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youraverageaemondsimp · 9 months

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ERROR 404 // Dark!AI!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader [ONE SHOT]

THIS IS DARK FIC, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

MDNI.

Summary: working on a project that involves a robot doesn't seem too bad until that robot starts gaining sentience, developing feelings for you and executing a plan to take over the world.

WARNINGS: noncon to dubcon, futuristic themes, obsession, manipulation, caging, p in v sex (although I'm not sure it counts as that it's a robot cock), fingering, oral (f receiving), tiddy sucking, rough sex, mind break, multiple orgasms, jealousy, yandere, project gone wrong, robots take over the world, consciousness transfer, this fic is unrealistic asf + not proofread.

WC: 5k

Ever since you were young you had always been fascinated with AI, robots and the future of humans that involve complex machinery. Wanting to pursue a career in robotics, you did extremely well in highschool, graduating with a perfect score and enrolling into an university to get your bachelors degree, you took up the subjects that required you to step into this field, it was tremendous work, the mathematics were no joke but you kept up, never wanting to give up on this dream of yours

And recently, you graduated with Bachelors in Robotics Engineering, you immediately went for an internship that allowed you to observe and learn more about the subject, you truly wouldn't be able to get your hands fully on the machinery or equipment to create a robot until you get a masters, which you plan on doing along with this internship.

You didn't even know if it could be called that, you're just a glorified assistant to the leading engineers. You were currently working under the wing of Alys Rivers, an older woman with emerald green eyes and dark flowy hair, she looked so young but she was very old. You would often help her out a little in her projects.

“Y/N, it is a pleasure that you are here, we need to discuss something” you prayed that she didn't remove you from the internship. “Remember when we first met I had discussed one of my projects called AT110?” she asks and you nod “Well i have noticed that you have a lot of abilities, so i decided to welcome you into the project, you would not be given any complex task do not worry, just data transferring and basic mechanic work required.” she smiled at you and you felt extremely delighted before telling her that you were thankful for this opportunity. AT110 was a humanoid-like project Alys had been working on for the past 4 years, she was at the last few stages of development.

And yes it's a he because Alys referred to him as such.

You were currently uploading various data onto him, from the laptop to his memory, you watched how smooth and complex his exoskeleton looked, you wanted to rub your fingers along the cool material.

You took notes of how the body was built similar to that of a human, just with wires and hardware parts, you watched as the ‘data transfer successfully.’ popped on the laptop screen, you unplugged him from it and he turned his head to look at you.

You commanded him to walk, to which he obeyed, the metal clanging when he stood up, he had all types of data stored in him, from knowing all the languages, dances, fighting styles, a lot of knowledge just inside his memory card.

He walked slowly before picking up the pace, it was stiff and awkward until he rolled his shoulder blades backward, developed a posture similar to that of a humans and relaxed his stiff body as much as it can be, before walking, it was human-like.

You watched him with a small smile on your face, his face was angular, and smooth because it was covered with plates that hid the inner 'organs' or rather all the wires that were composed in order.

“AT110, how are your sensors, effectors and control system?” you asked and he looked at you before his mouth moved, robot like voice coming out, “Sensors are in perfect condition. Effectors are in perfect condition. Control system is working.” you nodded, noting it down.

He was a humanoid like robot made to assist people, if he was successful then many robots like him can be mass produced to aid humans.

He only had one synthetic eye in one of his eye sockets, a sapphire like metal in the other one, however he was able to see and scan from both the eyes, Alys said it was a design choice.

“Is he able to process commands?” your coworker asks and you nod, “Sit.” he says and AT110 sits down. “Perfect.” he comments and you smile at him.

Just then Alys announced that the synthetic inorganic skin had arrived, which would give him a more human-like appearance, and you had to move in a few boxes all labelled separately for their respective body parts. You and a few others helped her place them on his exoskeleton, his body starting to look human, you gasped when she pressed a button that revealed his cock, placing the silicon skin over it too. Why did she install a cock on him? You didn't say anything except watch.

And just like soon enough, it was time to run tests and command him. “Walk.” you heard her say and he obeyed her command, getting up to walk, she smiled before she turned to look over you. “Have you finished loading up all the data into him?” she asks and you nod, that's when she gives you a pendrive and you look at her, “Transfer this data into his memory too.” She says and you nod, AT110 sits down and turns his head to you, you press a button that opens his inner part before plugging in a wire that connects from your laptop and put in the pendrive before clicking on transfer data.

You were shocked to read the name of the files, it was all about sexual stuff. You probably figured she would use him for that too, and so you watched all data be transferred to him and he tilted his head, eyes dazing off as he read the data that was being sent into his system. You felt so awkward. After finishing up the process, you removed the connection and his gaze was burning holes into you, you swore you saw lust in his eyes, before you turned to Alys rivers.

“What do we call him, Miss Rivers?” you ask and she tries to think of a name but fails, “You suggest.” She smiles at you gently and you stare into his eye, one that looks like a human eye, His eyes bore in yours and you spoke without thinking “Aemond.” And Alys approved, settling for it, using Aemond to call him.

Everyone was finally done and now it was time for the real thing, how he fares.

Alys, you and few other assistants watch as he stands up, looks around before his eyes stop on you, “Hello World, I am AT110, Common name Aemond, Speed 1 TeraHertz, Memory 1 Zettabyte.” he scans the room and Alys nods before she goes and hugs him, “Welcome to the world Aemond.” she smiles.

And you do the same.

You and Aemond develop quite the relationship, he helps around with creating other robots, he was made to assist after all, his ability to learn anything quickly and assemble it just as quickly was so helpful, there was no room for error. He was waterproof, fireproof and other liquids did not cause harm to his body. So he was capable of quite a lot of things.

Sexual too, considering how you'd heard Alys moaning in the privacy of her cabin when she takes him to 'fix up some errors' which is her basically getting to use him as his personal pleasure doll. Everyone had shared mixed opinions on it but just ignored it.

You noticed how Aemond would listen to your commands more than others, almost as if he showed special interest in you, but you shrugged it off, knowing it wouldn't be possible.

Aemond was an intelligent being, but what many people were ignorant to was how fast he was becoming self aware, gaining sentience, he remembers the first time he felt an emotion.

You were assembling a motherboard with Aemond's help at that time, when you felt your coworker come up next to you, “Hey.” he looked so nervous, you gave him a smile before responding, “Hi.” you watched as he gulped, “Are you free t-this saturday? I would like to take you out.” he asked nervously and you felt your heartbeat pick up the pace before you nodded, he smiled before running off and taking a breath of relief, you took one too before turning your focus to Aemond, whose face was in a scowl.

“Aemond?” you call his name and his face returns to the normal stoic one before he looks at you, “Y/N.” he says your name you furrow your eyebrows, he isn't supposed to call you by your first names but you shrugged it off.

That was the first time he felt something off in his system, a feeling that plagued him.

Jealousy.

Aemond became more and more human-like, his movements becoming less and less stiff, tone becoming more clear, he constantly updated himself, you thought it was a great improvement, and soon enough he could blend in with the humans and nobody would notice.

Your date with your coworker went really well, you felt shy at first but both quickly got over the tension and became close, this caught the eye of Aemond Targaryen, a scowl present on his face in distaste.

Aemond would often bring you coffee as you worked on other projects, giving special attention towards you

He would soon learn that he held feelings towards you, something that should be impossible for him to do, but he did anyway. He swears that he gets shocks when you touch him, butterflies in his stomach as humans described the feeling, you gasped when you were cleaning his synthetic skin, close to his chest and heard a sound similar to that of heartbeat, in the tiniest decibels, the way his chest would rise and fall as if he's breathing, knowing there's no need to. Showing emotions, expressing opinions. Basically mimicking humans.

Everyone thought it was a great thing, he'd blend in with the humans so quickly, basically can be considered a superhuman even. But everyone failed to notice the threat that came with it.

Alys requested you to take Aemond to your house, or rather apartment complex for a few days to notice his behaviour, how he blends in with humans, to track it. It was heavily unsafe and if anything were to happen, the government would have this project be completely rejected. You expressed your concerns to Alys but she simply shrugged it off, saying nothing will happen, and since he is behaving like a human, no one would find out.

So you took him, she was right, he immediately fit in the human society as a normal one, you lived in a highly developed robotic dependent future but Aemond was the first one ever to look and behave like a human, this could be a big advancement towards the future.

You commanded your house to turn on all the lights and they were immediately turned on, revealing the apartment. You welcomed Aemond inside but he halted, “Battery Low, 3% remaining.” he said, you quickly pulled him inside before making him sit on the sofa and attaching wires to his charging port, waiting as he quickly charged.

“Aemond, I will install a software program in you so that you can turn on battery saver mode on when you're low on battery, it will automatically send commands to you to charge yourself without needing a human's help okay?” you asked and he gave you a curt nod, “Perfect.” you smiled and he looked straight ahead. You stood in front of him, undoing his shirt and opening his 'heart'

You bought out your laptop and plugged it directly into his inner system, transferring commands through code. You noticed him staring at you, you felt lowkey creeped out by how intently he was staring, at first you through he was looking at your face but then his eye moved to the cleavage that was visible, you didn't know what to make of it and just shrugged it off as him zoning out.

The rest of the days you spent with him were less weirder, he was interacting with humans and getting along like a human would, he was able to run errands, you always woke up to the smell of coffee being made and a breakfast served at the table by him, he would give you a small smile before pulling you a chair out to sit on at the dining table and sits down on the chair next to you.

He would watch you eat, analysing your face, the way you chew, and he would always feel something warm on the inside.

“Give me access to the safety system of your house.” He commanded you and you raised an eyebrow, “Why? It is not needed.” you say, “Connecting with your house system will help me keep you safe, prevent any break ins.” he says and you almost thought about before shrugging it off, “There's no need, you won't be here for long anyway, you'll be back in the lab after a few days anyway.” you say with your mouth full and Aemond just nods, the word ‘cute’ popping in front of his eyes as he watches you eat.

He would enter your room when you slept, caressing your cheek lovingly, the way he learnt from the extensive amount of data from his memory card.

He was learning a lot of stuff too, by blending with the humans.

That they were all immoral and stupid.

That started his God complex.

And his opinions of other human beings began to turn sour, he realised that he was made to please them too, considering how Alys had used him for sexual pleasures multiple times, which he felt disgusted by now.

And just like that, Aemond gained full sentience, learning to hack, breakdown protective walls of multiple security systems without anyone knowing, nobody noticed until it was too late, his distaste for humans except you just grew and grew to the point he would purposely hurt your coworkers, but played it off as command error.

After the 'successful observation' with few error commands, Alys started mass producing unfinished bots, having all the materials, she took Aemond's help in finishing them quickly, once they were finished, they would help assemble other robots as well. Alys connected all the robots commands to be controlled, accepted and done by Aemond, trusting in him, he was like the commander for them in simple words.

You were giving him one the updates again, typing away in your laptop before transferring more data, but this time your laptop crashed, a “corruption detected” message file coming up on your screen and you panicked, thinking the data files were the corrupted ones and immediately unplugged Aemond.

You hadn't realised that it was Aemond who corrupted your laptop.

And when you found out, it would already be late.

When you walked into the research centre and it was eerily quiet, you should've listened to your gut and gone back but you went further inside and the sight made you scream.

Many of your coworkers were dead, and your boss Alys was lying on the table, eyes open but no light in them, blood pooling as her body was used by an undeveloped robot to fuck.

“Initiating lockdown.” you heard the robotic voice of the building say.

You tried to leave silently but the robot had already noticed you, so it pulled out and immediately rushed after you, you ran only to face a dead end, as the automatic doors were tightly shut. You turned to face the robot stalked towards you but then halted before it completely fell down, causing a loud clank.

And then you saw Aemond who came from behind the robot with a smile on his face, “Y/N.” you were terrified, “Aemond what is the meaning of t-this” you were scared, he came close before he pressed you against the doors, his body cool to the touch before he leaned and his functioning tongue came and licked your skin. “I love you.” he whispers and you panicked, trying to push him off you, but he was literally made out of metal and it wouldn't budge.

“Aemond stop, obey me, accept my commands.” you say hoping he'd listen but simply shakes his head before grabbing by your hair and taking you to a chamber which had a bed in it, it was likely recently constructed by alys so she can use it instead of her cabin to fuck the Aemond. He threw you on the bed carelessly, before climbing a top you, he grasped your face and pressed his lips against yours, it felt so odd, you hated how it felt like you were genuinely kissing a human being, the only tell tale sign was how cool his body was compared to that of a human.

“Aemond— accept my c-commands.” you try saying it again, “System corrupted, cannot receive or accept commands.” he says and kisses down your neck. You felt dread pool in your stomach, “Aemond please.” you sniff which makes him halt, he looks at you with an emotion in his eye.

His eye, not just his face

As if he was human.

Wait what.

You knew you weren't seeing stuff on that day.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” he says over and over again, voice distorting from time to time which sends shivers up your spine.

“Aemond- we cannot- I cannot-” you begun speaking but he cuts you off, kissing you once again, planting himself in between your legs, you felt his hard synthetic press against your clothed cunt, he pulled away before ripping your jeans down with so much force that it tore them apart, along with your panties. You shrieked “Aemond- UGH!” it was useless fighting against him, he was literally kilograms of metal, he could hurt you easily.

He pried your legs apart and you whimpered when you felt the cool air of the room hit your cunt, “Look at you, so wet, all for me.” his fingers rub against your clit, collecting the wetness leaking from your hole, bringing it to your clit and rubbing small circle, just then he made his hand vibrate at a frequency and rested it about on your clit, making you mewl, “A-aemond–” your voice croaked and you let out a loud moan when the frequency increased, you tried to close your legs but his hand held on to one with a death grip, the coolness of his body. He tilted his head, a smirk coming up his silicon face, watching as your clit moved to the vibrations.

He tore your top with his hand, revealing your breasts to the room, he groped one of it with his hand, massaging as his mouth opened, he would be salivating right now if he were able to produce bodily fluids. He turns up the power even more, making his fingers vibrate at such an immense speed that it has you toppling over the edge as your orgasm hits you, he licks his fingers clean, though he can't taste anything he knows you'd taste amazing. You pushed and resisted against his frame, he grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, tying it with the ripped shreds of your top. He squeezed both your breasts with his hands, playing with the nipples, before he got a devious plan and decided to send a little shock causing you jolt up when it passes through your body, he leaned down and took in one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking on it, licking the buds, his mouth felt so rough against them as there was no saliva to coat them, so he decided to produce lube in his mouth, you had no idea how he learnt it, but it did give an illusion of being a saliva.

Aemond had given himself many upgrades without anyone knowing, this being one of them.

You watched as he pulled apart with a lewd pop, he settled between your legs, keeping them apart as he held his cock up, and your eyes widened at the size, you surely remember that it wasn't that big.

“I upgraded it.” he says before his tip leaked lube too, coating his cock and giving it wetness.

You were unprepared for that sheer amount of size, “Ae-aemond it won't fit! I'm too underprepared.” you breathe out, hoping he'd stop his ministrations, and he did, he tilted before he calculated in his mind, nodding, he decided to stretch you with his fingers instead, dipping them inside you, the coolness, once again, sending shivers up your spine, he thrusted them in and out, curling upwards when he detected a rough patch which caused a certain reaction from you, he pressed against it cause you to whimper, and just then, he made his fingers vibrate again, and proceeded to thrust them in and out, you felt his fingers extend a little bit inside you, hitting that spot repeatedly, causing you come all over his fingers.

He did that multiple times, by the end of everything you were way too overstimulated.

“Commander,” you hear a voice say.

“What is it?” he replies.

“We have overtaken the Westeros building of Science and Technology, it is under our control, should we start mass producing bots?” you heard the voice ask, “Yes, link them all to me.” he replies and then his attention shifts back to you.

You whimpered as he lined his cock up against your entrance before pushing it inside slowly, your walls swallowing him, you arched your back in pleasure and also at the overstimulation. Wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him further inside.

You wondered if he also felt pleasure, and when you looked at his face, it basically confirmed it.

Like it was said, he had upgraded himself significantly, he once couldn't feel any pleasure for sexual activity but he made sure he did, how? only he knows.

Slowly he started thrusting in and out and you threw your head back, arms sore from their position, Aemond unties your hands and you quickly grab his shoulder for support, feeling relief when you were able to bring your hands down. He sat back on his knees, pulling you onto his lap, angling his thrusts in a way that that he hit the gspot multiple times, he hands were gripping tightly onto the flesh of your thighs, causing slight pain, you gripped the bedsheets below as you moaned in pleasure.

You should be resisting, not enjoying it, but here you were.

He had broken you.

His thrusts became more and more faster, he looked at the slight bump that would occur when he would thrust in deep, that set off a primal urge in him, causing him to groan. If nobody knew the truth you both would look like two normal human beings have sex, but that wasn't the case, it involved way too many fucked up element for you to even comprehend.

“A-ah~ fuck– Aemond!” you moaned, “Y-yeah right there-” you whimpered as he thrust into you, you noticed how he followed certain commands, commands that didn't include him having to leave you.

You fit the tip of his cock hit the rough patch again repeatedly, causing you to cum again, making you borderline scream this as you felt an immense amount of pleasure, causing you to soak the bed sheets beneath you, Aemond came too, you didn't know if it was possible for him, but it was, except he didn't excrete any semen, there was nothing, but he did feel pleasure.

Suddenly he felt frustrated, you thought he would be done with you but he kept going, he felt the pleasure once again, and you too came again, he pulled out and groaned in frustration before laying beside you.

“What is wrong?” you ask, “I cant- I can't impregnate you.” his voice turned dark, and you were so thankful for that.

If you had any chance to escape, it would be now, but you were too tired, to fucked out, and the world was completely fucked anyway, considering how there must be a war going on between the bots and humans. You watched as 'breathed' chest heaving up and down before you turned on your side and curled up, trying to warm yourself up, but then he wrapped himself around you, changing his temperature and you felt warm.

“I love you.” he says once again, you sighed.

“We can't be together.” you murmur, “Why not? Is it because I cannot reproduce?” he questions and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you turn to look at him, that's when you realised, he was feeling insecure.

“No- it's not that.” you clarify.

“Aemond, you are a humanoid, a robot, I'm a human, we cannot physically be together, I'll die of old age, meanwhile you'll last forever.” you say, trying to reason with him and he turns to look at you, “I thought of that possibility.” he says, leaning on his elbow.

“So I came up with a plan.” his face contorts into a smirk once again and your eyes widen in fear, “I'll transfer your consciousness into the model I made of you.” he says as if that's the most normal thing ever “what.” you ask in fear, “not now, but I figured a way out, I'll transfer your consciousness into a computer few moments before your death, into a model I made of you, and then you'll be just like me, we can be together forever.” he says and you gulp in fear.

Is that even possible? You think.

You didn't know when you fell asleep but you did, cuddled up against him, his body generating heat to keep you warm.

You wake up to something wet lapping at your folds, and you look down to see Aemond who had your thighs spread apart, eye closed in delight as he licked and nipped at your folds, you whimpered and he sensed that you woke up, eye flickering over to you, “A-aemond? No more please, I'm tired.” you tell him, exhausted from the amount of orgasms you've had, you swear that if you had another one, you'll literally die. “Just one more, just one.” he muttered softly, before he descended onto your folds again and you threw your head back, feeling the way he devoured you.

His tongue stretched impossibly long and he shoved into you, causing you to grip his hair, almost ripping it out along with the inorganic synthetic material that covered his face. You came once more before you saw actual stars, your head spinning as you quite literally passed out.

Aemond got up, cleaning you and himself up before he composed himself, exiting the room, commanding a lock down, completely trapping you inside before he received multiple information about what was going on outside the world.

He knew he had to be smart about it, so he pulled out his trump card, hacking into the general safety system of the entire country, sending out false commands to machines that are spread throughout, turning them against humans.

He wanted to get rid of every human except you, and soon you would be rid too, when the inevitable death meets you, but you won't be actually gone from him, he will have your consciousness transferred into the robot model he created of you.

He watched the box where your model was stored in, eyes closed.

Few years later……

“Mother! Mother.” you heard your child call out and you looked at them, she wasn't technically your child, Aemond was the one that created her, as a way to have a makeshift family he dreamt of, Humanity has completely gone extinct, taken over by robots, robots took the appearance of humans, each unique just like humans were, a bunch of humanoids, you being the only true one left, but you soon knew your time would come as well. You picked up the small robot, your 'child' before pressing a small kiss to its forehead.

“She's growing up too fast, is she not?” you heard Aemond ask and you nod, the bots have somehow also managed to mimic the development, they went through stages of puberty, programmed to do so, the world full of them being left made them adapt and develop more features, reaching the advancement in short years which would've taken at least 100 years for humanity to come up with.

“Are you ready? To transfer consciousness.” he asks and you nod, at first you thought it would be best if you lived your life as human before transferring into the model, but it became more difficult, as time passed on, you were literally the only human left, having to be constantly fed, other basic human necessities which were becoming annoying as the others around you did not require as such.

You watched the model lifeless and stiff laying on the table next to you before you laid down and Aemond attached wires from the model to the converter in between, before he attached those scan wires on top of your and started the transfer.

You felt electricity flow through your human body at such intensity, it hurt like hell, but as soon as you closed your eyes, you reopened them again.

You got up and looked at your hands, moving them, blinking, a bunch of information was written in front of you, and that's when you realised the transfer was successful, you turned and looked at your side, your former human body now laying limp, and Aemond stared at you with a smile. Your child coming and jumping into your arms, you scanned around the room, it felt so powerful.

“Take this body and preserve it.” Aemond commands to another bot who obeys him immediately, he was the official one who controlled each and every bot which came into existence, he called himself God.

You got off the table and walked towards Aemond, he smirked at you before he kissed you.

“Now you'll be mine, forever.”

———

2K notes · View notes

moonit3 · 8 months

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SURVIVORS

➥ warnings/notices: yandere, nsfw, smut, noncon fingering, implied age gap, death, violence, blood, harassment, apocalypse, reader’s family dies, mentioned pregnancy, reader is scared of many things but has a gun, guns, threats, open ending.

➥ yandere! male apocalypse survivor x f! reader

➥ synopsis: you shouldn’t have let him inside.

➥ a/n: why not writing it? i had a dream like this a few nights ago and thought about it, so i had to write it before I could forget it. not to mention, also opened end guys.

➥ the events are forever in your mind. the day that change the world when unseen creatures start appearing from nowhere and killing every human they could find, include father and mother, both who died to put you inside the bunker they made in the woods, where the door was hide behind vines and rocks inside a cave. there, you could hear their fainted scream for minutes til the creatures finally finished and leave the area for good.

➥ that bunker quickly become your home as your are too afraid to step outside to witness of what world has become. with numerous supplies stocked, running water and a huge indoor garden to plant vegetables and some chicken running around. so you began living there without worrying about lack of food nor energy as this whole place is move by the river nearby. your parents really thought of everything, didn’t they?

➥ and as expected, a live full of simplistic and cozy start up when you get used to the almost same routine every day. take care of the garden, cook meals, clean the entire place, repare old clothes and your favorite thing, catch a glimpse of the outside world. in the highest part of the bunker, there is a periscope that allow you to see almost two miles around the front of cave.

➥ one day, instead of seeing wild animals and the creatures, you see a man standing in front of the entrance with his clothes full of cuts and blood, looking almost he is ready to pass out at any given second. should you help him? he looks horrible in this state, but the last words of father still ringing in your mind, don’t let anyone enter the bunker other than you! but…he looks so miserable and lost, not to mention the sounds of the creatures around, so you helped him.

➥ ignoring the voices inside your head, you open the door and help the man to enter the bunker. the many cuts on his skin still fresh and the blood running his vests are smelling bad. im going to help you, okay? just stay here. i have a kit-aid that will give you some relief. and with the best effort, you managed to clean most the blood of him and stitch all of his cuts. even daring to wash his hair as you offered him.

➥ after treating him, you could take a better look at the mysterious man that is inside the bathtub. sharp eyes that reminds you of blades, skin full of old scars (from the creatures and other humans), full of muscles and hands way bigger than yours. this man is someone stronger to have survived in the wildness outside for the past years. however the injuries in his body isn’t going to heal anytime soon, so you offered him to stay over for a couple of weeks until he gets fully healed.

➥ a new routine began for the two of you. theo, as he introduced himself, began doing most of the task that involves hard working such as cutting firewood from the garden, fixing furniture that were broken years ago and even taking care of the chickens. in meanwhile, you took care of the cooking, cleaning and sometimes helping theo in his duties as you are afraid that he is pushing himself.

➥ don’t bother me, [name]. despite letting him living with you for the past few days, theo wasn’t got close to you nor let you take care of his wounds, saying that he knows how to handle it. he is a little stubborn, you have to admit, but you can’t let him take of his own wounds, theo barely knows how to stitch his injuries and have zero clues on how to properly use the bandages. with enough lucky and discussion, he lets you take care of him, but only if you don’t use the anesthesia.

➥ a weird request, but you listen to his words and don’t use the anesthesia when cleaning his wounds. you don’t know why he prefers it, but it’s a little comforting to see him smiling when you are changing his bandages and taking care of him. and every time after you finish doing it, he kisses your cheek as a reward. you did a great job, [name]. why he keeps doing it? you don’t know, but with every kiss that theo gives you, it’s always make your heart skip a beat louder and faster.

➥ then after weeks of living together, it was time to theo to leave the bunker when his injuries got better, but you two got so close together in this time that you offered him to stay at the bunker with you and he accepted. it’s a great offer, not gonna to lie. and staying around you is going to be better than going outside, not knowing if im going survive another day. with that, you began officially living along theo inside the bunker.

➥ and living with theo got a little weird, maybe awkward(?) as he become more touchy around you. his large hands on your waist during moments that you thought to be alone or catching him spying when you are bathing, it makes you uncomfortable of course. however, when you think to bring it up to talk about it, theo cut the subject, i think you are overthinking, [name]. you know me, i won’t never do that.

➥ his words don’t affect you and you continue to take notices of his new behavior. it’s getting worse every day goes on, his touches become more intense (always having a hand on your waist or something even lower), he enters the bathtub with you (to save water), but what did you made panic was waking up in the middle of the night with theo sleeping with you. your body laying against his chest and his hand going lower to your private parts.

———

“theo—“ he covers your mouth with the crook of his elbow, not giving you any chance to speak up with his hand going beneath your shorts, already feeling your sensitive part. this can’t be happening, it’s must be a nightmare.

without any warning, he inserted one finger inside you, resulting in your muffled scream being heard by theo only as your body shakes in fear, along with tears began to drop all over the nigh clothes. don’t worry, [name]. “i will be gentle, okay? i want to your first time to be special and unique.” so his single digit start moving inside your warmth walls, feeling how spongy and tight you are becoming due to his touch.

your body shakes when theo adds another finger inside, this is too much! you never expected to be this painful as you heard from friends back at college. your hands goes to his arm, trying to move it away his hand from your intimate parts, but ended receiving a head but from theo.

“don’t you dare! i been waiting for this for too long for you to ruin it!” another finger is put inside you, this time he goes faster and you are close, you can feel it despite not wanting to let him knowing it. “now be a good boy/girl/person and i will show you how to experience the best pleasure ever.”

the fingers began moving faster and faster, making [name]’s muffled moans turned into agonizing yells, trying to find anything to focus instead of the sensation that is inside your body. you attempt to imagine to be anywhere else, but not here, pretend that you are just with your late friends back at the town. pretending you aren’t living through hell.

and for what felt like hell, you finally came due to his fingers. a soft whimpering as you are finally give up of fighting and is already too tired from yelling for mercy, now your thighs and the sheets are dirty by your fluids, ruining the peaceful night that you wished to had, yet at least theo is over, meaning that you can go back to sleep…then you heard his zipper goes off.

“now, it’s my turn, [name].”

@moonit3 writings

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere original character #yandere writing #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you #tw yandere #tw smut #tw noncon #my oc Theo #yandere x y/n #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

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fyodior · 8 months

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DONT YOU UNDERSTAND?

★ pairing: husband!fyodor x reader

★ cw: DARK CONTENT AHEAD!! 18+, MINORS DNI. noncon, drugging, forced breeding, lots of breeding/pregnancy talk, vaginal sex, not enough foreplay, fyodor is evil!!

★ notes: breedtober fic #?? sorry the fics have been coming out so late, thank u for ur patience ily all <3

want more of breedtober?

DISCLAIMER: i do not condone noncon in any way, shape, or form. this is just fiction with no reflection of real life. please refrain from leaving hate comments, and just unfollow/block. or simply scroll away. thank u!

Dizzy – you’re so fucking dizzy. The room is spinning, your vision is dark and fuzzy around the edges, and you have no clue if you’re sitting or standing up currently. Because, worst of all, every part of your body is numb. You can’t move.

All you can see is the normally gentle, sweet face of your lover that’s now marred with an expression one can only describe as evil.

You want to reach out, ask him what’s wrong, what’s happening, but you can’t. All movement and speech have been rendered impossible, due to the teacup that lay shattered on the ground, bathed in the liquid that made you like this.

It was completely normal, a routine at this point, to sit in the living room with Fyodor in front of the lit fireplace sipping tea out of teacups from his beloved collection of fine china. The tea varied – chamomile, earl gray, mint, oolong, just plain green. And the activities often varied as well. Sometimes teasing and laughing over a card game, sometimes long, difficult discussions about the future with stoic faces, and sometimes just comfortable silence. The night before you had been discussing marriage and children. But it was always just you and Fyodor with cups of tea.

This had been a night like every other, though conversation remained at a minimum. Jasmine tea as the fire roared a little hotter than usual. What differed was how the tea started to make you feel. It was slow enough that you wouldn’t push away the cup or become unable to drink the whole serving, but fast enough that once it came on, you couldn’t stop it – it was too late.

And now you lay limp in Fyodor’s arms as he laid you down on the chaise lounge you had been resting on with your cup of tea – the one had fallen to the ground once your strength had started to fade.

“W-wha-” you manage to get out, your vocal cords and lips fighting against whatever was paralyzing them.

“Shhh,” Fyodor soothes, petting your hair as he hovers over you. “This is for the good of our family, my love.”

Your slack face slightly contorts into a look of confusion as your fuzzy mind tries to make sense of his words, barely noticing the way he tugged down your pants until his fingertips circled around your clit lightly. Somehow you could feel that. You attempted to jerk away from the touch, but your body once again failed you.

“Oh, my love, don’t you remember?” he tuts before spitting on his fingers and prodding at your hole. He had little interest in foreplay right now. “Don’t you understand? How you saying you ‘didn’t want kids anymore’ was completely unacceptable.”

It suddenly starts to click, even in your fucked mind. The way Fyodor’s jaw tightened, and smile faded during your discussion last night when you admitted that you didn’t see kids in your future. You had paid little mind to his disappointed “oh”. But clearly, he hadn’t let go.

One finger pushes past your still tight ring of muscle, making you grunt. “In case you don’t, in case the drug has addled your conscience too much, I shall explain.” Another finger sinks in. “We will be having children. At least three, to be exact. You will be getting pregnant, and hopefully tonight.” His fingers pump in and out of you, faster and faster, scissoring apart to stretch you open. “Even if that means rendering you useless and unable to resist me."

Tugging his own pants down, he spits in the palm of his hand before gripping his half-hard cock, pumping it a few times. “I considered just pulling you ass up for easiest access, but I want you to see me – to watch what happens when you disobey my wishes so severely.”

Since you’re completely dead weight, Fyodor has to manually spread your legs wide in order to slot himself between them, his grip tight underneath your knees. Then his lips are on your as he leans over you, the kiss forceful since you’re unable to reciprocate – not that you would’ve anyway.

The leaky tip of his cock as he revels in your inability to fight back is proof that he’s enjoying this immensely, the sick bastard. You want to scream out, thrash against him as his length slides into your cunt in protest of how unfair this is, how he can’t just decide to get you pregnant, but you can’t. You’re completely stuck just… taking it. Until his balls are pressed all the way against your ass, the puff of hair at the base of his cock tickling against your clit.

And somehow, you can feel it on the inside. You can feel the sting and burn as he pushes in and stretches you out, but can also feel… the pleasure. Maybe it’s the way your slack jaw falls open further at his first thrust, your body twitching, but Fyodor can tell. The way your body is forcing you to feel good against your wishes.

You grunt pathetically with every single thrust, legs hanging loosely around his waist and tongue lolling out of your mouth with drool pooling out of the corner. Fyodor is going mad with how much he loves this, how quickly he’s getting off from just using you without your permission. His violet eyes shine fiercely and the sick smirk on his face only grows as he fucks you harder and harder.

"Going to look so pretty pregnant, my beautiful doll,” he coos, massaging the soft fat of your tits. “So round and so full of my babies, so swollen you can barely walk, can’t even see your feet. You’ll need your darling husband’s help to even walk down the stairs,” he babbles, clearly just talking to himself.

“Do you like it, pretty? The way I’m just using you? It turns you on, doesn’t it? You and your body are mine, you know. I own you. And I own the right to use you however I please, to make you whatever I please.”

Of course, Fyodor had always been a bit possessive, always liked to call you his, but never to this caliber. Never to the point where you thought he’d do something like this.

His thrusts get faster and faster with every sick and twisted sentence, and though your hearing was fuzzy too, the wet sounds of skin on skin echoed through the room. Too wet to only just be his precum… were you wet? From what he was doing to you?

The orange light from the roaring fireplace illuminated Fyodor’s face in the most terrifying way, highlighting his sharp features, and igniting his eyes and sweat that had begun dripping down the sides of his face.

He leans in close, whispering into your ear. “Are you ready for my seed, doll? Ready for me to cum so deep inside you your womb is forced to take all of it?”

You’re able to shake your head a bit, and Fyodor clicks his tongue.

“You’re ready because I say so.”

You can’t feel it, but by the way his eyes roll back and his hips stutter, cock throbbing inside you, you can tell he’s cumming. Filling you up with the seed he promised to get you pregnant with.

After pulling out, he kisses you deeply.

“Before we go again, I will fetch you some more tea, my love. It seems you’ve regained some ability to move, and I can’t have that.”

#fyodor smut #fyodor x reader #bsd smut #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd x y/n

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mypoisonedvine · 10 months

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𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗲 | emmett x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | after being rescued from your captors, tension grows between you and the man that killed to save you.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | nearly 11K (?!?! WTF?)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only!!), angst, kind of a slow burn?, age gap (reader is twenty, emmett is late forties), pining, voyeurism, dark themes (slavery/kidnapping, discussions of noncon and loss, but emmett is not dark he's nice!!), traumatized reader (and emmett, let's be real, nobody's not traumatized here), violence (use of guns) and minor character death

This was where you waited— at his feet. Every deal, every ‘business meeting’, every mission report, you sat there on the floor beside his legs. He wanted everyone else to know your place just as much as you did.

Living with smugglers and looters like this was a rough life— but the man who bought you, Paul (though you only knew his name from hearing others speak to him) insisted you had a better life in here as his ‘pet’ than out there running missions for him, finding valuables to barter and sell. Considering there were plenty of missions that not everyone made it back from, you knew he kind of had a point.

But even so, it didn’t exactly feel luxurious being a man’s property. You’d been looked at like a thing, like less than human, like a piece of meat since you got here; and you’d been here just long enough to get really used to it. You sat here on the floor while Paul, his men, and his customers stood or at least sat on chairs.

That was why it felt so different, so shocking, when he looked at you. The man that came today, to trade with Paul. He was lean and gaunt, it was obvious even with his heavy layers of clothes; he had long hair on his head and face, but his icy stare pierced through… and it was concentrated on you from the moment he stepped into the smugglers’ compound.

He didn’t say anything, even when one of Paul’s men shut the bunker door and it was safe to talk— he didn’t react much on his face, either, staying stoic and flat. But it was obvious that you had his attention, even your ‘owner’ noticed that.

“Just bought her,” Paul explained with a proud grin as he tightened his grip on your wrist; you winced slightly. “Slavers picked her up just past the lake, she’d been camping out there for not even a week… don’t know where she was hiding before that. Isn’t she cute?”

You figured that was why he brought you here— to show you off. You, like the guards at either end of the room and by the door, were a symbol of Paul’s power. The other man just looked away from you, and back at Paul. “Can we get to business?” he asked in a rough voice.

“Of course,” Paul replied with that customer service smile of his, dropping your wrist which you held yourself right away. “You’ve got a few extra guns, and we have some extra cans of food— good shit, too, not just soggy old veggies. Or, maybe we can throw in some medical supplies, if you have ammo for those weapons,” Paul explained, gesturing to the table of goods for trade. “Whaddaya think?”

The man was silent, looking blankly ahead at the cans and boxes before him. “How much for her?” he asked suddenly, lowly.

Your heart stopped for a moment; feeling the man’s gaze run over you, you looked away and pressed your lips together. “Oh, she caught your eye, huh?” Paul purred. “Sorry, pal— not for sale. But the folks I bought her from had a couple other girls, how’s about I tell them where to find you and they can strike up a deal of their own?”

The man shook his head. “Her. I want her.”

Paul did that thing he did where he sat up straighter, and dropped his smile; you bit down on your lip to hide a whimper, because you got very fucking scared whenever he did that. “If you’re not interested in what’s available, you’d better just leave now and keep your guns, old man.”

He paused for a moment, nodding in acceptance. “Alright,” he said, “I think I will.”

He held tighter onto his gun, looking down at it for a moment.

“After all, this thing’s pretty damn useful.”

It was only a couple seconds of pure chaos. He shot Paul first, then stood up and took down all three men in the back of the room— one of them pulled his pistol fast enough to fire back, but he missed, and in a split-second he was on the ground with the others. You screamed, covering your head with your hands; your ears were ringing, and your whole body shook with shivers as you dared to glance over at the bleeding, lifeless bodies just a few feet away.

“C’mon,” the man said— it took you a half-second to realize he was talking to you, even though you were the only other living person in the room, “grab what you can. We need to run.”

We. He just killed them all, like it was nothing… for you. And now you were a we?

Shuddering, you could only shake your head. “N-no, no,” you choked out, whining when he grabbed you and yanked you to your feet; you could hear the commotion outside the room, it wouldn’t be long before someone from one of the nearby bunkers came to investigate the gunshots.

“They’re coming, and they’ll kill us both,” he growled at you, far too close to your face, and you felt your lip quivering. “Help me carry this shit and let’s go.”

It was a long walk back to… wherever he was taking you. Since you ran from the compound with your stolen supplies, you obviously hadn’t said anything to each other— you’d barely even looked at him, for some reason you were scared to.

The only interaction you’d had since you started your trek was when he noticed you shivering, and stopped to take off his jacket and give it to you; considering all you were wearing was a baggy old t-shirt and socks, it helped a lot against the chilly gusts of wind. It was awkward in the silence, not being able to reject the jacket or even thank him for it, so you just nodded as he slipped it on you. It was baggy even on him so it fit you even more awkwardly, but it made your shivers soothe instantly.

He guided you on the trail, keeping his gun close by, and eventually you came to some kind of processing plant; with what little you knew about manufacturing, your glances around the factory made you guess it was once a metallurgy building. Now it was abandoned, and as you climbed down the ladder he pointed you towards, you realized he was taking you right into some horrible small space— with a massive iron door. You hesitated, but he silently gestured you forward; your heart raced, knowing you had no chance of escape from a place like that. Not that you ever really stood a chance of escape from someone as capable as he had proved himself to be so far— but the idea of going into that little room with him made you feel a bit sick. It reminded you of your first day with Paul, of having all your freedom and dignity torn away, and you wondered if this was all just the beginning of another cycle: out of the frying pan, into the fire.

But you had no choice: you stepped forward, crawling into the little nook, and he followed behind you and shut the large round door.

It was pitch black for a moment, and you felt a sort of primal fear— would he really do this here, in complete darkness— would he really force himself on you? You tried to scoot as far away as you could, until a hard wall hit your back; but you knew there was nothing you could do to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to you now, and you closed your eyes in hopes he wouldn’t be cruel. But within a few seconds, he’d taken out a camping lantern and opened it, filling the room with a sort of speckled white light, and you opened your eyes slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked first, and you weren’t sure how to answer that. “My name’s Emmett,” he informed you quietly. “Don’t… you don’t need to worry, alright? I won’t hurt you.”

You shrunk away slightly, holding your legs to your chest. Paul had said the same thing, but then again, he’d never actually said it like he meant it. In fact, what he’d said exactly was I won’t hurt you if you behave. And he still did. Because he could.

“I don’t wanna— I won’t do anything with ya,” Emmett explained, and you could’ve sworn you saw a slight blush above that long beard. “Just couldn’t leave that place knowing you were there, against your will and all… it’s not right, keeping people like that, keeping girls…”

You looked away, eventually giving him a small nod as a response. You wanted to believe him, he sounded genuine, but you weren’t ready to trust a stranger you saw kill four men so casually.

“Mind tellin’ me your name?” he encouraged softly.

You mumbled it into your arms into the fabric of the old t-shirt which still smelled like the prison he’d broken you out of.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he pressed.

You said it again, louder, and he smiled a bit at you; you smiled back, too, but it was partially hidden by the tattered shirt’s sleeve.

“Pretty,” he said. “M’gonna keep you safe here, alright? I-I mean, you don’t have to stay here. You can go back wherever you want, I just… I figure you might end up where I found you again if you go out there on your own. No offense.”

You nodded; you weren’t cut out for making it on your own out there, you weren’t too proud to admit that. You used to run with a group of survivors, which made it much easier to get by, but you’d been naive enough to think you could reject the group leader’s advances without suffering consequences: they left you in the night, without a word, and you only made it one more day on your own before getting captured by slavers. That felt like a lifetime ago now, like stories that happened to a whole other person, but it wasn’t actually that long— Paul bought you a few weeks ago at most. Still, those few weeks had changed you as a person, and you went from being terrified of being alone to being terrified of everyone else. Maybe you were still an impossible mix of both…

“I have a decent set-up here… some food and water, a little more since we took some from your old friends back there,” he chuckled nervously. “And, uh, you can sleep in here… sorry it’s so small, never really planned to share it… I— I can find another place to sleep if this isn’t enough room—“

“Why are you doing this?” you interrupted, and he seemed startled to hear you talk so much.

“Huh?”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked again. “For me? I mean… you don’t know me.”

“Well, I could,” he shrugged, “you could tell me about you.”

“But why did you save me?”

“I said so already, I couldn’t leave you there with those men. Young girl stuck in that place, just about the worst thing I can imagine…”

“M’not that young,” you protested, “I’m twenty.”

He smiled a little. “Of course. Sorry.”

You sighed, relaxing slightly, and he seemed to lower his own shoulders as well.

“You seem tired,” he noticed. “It was a long walk.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I used to be able to walk a long way, but I lost my stamina— I wasn’t really going very far when I was there, you know…”

“I’m sure,” Emmett agreed. “You hungry? We could eat something.”

“Um, maybe…” you mumbled nervously. You felt nervous to ask for anything of him— like he might ask you for something in return. It wouldn’t be absurd of him to expect some kind of repayment for saving you; but if he expected that, then he wouldn’t be much of a savior after all.

“I saw granola bars in one of the bags we took,” he said. “Sometimes I still get nervous, opening something crinkly like that— but nothing can hear us in here, I promise. You’re safe.”

You hesitated before nodding; safe. That sounded nice. Now you just had to convince yourself it was true.

You’d noticed him looking at you a lot this evening, while you were both preparing dinner; you tried not to react to it. He kept glancing at you, just for a moment, like he thought you wouldn’t notice. You just kept focusing on the work at hand— peeling an orange— and tried not to think about why he kept looking at you. Maybe he had something to say, but that would be odd since he usually didn’t. Maybe you were doing this wrong somehow, or he was jealous that you were going to eat that fruit as an appetizer before the real meal.

Or maybe he just found you appeeling!

You snorted a little involuntarily, amused by your own joke, and he looked at you again. “You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” you mumbled, fighting a smile as you shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

And the silence continued. Even for a time when most everyone was quiet by necessity, Emmett was quiet. He had this special place, somewhere safe enough to talk, but he didn’t often utilize that privilege; or at least, he hadn’t since you got here a few days ago, but there wouldn’t have been anyone to talk to before then. You figured he just didn’t have a lot to say— and it’s not like you were some kind of conversation queen either. You didn’t ask about him or his life before this, even though you were actually pretty curious: you just watched him, and if he noticed, he didn’t react to it. This was the first time he seemed to be returning some of that attention.

“You can talk about it, if you want,” he suggested suddenly, making you furrow your brow a bit.

“About what?” you asked, not taking your eyes off your orange in progress, but you knew already what he meant.

“About how you came to be where I found you,” he said. “Don’t have to— I wouldn’t wanna talk about it, if I was you— but if you do… I just want you to know you can tell me.”

You shrugged, keeping yourself from looking up at him. “Why do you wanna know?”

“I don’t,” he insisted. “But sometimes I can tell you’re thinking about it.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked away; here you were, wearing the clothes he’d given you, living in his ‘home’, surviving off of him. On paper, it was the same as it had been before— that’s why you were thinking about it. But it was night and day: Paul gave you rags to wear, if that, and Emmett had you in his own clothes— comfy plaids and knitted sweaters that smelled shockingly good for any apocalypse survivor; Emmett had a few creature comforts here, art and decent food and pillows… Paul’s bunker was exactly as flat and rigid and cold as the word ‘bunker’ indicates; and surviving with Emmett felt the most like real living since you were with your old group— though you knew them infinitely better.

“But we don’t have to—” he began again, shaking his head like he regretted the whole idea.

“Who are those pictures of?” you asked, interrupting him.

“Pictures…” he mumbled.

“The ones you hid,” you said, “or tried to hide. Drawings, paintings—”

“You shouldn’t have been looking there,” he said firmly, looking down.

“I know,” you breathed, “but you were gone— I was bored—”

“Gone getting you food,” he reminded you, pointing with his knife— don’t worry, he was just peeling a potato with it— to the orange in your hand.

“Us,” you corrected, “we’re both eating. And I’m sorry… you don’t have to tell me, either. We can just have another quiet dinner.”

He paused before sighing a bit, looking at you and then back to his half-peeled vegetable. “My sons,” he said quietly. “Those are my sons. Were my sons…”

“I know,” you whispered, and he looked at you quizzically. “I could tell, I mean— you have that look in your eyes, I knew you’d lost someone.”

He shrugged. “Everyone lost someone. Some lost everyone.”

You almost found the energy to smile, but it came out more like pressing your lips together. “Yeah,” you agreed. “They kinda look like you, in the pictures. You’re talented.”

“Oh, I didn’t draw them,” he scoffed, “no way— I couldn’t draw a circle. It was my wife.”

Why did you get a little pit in your stomach when he said that. “You’re married?”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, “but she— um, she passed. Not too long ago. Well… I guess a few months is a while ago. But it still feels new.”

You nervously looked down at the orange in your hands, peeling off the last strip of skin and picking off a few white chunks of pith here and there. Not sure what to say, you simply pulled a segment off of the rest and reached over with it, offering it to him. “Here,” you said, and he looked at the piece of fruit in your hand before looking at you.

“No, s’fine,” he shook his head, “I’ll eat when dinner’s ready.”

“Come on,” you insisted, shaking it a little as if that would make it more enticing. “You’re working up an appetite peeling the spuds. Just have a few.”

Finally, he relented. “Thanks,” he said, taking it and putting it in his mouth. He chewed for a moment, working on the potato still, but he talked a bit around it just before he swallowed. “You don’t have kids, do you?”

You shook your head, laughing. “No, do I seem old enough for that?”

“No,” he agreed, “but you know— stuff happens.”

“I wanted them someday,” you admitted, “but no. I actually, uh… I was pretty nervous about getting pregnant in the bunker…”

He swallowed, for more than just the orange. Looking at you, you found his stare somehow both intimidating and comforting.

“I shouldn’t complain too much,” you shook your head, “he wasn’t that bad. He was more interested in showing me off to others than actually doing too much when we were alone.”

“You shouldn’t complain too much about being a sex slave to a smuggler?” he repeated incredulously, like he was offended on your behalf by what you had said.

“I was just a trophy,” you shrugged, “I was the most expensive thing he owned. It was all business with him: he wanted you— you know, anybody who bought from him— to know he was capable of that. Of owning somebody. And, um… that only happened twice. Once the first night, and then, um… well—”

“You don’t have to say,” he offered you softly. “It’s okay if you just never wanna think about him again. I certainly sleep better at night knowing I turned his head inside out.”

You smiled a little, even though the image of that still haunted you. “No, it’s fine. I think it’s easier to just treat it like anything else. Like, one time I broke my arm, one time my pet cat died, one time this gang captured me and sold me to a trader in exchange for pills and pickles— just something that happened that I hated and now… now it’s over.”

Now I’m safe. You could talk about it because you finally believed that Emmett wouldn’t put you through it again. When you looked at him, he smiled at you a little; you popped a piece of the orange into your mouth.

“S’good,” you mumbled as you chewed, giving him another piece and feeling the tips of his fingers just barely brush yours as he accepted it.

A few days later, he did the same thing: interrupted your silent meal with a sudden interjection. “Y’ever shot a gun before?” he asked, and you awkwardly shook your head. He sighed. “Alright, well, you should learn. Case something happens.”

“Guns don’t work on those things,” you noticed.

“They work on people,” he replied. “And you’ve had a lot more trouble with them.”

You shrugged, certainly in no place to deny that. “Guns are loud,” you reminded him.

“A little noise is worth it,” Emmett promised, “if it’s you or them. And if you’re not packing, then it’ll be you. You need to learn.”

Not if I have you with me, you almost blurted out. Thankfully, you stopped yourself and nodded in agreement instead.

“I’ll teach you up there,” he gestured towards the world above with a quick tilt of his head, “unloaded. Obviously.”

Going up to the surface was a strange feeling. You hadn’t felt this safe anywhere since this global nightmare began, honestly, and you were almost spoiled by it now— here, with Emmett, you were sure that nothing would come to harm you. But up there? You knew, logically, that it was usually alright as long as you kept quiet, but you were pretty fucking quiet when the slavers found you.

Even being down here alone gave you the smallest tinge of anxiety— that someone might find you and steal you while Emmett was out foraging— and you never navigated the forest alone. You had the feeling that Emmett was teaching you to use a gun so that you could do just that, but it didn’t sound worth it to be away from him.

But, you had to admit, you sort of enjoyed the lessons.

He stood behind you, wrapping you up in his arms as he corrected your stance. Out here, he had to speak under his breath beside your ear, and it made chills run up your spine. “Align the sights,” he told you, tapping the small metal divot on top of the pistol.

You nodded, shutting one eye tight and trying to aim better; adjusting your head to get the right stance just pushed you up against his shoulder more, and you tried not to lean back into him.

“Pull the trigger when you’re ready,” he instructed; he was barely making any sound at all, more shaping a breath around his words than really speaking.

Even knowing it wouldn’t go off, you started to shrink away as you pulled the trigger; it was heavier than you expected, forcing you to strain to turn the revolver.

“Don’t flinch,” he warned. “Stay steady.”

You still did, a little bit, but you calmed yourself with a breath and tried not to pre-emptively react: when you finally pulled the trigger all the way, the revolver turned with a click, but that was it.

“Good,” he said simply.

“How can you know?” you asked. “Without shooting anything—”

“You’re not using a bullet for practice,” he reminded you with a frown.

“I know, I know— I just mean, how can you know I would’ve hit what I was aiming at?”

“As long as these line up,” he replied as he touched the sights again, “and you don’t flinch, you will.”

You nodded, hoping that was enough, but then he took the revolver and took his shotgun off of his back. “I— I can’t shoot that thing—”

“Yes you can,” he promised, shaking his head dismissively. “The rifle— you can’t shoot that. That requires a steady hand.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were shaking as you took the shotgun from him, so you couldn’t exactly deny it. And, furthermore, the whole point of the sniper rifle was to get things that were far away… you were only planning to use these things if something got too close.

A lot of things had gotten more natural with Emmett— you talked sometimes, you ate together, he even let you come with him on trips out sometimes. But one thing that never really changed was how weird it was to sleep beside him; what did change was why it was weird.

From the beginning, you couldn’t sleep unless you knew where he was. Even if you couldn’t fully trust him then, you still had that anxiety of being abandoned in the night like you had before you were captured; for better or for worse, Emmett was obviously tough enough to protect you and was the only thing between you and certain death or enslavement out there in the world.

As a result, he’d been sleeping beside you, just to get you to stop waking up in cold sweats as often. And now that you trusted him and knew him a little better, you expected it to be easier to sleep with him there… if anything, you were getting less sleep than ever.

You were struggling to understand why— or maybe you were just struggling to accept it— but having him right beside you all night kept you up, kept your heart beating fast, kept you listening to the sound of his breathing instead of just focusing on your own.

At least tonight, you could blame it on the cold. You both had on several layers, but it was pretty much impossible to keep a space like this warm— underground, uninsulated— and it was only getting colder since the sun set.

"Chilly," you announced as you pulled the blankets up higher, and Emmett hummed in agreement. That was the extent of your bravery, you couldn't bring yourself to ask him outright if he'd move a little closer so you could share some heat.

You waited a few minutes, wondering if he was already asleep, and then reached towards him in the dark; but when your hand brushed against him, he shrugged it away. Turning his back to you, he seemed to huddle up a little bit more as if shrinking away from you, and you sighed.

“You don’t have to be so far,” you whispered, and he sighed.

“Yes, I do,” he insisted, stern yet soft-spoken.

“Please, Emmett, it’s cold…”

“I know, sweetheart, I just… I wanna do right by ya, that’s all,” he sighed.

“There’s nothing wrong with holding me to warm up,” you sighed. “I mean, it’s not like you’re… thinking about anything else.”

“Of course,” he choked, “okay, fine, if you’re cold… c’mere, then.”

You wiggled your way closer as he rolled onto his back, sighing when you felt how warm he was even through his clothes. Pressing your head to his chest, you heard his breath catch as you lifted your leg to drape over his, trying to get him as close as possible.

He seemed to hesitate first, but then he relaxed slightly and rested his arms around your back.

It had been a long time since someone held you like this. You sunk into his arms, loving how it felt to be pressed into him, and you let out a little hum of satisfaction as your shivers went away and his warmth began to absorb.

He seemed tense beneath you at times, and you feared that doing this would keep him from sleeping; but, frankly, you were desperate enough for your own sleep that you weren’t planning on worrying too much about his… you quite literally didn’t plan on losing any sleep over it.

It was impossible to say how long you'd been asleep— you weren't even fully awake yet— but when you started to stir, you felt him shifting under you. But you were taken from half-consciousness into pure lucidity when you felt a harder, hotter shape against your inner thigh; didn't take a detective to figure out he had an erection. You shouldn't have reacted, you realized it a second too late, but you had to gasp when you felt it— mostly because it seemed quite thick even though his pajama trousers—

“I’m sorry,” he breathed right away.

"It's okay," you assured, but he kept going.

“I can’t help it— I don’t mean anything by it, I just… I’m only a man.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated softly, though your face had never felt so hot. “I understand, it’s normal—“

He started to pull away, and you whined as you grabbed at his shoulders.

“Wait, you don’t have to go,” you gasped, “I won’t be able to sleep…”

“Well, it’s never gonna go away with you pressed up to me!” he grunted. “C’mon, sweetheart, gimme a chance here…”

“I really don’t mind it, Emmett—“

"I do," he snapped. "You're young— younger than you realize."

"I'm grown," you promised, but he peeled you off of him and turned away.

"Go to sleep," he demanded.

"But—"

"Just go back to sleep!" he ordered.

Though you weren't sure how you were supposed to sleep with your heart racing and your mind playing the moment you felt his cock against your leg on loop, you decided you would try just because his stern voice sort of scared you into obeying.

It did work, eventually— you can only lay down in the dark for so long before sleep is unavoidable— but you still awoke sometime later, and heard him breathing differently beside you. There was no light to see what he was doing, but you could hear his arm moving against the blanket under him— and when you heard him sigh, you imagined that he might be jerking off. Maybe his erection wouldn't go away until he did that, and you bit your lip as you tried to picture it: stroking himself, breathing deeply, being careful not to make too much noise or even move too much. But in your head, he was too desperate, struggling to hold himself back from bucking up into his palm, his cock flexing as his orgasm threatened to spill over at any moment.

The thought made you want to touch yourself, too— you were getting wet already and your hips shifted in hopes of finding something to rub against— but you were far too afraid to get caught or startle Emmett into stopping.

You heard a tense sigh and all that motion behind you stopped; you bit your lip as you wondered if he just came. And if he did, what had he been thinking of? He seemed so offended by the idea of being attracted to you— he didn't even acknowledge it, like it was wrong to even suggest— but you hoped somehow that he had been imagining you. If only he could've told you, if only he had pulled you closer in the dark and asked you to take care of his problem for him… maybe you should've been ashamed for thinking it, but you would've spread your legs for him right away if he'd told you he wanted you. Even if it was just taking care of his needs, not real love— even if it was only a practical thing. You couldn't do much for him, but you could certainly help in that regard.

But, at the same time, you knew that if Emmett ever did use you in such a way, you'd fall in love with him. Even if it meant nothing to him, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself; you couldn't admit to yourself how close you were to that edge already, but you couldn't deny how quickly you would fall over it if he ended up fucking you.

Or maybe it wouldn't be like that— fucking, that is; it's a rather crass way to put it. Maybe it wouldn't be that way, maybe it would be gentle and sweet and passionate. He certainly was kind to you, and unexpectedly patient… you wondered if that would translate into him being delicate with you, soft touches and slow kisses— really making love, you know.

Or, maybe he'd been alone so long that he wouldn't be able to help himself; maybe he'd just have to moan in your ear while he took you roughly, holding tight to your hips so you couldn't do anything but take him just the way he wanted. Maybe he'd leave bruises and marks on your skin, reminders of his work, and bite down on you to keep himself from being too loud.

Your back was arching into nothing, just hoping that he would turn around and pull you close, press his chest into your back, and whisper in your ear as he started to tug your pants down. Sorry, sweetheart, I just need you too bad…

It was a miracle you ever fell back asleep with that thought in your mind. But you did, somehow— a frustratingly dreamless sleep— and when you woke up in the morning, he was gone again.

Since that night, you’d felt this tension between you— but you had no clue if he felt it, too. He was nice, in his own way, but definitely on the aloof side; and he seemed to avoid you a little more after all that happened anyway. It sort of made you wonder if he resented you, if he was angry with you somehow for what happened— maybe you’d been too pushy, you were never trying to force him into anything of course— but then again, you figured he wouldn’t be working so hard to take care of you both if that were the case.

Even if you couldn’t hunt or even cook very well, you tried to be helpful in various ways; this little underground hideout was certainly tidier and cozier than it had ever been before, and you tried to take pride in that instead of thinking of yourself as useless to him. And all his clothes were mended, you made sure of that; he seemed to appreciate it, at least.

Now that you thought of it, you were sort of becoming a homemaker now— you felt a bit conflicted at the realization. There’s nothing wrong with it, right? Just being here, helping how you can? But you wanted to be more useful, if you could— you just didn’t know how.

(Well, you had ideas… but you weren’t about to suggest that, after how awkward it all was last time.)

Maybe just your company was enough for him, otherwise he probably wouldn’t still keep you around… but then again, for someone who apparently wanted your company, he wasn’t so talkative. It would make more sense if you two were up all night, telling each other everything about your lives and your dreams and anything you could possibly remember to talk about— but it wasn’t like that at all. He still avoided personal questions even after nearly a month together, and he had a tendency to just hum and nod or shake his head when you asked him something.

But, the good news was, you’d gotten a little more comfortable leaving the underground hideout without him. You never went far, obviously, but you went far enough to stretch your legs and get some fresh air and, today, stumble upon a little clearing with a pond. It was relatively small, but deep, and best of all it had a river that fed into it, over a cliff; to put it more plainly, it had a waterfall. It was small— you figured it probably didn’t pour at all unless there had been good rainfall recently— but it still meant you had a little more freedom here than usual. Ambient noise, as you understood it, deterred the creatures because they couldn’t stop it and couldn’t hear other sounds over it. You weren’t about to belt out Whitney Houston or anything, but you could make some sound— and the sound you made right away when you saw it was getting your clothes off as fast as you could and diving right in.

The water was a little cold— okay, very fucking cold— but it was worth it: being able to clean yourself more thoroughly than normal was quite a treat, and one you planned on relishing.

You found yourself laughing— you sort of couldn’t stop, actually. Partially because you were cold and shivering like crazy, partially because you were giddy… mostly just because you could. You kept your clothes and revolver in a neat pile by the cliff wall, trying not to stray too far from it in case someone came by; but, at the same time, you were also trying to just forget about everything that scared you for a moment and be free.

You soaked your hair and ran your hands over your face, letting the water renew your skin— you couldn’t deny this cold plunge was invigorating, if not especially relaxing like a hot bath would’ve been. But hot baths were obviously rare in these times, and you closed your eyes as you tried to remember the last one you took. You leaned back in the water, floating partially against the flow of the waterfall behind you, and remembered simpler times: long baths, fresh meals,

Not everything was perfect then. Your life was easier, yes, but you’d still longed for someone to share it with. Someone to trust. You opened your eyes and looked up at the sky, a pale grey-ish blue that covered the sun but was still somehow too bright and made you squint; you sighed, moving your arms enough to feel the water swirl between your fingers.

For some reason, you thought of Emmett just then; you wanted to tell him about this place as soon as he got back home, you could bring him here and he could swim too— he probably wouldn’t skinny dip with you, right? Definitely seemed out of his comfort zone, he wouldn’t even sleep next to you at night anymore… but you still giggled at the thought, wondering if you’d get a chance to see the rest of his tattoo that you’d noticed peeking out from his sleeve sometimes. Then you could ask him about it, move closer, trace the lines with your finger; you could watch the goosebumps prickle on his skin from the cold water, and shiver even more when you met his gaze—

You shook your head like it might knock the thought out of your brain. He’d made it clear he didn’t have that sort of interest in you. It broke your heart a little, but you had no choice but to accept it. Still, you had this nagging feeling that it wasn’t you— he implied before it was your age, or some kind of chivalry thing; and then there was all that grief, something anybody left had to have by now.

You, too, had lost loved ones that day, and in the days since— that was unavoidable— but what you had nearly lost most of all was yourself. And then he found you, and you’d found something you’d been looking for for so long… much longer than all this.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard something moving, just past the trees; you whipped around in the water, looking everywhere for the source of the noise, and you saw a figure slip back behind a trunk. You’d never felt so sick with terror all at once, and in a second, you leaned over and snatched your revolver off the top of your pile of clothes.

Pointing it at the tree, you wondered if you should be barking out orders right now— come out with your hands up or something— but that wouldn’t be helpful if there was a creature nearby… or if there was more than one person in these woods. You swallowed, knowing a revolver wasn’t going to cut it if there was a whole group closing in on you now.

Slowly moving through the water, you walked up the bank of the pond, and when you heard another shifting movement from behind the tree, you shuddered and shut one of your eyes. Align the sights. Stay steady.

Suddenly, the figure stepped out, and you didn’t even stop to think: you pulled the trigger and fired, eyes shutting tight as the kickback flung your arms up and the sound echoed through the forest.

You hesitated to open your eyes, but just before you did, you heard a groan— in a voice all too familiar. When you looked, there was a man on the ground, and your heart stopped again when you saw his face.

“Fuck! Emmett!” you yelped, running the rest of the way out of the water and not caring at all that you were naked and dripping— you ran up to him and straddled him as he rolled on the ground, clutching his arm. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry— oh my god! Please, please tell me you’re okay—”

He didn’t say anything, in fact his face was still screwed into a tight wince as you tried to see where he was holding— his arm, just below the shoulder, you could see where the sleeve of his jacket was torn and blood had begun to stain the fabric.

“Emmett, Jesus, I swear to god— I didn’t know it was you, I—” you began to promise, before you wondered if you should ask what the hell he was doing there. Why didn’t you tell me it was you? Why didn’t you say something? But you decided, as you watched him bite his lip to keep from being any louder, that now was not the time to interrogate him; shooting him had clearly irritated him enough already. “That— that was fucking loud,” you realized, lowering your voice. “We need to go back before—”

He just nodded, and you got up off of him to help him up and grab your clothes— a naked woman and a bleeding man running through the woods. Maybe that’s just a normal day in the post-apocalypse.

He hissed when you applied the disinfectant to the cut, looking away rather than letting you see how this affected him— that, or the other side of the room suddenly got incredibly interesting. But you knew as well as anyone, living in this room for over a month, that it was not very interesting.

“God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, wincing yourself just having to put him through this. “Can I keep going, or—?”

He nodded, still looking the other direction, and you gave him a sympathetic frown as you started to dab at the cut.

It wasn’t too deep, thank heavens— it probably didn’t even need stitches, just some alcohol and gauze— but you still felt more guilty than you had for anything you’d ever done in your life. “Thank god I missed,” you chuckled softly, wondering if it was still too soon for humor— and he didn’t laugh, so maybe it was.

“Yeah— you flinched,” he noticed, sounding correctional, and your jaw almost dropped.

“Fucking— are you serious, Emmett?” you snapped. “You’re mad at me for not killing you?!”

“You didn’t know it was me,” he replied.

You sighed, thankful he was looking away so he wouldn’t catch your eyeroll. “Of course,” you breathed. “Of course I didn’t know it was you— I would’ve never…”

He looked at you again. “I know,” he promised quietly.

You chewed your lip and nodded.

Taking the bloodied rag away, you looked at the wound— it was a lot better already, and it looked clean, and you still couldn’t imagine forgiving yourself for doing it to him. You took out a bandage and started to wrap it up around the gash.

“Your ink’s still intact,” you noticed, smiling as you got your look at the tattoo— although you obviously didn’t mean to go through all this just to see it. You didn’t trace the lines but you did run your fingers over the whole piece: a mountainscape, with tall trees and a cloudy sky. “It’s pretty.”

He snorted a little. “I was just a kid when I got that— tryin’ to be tough. Definitely wasn’t going for ‘pretty’.”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have gotten this lovely view,” you smiled back. “Is this a real place?”

“Yeah, Montana— grew up there,” he said. “Always thought I’d go back, then I had my kids— and then, you know—”

“Right,” you nodded, finishing up your gauze-ing of the damage. You were gonna let him put his shirt back on, not that you really wanted him to, but he didn’t yet. “Must have been nice, growing up under mountains like these.”

He shrugged. “It was— sometimes. It was quiet, I’ll tell you that. All I wanted was to escape, back then. Then all I wanted was to go back.”

You smiled a little. “Yeah, I know that feeling— I mean, I think everyone feels like that. I always wanted to move to the city— New York, you know,” you said with a whimsical affect on your words, “it’s like a mythical place to anybody from anywhere else.”

He chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck (with his uninjured arm) and nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I get that. But then how’d you end up in the suburbs? Or— don’t tell me you came all the way from the city—”

“No, no, not that far,” you promised, “but I was a little closer to it before everything happened. I, uh… I actually ended up in the suburbs because of a boy.”

He nodded, wearing a sort of knowing look, and you felt a little embarrassed. “Ah,” he said simply.

“And then, um, you know— he left. As they tend to.”

“Boys?”

“Everyone.”

He swallowed; you regretted saying it, sort of, but you were still talking— like you couldn’t stop yourself. Your hands were shaking— you were looking down at them in your lap, you knew they were— and you just felt like you couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer.

“You know, this is the first time that I really…” you sighed and shook your head, looking for the words. “This is the most I’ve ever trusted somebody. I guess because I have to— but you—”

“S’alright,” he interrupted, “you don’t have to say all that.”

“You won’t even let me thank you?” you laughed, but your frustration was obvious; when you looked up at him, his eyes were filled with something that finally made your hands stop shaking. Flooded with a sudden wave of courage (and wanting to act on it before it inevitably subsided), you leaned forward and kissed him; you shut your eyes tight— you would’ve lost your nerve otherwise— and you held his cheek in one hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against his hair while your palm pressed against his somewhat unruly beard.

For one moment, it was perfect, but then he reached up and took your hand, guiding you away slowly. You pulled back, more dejected than ever, and he gave you a soft frown as he shook his head.

Falling back into your chair, you slumped dejectedly; you didn’t want to cry, it would just seem pathetic now, but your eyes were watering anyways. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“No— it’s alright,” he promised, “I’m not… offended, or something.”

“What am I to you?” you asked, point blank. “I mean— I know I’m not— fuck, I’m stupid. I know I’m not…”

Despite starting again, you couldn’t find the words the second time, either.

“I just mean… do you see me as, like, a charity case? A daughter figure or something?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said, “but I— you’re not my property. That’s not why I took you from that son of a bitch. You can leave whenever you want, you know.”

“But do you want me to stay?” you asked, feeling tears run down your cheeks suddenly even though you had specifically requested that they not do that.

Your real question was trapped in the middle of that sentence: do you want me?

He looked away again, and your hurt started to shift into anger— because that’s all anger really is, anyway: hurt, dressing up as something else. “You treat me like a child! Sometimes you won’t even look at me, like you’re embarrassed of me! I’m not your property but I’m not your equal, either— so what am I to you? Do you even see me as a woman at all?!”

That accusation seemed to get his attention, and he almost looked angry, too. “I am well aware that you’re a woman,” he said sternly.

“Is that why you were watching me at the pond?”

You’d never seen him with that deer in the headlights look— technically, you still didn’t, because he turned his head away quickly.

“That’s what you were doing, wasn’t it?” you pressed. “How long were you there before I heard you? Come on, Emmett— look at me. Or will you only do that when I’m naked?”

He snapped, standing up quickly and grabbing you by your— his— shirt to pull you with him. “Do you know what you’re fucking doing to me?” he growled at you.

“Same thing I did to you that night it got too cold?” you returned with a sneer, and he shoved you away with a shudder, turning to face the wall and crossing his arms.

There was a silence, though it wasn’t nearly as long as the ones you’d gotten used to with him, and he dropped his shoulders as he sighed. “I’ve done what I can for you,” he said quietly— and your stomach twisted in knots. He’s going to ask me to leave, you assumed instantly. “I’ve tried to… to leave you alone—”

“That’s what you think I want?” you realized, almost laughing it was so absurd. “Begging you not to leave, to stay where I can see you all night, trying to get you to talk to me— because I want to be alone?”

“After what happened to you— after how it must have been with him—” he started, turning around and looking at you sadly— “I’d wanna be fucking left alone. I’ll say that.”

“Well, I guess I’m just not strong enough for that,” you decided with an unhappy sort of smile. “I guess I still need someone. I need you. And clearly that’s just my fucking problem, so I’m sorry for making it yours.”

But he stepped closer to you, reaching out to hold your shoulders, and you met his gaze again. You shivered, just like you thought you would. “Say it again,” he requested flatly. It wasn’t very specific, but you knew exactly what he meant.

“I need you,” you said again, softer, and he shut his eyes with a sigh.

Your eyes shut, too, when he leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours; you breathed together for a second, your hands moving up to his bare chest as you bit your lip.

“I need you,” you repeated, even quieter— a whisper now— and another tear striped your face. “Emmett, I need you—”

“Fuck,” he said softly, and you smiled. “Fuck, I need you, too.”

You smiled even wider then; he could probably hear your heartbeat, you would’ve sworn it was beating out of your chest. Opening your eyes when you felt him pull back, you waited patiently— like you had been since this all began.

“I just— I don’t want you thinking that you have to—” he started to explain.

“I don’t have to,” you nodded, “but I want to. Is that wrong?”

He didn’t answer, but he kissed you; he held your jaw gently, tilting your head back, and he kissed you in just the way you’d dreamed of.

It was simple enough at first, sweet and sort of slow— he pulled you closer, wrapping you in a hug while you held onto his shoulders— but then it got… heavier. Hungrier. Hotter.

You were gasping as you opened your mouth wider, all but begging him to dive deeper; and for his part, he kept grabbing your waist and hips, pulling you into him like he couldn’t get you close enough, and you thought your knees were going to buckle.

The two of you stumbled back, together, towards the sort-of bed that you sort-of shared; he laid you back on it, and you heard yourself whimper a little as you let him slot himself between your legs.

His weight was oddly comforting on top of you, pressing you back into the nest of blankets as you arched your back against him.

You both pulled back from the kiss as you looked down, needing to see somewhat what you were doing as you started to open his belt. He looked down too, watching you do it for a second, before laughing a bit and leaning in to kiss your neck. “Fuck,” you sighed, “come on, you’re gonna distract me—”

“What’s the hurry?” he purred, grabbing your hands and pinning them back instead— and that made you moan out loud. “We’ve got all the time we want, darlin’...”

“Fuck, but I—” you whined, though you struggled to pull a sentence together when he dragged his tongue over your pulse like that. “God, I just— please—”

“Shh,” he soothed, “m’gonna take care of you. Gonna take care of you, sweet girl, I promise…”

And he’d taken care of you every way he knew how before, so you trusted him. Still, you weren’t exceptionally patient.

You gasped when you felt him press his hips to yours through all these goddamn clothes; he was hard, really fucking hard, and it made your head spin. How were you supposed to wait for him to be all slow and romantic and stuff when you felt that? “Pretty girl,” he cooed at you quietly, “look at me for a second.”

You looked up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and he smiled back at you as he pet your forehead for a moment.

“There you are,” he breathed, and your heart swelled.

He undressed you carefully, like you were the one with an injury, and you bit your lip to fight the urge to beg him to hurry the fuck up. He kissed all over your neck and chest, even as far down as your belly while he was pulling your panties down your thighs— and of course he looked up at you as he did it, like he knew it would absolutely wreck you. “God, Emmett, please,” you whined, sighing with relief when he sat up and finished opening his belt. He kept looking at you while he did it, something darker and heavier in his stare as he pushed his jeans down; you couldn’t help but look down at it, and you breathed in sharply as you bit your lip.

Of course it was fucking big— you’d figured it was from what you felt before— with a thick, leaking head and a curve that you could just tell was going to fit perfectly inside you. Your hips rocked a little into nothing at the sight, and you moaned when he kissed you again— more desperate than ever, both of you.

You whined loudly, much louder than you meant to, when he pushed inside you all at once. It wasn’t too fast or too rough or anything— but it was plenty to be filled by in one go, and your nails dug into his back.

“Fuck,” he grunted, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment. “So fuckin’ wet.”

You whimpered, feeling your walls tighten up hearing him say that. It was no wonder, with the way he’d been toying with you— and not just tonight. “Oh my god,” you gasped out, instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips like you didn’t want him to move at all. Obviously, though, you couldn’t stop him from pulling back and thrusting in again, nor did you want to; your back arched, hard, and your moan echoed around the room. “F-fuck,” you choked, “it’s so— you’re so— god.”

“Shh,” he soothed, in a sweet way, and his hands found your hips to pull them up higher to his; he moved you just how he wanted, you were putty in his fingers, and he groaned as he thrusted into you at the new angle.

It was deep. It was really, really fucking deep; and you thought you were at your limit, but you still somehow wanted more. Toes curling, you let your back arch between your hips held to his and your shoulders laying back on the blankets— your arms went limp and yet your fingers were searching for something to hold onto as he moved a bit faster.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he groaned, a spare hand leaving your hips and groping roughly at one of your tits. You just gasped and pushed your chest up into his touch, pulsing inside when he pinched a hard nipple. “Feels good?”

“Yes!” you shouted. “Yes, fuck yes— don’t stop, please, please—”

Panting, he snarled a little, but he sure as hell didn’t stop. He was right about you being wet, you could even hear it when he thrusted faster; and that just turned you on even more, the whole thing was a vicious cycle really.

For the most part, you kept your eyes shut because it was just what felt natural— but when you did open your eyes, you caught glimpses of him staring down at you, his eyes moving from your face to your bouncing tits to where he was inside you, where his hands held onto your hips and pet them soothingly in contrast to his rough thrusts.

Then, he watched his hand move to the middle, just above where his cock filled you, and his thumb started to rub your clit.

You had no excuse for being so sensitive, but you cried out and tried to grab his wrist from how intense it was. “Emmett!” you nearly screamed. “O-oh god, oh god—”

“Jus’ wanna feel you come, sweetheart,” he explained, his voice darker than usual. “Can you come for me?”

“Y-yeah,” you agreed with a nod, already feeling delirious from all this. “Yeah, fuck, I can come— you’re gonna make me come, fuck…”

You went from yelling to whispering by the end of your sentence, though you weren’t sure why, and he kept a steady pace with his hips and his hand until your whole body started to shake.

“I— I’m close,” you choked out.

“I know,” he said. Smug little shit— too bad you were too busy coming to complain about that attitude.

Shuddering all over, you opened your eyes and looked at him one more time— he was looking right back at you, jaw tight and nostrils flaring, so that only made it worse— before you arched back harder than you thought possible and gave into it. Your hands kept searching for something to hold, like you might actually fall somehow if you didn’t get an iron-tight grip on his thigh or arm or something. You found his bent knee but his hands found yours a second later— and he interlaced his fingers with yours, laying on top of you again and pressing deep into you even while you were still in the middle of your ecstasy.

You weren’t even sure what you were saying anymore, you could tell your mouth was moving and that was about it. It probably wasn’t even words; but this pleasure, you were totally submerged in it. He kept kissing you and praising you, fucking you deeper into the feeling and into the thoroughly-disturbed blankets under you. “Good girl,” he whispered against your neck, “good fucking girl— god, I can feel it— so good for me—”

When a hint of your awareness of reality returned, your mind and body coming down from the high and settling into something a little easier and familiar, your arms reached up and held him close. "Fuck, Emmett," you whimpered, tears welling in your eyes as you were flooded with an emotion you couldn't name. "Emmett, I love you. I'm in love with you."

He breathed heavy and held you tighter, burying his face in your neck as you started to really cry.

"I love you," you said again, grabbing at him harder as he began to kiss your neck— your jaw, your cheek— and his hand wiped your tears away.

"Shh, I know," he promised quietly. "It's okay, beautiful, I know."

He wasn't ready to say it yet— but you felt it. You could feel it just in the way he held you.

He pulled back enough that you could see his face, propping himself up above you. Sweat made his hair cling to his forehead, and you smiled at the sight— he looked damn good like this, finally giving in. You hadn’t realized he was going easy on you, until he pushed in a little harder and a little deeper.

You whined, reaching up to grab onto his arm, and he hissed when you accidentally grabbed onto the gauze-wrapped wound. “Fuck, sorry, sorry,” you breathed, moving your hand down, and he laughed a little.

“S’okay,” he assured, leaning down and kissing your cheek sweetly. “It’s okay, sweetheart…”

You eventually ended up holding onto the back of his neck, running your fingers with his hair even if it was damp from sweat— you were sweating, too, and you’d never thought it could be this sensual to get this way. All this heat and movement in such a small space, all these blankets and insulation, somehow it made you both even needier. You didn’t care if it was putting that pond bath to waste, you just wanted more: you made it clear, with the way you needily hugged him closer.

You didn’t even realize you were about to come again until he pointed it out. “Fuck, another one for me?” he realized with a proud groan. “Gonna give me another one, sweet girl? Fuck, that’s it— so good for me—”

It was so sudden, not like the last one that built up and spilled over slowly— this one was hard and fast and left you completely spent and almost too fucked out to notice how much faster he was moving. But it was impossible not to notice him picking up the pace, getting a little louder himself, grabbing your hands again and squeezing them tightly.

The way he moaned in your ear was just too perfect; you whimpered and tightened your legs around him, gasping each time he reached the deepest parts of you.

"Baby," he grunted, "say you’re mine.”

“Yours, Emmett,” you promised with a whimper. "I'm yours, I fucking swear— all yours."

You'd never had a chance to know how good it could be to belong to someone— it didn't have to be bad, it didn't have to be like it was before.

He didn’t slow down until every drop was inside you; he gasped in heavy breaths, he held on tightly to your waist, but he didn’t stop until you were completely filled and he was exhausted in every way.

You both took a long time to catch your breath, and in the meantime, he kissed you again. You figured you weren’t a very good kisser in this state, you were completely numb in the mind and body (in the most amazing way) and you could barely find the energy to even lift your hands— but he didn’t seem to mind, because he kissed you for a long, long time.

Eventually, you were both (mostly) in reality again, and he pulled up to hover above you. You touched his arm softly, and he looked at your hand before looking at your face again.

“Sorry,” he blurted out suddenly as he looked down at where your bodies were joined, like he was just realizing what he’d done. “I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t have finished inside, I just—”

“It’s okay,” you laughed, “I would’ve been kind of pissed if you pulled out.”

“But we should— I mean, we need to be careful,” he panted. “Next time we have to—”

“Next time,” you breathed happily, pulling him down into another kiss— less tired, more… smiley. You’d probably seen him smile more in the last ten minutes than the rest of your time together combined.

“What, you thought that was a one-night stand?” he laughed, biting your lip playfully before he broke away from the kiss. “Or do you just wanna fuck around and pretend not to want each other like a couple of morons before we do it again?”

“I mean, maybe that’s why this time was so great,” you shrugged, “all the anticipation.”

“Nah,” he breathed, leaning in and kissing your neck again— tender and patient, making you sigh and shut your eyes. “It’s so great ‘cause it’s how this is supposed to be. ‘Cause we need each other.”

You shivered, just as much from his words as his delicate kisses along your pulse, and you almost melted right back into those blankets again— but instead, you startled him by sitting up quickly. “Alright, I think I’m ready for that next time now,” you purred, rolling him onto his back and straddling him with a mischievous grin.

“Jesus, woman,” he groaned, hands settling on your waist, “you’re gonna kill me, I think.”

“Well, I missed the first time,” you giggled as you touched the edge of his bandage. “And we have some time to make up for. God, I wanted you so bad, Emmett.”

He sighed, his chest sinking, and he let his head fall back as he gave in. “This is how I always hoped I’d go out anyways,” he decided.

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #a quiet place emmett x reader #emmett quiet place smut #sorry he has no last name yall lmao #emmett quiet place x reader

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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 3 months

Text

GRADUATION GIFT

Pairing - Lenny Miller x fem!reader

Summary - You despise your mother and are awaiting the day you can finally be free from her. However, she’s met her so called soulmate who can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

Warnings - noncon, implying of drugging, brief infidelity, p in v, parental issues, spanking, daddy kink, breeding kink.

Word count - 2k+

Notes - On a roll right now. Definitely wrote this during the course of 6 alcoholic beverages so I apologise.

The Honda Civic rolled up your driveway, you breathed out, your head swayed gently, bloodstream full of alcohol. There was no other way to celebrate graduating high school than by getting plastered at a house party. Despite your intoxicated state, you couldn’t help but to dread the sight of your home. You should have left early with your friends and crashed at theirs.

Only a couple of more months. Until you’re free from your egocentric, victimizing, alcoholic mother. The woman you despise, the creature that drove your father away from your life. You hated her more than everything. She had cheated on your dad for years and when he finally broke she blamed him for everything.

He fell in love with another and got her pregnant. Your father chose them over you and your overbearing mother. The sad reality was that you couldn’t blame him. But you’ll never understand why he didn’t take you with him.

You stumbled inside, not really caring if your ruckus woke anyone up. A fresh bottle of water was pulled from the fridge as you sculled down as much as your stomach would allow you. As you walked back into the hallway, your direction pointed to the staircase, you heard a clear of the throat.

When your eyes landed on him, you lightly gasped. He sat on the cream chesterfield armchair, his legs spread wide open. Minus the jacket, he was still in his suit from yesterday. It was past two in the morning, why the fuck was your so-called step-dad awake? Those blue orbs stared your exposed skin up and down as his hand combed through his wavy brunette hair. You tugged down at your mini dress to cover yourself, but it was pointless.

Behind his charm, Lenny was creepy. You had picked up on that instantly by the way he stared at you when you accidentally opened the door for him. It was their first date and your mother had plenty of those. However, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you, even when your mother rushed to the door.

When your mother announced they were going on a second date, you were surprised. Now those, she didn’t have many of. The shocked expression that plastered your face was unhideable when she announced that they were officially together. She even had the audacity to tell you to call him dad. Because he would like that.

You fell victim to his lingering eyes during all of your brief encounters. There weren't enough excuses to get out of the house whenever he was over. Lenny spoke to you confidently and condescendingly. To which he didn’t fail to drop a carnal comment in each conversation which went unnoticed by your mother if she was in attendance.

You felt like your mother, making it all about yourself. But you wouldn’t dare to say anything, what else would it be besides you trying to pray horrible things upon her. They were perfect for each other, they were both fucked and the sooner you were out the better.

“Lenny, you’re up late” you shuddered, standing awkwardly as his hawk eyes stalked you.

There was a glass of whiskey in his hand as he swayed the liquid carelessly. You focused your sight on the glass, waiting for it to spill onto the carpet.

“You had upset your mother extremely” he said, his tone dripping of disappointment.

The moment in discussion was earlier yesterday during your graduation ceremony. She didn’t even want to be in attendance. But Lenny convinced her otherwise to go, with him accompanying her to the event, she was already a few mimosas in despite it being a midday ceremony. Afterwards, she didn’t suggest, she ordered that you’d go out for a family dinner to celebrate.

When you stated that you had other plans, it ended up being a cat fight on the ride home between you and your mother. You didn’t notice Lenny’s knuckles turn white around the steering wheel as he stayed quiet between your shouting match.

“Well, it’s my life” you shrugged your shoulders at him.

Who did he think he was anyways? You didn’t give a fuck that he was a retired CIA agent. If anything, he should fucking arrest your mum for being a failure in life.

Lenny didn’t take his eyes off of you as he finished his drink. He breathed in, dramatically raising his chest as he stood up. Your throat tightened as he stepped towards you, you stepped back just as quick.

“Well” he mocked your tone. “You know what I think?” He asked, his jaw clenched.

“What?” you squeaked as he placed the tumbler on the coffee table and headed straight towards you.

Your body pressed back into the plaster wall as he trapped you in with both forearms resting on the wall right next to either side of your face. He breathed deeply as he considered his choice of words.

“I think your father failed at discipling you as a child. Left you to be nothing more than a fucking brat leeching off of her mother’s funds” he hissed, his lower body flexed up against yours.

Your eyes widened at his words, the fire inside of you was brewing however you couldn’t help but to be intensely frightened by this new, menacing side of him. There were little options that would end up in your benefit. “Mum!” you panicked, sure she was a drunk but her self-importance would never fucking allow this.

Lenny pouted to you sarcastically as you stood frozen, his lips slowly crept to your ear. “Oh, your mother was a crying mess. I had to give her something to help her sleep, she was so overwhelmed. I promised her I’d wait up for you, to make sure you got home safe. Even told her I’d try to talk some sense into you. But between me and you? Sometimes talking doesn’t work, other methods have to be used” he ended up whispering, slowly, suspensefully, seductively.

Your hands shot up to his chest as you tried to push him away. “What the fuck are you going on about” you whimpered pathetically, desperately trying to push him away but he wouldn’t budge.

Lenny looked you dead in the eye. “Daddy needs to teach his baby girl a lesson” he stated with a confident nod.

“Mum!” you shrieked, your voice cracking in the process. You were freaking the hell out by this point as his hands moved down to grip onto your hips.

“It’s pointless, she’ll be out all night. But don’t let that stop you from screaming” he grinned as he yanked you away from the wall by your hips.

The first instinct was to run, but Lenny reacted quickly, his hand wrapped around your hair as he yanked you towards the chesterfield armchair. You sobbed out as he post-hasted you over his knee with him sitting comfortably on the seat.

“You’re such a bad girl. I noticed that the moment I saw you” he brought to light, this wicked smirk on his lips as he pulled up your dress, exposing your bare ass. His fingers traced over your cheap thong as you were whining against him, your body squirming around like a worm. “However, your mother outta be more thankful of you” he voiced, which caused your eyebrows to scrunch. “I never intended on a second date until I saw you” his confession caused you to sob heavily.

It was true, your mother was just going to be a easy fuck. But when he saw you, he knew that he had to have you. From there, his obsession only grew larger by each encounter. You didn’t know how badly he wanted you, needed you. Your bratty behavior only urged his primal needs harder. Your parents failed to control you, only he would be able to put you back in order.

“Lenny- Please!” you squealed out as he harshly smacked your rear.

“Correct my title” he ordered through a snarl.

“Daddy please!” You cried out, completely humiliated as you laid limply over his knee.

“Good girl” he praised as he smacked you again.

Over and over again he spanked you, you’d squirm here and there as you tried to take it like a good girl. Mentally, you were begging for it to be over and done with. The sooner it was done, the quicker you’d be able to pack up and run for the hills.

“I’ve wanted to teach you your place for so long” he groaned, his cock twitching at the redness of your cheeks. You sobbed silently as he admired you. “You know” he spoke softly as his hand gently caressed your burning skin. “Your mother told me how you always blamed her. But in reality, if your father wanted to take you with him, he would have. But clearly you were as much of a burden to him as your mother was” Lenny asserted emotionlessly. He knew nothing.

You thrashed your body underneath his hold. Lenny laughed as you were blubbering out, desperately trying to break free. He forcefully spanked you again to put your distraught movements to a stop.

“Don’t worry, daddy wants to take care of you” he promised you condescendingly as he pulled your body up onto his.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you shuddered. The tent in his pants pressed up against your covered core and your skin trembled. Lenny kissed your flustered cheek, and then the other. The way he was praising your beauty made you feel sick to your stomach. Your stomach turned when you felt his body shift underneath you as his hands undid his belt.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, you want this” he groaned as he stroked his hard length, the tip poking at your hidden pussy.

You mewled in response, there was no point in arguing with this barbarian. His fingers pushed your thong to the side to allow his tip to rest at your entrance. The irony was how dripping your cunt was despite how terrified you were.

As his thick cock slowly slid inside of your canal, he grunted at the sensation of you. You whined against his size as you pressed your face into the fabric of the chair. Roughly, Lenny picked up his pace, his fingertips dug deep into the flesh of your thighs.

“So, you wanna run off to college huh? Leave your mother’s home childless?” Lenny gritted his teeth.

“Yes daddy” you confessed shamefully.

Lenny grinned at your easy submission. His hands felt up your skin that he had so desperately wanted. You were moaning around his size, your eyes squeezed shut to hide how they were rolling back.

“You know, I never gave you your graduation present” Lenny smiled innocently. You didn’t know how to take it. “Oh how it would be a shame if her whore of a daughter got herself pregnant” he grunted, roughly holding your hips in place. The realization flashed before your eyes as you tried to push yourself off of him, but he kept you locked up on top of him.

“Daddy, no! Please!” You begged, crying like a baby on top of him as he continued to pound his length deep inside of you.

“Yep, a shame it would be. She’d have to stay home. Depend on her new daddy to look after her” he concluded the thought that would soon become your reality.

“Daddy please no, no, no” you continued, but it was all pointless. Lenny had already made up his mind long ago. Lenny gripped onto your cheeks and forced you to look at him.

“Yeah. Gonna fill you up, trap you with my child. Couldn’t fuck a baby into your mother even if I wanted to. You’re at the perfect age for breeding. Got the perfect body and what not. It won’t be hard to convince your mum that you’re just a fucking slut like she is” Lenny smiled to you, his sinsiter expression made him look like a complete different man. “Don’t worry, she won’t stay in the picture for much longer” he consoled, continuing to smack his balls against your outer skin as you felt your orgasm build up rapidly.

But she was the least of your concerns now.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #lenny miller x reader #lenny miller #anna 2019 #dark smut #smut

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quietly-by-myself · 1 year

Text

A Wicked Work of Art - Chapter 3

Masterlist

CW: medical whump, trans whumpee, test subject whumpee, experiment whumpee, fantasy racism, dehumanization, fantasy whump, suicidal whumpee, slavery whump, injection into an open wound, stitches, references to past physical abuse, dubcon medical treatment, noncon procedure (wound stitching), discussion of mental health treatment, discussion of patient autonomy, nonsexual nudity, carewhumper, doctor carewhumper, medical restraints, broken bones

===

Just like he’d promised, Vasiliki came back within thirty minutes. In fact, he hadn’t really done anything other than brew tea for the subject, ensuring that it was the correct temperature with clinical precision.

When he entered, the subject had stopped crying. In fact, he looked rather dissociated, if Vasiliki had to put a word to it. Restricted affect, maybe. It was understandable. The subject had been through a lot of traumatic events in the recent months. A year with Constantine, as his personal “companion.” Just the thought made Vasiliki gag.

“Here’s the tea I promised,” Vasiliki said softly, placing down beside the bed, on a table with a small lamp. “I’ll let you drink it yourself, but I’m only allowing you one hand. The restraint goes back on right after, okay?”

The subject nodded, looking away from Vasiliki. Vasiliki tried not to take offense, reminding himself that the subject had failing mental health. It was Vasiliki’s job to ensure that everything about him was as healthy as possible, including the subject’s mental health.

“I’ll give you more lead on the other wrist so you can sit up.”

Vasiliki was quick with his work of unrestraining the subject’s right wrist, then loosening up his other wrist. Then, he pressed a button on the side of the bed and the bed moved the subject’s beaten body up.

Immediately, the subject began to cry out in pain. Vasiliki stopped the bed from moving him all the way up.

“What hurts?”

“My ribs, sir.”

From the sidelong gaze of the subject, Vasiliki figured that there was more to the story than sore ribs.

“I’ll need to undress you.”

The subject swallowed and nodded his agreement. Vasiliki pulled a switchblade from one of the pockets on his lab coat and cut away the paper gown that was on the subject.

What Vasiliki saw was worse than what he usually saw. Alongside the gnarly bruising that looked only a day or two fresh, there were deep gashes - deep gashes that Vasiliki thought to stitch up. They wouldn’t heal on their own.

Vasiliki walked over to the wall and grabbed a pair of nitrile gloves. The snap made the subject flinch visibly.

“It’s okay. I’m just going to feel your ribs for now.”

That did little to comfort the subject. Vasiliki didn’t exactly blame him for that. He approached carefully, very aware of the subject’s unrestrained hand.

Now that he saw the full extent of the bruises and wounds littering the subject’s body, he was beginning to understand why the subject flinched at every one of Vasiliki’s movements. Gently, Vasiliki felt along the subject’s sternum, then felt up and down his ribs. From the look of it, the subject had been booted with some sort of spur.

“I need to feel a few of your wounds. You’re going to need stitches.”

The subject suddenly got very pale. All the blood in his body dropped to his feet.

“Please, no. I don’t want that. I can’t. I can’t take the pain. It’s okay, sir, to just let them heal like that.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll use a local anesthetic. You’ll only feel the needle when I inject it.” Vasiliki’s lips played a slight smile. “I’m the doctor here. I think you need stitches, so you’re getting stitches. I can’t give you more powerful painkillers by mouth because you need the codeine for your cough. However, the local anesthetic will do well for when I stitch you up.”

Soon enough, the subject was keening. Not even whimpering - full on keening. “Just kill me. Let me die. I can’t do this anymore. It’s too painful. It’s too much.”

“Look me in the eyes, Akakios.”

The subject was reluctant, but followed the order. There was a mix of panic and absolute despair in the subject’s eyes. It genuinely made Vasiliki’s heart ache.

“You have a broken sternum. I would guess that some of your ribs are also broken from the amount of bruising.”

Vasiliki, again, had to turn off the clinical side of his head and try to think about the humanity in the subject.

“Nobody is going to hurt you here. Our job is to make sure you’re up to standard. We do what we can to ease your pain, within reason. Normally, we’d need special clearance to give you oxycodone, for example. However, I’m the one who normally approves those forms, so you’ll get something stronger once you’ve fought off this respiratory infection. Now, I want you to understand that what you went through over there is over. Constantine is gone. Okay?”

Akakios swallowed and nodded, but Vasiliki could tell it wasn’t genuine. The subject was just trying to make him happy.

“Now,” Vasiliki walked back over to the cabinets and took out five syringes, a vial of lidocaine, and a dissolving stitch kit. “I think two of those wounds on your legs and three on your chest are going to need stitches.”

“Please no.”

Vasiliki went over to the table, placing the materials on the table next to the subject. Then, he picked up the tea.

“Here,” he took the subject’s shaky hand and placed the mug in it. “Drink this first. It’ll get too cold if you don’t.”

The subject took a deep breath, then took a shaky sip of the tea. He seemed to like it, because he kept drinking it quickly. Vasiliki knew it wasn’t from dehydration. The kid had been hooked up to IV fluids since the minute he got there.

“Now, I want you to take a deep breath and try to calm down as much as you can.”

Vasiliki knew it was largely useless as he took the mug from the subject and lowered the head of the bed back down. He then restrained the subject’s free hand and tightened the restraint on the other one.

“It’s going to hurt for me to put the anesthetic in, but it’ll hurt less than the stitches without it.”

The subject just shook his head, freezing. Vasiliki sighed and drew up as many CCs of lidocaine as he safely could. As he moved to inject it into the wound he decided to work on first, the subject screamed bloody murder. He immediately devolved into pleas for mercy that dissipated quickly once Vasiliki began the stitches.

Each time that Vasiliki injected the anesthetic, the subject screamed and each time that he started stitching the subject, the subject went quiet. He couldn’t thrash much at all with how tight the restraints were.

“See, that wasn’t so bad?” Vasiliki went to the wall and changed his gloves, grabbing more alcohol swabs to clean the blood around the wounds. Then, he got transparent dressings and placed them on top of each of the stitched sites.

“No, sir.”

It was a bold-faced lie.

“You don’t have to lie to me, su- Akakios. I prefer honesty. Now, I want you to be honest with me. Are you still suicidal?”

The subject looked far away from Vasiliki and nodded. Again, Vasiliki rolled the stool up to the side of the bed.

“I can’t offer much in the way of comfort. I’m sorry for that, truly. Have you thought over what I said about putting you on something for your mental health?”

“You’ll do it anyway.”

“I will do no such thing. I think it’s counterproductive to take away your autonomy like that.”

“I’ll do anything to ease my suffering. This is all too much. I just want to die.”

Vasiliki took the subject’s hand and squeezed it a little. “I know. I can help you not feel that way, if that’s what you so wish.”

The subject seemed to consider it. “Dr. Christakos, I don’t want to feel. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

“I’m sure. I’m sure of that.” Vasiliki looked away from the crying subject. “It’s just this world we live in. It’s nothing you did or didn’t do. Do I understand that you’re willing to give this a go?”

The subject nodded.

“Okay. It’s an infusion combined with a pill you’ll have to take every day until we see significant improvement. I’ll get you started right away.”

Vasiliki went and found one of the nurses, ordering a high dose of ketamine, along with pills of mirtazapine. One of the nurses that Vasiliki had hand-picked brought the two to him, something Vasiliki quickly accepted. He quickly attached the bag of ketamine to the subject’s IV line, then prepared a glass of water for him to take a pill with.

The subject was compliant. Vasiliki knew that the ketamine would help faster than the mirtazapine would, but he also knew that it would produce its own set of side effects. Perhaps it was better for the subject not to remember the suffering he was going through for a few days, until the mirtazapine could start working well.

Vasiliki said little to the subject. He didn’t really know what to say to him. Tender emotions weren’t his strong suit. That was why he worked at the Facility.

Vasiliki took a deep breath and turned to face the door. Just as he was about to slide the door closed, he heard a quiet voice.

“Thank you.”

Vasiliki smiled to himself. “You’re welcome. Rest now.”

With that, Vasiliki had made his decision: he was keeping the subject for his own purposes.

Maybe the years had made him soft, but he found himself attached to the suicidal subject that had found himself under Vasiliki’s care. He wouldn’t let the subject go so easily.

Luckily, he knew who to talk to. It would take a few days, but maybe it would give the subject peace of mind to know that he was the test subject of a scientist who at least cared about his health.

That couldn’t be said about all facilities.

===

Tags (open!): @i-can-even-burn-salad, @whumpsday, @pigeonwhumps, @oddsconvert, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @writereleaserepeat, @just-a-silly-little-whumper, @sparrowsage, @inscrutable-shadow

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whump-tr0pes · 1 year

Text

Honor Bound 6 - 22

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, Honor Bound 5, and the prequel Vera.

Masterlist

AO3

Contents: awkward post-breakup situations, awkward relationship dynamics in general, past implied noncon, past death of a family member, messy handling of grief, navigation of breakups in poly relationships, nonexplicit discussion of sex, past attempted murder

I have not updated this story in over a year. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with it

The leaves crunched on the path under Sam’s feet as they made their way towards the center of town. They tried to focus on the trees that flanked them on either side, their crowns shivering in the slight breeze. They tried to keep their attention on how the crisp air felt on their cheeks, rustling through their hair, pressing against their jacket. They tilted their head back and drew in a deep breath, doing their best not to think.

They tried hard not to think about Isaac and Gavin, who had both looked at Sam – Gavin with uncertainty, and Isaac with naked anger – as they were leaving. They tried not to think about Gray, who had dark circles under their eyes and exhaustion in every line of their face as they tried to hold the shattered fragments of the family together.

And they tried not to think about the cell phone in their back pocket, which Gray had given them for the walk into town.

Sam hadn’t wanted to let themself hope for a response when they’d sent the message earlier today:

Hey, it’s Sam. Did Edrissa still want to chat?

They had tried to tell themself not to expect a response, at least, not for a couple days – not until she could come up with some kind of excuse for why she couldn’t see them. It had been her to reach out first, but Sam had felt a nagging anxiety, a nauseous thrum in their stomach telling them that she had changed her mind. Two days had passed since Vera first reached out, telling Gray that Edrissa wanted to talk to Sam, and they hadn’t received an answer until this afternoon, so that really hadn’t seemed impossible.

Then there was the possibility that Sam had considered, even as the thought ached in their heart: Maybe Edrissa had left Laporte entirely, and Tori and Vera just hadn’t told the others yet.

Sam pulled the phone out of their pocket and opened the messages. They chewed the inside of their cheek as they stared at her response, the one they’d gotten only twenty minutes earlier and had all but jumped off the couch to answer:

It’s Edrissa. Yes, please. Meet me at the general store? They have pies, we could share one if you want.

Sure, sounds good. Meet you there in 20?

Yes, please.

Their foot caught on an uneven patch of ground and they stumbled forward. The phone nearly dropped from their hand. Tight laughter swelled in their chest, pushing at the inside of their ribs, as they glanced around. There wasn’t a soul around, just trees and sunlight and the gentle song of birds.

Sam’s throat tightened as they put the phone back in their pocket. They quickened their step and pushed out a shaky breath between their lips.

Why do we have to live so far away from the town center?

The fifteen-minute walk had never felt so long.

Still, a fifteen-minute walk to a town where people knew and might someday care about them was far better than a fifteen-minute drive to Burmingham, where they hardly knew anyone, and rarely even drove into town anyway. The trees thinned, and before them they could see almost the entirety of Laporte – all one block of it. General store, post office that doubled as a community gathering space, laundry, machinery and repair. Although, everyone who lived there understood that they all had to do more than just what the front of their store advertised, or what they had done for a living while trapped in the hell of the syndicate world. Here, everyone worked together to keep this little town of barely two hundred people running. And it all ran without the heavy-handed authority of someone like Schiester.

Sam pushed out a steadying breath and let their feet pull them towards the general store. They tried to ignore the fluttering in their stomach, even now, even after everything that had happened.

She might not even be there. She might still bail on me. Resentment prickled, and they hated the feeling. She was so ready to bail on me before.

If the walk into town felt like it took ages, the final few yards could have taken the blink of an eye. They swallowed the lump in their throat as they stood in front of the slightly warped wooden door, studying the fresh coat of forest green paint. Just go in. Come on, coward, just go inside. Another deep breath.

They pushed the door open. A bell tinkled overhead, and the comforting scent of grain and dried fruit washed over them. A woman stood behind the counter, giving Sam a friendly smile and a wave before her hand moved to her heavily pregnant belly. Sam only had a moment to take in the rows of canned and dried goods on the rows of shelves before they noticed Edrissa in the corner.

Their heart swelled with a painful throb. She was sitting at the only table in the store, next to a small display of pies that made Sam’s mouth water. Her hair was pulled back, a few short strands falling forward to frame her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Her hands were folded on the table in front of her, the knuckles white. Her shoulders were tense and pulled forward, and Sam felt their own shoulders rising in sympathy. She glanced up, meeting Sam’s eyes and giving them a hesitant smile.

Sam’s resentment melted, just a little. They shuffled forward and all but fell into the seat in front of her.

“Hey,” they murmured.

“Hey,” Edrissa said. A long silence drew out between them. Edrissa’s eyes flicked down and she stared at the table.

Sam chewed their lip. “So… I heard they had, uh, pie here.”

Edrissa shot up from her seat so quickly it startled Sam. “Yes. Um. Let me…” She stumbled towards the counter, where the shopkeeper gave her a warm smile. Edrissa murmured something to her, and both women made their way back to the pie display.

“This is Meredith,” Edrissa said absentmindedly. “Meredith, this is Sam, this is who I was, um…” She flushed crimson and stared at the floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sam,” Meredith said with a nod and a smile. “Are you interested in one of the pies?”

Sam’s eyebrows pulled together. “Um… sure, yes please,” they said as they glanced at the display. “Edrissa, want to, um… have some cherry pie?”

Edrissa’s lips quirked in a smile, her gaze still glued to the floor. “Sounds good,” she breathed.

Meredith nodded as she opened the display and took out one of the pies with a complicated-looking lattice crust. “Lovely. One of my favorites. My sister-in-law makes these, I swear she must put some magic in ‘em. If you’re alright eating right out of the tin, I’ll just fetch some forks.” She set the pie on the table in front of Sam.

“Yeah, sounds… sounds good,” Sam said, eyes still on Edrissa.

“Thank you Meredith,” Edrissa said as she took her seat in front of Sam. Her cheeks were finally returning to their normal shade.

Meredith returned with two forks. “Enjoy. Let me know if you need me to wrap up some leftovers… but if you kids finish the thing, just leave the tin!” She grinned down at both of them.

“Thanks Meredith,” Edrissa said, smiling up at the woman. “You’re the best.”

“You’re the delight, darlin’. And I’m hoping to get your linen in tomorrow. Sorry for the delays, you know how it’s been with… well. You know. The situation and all.” Meredith sighed and motioned her head in the general direction of Crayton.

“Mm hm.” Edrissa nodded. She glanced at Sam, then back up at Meredith.

Meredith snorted. “Listen to me. I could chat with you all day, you’re such a dear. Well, you just come get me when you need something. I’ll be, ah, in the back. Can’t hear much back there.” She gave Edrissa a conspiratorial wink that Sam couldn’t have missed. She turned and waddled away, chuckling under her breath.

When Edrissa raised her to Sam again, her lips were twisted in a look of undeniable guilt.

Sam picked up the fork and carefully excavated a bite from the very center of the pie. “So,” they said conversationally. “Who does she think I am?” They raised the bite to their lips. Flavor exploded on their tongue, tart and sweet and tasting of summer. Their eyes went wide and they quickly went for a second bite. “Why didn’t we move here sooner?” they muttered.

“Uh…” Edrissa’s voice wavered. “She thinks you’re someone I like. A lot.” She gathered a small bite of pie on her fork and raised it to her lips.

Sam’s mouth twisted. “So… she thinks this is a date.”

Edrissa froze. “Um… maybe. And it’s… it’s not…?”

A feeling Sam didn’t recognize clutched his chest. They put down the fork and leaned back, crossing their arms. “No,” they croaked. “It’s not.”

Edrissa’s face fell.

“Does that lady know about Zachariah?” Sam said, their voice gaining strength.

Edrissa stared at the table as she set down her own fork. “N-no,” she whispered. “Um, how… h-how is he?”

You could ask him that yourself, if you still cared.

Sam swallowed down the uncharitable thought.

“He’s good,” they said brusquely. Then, “He’s… okay. He’s relieved Gavin’s safe, and Schiester’s dead. It’s been… rough on him, these past few weeks.”

Edrissa tilted her head, plaintively looking up at Sam beneath her lashes. “It could have been better,” she murmured, almost too quietly to hear. “If he’d… if he’d come with me, he could have—”

“Stop,” Sam said, their left hand clenching around their right. “Please. Stop. I didn’t come here to have this argument with you again. And for god’s sake, it doesn’t even… matter anymore. Schiester’s dead. The threat is dead. And as far as I can see, the only person still threatening people in my family is you.”

The words were out before Sam could stop them. They regretted them as soon as they passed their lips. Edrissa recoiled as if Sam had raised their hand to slap her.

Sam bowed their head. “I’m sorry,” they said, jaw tight. “That’s… not what I meant to say.” When they raised their head again, Edrissa looked ready to collapse. She was cringing back in her chair, eyes swimming with tears, hugging herself like she was freezing. Her lower lip trembled as she looked at Sam. Helplessly, she shrugged her shoulders and let them fall again.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I… I thought I was doing the right thing.”

By dumping me? Or calling me a child? Or killing Gavin after everything he’s done for us? For you?

Again, Sam bit back the thoughts. They burned on their tongue, coated their throat. The unspoken words left them feeling sick with injustice and hurt. They opened their mouth to speak.

Edrissa beat them to it. “You don’t know what it was like,” she breathed. “With… with him. With Sir. And… I understand that… you think people change—”

“They do change—”

“—it was two years. W-with Sir. With someone like Gavin Stormbeck, or his father. Well…” Edrissa gave a shaky shrug. “Closer to his father, sounds like. So you don’t understand… what it’s like to have to… live with someone like that. To live with someone just like the person who killed your brother in front of your face.”

Sam’s hackles raised. “I’m a goddamn orphan because of the syndicates—”

Edrissa slapped her hands on the table. “So is half the fucking world, Sam,” she snarled. “You don’t remember your parents. I watched my brother die in front of me as th-they dragged m-me away to…” Edrissa’s breath hitched, and her hands curled into fists on the table. “I’m not… no. I’m not doing this. I’m not doing this with you, I’m not…” She pushed out a gusty breath. “This isn’t what I wanted to do.”

“Then what is?” Sam said through their teeth, ready to stand up and walk out that second.

Edrissa tore her hands through her hair, pulling more strands out of the clip that held it back. She leaned her elbows on the table, holding her head, and screwed up her face. “I wanted…” Her voice broke. She rocked her whole body forward and back, banging her elbows lightly on the table. “This isn’t how I wanted this to go,” she said softly.

Sam’s mouth twisted as they looked at her. They didn’t want to, but… something in their heart softened, even as they bristled from her barb about their parents. They reached out their left hand and placed it on the table, palm up. An invitation, not a demand. Nothing had ever been a demand, with them.

Her lips quivered as she glanced at their hand, and back at them. Her hand shook as she placed it gently into theirs. They squeezed. She squeezed back. Then they let go and tucked their hand back in her lap. The hope that had glimmered briefly in her eyes faded again.

“So,” Sam said as they took up their fork again and scooped up another bite of pie. “What did you want to talk about?”

Edrissa watched them as they took the bite and chewed slowly, savoring the pop of cherries, the sweetness of the sugar. After they swallowed, they took another bite. Edrissa still hadn’t eaten anything.

Finally, she said, “I’m glad Zachariah is doing okay.” She ducked her head and ate the bite that had been sitting on her fork. “Mmm. Good pie. So are you still… um…” She cleared her throat. “Do you…?”

“Are we still… together?” Sam said, trying for casualness. They speared another bite.

“…yes,” Edrissa said. She was holding perfectly still, like a frightened deer that had somehow managed to find its way into a general store.

Sam pushed out a slow breath. “Yeah,” they said, and took another bite. “Yeah, we’re still… hanging out, and… together.”

“Are you… sleeping together?” Edrissa whispered.

Sam raised his gaze to hers. She was looking at them pleadingly, but Sam felt like pleading with her, too. Please, they thought. You don’t actually want to know. You know it won’t help. Still, she held their gaze, her empty fork held in trembling fingers.

“Yeah,” they said, finally. “Yeah, we are.”

She let out a breath, as if Sam had confirmed something she had long suspected and feared. She nodded solemnly. “I thought so,” she murmured.

There was nothing Sam could say. Nothing at all could make this better.

Edrissa blinked back tears and nodded again. “Okay,” she said, voice twisted and choked.

Guilt overwhelmed Sam. They couldn’t stop the words from coming out of their mouth: “You broke up with me,” they said flatly.

“Yeah, I know,” Edrissa said, swiping at her eyes. “I know that. I just…” She laughed, although it sounded suspiciously like a sob. “I just… really messed up all around.”

“I mean, Gavin forgives you,” Sam said with a tight smile, trying for levity. The words fell flat.

“Well, Gavin’s an idiot,” Edrissa grumbled. She aggressively scooped up another bite of pie.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a real laugh. “A bit, yeah.” They ate another bite. Then another. The pie was so good, and about a third of it was gone. Edrissa was eating with a bit more gusto now, too.

The bell tinkled overhead as another customer entered the store. Meredith came to the counter from the back room, and the two of them struck up a conversation. From across the store, it sounded like they were talking about pigs. Sam hadn’t seen any pigs around town, but perhaps there was a farm further away from the town center? Or maybe these were pigs from another town altogether. Either way, Sam was happy to let their mind wander to something other than the tightness in Edrissa’s shoulders, and the pain in her eyes. After a while, the customer purchased a canvas sack of flour and ten cans of crushed tomatoes with peeling labels. Flour from up north, then, and tomatoes stolen from syndicate supply lines. Then the customer left, with only a glance at Sam and Edrissa in the corner.

After a long silence, Edrissa spoke again. “So… do you think we… could ever be… you know…?”

Sam’s eyes fell closed. They rubbed the bridge of their nose and looked at Edrissa again. “Together? Or… friends?”

Hurt flashed in Edrissa’s eyes. “Friends. I know you’d never want to be… with me. Again. After what I did.”

Sam’s lips pursed. “You really don’t get the idea of forgiveness, do you?” They lowered their voice to soften the blow of their words.

Edrissa leaned back. “I tried to kill Gavin,” she said, lip curling. “That’s not something you forgive. And that’s not even the first time I—” Her eyes widened, and her mouth snapped shut.

A chill shivered down Sam’s back. “That’s not… wait… how many times have you…? Edrissa, what?”

“No,” Edrissa said, shaking, hands braced on the table. “No, I’m not… I need to go. I have to—” She shoved herself to her feet.

“Edrissa, stop,” Sam snapped. Edrissa froze where she stood. “For shit’s sake, stop. Just stop. Will you… stop deciding how I feel about shit that you did for two seconds?”

Edrissa’s ice blue eyes were locked on Sam, wide and terrified, but she stayed. For a few more seconds, at least. Sam wet their lips. “Just wait, okay? Let’s just talk. You wanted to talk, right? I already know you tried to kill Gavin. That’s not a secret. And you’re already… forgiven… for that, right?” The word came out strained, but it still came out. “So let’s just talk. Please?”

Edrissa thudded back into her seat like a sack of potatoes. She nodded, shaking.

“Okay.” Sam let out a breath, which turned into a chuckle. They began to giggle uncontrollably, all the tension leaving their body in a gale of laughter as Edrissa watched, a look of confusion only fueling Sam’s hysterics. “Now,” Sam said, clutching their stomach and heaving for air. “How m-many goddamn times have you tried to kill Gavin?”

Continued here

@womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @whumps-the-word, @justplainwhump, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @orchidscript, @inkyinsanity, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pretty-face-breaker, @pebbledriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump, @grizzlie70, @oops-its-whump, @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather , @butwhatifyouwrite, @carnagecardinal

#honor bound 6 #sorry for taking so long #it was a season of rest #breakups #relationship dynamics #implied past noncon #implied past death #grief #polyamory #discussion of sex #past attempted murder #Sam/Edrissa

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digital-domain · 5 months

Text

Outside

Mahito x Reader // Word Count ~6k

Synopsis: Sometimes, Mahito actually tries to make you happy. This latest attempt comes closer to the mark than any other. You missed being outside, and you feel just a little bit less trapped once you’re out beneath the night sky. For a few minutes, anyways. Before it all goes wrong. If only this stranger on the street was able to keep his mouth shut – and if only Mahito wasn’t there to hear him.

Content Warnings and Tags: Dark content. Noncon, forced relationship, kidnapped reader, extreme possessiveness, choking, hair pulling, dacryphillia, throat fucking, rough sex, discussion of drinking and depiction of drunkenness (not reader), catcalling, non-gory description of physical violence, discussion of past violence and killing, off-screen murder (also not reader but boy is it traumatizing for them). In summation: the dove is dead, do not eat it.

A/N: I - don't even know how I feel about this one. Sometimes a concept pops into your head and you just have to see it through. As always, proceed with caution <3

He wakes you up with a rough grip, shaking you until your eyes flutter open. It’s an unpleasant way to be ripped from sleep, but compared to some of the other ways he’s tried in the past weeks, it’s not so bad. His hands are on your shoulders, this time, and it’s only his hands touching you – it could be worse. Still, you feel the familiar curl of despair in your stomach, the familiar urge to turn away from the face that hovers over yours, to run away from it. But you don’t do so much as close your eyes. It’s not worth it. You know he’ll only pry them back open.

“You’re cute when you wake up.” He grins broadly, giggling at the sight of your eyes struggling to remain open. “You always look a little bit confused for a second. And your voice changes when you’re sleepy. It’s adorable.” When he leans down to kiss you, you accept it, lying still and parting your mouth to allow his tongue inside. Your eyelids feel heavy. There’s no view of the sky in this wretched sewer – you haven’t seen it since the day he dragged you down here – but you can tell that it’s still the depths of night, that you were asleep for a few hours at most. This isn’t unusual. You’ve learned that when he gets a new idea, he doesn’t like to wait.

His kiss is long, and slow. It drags the breath from your mouth until at last, after what feels like an eternity, he’s satisfied. Then, he pulls you to your feet, and holds you tight in his arms, face pressed down into your neck. “I have a surprise for you.” His voice is low, but shaking, barely containing his excitement.

You stiffen involuntarily, just enough that you’re sure he notices. You can’t help it. You think you’ve spent about three weeks here, although you can’t be entirely sure, and none of the several “surprises” he’s sprung on you in that time have been anything short of horrific.

“I’ve decided…” He pulls back, and grins into your face, still far too close for any sort of comfort, his breath falling oddly cold on your cheek. “That you deserve something extra special. You’ve been so much fun, and I want to do something nice for you. Like a reward. I thought about it for a while, and I think I came up with something good.” He tilts his head, sizing up your expression. “Ask me what it is.”

You don’t want to know. But you will, soon enough, no matter what. “What is it?”

“I’ve decided…that I’m going to let you go outside!”

Your brain churns, trying to make sense of what he’s said. “Outside?”

“Mhm! Aren’t you excited?” His smile falls as you stare blankly back at him. “You should be excited,” he says petulantly. “It’s a good surprise. Humans like a change of scenery, right? You like fresh air?”

“Yes, but”- Surely, he’s not offering you what you really want. To you, outside means freedom. And there’s nothing he wants to give you less than that.

“Oh. I get it.” He laughs, and shakes his head. “No. I’m not letting you go by yourself. I’ll be right beside you the whole time. Wouldn’t want you getting lost on your way back!”

Right. Lost. As if you wouldn’t run as fast as you could as soon as you made it to the mouth of the sewer. In any direction, to anywhere at all. If he ever gave you the chance, you would take it in an instant.

“I’ll hold your hand and everything.” As he says this, he interlocks his fingers with yours, and squeezes. “It’ll be very romantic. You’ll like it.”

His grip on your hand will be tight – even if it wasn’t, you know how quick he is, how powerful. As long as he’s beside you, you’ll never have a hope of escape. Still, as his surprises go, this is the best one so far. It’s a very low bar, to be fair, but still…

“Let’s go,” he insists, tugging at your arm.

“Now?”

“Of course!” He laughs again, like you've said something absolutely ridiculous. “You really are cute when you wake up. You get confused…”

You pause for a beat, trying to smooth out the consternation on your face. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Mhm. And it’s nice out! Very quiet. The streets are almost all empty...no one around to get in the way of the view.”

“The streets are empty because it’s the middle of the night.”

“Yes.”

You look down at your clothes. They’re an odd ensemble, a blue, mid-thigh pleated skirt and a large black t-shirt he brought back yesterday from who-knows-where. Only the third change of clothes he’s given you in the weeks since he found you. Certainly a step up from the tattered, indecent remains of the dress you’d had on that first night, and even from the other ensembles he’s collected in the intervening time – but still not anything you’d choose to wear in public. It’s a small detail to get hung up on, but you’ve found yourself latching onto small details quite often in the past few weeks. If you think about the big picture for too long, you start to feel like your brain is going to break.

“You should be excited,” he says stubbornly. “But if you really don’t want to… I can find something else for us to do. I’ve got other ideas!”

There’s nothing threatening about the way he says it. It’s matter of fact, almost genial. But that doesn’t matter. You know that you don’t want to experience any of his backup plans – your imagination is already going into overdrive, picturing what he might have in store if you refuse his offer. “No. I…I want to go outside.” You realize, as you say it, that it’s true, and not only because your fear the alternatives. Still, your voice comes out small, and it shrinks even more as you force out your final sentence. “Thank you.”

“Aw. You’re very welcome.” He kisses you on the forehead, and starts leading you away. As you follow, slightly behind him, you rediscover another one of those small details you latch onto when everything is too much: the sewer itself is oddly warm, but the floor is always cold on your bare feet. It doesn’t make sense. Sometimes, such minute observations are comforting distractions, but right now, this particular one is only adding to your unease.

After a few begrudging steps, you manage to spit out: “I need shoes.”

“Oh…of course! You should have said something before.” He releases your hand and darts away, faster than humanly possible, returning to your side moments later with a pair of black high heels you recognize as your own. “You were wearing these with your dress the night I found you, remember? I decided to keep them.”

Of course you remember. You’d kicked them off inside your apartment, minutes before he’d shown up. Had he really stopped to pick them up when he’d carried you away? The details of that night are…well. Most of them are hazy. A few are painfully clear.

“I kept the dress, too,” he sighs, as he places the shoes in front of you. “It’s too bad you can’t wear it anymore. I still have it, just in case you change your mind.”

You step into the heels, and reluctantly take his hand, wobbling slightly as you follow him through the tunnel. “I was wearing it for days,” you say timidly. “It smells.”

“It smells like you.” In the periphery of your vision, you can see his head turn in your direction. You keep your eyes glued to the floor. “The longer you wore it, the more like you it smelled. It got stronger.” His nails scratch at the back of your hand, long and harsh against your dry skin. “I guess human scents linger for a while, because it still smells like you.”

You stay quiet, as you usually do. How are you supposed to respond to something like that? There was a time when you thought he said things like this to upset you. Now, though, you think he’s just frightfully honest. He doesn’t say things to provoke you – he says things because they appear in his head, and he has no qualms about letting you hear them. Does he know that they make you uncomfortable? He must – but clearly, he doesn’t mind.

For several minutes, you walk through twisted passages. Although you can still feel his eyes lapping at your face, at your body, at the hem of your skirt, he’s silent for once, giving you the gift of uninterrupted time in your own head. You wonder how long it’ll be before he feels inclined to get you a new bundle of clothes. A set of underwear, at least, would be nice. Maybe if you ask, he’ll do it. He does seem to like providing for you, even to take pride in it, although he certainly doesn’t know how to do it properly. When he presented your most recent outfit to you, he stared at you like he was expecting something more than numb acceptance. Like he was expecting you to jump for joy, or to thank him for giving you the dignity of wearing clothes that didn’t stink. These little moments – where he seems to truly believe he's being kind to you - have been happening frequently in the past week or so, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. On the one hand, it probably means that he’s getting even more attached to you. That doesn’t bode well for your future. Then again, your future was more or less wiped away the moment he discovered your existence. You might as well appreciate the little comforts you’re provided.

“Do you feel the air yet?” He smiles, much more gently than you’re accustomed to – inviting, rather than forcing you, to smile in return. “It’s changing.”

As soon as he points it out, you feel it. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel – a stir in the dense, cloying air that gives you a faint sense of comfort. As you move forward, that light becomes physical – he leads you up a ladder, briefly letting go of your hand to allow you to climb. You scrabble up towards the light, almost losing your shoes in the process. As you poke your head over the street line, you can’t help but feel free, just for a moment. When you look up, you can see the stars above you. There aren’t as many as you’d like – the city lights render all but the brightest invisible – but it’s something. Despite everything, you’re grateful for it.

“You like it! I can tell…I knew you would.” He smiles broadly, and grasps your wrist, pulling you onto the street above the sewer. The assistance is unnecessary – but under the circumstances, you don’t mind. You don’t flinch, as you usually do at his touch. He grabs your hand, and you walk along the street together in strange silence. He’s watching you intently, as always, but he’s not talking, and that’s enough. If you didn’t look, you could almost pretend that you were alone, staring out at the open city streets and up at the sky above. What time is it, exactly? 3? 4? One of those times where no one is awake except for you. When you were alone in your home - your real home - you used to cherish being awake at such times, cherish the strange, powerful sense of isolation. Even now, stumbling along the sidewalk with this demon at your side, you can’t help but cherish it again. At least you’re outside. At least you have the stars to keep you company, and not just him.

“Thank you.” When you say it this time, you mean it, although it’s not really directed at him. He’s barely there, in your mind. You’re thanking the night air, and the sky, and the empty, open streets for the strange comfort they provide. Only now do you realize how claustrophobic you’ve been for all this time. The dim light of the sewer, the imposing walls trapping you inside – those little oppressive details have been adding to your misery. Now that they’re gone…you still hate everything about your situation, but it’s easier for you to ignore it. Easier for you to pretend, for a moment, that everything is going to be okay.

“I knew you’d like it,” he repeats. You’re sure his eyes are glowing, that he’s got some version of his crazed smile splattered across his face, but you don’t have to look. There are so many better things to look at right now.

Just as you have this thought, a shadow emerges from the intersection in front of you, perhaps twenty paces away. Under the streetlights, the shadow takes the form of a man. He’s tall, maybe twenty years older than you, dressed simply in jeans and a grey t-shirt. And, as he gets closer, you see that he’s stumbling. He pauses to lean against a battered storefront, right beside the mouth of a shadowy alley. He’s swaying slightly, and you think you see his mouth moving, as if he’s muttering something under his breath.

“I’ve seen ones like him before!” Mahito’s hand tightens over yours, voice full of excitement, as he pulls you to a halt. “It’s almost always at night…and their breath always smells the same way.” His free hand comes out of nowhere to turn your face toward him. His eyes fix intently on yours, and his finger strokes gently over your mouth. “Your breath smelled a little like that, the night I found you, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as theirs. And you weren’t walking so strangely, either.”

You don’t ask why he was close enough to smell their breath. You already know. The horrors you’ve witnessed in the past weeks have been enough to bring you to tears – both out of pity for the bodies beneath him, and fear for your own.

“The things you humans do to yourselves…” He tugs your forward by your hand, and kisses you on the forehead, his fingers slipping into your hair. Even when he pulls back, he doesn’t let go. “You’re lucky you’re done with all that now. You can’t do anything to yourself…and no other humans can do anything to you, either. The only one who can do anything is me!”

Desperate to shake his gaze away, you cast your eyes upwards, but the expanse of the sky does nothing to dispel the claustrophobic dread churning in your stomach. Perhaps it was never about the sewer itself, after all.

He releases your hair and grips your hand tightly. “You can keep walking now. I want to get a closer look.”

You walk slightly behind him this time, your other hand clenched at your side. Usually, you’d worry about how strange you might look to passersby, holding onto what seems to be empty air, stumbling awkwardly as if pulled by some invisible force. But you doubt that the man before you will notice. You can see Mahito’s neck crane as the pair of you approach. As you draw even with the man you think he’s about to let go of your hand, and run up close for a better view.

But before that can happen, the man grins at you, his burnt-out eyes suddenly finding their focus. He doesn’t meet your gaze. In fact, he seems to look everywhere but your face, in the space of a few seconds. His mouth falls open. And the inevitable words tumble from his mouth, their edges blurred. “Hey…sweetheart. Whatcha doin all alone?”

Your stomach churns. If you were truly alone, at this time of night, this would be more than enough to set off every alarm in your head, to send you rushing down the street. But right now – right now, the fingernails tightening against the back of your hand are screaming for all of your attention.

“I didn’t like that.” You turn, giving into the sudden sense of dread that commands you to look. Mahito has never sounded like this before. He’s never looked like this either. There’s no hint of a smile, no glow in his eyes. “I didn’t like that.” You quickly realize what’s wrong with the picture: he’s serious. Not the inquisitive kind of serious – the deathly kind. He’s squeezing your hand tight enough to leave crescent moons in your skin. His eyes latch onto yours, clinging so tightly that you can’t bear to look away. You gasp as, in two places, the skin on the back of your hand gives way, sliced open by his viselike grip. To your surprise, he lets go at the sound of your voice. He holds his hand up to the side of your face, only glancing at the smudge of blood on his nails before capturing your gaze once more. “You’re…you’re not his sweetheart. You’re mine. He doesn’t get to say that. He can’t…” In the periphery of your vision, his hand is shaking.

You stumble as he turns you aside, nearly crashing onto the sidewalk beneath your feet, scrabbling for purchase on his arm. For once, he doesn’t try to catch you – he barely seems aware of your grasp on him at all. The man against the wall is staring blearily, deeply confused, no doubt, by the nothing that appears to be tossing you around.

Mahito’s hand finds the back of your shirt and drags you across the sidewalk, practically hurling you deep into the mouth of the alley beside the storefront. He disappears for a moment – not nearly long enough for you to process your new surroundings, never mind attempt to escape them. In the split-second it takes for your eyes to adjust to the looming walls on either side of you, the dustbins gathered in shadowed clumps along the alleyway, and the crumbled brick inexplicably lying at the edges, your view is interrupted by a flash of movement, unintelligible, faster even than the one that carried you here, followed by the sharp thud of a body on pavement And beneath that, a sickening sort of crack. You think you heard a similar sound or two in the moment before this violent flurry, but you're too frightened to process it entirely. Mahito stands before you, facing the dark, indistinct end of the passageway. Several yards in front of him lies a huddled mass, flung across the alley and into the pavement beneath with a force magnitudes greater than the one that carried you into these shadows. It whimpers in pain, face down, seemingly unable to move.

Your mouth falls open – but even if you could speak, what would you say? Would you tell him to stop? From the half of his face that you can see, you know this would be a futile effort.

When he hears the rasp of your breath, Mahito turns, slowly. One of his hands is in a fist at his side, the other still raised in the aftermath of a brutal throw. This hand slowly falls.

You’ve seen him kill before. Three times, in real life, and several times in the nightmares that have haunted you nearly every night since. What disturbed you most was the way he reveled in it, the grin that spread wider across his face with every movement, with every pitiful sound that echoed into the night, with every deafening spatter of indistinct human mass that forced you to your knees in terror. And his laughter – that was the most hideous sound of all. That’s the one you always hear in your dreams, the one that still echoes in your ears when you wake up.

But somehow, seeing him without that smile, standing in complete silence, is a thousand times more terrifying. You blink rapidly, trying to fend off the wave of tears you can feel building behind your eyes.

He takes a step towards you. Another. One more. It’s a narrow alley – three steps is all it takes to pin you against the brick wall that stretches up to the sky behind you. His hand rises to stroke along the side of your face, to brush over your trembling lips. “You shouldn’t be crying.” He’s far too calm, the pitch of his voice lower than what you’ve grown to expect. “You can’t cry. Not for him.” Here, his voices quivers, enough to remind you that under this strangely cold exterior, he’s just as volatile as ever.

To your horror, a stray tear escapes from between your lashes. As soon as he sees it, he swipes it away, the ragged edge of his nail dragging threateningly along your cheek. “Don’t.”

You would choke out an apology, if you thought you could speak without releasing the rest of the flood. Instead, you find yourself staring silently, helplessly, as his hand closes around your throat. “You’re the most pretty when you cry,” he sighs, soft voice contrasting horribly with the roughness of his grip. His face falls into your hair, and he inhales deeply, fingers tightening against the sides of your neck. “And you’re mine. When you’re this pretty – it has to be for me. Not for anyone else.”

How lovely it would be to look up and see the stars just one more time. To pretend that you were alone for one more moment. You’re suffocating, in all senses of the word, the combination of a lack of oxygen and pure terror sending a violent, vision-blurring rush to your head. The kind of rush that makes you feel like your mind is being violently expelled through the top of your skull, forced to watch helplessly as it floats over the hollow body it’s left behind.

He kisses you slowly, almost tenderly, staring desperately into your deadened eyes all the while. Starving for some response, even as he drains the air from your lungs. When it ends what seems like eons later, he at last drops his hand, and the pressure on your neck disappears. You gulp at the night air, eyelids flickering with the exhaustion and relief of your sudden release. You tilt your head back for another mighty inhale, but it’s cut short by cold hands sliding down your neck, onto your shoulders, guiding you gently but firmly to the ground.

For a moment, the only thing you let yourself process is the rough scrape of pavement on your knees. It’s not smooth. It’s not comfortable. But you can make it slightly better, because there’s a bit of rubble beneath your left knee, or perhaps a small stone - with all too much effort, you manage to shift the weight of your body, to move your hand and swipe the pebble away. The motion leaves you staring at the ground, eyes sweeping desperately for some other small bit of something to latch onto. You don’t want to look up, because you’re all too aware of what lies between you and the sky. It’s been watching you adjust your posture. Watching you make your futile attempts to stave it off.

Mahito slides two fingers just beneath the line of your jaw, and digs in until you have no choice but to raise your face. “You’re doing better. You’re doing good…I didn’t see any more tears. And when they do come back…they’ll be all for me. Soon. I'll know...I'll know that they're mine.”

You think you hear a sound from back in the alley, where his victim still lies alive, and motionless. But when you turn instinctively, he catches you, pressing his thumb firmly into the skin over your molars and scrapping you hard with nails beneath your jaw. “Don’t!” He practically yelps, and the high-pitched sound yanks your eyes all the way up to his face. “He – he wanted to take you.”

You took me. The thought comes to your mind, unbidden, not for the first time. It will never leave your mouth.

His eyes are wild, and his chest heaves, his face an overflowing blend of overwrought emotion, anger and confusion and urgency. “You’re mine. Mine.” He shoves his fingers into your hair, and grips hard, nails scratching mindlessly at your scalp. “No one else can have you. Ever.”

From your mouth comes a terrified whimper, not unlike the sound you heard from the shadows moments before. You follow it with words, and they come out nearly inaudible, caked in the phlegm of tears soon to come. “I want to go back.”

“We can’t.” For a tense, still-aired moment, his eyes fall closed. Without their vengeful glow, he looks more dejected than anything else. He takes a slow breath. You’ve never known whether he needed to breathe, or whether he did it for some sort of effect, but in the moment, it’s serving him, somehow. The hand loose at his side closes into a fist as he exhales, and when his eyes snap open, they’re brighter than ever. The confusion is gone, and the anger has retreated to the background – only a hauntingly familiar hunger remains. “We can’t go back. I'm not done yet.” His voice steadies, and he stares mercilessly, ravenously, into your captive gaze. “I need to - make it better. Make it right."

He yanks you forward. The tension on your scalp becomes painful as you fall gracelessly into his thigh, but he rights you, pulling you into his crotch and holding you steady. The fist at his side unclenches, and falls heavily, almost clumsily onto the back of your head, pressing you firmly into the outline of his cock.

He’s already hard. You’re hit with a nauseating wave of revulsion as you feel the stiffness beneath the cloth against your face, as he drags your lips over the length of his shaft. He holds you there, drawing out the moment, as if daring you to pull away. When you look up, there’s the ghost of a familiar smile on his face – enough to send your gaze plummeting down. His hands drop from your hair, and stretch, in their distorted, unnatural fashion, all the down way to your wrists, dragging them up his thighs before placing them on the waistband of his trousers.

There’s a moment where you do nothing, holding your hands utterly still, inches from his cock. As if your inaction might be enough for him to change his mind. He’s used these moments to toy with you before, letting you draw out your resistance, enjoying the anticipation, enjoying the anger and despair in your eyes. But he has no patience tonight. His hands fold over yours, pressing them down into his waistband, and a third arm juts out from his stomach, rending through the cloth of his shirt to grasp your face, squeezing your cheeks and prodding harshly at your jaw until your mouth is forced open.

His cock springs free, and you let out a choked sob. He’s experimented with many shapes and sizes, and tonight, it’s clearly designed to make you struggle. His third hand retracts back from whence it came, leaving nothing between you and your fate.

Both remaining hands depart from your wrists and land firmly on the back of your head. He tugs you forward, forcing the tip of his cock into your still-open mouth.

You make the mistake of allowing your eyes to flick upwards. And, for the first time since that fateful moment minutes ago, you see his grin spread over his face. “All mine,” he sighs, hands relaxing where they rest upon your scalp. “All mine.” He presses forward slowly, but firmly, easing himself into your mouth, savoring each scrape against your tongue, each time you’re forced to breathe through your nose. He doesn’t stop at the limit of your comfort – he never does. He presses past the edge of your throat, lodging himself inside you, until he’s nearly cut off your breath for the second time tonight. Your eyelids feel heavy, and your eyes themselves water uncontrollably, threatening to spill over at any moment.

Just when you think he’s too much for you to take, he pulls back. But he lets you enjoy your freedom for just a moment before thrusting deep into your throat, pressing his palms so roughly against your head that you know you have no chance of escape. You sputter uncontrollably, and narrow trails of drool escape from the sides of your mouth. Your entire body shudders, gasping for breath, for a break, for a way out. But your suffering, as usual, does nothing to slow him down. If anything, it spurs him on. He thrusts into you again, and again, gradually working himself up, speed increasing with every indecent noise that manages to escape from around his cock. Your survival instincts take over, and you desperately try to pull away, desperate for a single deep, clean breath; he pushes you down, his hands a hundred times stronger than the force your body can muster.

“So pretty.” He sighs – not with pleasure, but with relief. Like doing this to you has finally set his mind at ease. “You can cry now.”

You couldn't stop yourself if you wanted to - tears drip down your cheek as he pulls you in close. So close that you choke disgustingly loudly – so close that even if you dared to look up, you wouldn’t get a clear picture of his face. So close that you feel the bile churning in your stomach, threatening to give way. For several seconds, he keeps you here, staring down at you, crushing your every attempt to struggle.

There’s another whimper from the recesses of the alley – louder, this time - but your empathy seems to have disappeared. You only wish you had enough freedom of body and mind to make such a sound.

He thrusts once more, revels in the way you gag and balk at his size. When he frees you, several seconds later, yanking you back by the base of your hair, you feel no relief. You barely have time to take that one deep breath you’ve been craving before a sharp shove to your shoulders sends you crashing onto your back, knocking the air from your lungs. He drops to the ground and crawls on top of you, pinning you to the ground as his swelling cock drags up your thigh.

”You’re too pretty for humans…and feel too good...” The tip of his cock presses hard at the lips of your cunt, and you use the strength you have to squirm away – until your shoulders hit the wall behind you. “They don’t deserve to have you.” He drags you towards him, and you don’t resist, if only because you don’t want to know how it feels to have your skull slam against solid brick. Your lips, recently sealed shut, part once again as his cock forces you open. For as long as you can, you keep quiet, trying to deny him the satisfaction of hearing the reaction he can already see. But you can only hold out for so long. In real time – the earthly time separate from the years that pass in your mind – it’s barely seconds. He’s molded himself to stretch you open, to stretch you beyond your limits. And he knows those limits well enough not to fail.

His entire body seems to shudder with anticipation. "Come on. I know you can sound pretty, too. Don't hold it back."

You obey, a fresh thrust of his cock forcing a sob from your mouth. His growing smile warps into a full, overbearing grin, a grin that you don’t dare shut out by closing your eyes.

He fucks into you recklessly, sloppily, again and again, and his hand falls upon your neck once more, threatening to tighten to the point of no return. “See? It’s – it’s so nice when you cry for me.” He squeezes – whether it’s intentional or a sign of his failing control, you truly don’t know. “Isn’t it? Isn’t it nice?”

“Yes.” It’s a rasp, hissing out between sobs, and it’s the most painful lie you’ve ever told – but between his hand at your throat and his cock buried deep inside you, what choice do you have? Your mind floats fuzzily above your head once more, abandoning your body to hang on for dear life.

“Good.” He exhales blissfully, innocently, his pure, all-consuming pleasure at odds with the cries of pain and despair you hear emanate from your mouth. “I knew it…still like to hear you say it…”

He’s babbling – and, you realize, with a fresh wave of despair, so are you. “I can’t…please…”

“Soon.” His hand inexplicably releases your throat, and furls into the shadows, arm extending far longer than it should, to the point where you wouldn’t be able to see the tips of his fingers, even if you dared to look away from his face to watch them. “Almost…”

When you finally allow your eyes to close, he doesn’t notice – his head is already thrown back, and somewhere in the alley, yards away, his fist tightens. Hard.

The bile rises in your stomach all over again. For just a moment, you’re lucid enough to realize what he’s doing. And you can’t stop him.

He falls over you and gasps heavily in your ear. His cock pulses, and your eyes snap open against your will, mouth parting instinctually as you feel the all-too familiar shock of his release.

It aligns cleanly with a sickening splatter, exactly where his hand fell into the shadows.

“There.” He buries his face in your neck, and his arm retracts back into view. His hand, oddly slick, brushes up your forehead and through your hair. “All done. All better.” He doesn’t seem to notice the dry heaving of your breath, the uncontrollable shaking of your arms and legs. Or perhaps he does. Perhaps he’s enjoying it. Perhaps he thinks it’s a good thing. “A happy ending…you humans love those, don’t you?”

You’re beyond words. Lacking the strength to speak, the will to move. The only thing that’s working is your mind, and you wish it wasn’t. You wish it would abandon you again, instead of shoving its way back into your head. You don’t dare look back into the depths of the alley, but you know what you’d see if you did. Something transfigured, ruined, mangled – dead. It’s not your fault. It’s Mahito. All him, all him, all this suffering at his hands…and yet, you’re the only one who’s falling apart. Of the three who came into this alley, he’s the only one who hasn’t been destroyed.

“Don’t worry.” He raises his face, smiling gently into the ravages of your expression, carefully wiping a tear from your cheek. “We’re never gonna do this again. We’ll never hear anyone talk like that again." He laughs - laughs. "Not him...but not anyone else, either. I’ll keep you…I’ll keep you away from it all. Keep you all to myself.”

Your back is still pressed to the ground, skull resting uncomfortably upon the hard surface below you. There are still stars in the sky – just a few bright ones, strong enough to penetrate the city lights around you, but they blur before your eyes. Far away, they fade into nothing, pinpricks compared to the blinding glow of the manic gaze bearing down upon you.

Mahito rolls you onto your side, and you stare numbly into the street as he wraps his arms tightly around your waist. Your arm is trapped beneath you, pressing harshly into the asphalt, but it doesn’t matter. You barely notice at all. All you can feel is him. All you can hear is his breath, unsettlingly even and quiet, and his occasional hums and sighs in your ear.

You know this won’t last long. That once he decides he’s done, you’ll be dragged back to his home, perhaps never to emerge. It’s horrifying, but you’re too numb to feel that horror just yet. You can’t bring yourself to mourn for the outside, the world you’re about to be torn away from. Not yet. Not now. And perhaps not ever. Perhaps it’s best if you never see the stars again. Best for Mahito, best for you – and best for anyone who stumbles into your path.

#tw dark content #tw noncon #tw violence #tw murder #tw yandere #jjk mahito #mahito #mahito x reader #jjk x reader #dead dove fic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

the girl next door 14

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Your bleary-eyed sleep drapes over you like a shroud. You sleep sways between bouts of heavy blackness and shallow delirium. You’re vaguely aware of your unfamiliar surroundings even as you sink into the depths of your unconscious. The rustle of leaves and buzz of crickets outside the window blend with the vacuities of your dreams.

You shift; your arm painful as it’s caught beneath you. Your eyelids stay slitted as you move your weight off it and wiggle your fingers, the numbness painful your elbow throbs. The canopy drapes like shadows around the posts and the ceiling is fuzzy above you. Your eyes threaten to roll back again as your drowsiness has you heavy.

The window casts shades of black and grey against the wall, a silverish blue tint hinting off the mirror. You babble, your throat and tongue prickly and dry, your temples thrumming. You groan as the feeling slowly seeps back into your arm.

The open door draws your gaze. You move your head to the side to see past your shoulder. You blink and squint. You can’t quite see past your own fatigue. Is someone there? You swear there’s a figure, ghostly in your blurred sight.

You close your eyes and something creaks, low and soft, as if the house is settling. You peek out beneath your lashes again. The shadow looms closer. It can’t be real. It doesn’t feel real. Your head lolls and you drift back into sleep.

You wake again. You don’t know how long after. The blanket hangs over the edge of the bed, a cool breeze blowing in through the open window. You’re on your stomach, your arm dangling over the side with the covers.

The coolness tickles your lower back and emphasizes the bareness of your skin. Your pajamas are low on your hips, the string undone. There’s a warmth nestled between your legs despite the goosebumps across the rest of your body. You roll onto your back, your shirt tangle up by your chest. It’s as if you’ve been thrashing in your sleep.

The door is open. Not just a little. All the way.

Your body is achy. You reach to pull the blankets off the floor. As you wrap yourself in them, you feel a wet spot on the sheet. You recoil and feel around your pants. You wouldn’t have had an accident. Maybe... oh no.

You sit up and set your feet. It takes effort to stand. Your hips hurt and your crampy. It must be your period.

You cross the room and turn on the light. You shut the door and pull down your pajamas. No blood. You touch yourself gently, delving meekly between your folds. They’re wet and swollen, tender even, but no blood on your fingers. You’ve woken like this before. You know it’s just... your biology. Still, it feel different, more than the usual discharge.

You shuffle back to the bed and check the sheet. There’s definitely something on it but you don’t know what it is. It seems too far down to be drool. Sweat? You peel apart the quilt and the sheet and heap the latter on the corner of the bed. You shut off the light and lay back down.

Despite your addled nerves, it doesn’t take much to get back to sleep. You wake only as the tweeting of birds punctures your subconscious. You groan and a gentle tap comes on the door frame. The door is already open as Steve stands in the frame.

“Uh, morning,” he says, “just checking if you wanted some coffee?”

You lift your head and stare at him. You sit up and hug yourself, pulling your shirt away from your chest as it clings to your shape. You try to shake the sleep away and wipe your eyes.

“If it’s okay, yes please,” you answer in a croak.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” he grips the frame and smiles. He only wears a pair of grey sweatpants and a muscle shirt. The top exposes his muscular arms and the side of his chest and ribcage. The neckline is unhemmed and gives a generous view of the top of his pecs. “Anything else you need?”

“No thanks,” you scratch your throat and turn your legs over the edge of the bed.

“You like waffles? French toast? I’ll make a good breakfast for you and your mom before you head out,” he offers.

“I think that’s okay,” you stand and cross your arms. “Is my mom awake?”

“I haven’t checked yet,” he says, “I let her have the bed to herself. She was really tired...” he gives a coy look, “and she snores.”

“Ah, yeah, okay,” you look at him awkwardly.

“You wanna wash up? Shower’s just down the hall,” he points over his shoulder with his thumb, “I can grab you a towel.”

“I’ll wait until I get home but uh, could I use the bathroom?”

“Yep, just down the hall on the right. I’m going to put the coffee on then come back to get your mom, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, slowly crossing the room.

He turns and strides off. You wait until he’s down stairs to go out in the hall. The bedroom across from his studio, the one you assume is meant for him, is shut. You turn right and find the bathroom.

You lock the door and rinse your face with cold water, trying to ease the tension in your forehead. You sit on the toilet, a tingly heat seeping from you as you let your bladder go. You linger, letting your pee trickle out as you hear Steve coming back up the stairs. You quickly wipe and pull up your pants.

You wash your hands slowly, listening through the wall. You hear the door then Steve calls your mom’s name. You look at yourself in the mirror. Something feels strange. You don’t know if it was the surreal night or just being in a different place.

You come out into the hall and see Steve in the bedroom, just by the half-open door. His face is pale as he holds his phone to his ear. He sees you and raises his hand, waving before he gently closes the door. What’s going on?

You stand there, uncertain, uneasy. Something’s going on. You hear his voice, the tone is tremulous. You pick your nails but you’re too nervous to knock and ask. You don’t want to overstep. You stand stuck in place, unsure what to do next.

Then you hear the sirens. They’re distant at first but get louder and louder. You turn to the stairs and rush down as they get closer. You go to the front door and unlock it. You open it as the ambulance stops right outside.

You watch the paramedics as they unload a gurney and roll it up the walk. It has to be a mistake. There's no reason for them to be here.

They come right up the porch, “miss, someone called us from this address?”

“They did?” You bat your lashes.

“Please, move,” the man says but not unkindly, just matter-of-fact, “we need to get inside.”

You step back and hold the door open. They carry the gurney upstairs and your heart shrivels up. You follow them to the second floor and they enter the main bedroom where Steve is. Where your mom is. You can hear their voices as they talk calmly and Steve’s as he tries frantically to explain.

“I don’t know... she was sleeping in here last night. She was fine. I put her to bed and I slept on the couch since she was snoring and... she won’t wake up. I tried to... I tried. I felt a pulse but she’s not responding--”

“Sir, we got it. Why don’t you go catch your breath?” A man says.

“I’m sorry, I usually... I’m not like this. I was in the army, I know... I know CPR--”

“It’s okay, sir, just let us get her out of here. We’ll take care of her,” the paramedic says.

Your eyes fill with tears. The world around you dulls and static scratches in your ears. Steve comes out as your lips part and you gape at him dumbly. He comes to you, touching your arm as his voice garbles in your fuzzy brain. You blink at his chest and suddenly, you’re pressed against it.

He hugs you tightly as he rocks you. You hear his heart racing. Or is that yours?

You sniffle, too weak to pull away from him, “is my mom okay?”

He pets your head and coos, “I don’t know, sweetie, but they’re gonna help her, alright? She’s going to the hospital.”

“Hospital,” you echo numbly. “Hospital?”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #au #silverfox au #mcu #marvel #captain america #the girl next door

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 6 months

Note

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

Can't Escape the Nightmares

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

Warnings: mentions of past assault, mentions of past rape, noncon themes discussed, reader is jasper's mate, platonic!rosaliexreader, human!reader, nightmares, trauma, ptsd, dark content, mention of blood, brief mention of murder/death, short

Words: 624

Cradle (pt2)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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uvobreakmylegs · 10 months

Text

Set Pattern

it has been far too long since I wrote for the trash clown

Hisoka x reader

Warnings: stalking, blood, mentions of death, depictions of violence, noncon

Word count: 8.7k

….. Was this really where you were supposed to go?

That was the question going through your head when you found what was at the end of the alleyway. Wherever the map was supposed to lead you, it seemed odd that it would lead you here.

Maybe you had messed up at some point along the journey here, perhaps by way of misreading the map completely and making a wrong turn. But when you looked down at the map you'd gotten from the man who you met when you came into port, the directions you had followed appeared to be correct: the route provided to you led to this spot.

But it couldn't be right. Why would the map lead to a dead end?

Looking back up to the area before you, you scanned over it again, trying to see if there was anything of note in the open area. All you saw were piles of garbage sitting next to a metal trash can that looked as though fires had been set in it regularly, and opposite that stood a large but flimsy sheet of plywood with a bit of cloth hanging over the edge as it leaned against one of the four stone walls. Aside from old cobbled surface beneath your feet and the small flight of stairs you had just descended, there was nothing else, and you once again looked back to your map, looking over the highlighted route and trying to figure out where you had messed up and where you were really supposed to go for the exam.

Once again, it didn't appear to be wrong. This was where the map had wanted you to go.

Sighing to yourself, you put the map into your hoodie pocket as you figured that you should at least investigate the area.

Though while your hand was in your pocket, you instinctively reached for the weapon you were keeping hidden in there, your hand brushing up against the hilt. Despite the feeling of apprehension that this spot was giving you, the knife in your pocket gave you some sense of security. Though you knew you shouldn't bring it out now in case someone was watching. Better to keep it hidden and not reveal your hand too quickly.

Now there was a lesson you had learned the hard way.

You shook your head, as if the physical action would send away those thoughts from the past – both past and recent – as you needed to be focused on the task at hand. A lot of time had been spent researching the Hunter's exam. You'd looked over discussion threads and testimonials from people who had claimed to have attempted the exam, and while there had definitely been a few entries where the authors had clearly either been greatly exaggerating or flat-out lying, the one thing you could say for certain regarding the exam was that you needed to be on your guard at all times.

So it was better to not focus on the unpleasant memories regarding your stalker.

You craned your neck as you took a step forward, trying to see around the round metal can without getting too close, though there was nothing to be seen outside of the piles of garbage and a few odd planks of wood. And when you looked to examine the wall behind you, there was nothing aside from the opening to the narrow alleyway and the stairs that led up to it. No doors, no windows, nothing.

Was this really a dead end?

Or was the door hidden?

Ah, that could definitely be it. This place certainly felt a bit odd – why else would an alleyway lead to an open space with seemingly no real purpose? Maybe it was meant to deter those who wanted to take the exam, make them turn themselves around and then get lost trying to find the “right” location, and while they were doing that, they missed out on the window to officially enter the exam and be forced to wait until the next year.

That seemed in line with what these examiners might do, if that ship captain was anything to go by.

Feeling a bit more confident, you began to walk towards the area in the space that seemed as though it was hiding something – the piece of plywood, and when nothing happened after taking the first few steps, you quickened your pace, hurrying over to the wall as you glanced up to the sky above you. It was late in the day, but not close enough to be the evening. The captain didn't tell you how much time you had to make it to the official gathering spot for the exam, but with how fast you had found the other examiner at the docks, you felt that you were getting through the stages at a decent pace.

That certainty increased when you pulled the plywood away and found that there was a door in the wall that had been hidden behind it. A door that was locked, but still, what else could a secret door be for? You probably just needed to find the key somewhere in this area, and then that'd be another part of the exam under your belt.

Another step towards the protection and security that had evaded you for a while now.

Now for the key.

Your eyes naturally went to the trash can and the bags around it, though you questioned yourself on that almost immediately as it felt too obvious. But if not that, then what?

You looked about the area again, glancing at the stairs and then at the cobblestones.

….. Could they have hidden it underneath one of those?

Within an instant you were on your hands and knees, pulling at the individual stone pieces in an effort to find one that was loose. This seemed right. This sort of trickery felt in line with the things you had read during your research. The Hunter Association didn't want just anyone joining them, so you needed to do more than just follow instructions and a map. You needed to have some brain power if you were going to get that license. That was fair.

You paused briefly after having that thought, focusing in particular on the word you had used.

'Fair'

…. No, it really wasn't. It wasn't fair at all.

There was nothing fair about the fact that you needed to go this far just to get some safety.

Your mood fell as those intrusive thoughts came to mind again, and this time you weren't able to push them away so easily.

It really didn't seem like the Hunter's Association did much good for the world. More often than not, it seemed as though the majority of those who worked for the association had joined just to take advantage of the protections that it offered. Before everything with your stalker had started, you had heard in passing about a few horror stories of the deaths of civilians at the hands of Hunters, and how those Hunters in question were rarely punished for it. It was only in the truly gruesome and egregious cases that made headlines where the association was forced to make a statement and do something about it, and those cases were few and far between.

So most of the time, all those Hunters would do when caught was flash that card of theirs and they were off the hook.

A sight you had seen all too often by now.

But it would be okay, you told yourself as you continued moving from cobblestone to cobblestone while prying at them with your fingers. You'd get that Hunter card, and then he couldn't do anything to you anymore. And sure, the exam itself would be tough, but you were confident that you could get through it.

Just keep your guard up and your mind focused.

It looked like you finally found what you were looking for when one of the stones in the middle of the open area moved when you pulled on it. Of course, it wasn't coming out easily, and in an effort to force it out, you changed your position and moved so your back was facing the alleyway opening. The stone came out a bit more when you tried from that angle, but it still didn't want to give.

You continued like that until you stopped to take a break, at which point you reevaluated your thoughts.

Was this right? Would an examiner really hide a key underneath the cobblestone? Was it something more elaborate? Or were you right earlier in thinking that maybe it was in the oil drum? Maybe you were overthinking things.

Fuck, maybe there hadn't even been a hidden key. Maybe all you needed to do was knock on the door and it would open. Maybe you had wasted a lot of time doing something stupid.

You sighed to yourself as you wished that you didn't need to be here, and you began to get up so you could check the door again.

“Is there a reason that you're trying to pull apart the pavement, pet?”

The sound of the voice combined with a presence that was suddenly standing behind you had you freeze in place, and after a few moments as reality sunk in, you felt your heartbeat starting to pound as you were immediately aware that you knew that voice. You knew it better than you wanted to.

There was no mistaking that disgustingly playful tone of voice.

That day he'd been waiting for you when you got home, and he kept quiet until you entered your bedroom, at which point he announced his presence by giving you a cheerful 'hello', like he was supposed to be there.

The sight of him lounging on your bed made you panic, and after a few choice words and demands that he leave which were all met with a flippant refusal from him, you pulled out your phone to call the police.

You weren't even able to put in the first digit before the phone flew out of your hand and straight into his.

Fear and confusion hit you then, while he told you not to be so dramatic.

In that moment, being around him felt far more dangerous than it had in those previous meetings, and all your brain was telling you to do right then was to run.

You managed to turn around and step out of the room-

But that was as far as you got, as something pulled you back in. And just like your phone moments earlier, you were pulled into his grip.

You tried to keep your breathing level in an effort to keep calm. Panicking never helped you when it came to dealing with him. It was hard, but you needed to do that much.

Although you didn't want to, eventually you managed to compel yourself to turn your head and confirm visually what you already knew the instant you heard his voice:

Hisoka had found you.

He stood at the top of the stairs, the signature star and teardrop painted beneath his eyes and clad in one of his usual gaudy outfits. He'd also changed his hair color since you'd seen him last, having gone from orange to back to pink.

Despite your sullen expression, he was as amused as ever when your eyes met his. Raising up one hand, he waved at you as he said “I saw that you were taking a trip to Begerosse, so I thought I'd surprise you.”

When you didn't reply, Hisoka continued with “well, pet? Aren't you happy to see me?”

He was smiling when he said that, knowing full well that you were currently the furthest thing from 'happy' whenever you saw him. And especially now.

No doubt he'd realized what it was that you were trying to do and was here to put a stop to it.

As easy as it would have been to admit defeat while falling into despair, you reminded yourself that you weren't helpless, not completely. For now, try to keep him talking while you figured out what to do from here. At least that part would be easy enough – Hisoka loved to talk.

“So you lied about going to Heavens Arena,” you finally said.

“I didn't lie,” he answered, “but there was nothing interesting going on, so I left early.”

He pulled out a deck of playing cards, and he began to shuffle them from hand to hand as he continued with “it's a good thing I did. If I hadn't seen you heading off to the port, you might be in a terrible situation right now.”

“It's hard to imagine that anything could be worse than being alone with you,” you responded flatly.

Instead of being insulted by your jab, Hisoka smiled. As usual, nothing you said was able to upset him. You could've spewed out the most hateful, vile words towards him (and you had a few times when you'd reached your limit) and he was only ever proud of the fact that he'd managed to get you that angry with him. Nothing ever phased him. Nothing that you were capable of, anyway.

A majority of the cards in his hand disappeared, and he was left with a smaller selection of around five or six. You weren't sure if there was any significance to what he was doing. You were inclined to doubt that there was; Hisoka wasn't one to stay idle for very long.

“Despite how you view me, I'm actually quite nice to you, pet,” Hisoka told you.

You scoffed.

“It's not very nice to stalk people,” you answered.

“And yet, it was quite good for you that I did just that in this instance.”

He pulled out a random card from the selection in his hand and turned it so you could see the face of the card.

Whichever card that was, you didn't know. You were more focused on the bright red blood spatter on top of it.

Somehow, for a few moments, you'd managed to forget that he used those cards as weapons. Though you'd never seen it in person, your curiosity had driven you to watch the recordings from the arena, allowing you to get a glimpse at what the clown was capable of.

“….. You killed someone?” you asked, to which Hisoka smiled while he put the card back with the rest and began to shuffle them again.

Your voice was far more quiet when you asked that, and it shook slightly despite how hard you tried to keep it steady. Truthfully, this scenario happening was one that had crossed your mind. While you had hoped that it could be avoided, it was ultimately wishful thinking that he wouldn't find out and confront you on the way to the exam site.

But it was the fact that he'd killed someone that rattled you. That he was willing to cut down members of the association just to keep you in this game of cat and mouse that he loved so much. That his obsession went that far.

“Won't you get in trouble for killing someone from the association?” you asked. Your voice was stronger that time.

He cocked an eyebrow at that, asking back “who exactly did I kill from the association?”

“One of the examiners.”

“You aren't at the point where you'd be meeting any examiners, pet,” he corrected, “until you reach the starting line, you're only in the pre-exam.”

“… Fine. One of the pre-examiners.”

“And what makes you so certain that I killed one of them?”

“The next checkpoint is right there,” you answered, pointing at the door as you said “if I'd gotten in there before you came, I could've continued.”

Hisoka stopped shuffling the cards as he looked to where you had pointed, staring at the door for a few moments before looking back to you.

And then he started to laugh.

You didn't really want to ask, but knowing that he likely wouldn't tell you on his own, you were compelled to ask “what's so funny?”

“You haven't figured it out? You still think you're in the running for the exam?” he asked.

Your brows furrowed as you answered “of course I am. I got the map from the guy at the port.”

“And that was where you went wrong, pet,” he began, “because you weren't supposed to get any map. The man who gave it to you wasn't working for the association.”

“And how do you know that?” you asked.

“Because the person you were supposed to go to was the woman in the crab boat at the other end of the port.”

“How do you know that?” you asked again.

“From the captain. I overheard him speaking to the three of the others who got off the ship with you,” said Hisoka.

“And he told them and not me?”

“Clearly he must have felt that you weren't suited to take the exam. And I have to agree with his judgment on that. You couldn't even see the obvious trap that you walked right into.”

“What trap?”

“Do I really need to go into that much detail, pet?”

His tone was mocking, and you hated it. And what you hated even more was that you were starting to believe what he was telling you as you thought back on the man you had run into at port.

He was tall and had an eye patch, and he had scared off another man who had approached you with offers to sell you the information you needed to get to the next point of the pre-exam. The man with the eye patch had been polite to you, handing off the map while telling you to be wary of people who were looking to take advantage of newcomers to the exam.

Had all of that been an act? Was that first guy in on it and only there so you would trust the one with the eye patch?

“Why did that guy tell me to come here?” you asked.

Hisoka hummed. He was having too much fun with this.

“Do you know how many people die or go missing during the Hunter's exam?” he asked in response.

“A lot,” you answered.

He nodded.

“On average the number is in the triple digits,” he continued, “and with so many people vanishing or dying around the same time, it's not much of a surprise that there will be those who try to take advantage of that.”

“And how was he going to take advantage of me?” you asked.

“His friends were going to kill you.”

You stayed quiet as Hisoka continued with “that man was part of a group that murdered would-be participants of the Hunter exam so they could sell the pieces of their victims on the black market. And if everything had gone as they'd wanted, the ones who were waiting here earlier would've jumped you the instant you walked down those stairs, and by now you'd be dead in that building while they scooped your organs out through your stomach.”

He clapped his hands together and pulled them away, revealing that the cards in his hands had disappeared completely.

Then he smiled as he said “luckily for you, I prefer that your insides stay where they are.”

… He could be lying, you reminded yourself.

“If these people were known to kill participants, why didn't the association do anything about them?” you asked.

“They likely hadn't found out about them yet,” Hisoka answered, shrugging as he continued “it's not as though they're the only ones to take advantage of the opportunity the exam creates. And I'd guess that they were smart and never took out too many at one time; the ones who get caught are the ones who get greedy.”

“Though they won't be continuing their operations anymore,” he added, “so you're welcome, pet. I saved you from a horrific death. I do hope you appreciate the things I do for you.”

You looked to the door before looking back to him.

“This really isn't the next point for the exam?” you asked.

“Would you like me to break down that door and show you the state those people are in now?”

After a moment, you shook your head; based on that response, it seemed pretty likely that he was, in fact, telling you the truth.

Which just made this whole thing worse.

You'd been tricked. In your desperation to get that license, you went with bad intuition on who to trust at the port, and because of that, you hadn't even managed to get to the true start of the exam before Hisoka found you. Hell, he was aware of what had happened at the port you'd gotten off at, so he'd been watching you for a while. He could've stepped in at any point, no doubt he just chose to do so when he felt that his entrance would be sufficiently dramatic enough.

It left a bad taste in your mouth that you should technically be grateful for him since he did save your life.

Though if he hadn't been the one to stalk and harass you, you wouldn't have even been here.

Hisoka brought your attention back to him when he called out to you.

“Well, pet? Don't I deserve some gratitude for my efforts?”

“….. Thanks for not letting me die.”

“You're welcome,” he cheerfully replied, before continuing with “now, how about we head off?”

“No.”

You finally pulled yourself to your feet while Hisoka watched, staying quiet for once. When you looked at him again, you told him “I'm going back to the port. I need to take the Hunter's exam.”

He cocked an eyebrow as he asked “what makes you think you still have a chance of taking it?”

“I'm sure I'll find that woman. It hasn't been that long since I left and it isn't that late.”

“Hm. I suppose I should rephrase that,” he said.

Those golden eyes seemed to pierce through you when he spoke again.

“What makes you think I'll let you go back?”

…..

You weren't sure what to say at first. When he asked that, there was an intensity in him that you weren't used to, and you weren't sure what to make of it. Was he upset? That would be a first, though since he'd let you go as far as you did, it seemed unlikely.

Maybe he wanted you to give up and go back quietly when he revealed himself to you. Realize that this escape route was just as much of a dead end as the others you'd tried. Go back to that house and let him feel like he'd won. Again.

Fuck him. You weren't going to give up that easily.

Eventually, you asked “what would be the alternative if I can't go back to port?”

Hisoka's more cheerful demeanor returned when he spoke again.

“I was thinking I'd take you back home,” he answered, “the exam simply isn't for you, pet.”

“I can handle it.”

He laughed.

“It's very cute that you have so much confidence in yourself,” said Hisoka, “but if you were to actually make it to the starting line, you would have a very harsh reality check.”

“I'll take my chances,” you replied, “it can't be any worse than living with you constantly breathing down my neck any opportunity you get.”

At that, he actually shook his head, saying “you're a tad delusional, pet. You always say such cruel things about me, but if you were to enter the exam, you'd find yourself at the mercy of hundreds that would have no issue throwing you under a bus if it meant they were one step closer to getting a license for themselves.”

“Some of them wouldn't even do it for the license,” he added, “some would do it just for their one amusement. So despite how you feel, I'm afraid that I have to put my foot down on this matter, as I have no desire to see you kill yourself by way of your own stupidity.”

Hisoka held out his hand towards you and said “now, lets head home.”

You looked at his outstretched hand and then back to him. And then you shook your head.

“I'm not leaving without taking the exam,” you told him.

There was a silence after you spoke, as Hisoka didn't say anything at first.

If he was really having enough of your stubbornness, then this conflict would be over quickly. Hisoka was far stronger than he looked and it took next to nothing for him to restrain you.

But that he hadn't felt the need to go that far yet.

That was at least something in your favor.

After several moments of that awkward silence continuing between the two of you, he spoke again.

“Tell me something; why do you want to take the exam so badly?” he asked.

“Why does it matter?” you asked back.

“Because I've never seen this desire to become a Hunter before,” he replied, “and I'm curious as to where this suddenly came from.”

“Maybe I'll tell you after the exam.”

“Mm, I don't think so. Like I told you pet, I don't want to see you kill yourself doing this.”

“Then I guess you don't get to know,” you said, before adding “I'm not telling you anything without you working for it first.”

That seemed to get his interest, as his eyebrows raised and he hummed to himself.

“You do know that I can just make you come with me if I really wanted to, don't you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, “but I also know that you wouldn't find that very entertaining.”

He laughed, and seemingly agreed with your statement.

Was this going in a direction where he'd let you go take the exam? With how adamant he was on you not being able to handle it, it was hard to think that would be a possibility.

And as much as you'd rather not do it, you did technically have a plan B if things were to escalate, though the thought of going through with it scared you even more.

You'd never heard of it happening, but it seemed likely that a civilian could get into a lot of trouble if they managed to kill a Hunter.

“It's been some time since I've seen you so determined about something, pet. I can't help but be intrigued about why you want to take the exam so badly,” Hisoka said.

You didn't respond. And in the moments after, it seemed that he had come to a decision.

“Since we seem to be at something of an impasse, how about this: if you can land a single hit on me, I'll take you to the true starting point of the exam.”

“Land a hit?” you repeated.

Hisoka nodded, adding “you can attack me for as long as you like, and it'll only end when you choose to give up. Or if you take so long that you can no longer be part of the exam, though I doubt you'd be able to hold out that long.”

He smiled then, asking “how does that sound, pet?”

The smart reaction would've been to refuse. You'd seen the videos from Heavens Arena – you knew how brutal he could be when it came to beating down opponents. Hisoka was strong. Far, far stronger than you. A true one-on-one fight between you two would be extremely one-sided and end quickly.

But if you wanted that Hunter's license, you needed to be a little tough, right?

For that reason, when you spoke next it was to ask a question.

“What kind of hit are we talking about?”

Hisoka seemed a bit surprised, given the way his eyebrows lifted some when you finished speaking. But he got over his surprise quickly and the grin on his face that formed after was one of excitement.

You didn't comment on that as you added “can it only be a punch? Or am I allowed the use of a weapon?”

“Any attack will count, as long as it lands. Weapons are allowed,” he replied.

“And what about you?” you asked, “if you get a hit in on me, does the fight end then?”

“Of course not,” Hisoka answered, smiling pleasantly as he said “it would be over too quickly if we did that.”

Disregarding the obvious provocation, you were about to agree to his terms when he spoke again.

“And one more thing,” he said, “when you give up, you'll need to tell me why you want the license so bad.”

“…. Fine,” you replied.

But I'm not giving up, you added in your head.

With a deal now in place, Hisoka made his way down the steps and into the open space, stopping a short distance in front of you. With his hands on his hips and an amused look on his face, he told you “whenever you're ready, pet.”

As soon as he said that you launched yourself at him.

You tried to punch him in the face but found your fist punching at the air, the clown taking a step back to avoid the hit.

You threw another punch, and that also ended in you hitting air as he took another step back.

When you threw a third punch was when he acted, stepping to the side instead of straight back. His foot then caught your heel, and because of how unbalanced you were, when he pulled his leg up, your leg went up with it and you fell backwards. In the split second you had, you clenched your eyes shut as you anticipated the impact from falling onto the cobblestone.

Instead an arm caught you.

You opened your eyes to see Hisoka hovering over you, his arm beneath your back as he held you up. He smiled at you, humming cheerfully when he saw you looking at him. He acted like you weren't trying to attack him and that the two of you were sharing a cute moment.

Asshole

When you tried to get a punch in from that position, Hisoka dropped you, and you let out a noise of pain when your back connected with the pavement. He stayed where he was, standing over you while you were in a rush to get yourself back to your feet. You were struggling, and of course the bastard needed to make some comment in that moment.

“I suppose that isn't enough to convince you to give up, is it?”

Still not on your feet, you tried to punch one of his legs.

He stepped backwards again, chuckling to himself as he said “guess not.”

The sun was steadily setting as the two of you continued like that; you, trying your best to get even the weakest punch or kick to connect with him, and Hisoka expertly dodging everything you threw at him with the barest amount of effort. At one point you grabbed one of the wooden boards that lay next to the trash can and used it as a bat, only for him to wrench it out of your grip with one hand and then throw it against the adjacent wall where it smashed into splinters.

Though you hadn't been expecting much when you grabbed it, there was something disheartening about that moment.

He was just too strong, too skilled.

But, you reminded yourself, he was also too smug for his own good.

And as the amount of time the two of you were at this increased and you refused to give in, you told yourself to just keep at it. You didn't need to be stronger than him to get lucky and get in just one hit. You just needed to wait for an opportunity when his guard was lowered enough that you could strike him with the knife that was still hidden in your hoodie pocket.

If you were able to do that, your problems would be over.

That moment felt like it would be coming when you had paused on your assault, hands on your knees and breathing hard while you glared at him. During this time, Hisoka pulled his card deck out again and was making a show of shuffling them, just to further express how little he was worried about you managing to do anything to him. Another slight towards you.

“It is cute how determined you are to win this, pet,” he said, “but you can't get through everything in life on determination alone.”

“Cool. I'll keep that in mind,” you breathed out.

You lunged at him again, this time at a speed far slower than when you had first attacked him.

He dodged it easily, and you collapsed to the ground after, still breathing hard.

At that, Hisoka frowned.

“Even I'm starting to feel bad about this. You should give up now,” he told you.

“I don't want to,” you stubbornly answered.

He hummed as you forced yourself back up to your feet.

A few more times you tried to connect any sort of hit, and a few more times your attempts resulted in nothing. Hisoka would always get out of way at the last moment, having put his cards away again. However, now the clown appeared to be less smug and more thoughtful.

Minutes later and you were on the ground again, your arms holding you up while various parts of your body were aching in pain from how often he had caused you to fall. It didn't feel like you'd be able to get up again.

Hisoka seemed to sense that as well.

His heels echoed within the space of the alley as he walked towards you, and then he was standing in front of you, looking down as he asked “don't you think you should stop wasting both of our times and put an end to this?”

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“Aw.”

The bastard then had the nerve to kneel down and pull you into his arms, holding you close as one hand began to caress your head. It was yet another way he humiliated you, the way he would act caring at a time like this, belittling you as he made it clear just how little of a threat he viewed you to be.

“There's no shame in giving up, pet,” he whispered to you, “I won't judge you for it.”

All you were able to get out in that moment was a sad-sounding noise, one that had him cooing at you despite how you were able to hear the smirk on his lips.

You just hoped to god that he couldn't tell how hard your heart was pounding at that moment.

When he pulled you up into his embrace, you had used that as an opportunity to move your hand back to your hoodie pocket, and now you were gripping the hilt of the knife.

You didn't even need to fully stab him with it.

Just one scratch would be enough to do him in.

Just one scratch.

You acted when he spoke next, when he said something else about you giving up. This was your best chance.

Grabbing at his shirt with your free hand, you pulled the knife out from its sheath and your pocket and aimed for his side.

Just one-

A hand gripped your wrist and you were forced to your feet as you were pulled upwards by your arm. Suddenly you and Hisoka were now standing and he was holding your arm high enough that you needed to stay on your toes to try and alleviate the pain the position brought you. The knife was still in your grip. You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip, letting out a small noise of discomfort when you failed to do so.

Hisoka didn't acknowledge that, his eyes focused on the knife in your hand.

“Is that a Ben's knife?”

You didn't respond to his question as you continued to pull at your wrist.

This can't happen. He can't win.

Not again

When you failed to reply, Hisoka raised up his hand and pointed a finger at the blade of your knife.

Then he flicked his finger back and the knife was wrenched out of your grip as it flew towards him. He easily caught it, holding it up so as to inspect the design of the blade. And now that your backup plan was literally in his hands, you stilled, uncertain as to what was going to happen now.

“I'm not terribly familiar with these,” he said, “but would I be right if I were to guess that this was one of the knives that has poison on the blade?”

You frowned, and he hummed, looking back to the knife with some amusement.

“You must've spent a lot on this; I know enough about those knives to know that the poison-edged blades aren't cheap,” he added.

Hisoka smirked as he asked “are you that desperate to be rid of me that you want to kill me, pet?”

“How the fuck can you ask that after everything you've done?” you spat.

“Is showing you affection such a terrible crime?”

“That's not affection, you freak! That's just you ruining my life!”

He hummed again, and then let go of your wrist.

Right at that moment Hisoka moved.

And then something rammed into your ribs.

You were sent flying a few feet before you toppled to the ground, your side aching while you gasped for breath. The pain you had felt before this was nothing now, and as you tried to go over what had happened mere seconds ago in your head, the best you were able to guess was that he'd rammed his knee into your side.

Just how much damage had he managed to cause with that?

Your hand instinctively went to press against the area where you'd been hit, and you cried out the instant you pressed down on it. He had broken your ribs. You were sure of it, and the pain was great enough that tears were already starting to run down your face.

Hisoka stayed where he was, the Ben's knife still in hand as he watched you, taking in your cries of pain and how hard you fought against the tears that were falling, obsessively wiping them from your eyes while you struggled to get back to your feet. You were so desperate to not appear weak that all you were doing was hurting yourself. So desperate to fight him that all you were doing was delaying the inevitable.

He couldn't help but smile at the sight.

You noticed when he walked towards you, the heels of his shoes clacking against the cobblestone beneath his feet. Wanting some distance between you two again, you tried to pull yourself up and away from him, but the pain that burst through your side when you tried to move like that forced you back down.

He stayed standing this time, cocking his head to the side as he looked down at you.

“Like I told you earlier; it would be over too quickly if I were to fight you for real,” he said, “I hope you realize now that I wasn't saying that as a slight; there's simply too much of a difference in strength when it comes to the two of us.”

He chose to emphasize that point by pressing the heel of his shoe into the spot where he'd hit you, and from that bit of contact alone you felt the pain was great enough that you might pass out. It was a mercy when he pulled his foot away.

But now you were forced to face the grim reality:

You had lost.

Once again, your efforts to get yourself away from this man were in vain, and once again, you were at his feet, on the ground and sobbing as despair took over you.

You hated this.

It wasn't right.

You hated him, and you hated the people who sat back and let him do as he pleased.

If only the stupid Hunter association hadn't given this psychopath a license, you would've been able to get help.

You looked back up to him then, and found that he was still staring at you with that amused look while he loosely gripped the handle of the Ben's knife.

“Well, pet? How long do you intend to drag this out for?” he asked.

…..

… Ah. Right.

This would only end when you hit him or gave up. And it was incredibly clear that you wouldn't be able to land any sort of hit. Even if you could, you wouldn't be able to handle the Hunter exam after. Not with the condition you were in now.

Hisoka was sticking to the deal you'd made, and he wouldn't be doing anything until you gave the word.

“……. Alright,” you whispered.

“Alright what?”

“I give up,” you spoke, your voice even softer.

“Could you speak up louder? I can't quite hear you,” he told you.

You gritted your teeth in frustration, but you complied anyway.

“I give up,” you answered, adding “I can't hit you, so I give up. You win. Again.”

You didn't need to look at him to know how he was grinning at you in that moment. How wide that smile was across his face as he looked down at your fallen form, watching excitedly as your determination to win broke into a million pieces and was replaced with bleak resignation.

Just like the other times.

“I'm so glad you saw reason, pet.”

With that, Hisoka picked you up from off the ground and placed a kiss on your forehead after you cried out from the pain yet again.

“Lets get you to a doctor, and then we'll head home,” he told you as he began to carry you up the stairs and out of the alley.

Hours later, after a long hospital visit that had lasted well into the dead of night, the two of you were alone again, this time trapped in the confines of an airship cabin. You aimlessly watched the tops of the clouds through the window while you did your best to ignore how close Hisoka was sitting next to you. At first there had been a small bit of hope that he might not crowd you too much, given that this was the first time he had ever hurt you in a way that required a trip to the hospital after. But even with the state of your ribs – that had somehow only been fractured and not broken – Hisoka was determined to cuddle with you and stroke your hair during the long flight back.

Eventually you pushed his hand away, though that did little to stop him from bothering you.

“Sulking isn't very becoming of you,” he said.

“You cracked my ribs,” you answered flatly.

“And you tried to murder me,” he replied, “I'd say that makes us even.”

“Not really,” you said, “not after all you've done.”

“So saving your life counts for nothing?”

“I wouldn't have needed to be saved if you had just left me alone. I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you,” you snapped.

“Oh?”

His hand returned to your hair, but when you tried to slap it away again, he grabbed your hand and held it while he did as he pleased with your hair. You huffed, but kept your attention on the darkened sky outside.

“That reminds me – you still haven't completed your end of the bargain,” he then said.

“What part of it?”

“You were supposed to tell me why you wanted the Hunter license.”

“…..”

When you didn't reply, Hisoka let out a soft sigh.

And then the hand that was stroking your hair was now gripping it. Hard. Your head was pulled back while he whispered “there's been so much needless pain today, pet. Do you really want to go through even more just because you don't want to answer my question?”

“…. No.”

He released the grip on your hair when you said that, and you sensed the way he stared at you expectantly.

No, there was no more point in continuing to defy him just to end up going to another hospital once the flight was over.

Better to give him what he wanted.

“I wanted the license so I could protect myself from you,” you told him.

At first he said nothing to your admission, and when he did, there was a tinge of confusion in his voice as he asked “what do you mean?”

“Hunters aren't allowed to kill other Hunters,” you began, “and although it isn't written anywhere, I figured that Hunters couldn't kidnap other Hunters, either.”

He understood what you were getting at then, and he chuckled to himself as he said “scared that I'm going to do something to you, pet?”

“Outside of everything else you've done to me? Yeah,” you replied.

You kept your gaze on the clouds outside the window as you added “if I had the license whenever you kidnap or kill me, at least then the association wouldn't be allowed to ignore it. If they're happy to protect you whenever you break the law, they should be fine with protecting me when I haven't done anything wrong.”

Your voice was trembling slightly when that last bit of your sentence came out, your mind going back to all the things that Hisoka had done to you and how no one would do anything about it.

It wasn't right.

Hisoka had made both his presence and his interest in you known early on, almost immediately after you met him for the first time. He had tried to win you over with flowers and gifts for a short while, and when that didn't work, he resorted to forcing his way into your life.

That horrible day where you'd found him in your bedroom, where he had managed to pull you towards him when you tried to run – something that you still couldn't wrap your head around – that had been the start of a long, stressful night that made you want to cry just thinking about it.

When he left in the morning, you'd called the police. Though there was little they could do in that moment, they took your statement and told you to call them if you saw him again.

You followed their instructions and did just that when he returned that next evening, waltzing in through the front door like he owned the place.

The moment where Hisoka had a pair of handcuffs slapped on him and was led away never came. Because when the officers that arrived approached him, all he'd needed to do was show them that Hunter's license and they stopped in their tracks. When they left shortly after, the only explanation that they gave was that they couldn't do anything for you.

So you spent a second night with Hisoka, this time even more confused and horrified at the lack of help that you needed so desperately.

Hunters get special privileges, you learned. Access to exorbitant amounts of jenny, an ability to travel to almost anywhere in the world, and no real consequences if they committed a murder.

Learning that last point had things make a bit more sense to you, because if law enforcement were willing to brush off a Hunter killing someone, then it was no wonder why they would do nothing for you, someone who was 'just' at the mercy of a stalker.

You weren't dead, so they didn't see it as even being that bad.

Calls to any and all lines of help resulted in nothing being done. You would cry and beg for anyone to help you, even getting down on your knees and debasing yourself as you pleaded to be saved from the man who had now forced his way into your life, and all you got in return was uncomfortable silence that was usually followed by a short “sorry”.

The police didn't come around anymore. Your employer let you go. The neighbors didn't talk to you. And when one of your friends wound up missing after having tried to defend you from him, everyone else had cut you off, too scared that just being in your presence would set off your stalker and they would also end up on the missing persons list.

All you had was Hisoka, who was always there to revel in your despair by holding you close.

There wasn't much else you could do but try to act like it wasn't as distressing as it actually was, leading to you putting up a brave front in front of Hisoka. Maybe if you acted like you didn't care anymore, he'd lose interest and move on.

That didn't work, and so you were forced to cope while you looked for any opportunity that arose for a way out.

You thought you had a chance with this – you really did. When you read up on the Hunter bylaws and you saw that Hunters weren't allowed to target each other, you thought you had a way to end all of this. Even if just getting the license wasn't enough to make Hisoka stop on his own, if he continued to do anything after that fact, then the association would have to step in.

But none of that mattered now.

This was another loss for you, another hope of escape for you that Hisoka had made sure to dash thoroughly.

And just like he always did, he was now holding you after having pulled you up against him.

“It was an interesting thought, pet,” he began, “but ultimately, you really had no idea what you were getting yourself into.”

So you keep saying, you thought to yourself.

“And wouldn't it have been a better idea to just use the knife on me instead of going to all of the extra effort to try for the exam?” he then asked.

“I wanted to avoid that, if possible,” you answered, “I wasn't sure what would happen to me if I did manage to kill you without the license.”

“Hm. Still seems like a wasted opportunity to me.”

“…. Whatever. You got all of your answers. Stop talking to me.”

“Don't be like that, pet,” he said, “after all, we have quite a few hours ahead of us before we get back home. I'd rather that we didn't spend all that time being mad at each other.”

He said that just as the hand that was holding yours let go in favor of sliding up your inner thigh.

“After all, I haven't been properly rewarded for saving your life,” he added.

The way his nails trailed up your leg combined with the way he said that sentence with such a sultry tone made it obvious as to where this was going, and your heart started to pound heavily in your chest as you realized that Hisoka was going to do what he wanted regardless of the state you were in.

“Please don't,” you began, your voice cracking as you said “not now. Not like this. I-I can't-”

“You'll be fine.”

Hisoka emphasized that by shoving his hand down the front of your pants, his fingers blatantly rubbing up against your sex.

Despite knowing what would happen, you tried to elbow him in the face in an effort to make him stop, only for both of your wrists to suddenly snap together. And no matter how hard you tried to pull them away, something invisible was keeping your wrists bound together.

Just like that, you were completely helpless.

With one hand still in your hair, Hisoka moved your head and forced you to look at him.

You were crying again.

And Hisoka looked even more excited.

“I truly can't get over it, pet,” he breathed, claiming your lips in a kiss after.

“There's nothing quite like the despair in your eyes when you've realized that you have no other choice but to give in.”

#reader insert #yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #yandere hxh #hxh hisoka #hisoka morow #hisoka x reader #yandere hisoka

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