynamics.

📝a/n: i really hope no one expected this to be light and fluffy. i love my dark twisted messed up little men. also this is way too long for how dark it is :/ sorry.

🌟 this work is being REWRITTEN! check back for the completion check ✅ and a new story with extra content!

[Chuuya, Dazai, and Ranpo here!]

Nikolai

unpopular opinion by the general public and ADA, but Nikolai is actually a decent Alpha!! the only downside is that u basically r in terrorist protection program for the rest of ur life 🤷‍♀️ and your boyfriend murders people in his spare time for fun but that’s a different moral dilemma.

but in all seriousness, Nikolai’s Omega is going to have to be all in from the moment they meet. Nikolai is the same. I get the sense that he lives in a very black-or-white world with little to no greys. If you are down for this man, the first couple of words out of your mouth need to be, “Wow,” followed by, “I need to be your Omega.” Otherwise he’s not going to listen to you and just keep rambling about birds and free will, then murder you. This will give him a moment’s pause, where you will get to plead your case on why you should be his Omega or appeal to his Alpha. Make it good. Nikolai will treat it like a game show and weigh the pros and cons.

If you manage to somehow make him blush, through complimenting his… techniques or get slick at his scent, Nikolai will cut the game short and whisk you away to the nearest bed to claim and knot you immediately. You aren’t getting away after that.

He’d also do very well with an Omega who is more straightforward. Being Fyodor’s second hand can be a bit… complex sometimes, and it definitely wears on him more than he lets on. I see Nikolai having his own twisted logic and Fyodor’s style of being dismissive, forcing his own games to played, and being so underhanded sometimes tires Gogol, regardless of how much he admires Fyodor. He wants to have his riddles untangled. He wants to just be told the truth to his face. An Omega who is blunt will get very far with him. He’d constantly bug you and try to make you smile or laugh. He would commit disgusting crimes in front of you just to see a shocked look on your face. He tie you up and force you to solve his puzzles before a timer runs out just to smell your scent mix with fear. He wants to make you show your emotions. He would love that challenge. Even if you despise him, he’ll still try to claim you. If that doesn’t work, there’s always stalking, kidnapping, and Stockholm syndrome. He can also be very manipulative.

In short, Nikolai will decide to claim you in a split second decision, if he feels like something about you appeals him. There’s no dating. At first.

Nikolai is a very clingy Alpha. Very clingy. I am on the verge of considering him a Yandere. Until he fully trusts you (which will be a while, consider he JUST MET YOU AND ALSO TRIED TO MURDER YOU) you’re gonna be on house arrest. By which I mean that you can go anywhere, it doesn’t really matter because he can find you no matter what, but you can’t talk to anyone. He will kill anyone who tries: Alpha, Omega, or Beta and apologize, lying to your face about them aiding your escape or whatever. He would think it hot if you encouraged him or ignored his actions (not him. his ACTIONS), wouldn’t really care of you scolded him or got angry. Just would shrug and remind you that you’re his Omega, his instincts want to protect you (lielielie- Nikolai is POSSESSIVE). And you better believe he’ll know. He will constantly have a portal open, watching you, ready to grab you at anytime. Not even cashiers are safe so it’s honestly better just to stay wherever he’s put you up and order whatever you need.

Yeah, your job? You’re gonna have to quit. Nikolai’s House Arrest extends to quite literally everyone. Get a new phone with no personal contacts. Make your family think you’ve died. Nikolai will even help you. But once you’ve fallen into his hands, you ARE his. He can amuse you, take care of you, he can be your everything, you don’t need anyone else.

After you’ve gain his trust (or the Stockholm syndrome is in full effect, whichever comes first), he’ll be a bit more lenient and let you out of his sight, but would still feel an awful amount of jealousy in his gut if he spies you talking to other people; God forbid it’s another Alpha. He’d lovebomb the hell out of you, then go and kill them when you’re sleeping off the 3 rounds he put you through. He’d really rather be the only one you talk to.

This Alpha loves to have you by him and would keep you there all the time if he could. He feels off when you aren’t by his side. Unfortunately, due to the nature of his ‘job,’ that’s not always the case. And if he knows there’s even a risk of danger, he’ll leave you in a safe place. Usually an extravagant hotel or a mansion he’s bought just for you in an undisclosed location. It’s usually filled with whatever your heart desires, desires you didn’t even know Nikolai knew about. If he’s just filming more propaganda or torturing, he’ll bring you along if you want. It won’t be pretty, but if you’re into that. Or if you just love him enough to want to do whatever makes him happy.

He would fuck you in the blood if you helped him or came on to him during that time. 100% turns him on seeing covered in the sticky, viscous liquid. Would compliment you on how “red is your color.” Nikolai loves an Omega who gets their hands dirty. Might even drive him into a rut.

Despite his occupation and image, when it comes to his Omega, Nikolai can act like a puppy for your love and affection, but it goes back and forward. He’ll beg you for kisses, other times he’ll just take them. He’ll portal in front of your face when you’re in line to check out and smooch you, leaving everyone confused. He’s a waist grabber too. He loves to pull you against him and feel your warmth as he shoves his tongue down your throat, then pull away like nothing happened and continue whatever rant he was on. He’s also a biter. Loves to mark you with bruises and bites, so… invest in a scarf.

He might seem innocent and innocuous and he partly is, but the choices he gives you are never really your own to decide. Like asking you where you want to go on a date. Which is sweet of him to even allow, considering you’re basically his hostage. You can’t say that you’re too tired, because he’ll whisk you away to Paris despite your objections. He does make it worth it though.

He wants to have his hands on you 24/7. They’re so big and warm too, that it’s really hard not to want them on you. He loves hugging you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulders, one hand sneaking up, one hand sneaking down, fingering you until your slick drips down his wrist and then he’ll bite the tip of his glove… slowly pull them off, tasting you and the leather… and yeah. Rest of your plans be damned. You’re on his knot.

You’re the only one (besides Fyodor, who sees every side of everyone) that usually sees Nikolai’s softer side. He’s the type of Alpha who cuddles you to his chest at night, then wakes you up to breakfast in bed. His sadistic side is somehow quelled by you. He loves when you trace your fingers against his chest and can depend on him to be with you through your heats no matter what. He’ll massage your stomach if the cramps get too bad but it does leave you wondering why he didn’t just knot you like any other Alpha would do, your thoughts trailing back to his “free will” phenomenon. Are these his choices or yours? Do you have any impact on what he does or not?

It’s partly part of his own game. He likes to see what makes you tick, but he refuses to break his favorite toy. He walks the fine line between breaking you in and breaking you completely.

His ruts are another story. Without you, he was rather tame and usually just ignored his wants completely. Of course, he finds a release in other ways… usually by murder. Let’s just make that clear. He’s still quite blood thirsty. But with you…

He’s completely unhinged. Gives into his desires in the worst possible way, free will be damned when he has an Omega, his Omega, on his cock. He’s brutal, so be prepared. Takes you doggy style, jackhammering into you, pressing up against your womb until the pressure is almost unbearable, pulling your hair back, you along with it, contorting you into unnatural positions until he finds his release deep inside of you. Refuses to cum anywhere that’s not inside of you. Leaves you scratched and bruised, hips and hole sore with how rough he is. His knot is huge too. Don’t be surprised if your sheets get bloodied.

He’s super tender with you afterwards though. Pampers you like Sigma or Chuuya would, but it feels so much more intense with him, because he pushes you to your absolute limit, physically. Blankets of some endangered creature that are beyond soft as to not irritate your skin, medication that heals you within a couple of days, which you still don’t understand where he got them or what they were. Baths, rich foods, affection beyond what is normal for him (which is saying a lot.)

Your heats are a toss up. He can either be as mean as he is in his rut, or he’s a complete tease. It’s some of the only times he gets to drive you wild instead, so he takes a lot of enjoy in playing a little cat and mouse with you and your pleasure. He’s either overstimulating you or making you beg. But other parts of it are tender and soft. Like when he helps you make the perfect nest. Or when he’s comforting you through the pain. Or when you’re whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he drives into you, pressing your legs back into a mating press, wondering if these are your true feelings or if this is the heat talking.

Despite the murder, which is a BIG despite, Nikolai is probably in second place for best Alpha you could have. Mainly because of the murder. And his conflicting personality. And the other unsavory practices within your relationship. But he takes care of you so well. And he will always protect you.

Fyodor

Let’s be honest here. How the hell did you even get in this scenario. Fyodor really isn’t one to take an Omega or even look for romantic interest in general, so being here is kinda a realm of extreme speculation. Why are you here? What is so extraordinary about you that led this man to you, first of all, and how do you get him to indulge in his most suppressed self? How do you keep him there long enough to get him to actually mate you? You have to really call him to get this far. You can’t be anyone normal. No lacky of his beliefs or regular person. He doesn’t care about that. You’re borderline his soulmate if you are.

If you do manage to actually get him to take an interest in you and not what you can do for him, not a political move or a piece to be played and discarded, you’re seriously in for it. Fyodor is not an easy Alpha to have.

He just barely ranks above Dazai because he can have his moments, but they’re usually pretty inauthentic and more of something he knows he’s expected to do as your Alpha; most of these moments are in public, but you might find him doing them when he’s running on autopilot too.

I’m not going to comment on how you got him to mate you because I honestly am at a loss for how that would even happen. He’s not one to do that, and feeling that urge, let alone acting on it, is something that he would never thought he’d do, even sadistically, to torture his worst enemies by taking their spoken for Omega, because it means he’s bound to someone. He’s now got someone he has to think about, not because he wants to, but because those fucking primal urges force him to. it’s a distraction to him and his goals.

if you match his intelligence, even with minute differences, he would rather see you as something to toy with. if you don’t, you’re something to be used. It’s an extremely difficult situation where you almost have to be playing him and catch him in a mood where the fact of that doesn’t piss him off too much that he immediately tries to kill you. Maybe more of an innocent game? Where you basically are only toying with him because you like him and want to be with him? Very Harley Quinn like.

Fyodor likes super submissive Omegas. And by “like,” I mean that it would almost be impossible for you to be a more pushy or dominant Omega because Fyodor has the whole power dynamic he likes (which is super unhealthy, dude, go 2 therapy) and refuses any other type of partner. A bratty Omega is ok, but you might want to be heavily masochistic if you go that route.

Fyodor loves spanking. I’m sorry but he does. He likes the feeling of punishing you so intimately. And you taking it like a good little Omega, tears in your eyes as you try to apologize or count his spanks. He’s partial to a belt or his hand. Loves making your ass bruised and nearly bloody. If you do bleed, he loves to sweep it up with his fingers and lick it. He also loves the next day, watching you try to hide your winces as you sit down or as the fabric of your bottoms brush against your ass. It gets him wanting to bend you over his desk and make it hurt all over again.

Speaking of his desk. COCKWARMING OMG. He absolutely adores when you’re below him in anyway, love to make you feel weak and powerless, but especially when he’s got work to do and commands that you keep him and his knot in your mouth until he’s done. You obey like Fyodor’s good little Omega would and he purposely drags it out because he’s an asshole. Likes to grab your hair and thrust down your throat frequently because he likes to hear you cough and gag. Then makes you stand on shaky, half-asleep legs while he fucks you. If you fall, he’ll make you start all over again. Yes. That means being away for ANOTHER 8-14 hours.

Besides his violent streak in sex, life with Fyodor almost feels… cold? He’s very withdrawn from your relationship. Thanks you for breakfast, then excuses himself. You have the rest of the day to yourself until he calls for you. I would seriously love to say that Fyodor would be super snuggly and loving because you’re his special Omega or whatever, but I just don’t think that’s really… in character for him. He will have moments where he enjoys your company though. Even without sex. Sometimes, when he’s in a good mood, he’ll sit you next to him, explain some hacking and coding, maybe twirl a strand of your hair between his fingers. But that’s about it.

Kisses are saved for public image and that’s it. He seriously probably never hugs you :/. The only reason he ranks above Dazai is because despite his intensity in sex and his ice queen personality, it’s really less to deal with then Dazai’s constant inner turmoil. Like Fyodor doesn’t have conflict in his mind. He’s super set in his path and whatever decisions he makes on that journey. You at least don’t expect warmth from this man. Unlike Dazai who acts pretty well. Plus you’re loaded and can do whatever you want 🤷‍♀️ idk kinda works for me

Fyodor will come to care about you more though. Kinda like those typical arranged marriages in movies? He becomes fond of you, I suppose the proper word would be. Like he doesn’t want to lose you, but if he does, oh well. He’ll miss your warm heat wrapped around him and delicious cooking. I’m sorry. Fyodor doesn’t know the meaning of love. He does end up referring to you as His Omega and gives you more important duties around his cult. Will smile at you (AND IT WILL BE A REAL SMILE) and tell you you did a good job. He’ll start to wrap an arm around you and hand you his jacket if he notices you shivering. Maybe even kiss the side of your head a little bit.

Ok. Maybe he’s a bit soft and a bit in love with you, but he will never admit that to even himself.

I really can’t see Fyodor having ruts due to his medical issues. He probably even has problems getting it up sometimes, which is fine, he still enjoys watching you suffer. Or pleasure yourself for him. Whichever. But if he did, they would probably only last a couple of days and actually make him really sick. He probably wouldn’t even be able to knot you. IM SORRY BUT IM BEING REALISTIC.

for p0rn reasons; if he wasn’t anemic, they would be extremely violent. He would be more apt to keeping you close without letting on that he likes you. You don’t realize that most people you talk to end up executed by Fyodor’s own hand. You don’t notice that he’s being walking around with you all day. You don’t realize how he’s glaring at everyone you pass. You do, however, notice that he’s jumping you the minute you get home and actually kissing you. It’s rough, with tongues and teeth, but he’s kissing you. His teeth graze your claim mark again, and he’s biting down, deepening it again. His hands around your waist, pushing you into the bed where he knots you, over and over again. Pushing his cum into you and making you hold it. Fucking you through every one of his knots, even though it burns. Fyodor is a bitey Alpha so you’ll have to clean up a lot of blood after his mating session. You almost wonder if he’s trying to absorb your blood or something.

Your heats will almost never line up with his. If they do, it’s by absolute pure chance. Fyodor is too withdrawn and he stays that way. He can let you in but it’s never for too long. He takes care of you with a knot and makes sure you have food and water, but it’s almost clinical the way he deals with it. Leaves almost immediately after, instructing you to call him when you need him.

(…Later, he’ll sit with you on the bed as your body feverishly aches, stroking the sweaty strands of hair from your forehead, never getting dirty himself but enough tenderness to make you realize that he’s there with you.)

#tw: dark content #tw: dark themes #bsd nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd nsft #🍩 of bsd #omegaverse!bsd #angelic songs #.SMS SENT #my fing god this was so long sorry anon

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