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truly-morgan · 1 year

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[Soulmate AU, post golden core melting]

RuoCheng | Mo Dao Zu Shi Soulmate AU, based on RialAstral idea 08-04-2021

[#ruocheng – soulmate, based on RialAstral tweet]

Where JC gets his golden core destroyed and upon being whipped by wc his robe comes undone a bit, revealing his chest. Wzl is the one to stop the action, blocking barehanded the whip. “what are you doing?” comes from an annoyed and angry wc.

“the soulmate mark… looks familiar” wzl replies before hesitantly parting the robe a bit more, only to feel freeze immediately.

Nearly all cultivators and soldiers close to wrh knew what the soulmate mark reminded them of: their leader's one. A pretty looking lotus with fire.

Wc immediately pales at the revelation, feeling sick to his stomach. This was really /bad/ news. Every soldier present started feeling nervous: they had just been torturing their leader /soulmate/. They were all as good as dead.

Wzl is the first one to react, quickly gathering jc who was in a really bad state, pulling a robe he had asked for from one of the soldiers, ready to carry him.

He needed to save the young man or it was a sure dead, and with an anxious and annoying wc at his side, he rode his sword to wq. She was the closest and one of their best healer, she should be able to help.

Of course, wq doesn’t like the situation he's bringing, but she figured it could give her more good points to save her family, so she helped. Plus, she did not want to know what would happen if it was known she refused to save wrh soulmate, she'd be in as much trouble as wc and the others. She makes sure to ask wzl to mention what she did to wrh.

Wzl really wanted to get jc to wrh as quickly as possible, because he knew the man most likely /already knew/ something had happened. A big part of it being /his own/ fault. So he ignored wc usual whining.

Taking jc to their leader was a truly nerve-wracking task, even more since jc was still unconscious. He explained the situation, shutting wc up when he wanted to talk.

Wrh was truly /too/ calm, commanding for jc to be taken to his room and asking for a healer to look over him again to make sure his state would stay stable at least.

“I assume you know I cannot accept such a situation" the man calmly stated, wzl answering he knew. Yet wrh didn't add more immediately. Wzl /was/ a useful tool, he couldn't just throw him away so easily. And he felt like being a bit fairer on the behalf that he now knew who his soulmate was (which was good news), wzl obviously did /not/ know jc was his soulmate or he wouldn't have let such a thing happen. He was present only as wc bodyguard, he did not initiate anything and even rushed him to wq.

“you will be punished as I see fit” he said while standing up, wc getting agitated yet he didn't receive anything from his father and for once he didn't dare push his luck. Wrh wouldn't do anything /himself/ to his son, he still needed to follow some expectations, but he was far from satisfied with what his son had caused.

When he gets to his room jc is still unconscious, healer finishing their checkup, telling him what they noticed and what he should be expecting for the time being. “He needs a lot of rest, the body has been wounded a lot and losing one golden core isn’t something easy on the body... as for the mental, I think someone should keep an eye on him, this is a lot to take in for his young age”.

Losing his family and losing his golden core had to be something really big for someone as young as jc to take. He had probably never lost anything the way he did in the past day. When everything is done he dismisses everyone, simply taking a seat next to the jiang heir, watching over him. He wants to see the soulmate mark for himself, although he doubts wzl would lie to him, nor what he felt would have lied to him. Yet he did not, supposing there would be bandages, but also not wanting for the young man to be more upset if he were to wake up.

And when he wakes up jc is upset, because it doesn't take long for him to remember what happened, the sight of his parents, the feeling of losing his core, the feeling of being whipped. He wakes up only to have his body hurting and aching just to top over all the emotional pain.

And the cherry on top he's at /Nightless City/. He can recognise some of the architecture from previous visits. Why is he here?

Soon wrh and healers are joining him again and he couldn't be more on guard despite how tired and weak he feels, alert to whatever wrh had in store for him. He won't go down without a fight.

Wrh is the one to explain the situation, how they are soulmates (which jc doesn't believe until the man strips his upper body enough to show him his own mark), that what wc did was not under his command (or approval) and that he wishes for jc to stay here “at least for the time to heal correctly and get back on your feet" (but they all know wrh meant forever).

Jc is given his own room and mourning clothes so he can mourn his parents properly (with the promise that their bodies were being preserved so he can bury them properly too under ymj traditions). He has to keep himself from breaking down crying when he is brought his mother's crown and both parents' silver bells (though he does cry himself to sleep holding these bells close to himself that same night).

He is being reassured that no wen is left at lotus pier and that no one is chasing after the remaining ymj disciple. This sounds reassuring for once, also giving him the relief that his sister and wwx are safe in that regard. He wonders where these two went, hoping llj could take them in.

He doesn’t like that wzl is the one assigned for his security. The man would normally be rather honoured that the sect leader was trusting enough of him to let him protect his soulmate, but he knew that jc wanted him nowhere near him. Yet wrh trusted him, he knew he would do his job correctly. So he was mostly staying out of jc eyesight, only close enough to make sure everything was fine. They were at NC anyway, no one would dare do anything to jc, not when it meant wrh would surely punish them heavily.

Plus jc seems good to defend himself despite his recovering health. If anyone approaches him without his permission everyone can hear the crackling of zidian at his side, a sharp warning that if anyone takes a step closer, he /will/ use it.

He usually passes all day alone in his room or wandering around a bit (wzl always at a wall corner just to make sure he won’t get lost or get in trouble). He’s slowly planning on getting his revenge because wrh being his soulmate won’t stop him from wanting to avenge his parents for what wc caused. He even tries to snoop around to find out who exactly was at lp that day, yet he only meets dead ends, it is as if all those cultivators already disappeared.

Honestly, the only ones left are wlj and wc. One of which avoids him like the pest, as if crossing his path would be deadly (good call) while the other is still missing. Up until one day wrh tells him he has something to show him. He follows still on guard (because maybe it’s a trap, even if the man didn’t do anything in the three weeks he was there). He is led to a dungeon, he hesitates, yet upon hearing familiar voices arguing inside he finally gets in. Wrh is already sitting in a corner, some tea sitting on a small table. Wzl closes the door behind them, putting a silencing talisman on it.

He won't lie that it is pretty good to have her and wc delivered on a plate, but he still doesn't get it. He turns towards wrh with a confused look, the ma giving him a small smile. “I believe you were looking for revenge, I found the people you were looking for".

This only made jc stand there dumbstruck. Was wrh really letting him take revenge this easily? On his own son? Was this some kind of trick? Yet he couldn't see anything that showed it was some kind of trap.

He was really giving him this.

“Nothing that happens here will leave these walls, you can do whatever you want” added the sect leader. This made something in him come loose, only fuelled by the swearing of wlj, even daring to be arrogant in such a moment. This fire in her seemed to die down when zidian started crackling before fully forming in his hand. Jc would probably not have recognised himself if he were to look at the scene, lashing out all of his rage and pain at the woman who had caused the fall of his parents and dared try to disrespect yzy. Arrogance quickly changed for plead, yet not even wc was ready to save her because he /knew/ jc was harbouring as much hate for him, yet he still hoped his father would /do something/.

Jc only stopped when it was pretty clear wlj would /never/ cause any problem in the future, his eyes sharply finding wc as he was breathing heavily from all the action, his arms feeling rather sore now.

This is when wrh stopped drinking his tea calmly, and stood up, it caught both young man attention. Wc seemed hopeful that he would be helped, yet all he saw was his father walking to the door. Jc wasn’t sure if he should take it as “I do not wish to see my son tortured” or “If I do not see it without doing anything I cannot be blamed for it”, but decided it wasn’t bad if the man wasn’t stopping him from doing whatever he wanted.

“Seems like you do have to pay for what you did, should have thought about it before doing it, dad cannot save you all the time” commented jc. And the whole game restarted, just as badly as before.

Wc cocky and arrogant façade quickly breaks apart and soon he is begging for wzl to do something, but quickly realises that the man won’t respond to his command anymore.

Jc ended up stopping after a while, breath heaving as he looked down at wx who was trying to crawl back to a corner. Wrecking wlj appearance and beauty had been a good choice, it was probably the best asset she had, her cultivation was most likely not that great.

But wc was different. He was aiming to be a powerful cultivator, at least he supposed so, and he knew a way to take his sweet revenge in a way that would be even better. An eye for an eye.

“Wen Zhuliu, you want to be useful and show me you can do what Sect leader Wen asked you to do?” he asked, immediately receiving an affirmative response from the man who had been standing to the side since the beginning. “Why not melt his core, so he can have a taste of how it feels” he said, not as a question, “Make it as slow and painful as you can” he then added.

More begging from wc came after this as the man step forward to follow the new instruction, trying to bribe him. But nothing would do, the man was too loyal to wrh to go against his orders, which were to follow what his soulmate asked him to do.

“How long do you think he would survive outside like this?” asked jc after wzl came back to his side (at a safe distance so as not to anger him, now was not the time to piss him off). “wc does not have many allies outside of the Qishan Wen clan, but he has many enemies due to years of picking a fight with other” he points out, “with these injuries and no golden core... not very long”.

This sounded rather right. Not many would be ready to help him out, and if he wanted to counterattack attack he basically had wrh behind him (at least seemingly for now) and he was now down to his level.

“Do you think I would stay silent? What do you think people will say if I tell them the ymj heir had killed and tortured someone and commanded for the other to have his core destroyed? Your reputation would be finished” wc said, clearly planning on ruining his reputation.

“I hate to admit you have a point” admitted Jc “I suppose you cannot get out of this room alive then” he added, wc expression dropping quickly. This time he didn’t take as much time as before, finishing off wc rather quickly because he was getting tired of his provocation.

He knew the satisfaction of his action would slowly fade away later and leave him with disgust for what he did, but right now he felt pleased. It wouldn’t bring back his parent and the disciple that had been killed, but it made him feel like at least now everything had been repaid.

“I will work on disposing of everything,” wzl said as jc stood there without doing anything anymore, only slowly calming down. Jc simply nodded, before leaving the room.

He wanted to get back to his room and stay alone right now, he needed to get down from the high of what he had just done. But of course, he couldn’t have this, a servant approaching him hesitantly. “A bath as been prepared for you in case you wish for one”. This made jc a bit confused, only to realise who might have asked for this. He accepted, thinking a warm bath would be good, following the servant. He was relieved to finally be alone, shaky and sore hands taking off his robes, he washed himself from the possible blood on him before sinking deep into the warm water.

He wasn’t sure what he would do now that his revenge on those that had caused all this was done. He could think about it after his bath, now he simply wanted to be empty-headed.

The days after were both tense and a bit numb, once he had come down from the energy taken for his revenge. He wasn't sure how to act around wrh, although he did accept to be a bit more around him when he was the one suggesting some tea, idle talk or just sitting in silence if this was what jc preferred. Jc had the impression the man was trying to make him used to him, which was probably normal seeing that they were soulmates.

He was rather troubled with how... careful he was and how he was making sure jc was healing correctly and feeling as much at home as he could feel here. It was all going against what he had seen and heard of the man before. Where was the man who thought he was superior to everyone, who could get easily angry over the smallest thing and even borderline sadistic at time? He did find back this man when someone messed something up, punishing them for it. Then jc realised: he was like this only to him. This realisation made him feel a bit weird, unsure what he was feeling about that.

Soon he was doing good enough for him to do more than just sit around and wait for time to pass and he was given the right to train at any time he wanted on the training ground. He couldn’t really find anyone who would fight him, which did annoy him. He may be coreless, but he wasn’t defenceless either. Wrh was the one to suggest training with him, clearly restraining himself so he wouldn’t overpower jc, but he let it go, at least he was training again.

This was more time passing around wrh and more time getting used to him. But he also needed to get used to something else: having full attention on him and being praised when he did good. The first time it had hit him hard in the chest, looking clearly surprised to be praised like this when he was still /so weak/ compared to a normal cultivator (could he even still call himself that?).

Yet the way wrh would praise him always sounded genuine, as if he actually saw something good in whatever he was doing. This made him feel warm despite how he still didn’t feel like trusting the man. He didn’t want to allow himself to trust him, the man would probably pull something on him, he couldn’t get this idea-

out of his head.

But maybe he could still allow himself to be praised a little bit, the warm and new feeling felt nice.

The first time he got out of NC was when wrh suggested he comes with him to a sect conference. He didn’t say it clearly, but some of his words implied “it would be good for the heir of ymj to attend them”. He was now doing well enough, sitting in these conferences shouldn’t be too hard, especially since he would mostly just accompany him.

Going to KT was his first reappearance into the cultivation world and gossip must have travelled quickly when they arrived, because he was soon reunited with his sister. He allowed himself to hug her for a moment longer than needed, feeling like he /needed/ this familiar feeling, something he had missed in the past weeks he had been at NC. It felt like forever since he had allowed someone so close to him, and even touch him this much other than for health matters.

Jzx simply settled for a more polite greeting when jyl decided to let go of him. He deduced alone that llj had taken her under their roof, which was reassuring, although he sure hopes this peacock was taking good care of his sister. They talked a bit, learning that wwx was apparently out to try and find him, despite wrh having sent a message that he was safe (they apparently did not trust the man that much). He also learned that the remaining disciple had gone back to LP, where they had started to do some cleaning a repairs, only waiting for him to maybe step back in and take his role as a sect leader.

This made him glance back at wrh, who seemed indifferent to this idea. Would it really be alright of he decided to lift up ymj again? Although he wondered how he would do that without his core (but he threw this to the back of his mind).

She did wonder why he was staying at NC, clearly looking over the wen robes he had been led to come here, changing out of his white robes probably for the first time in weeks. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her he was his soulmate; he was still trying to process that fully. Wrh seem to accept him not wanting to say now, as he simply said he was taking care of the mess his son had caused. Jc did not miss the doubtful look jzx gave the man, but it seemed enough for jyl who preferred believing his brother was doing good.

There was an awkward moment when jzx asked about rooms, as they didn’t know wrh would bring someone else than his usual disciple and wzl. “I wouldn’t want for it to be a bother to prepare one more room, we should have warned you beforehand” had simply said jc, more out of politeness than because he wanted to sleep in the same bed as wrh. Jzx simply nodded, before saying he would see if it could be arranged.

When came the meeting he did not miss the weird look given his way, everyone clearly wondering what he was doing by wrh side, but no one actually dares to ask because the sect leader himself was there. At some point they touch the fragile subject of lp and ymj, to which hc took a firm stand “I will rebuild LP and won’t let down the ymj clan, did you believe one of the five great clans would die this easily?”. This was a warning to both wrh and everyone around that he was /not/ gonna let anyone step on him because of what had happened and because he was still young. He didn’t miss the little satisfied and proud look in wrh eyes, as if the idea of his soulmate strongly wanting to rebuild his sect correctly was the best thing he could hear of.

No one went deeper on the subject, deciding that between jc possibly getting more agitated and wrh who /clearly/ was looking out for jc it wasn’t worth risking offending the ymj heir (new sect leader?).

The banquet held by jgs that night had people even more curious and confused about them, wondering /why/ wrh seemed suddenly so... affectionate? Towards jc, while the young man seemed /too/ at ease around the man who was at the head of the sect who had /killed/ his parents. Had wrh somehow brainwashed him?

Only jyl dared join them to talk, asking how he had been doing. Jc didn’t mind telling, keeping out anything to do with his golden core (it was better if no one knew) or what he did to wc. At some point, wrh had to leave them because of some business he needed to talk about with other clan leaders. The pat and lingering hand on jc shoulder was not missed by many.

“I went back home” admitted jyl once wrh was gone, “We took care of the funeral” she admitted with a little sorry smile, as if feeling bad that she couldn’t wait for jc to do this. Jc simply smiled saying he was happy that this had been taken care of correctly. “I brought back some of your robes” she then said with a smile, jc supposing it was in case he was alright and would have come back to KT instead of being sent to NC. “I can deliver them to your room, I am sure you’d like to have your own robes”.

And he would love to, a lot. He had been wearing nothing else than mourning robes and now wen robes, he missed his robes in the usual colours of ymj.

And she did just that, delivering them to his room (or rather his and wrh room, jgs was not able to prepare one more for the night). And since he knew wrh would be out until later, talking with jgs, nmj and lqr (as the great sect leader often does after these banquets, he remember his father attending these late-night discussions), he decided to put them on, feeling like he needed this part of him to be normal.

It was probably stupid to feel so relaxed and satisfied to finally be able to put on his own robes, they were just robes after all. But it still did. He was in the process of changing when the door opened, making him freeze in his action, turning to wrh. He had not expected the man to suddenly come back now, as he thought he would stay late. Or maybe only his father was one to stay rather late? He never knew for how long the other would stay.

He quickly pulled his clothes close, looking to the side unsure what to say as wrh was looking at him. “Purple does fit you better” he heard, feeling his face heat up a bit, not expecting this sudden compliment. Of course, it did, what else did he think?

He couldn’t help but tense a bit when he saw him approach, looking at the hand reaching towards him as if ready to defend himself if needed. Yet all these hands did was arrange his robes better, even reaching for the sash sitting on the bed, correcting the collars. He stepped away once it was done, jc looking down at himself, smiling at his own clothes. He felt really childish-

for feeling this good because of clothing, but wrh didn’t comment on this.

“I thought you would be out longer” admitted jc now that the silence felt too much. They would be together here until the next day, it wasn’t the same as just sitting in silence while doing other things in his presence. “I sometimes stay longer, but I wanted to make sure you were alright,” he said, although it was more, he had felt how happy jc was and had wondered what had caused it, it was something nice to finally sense coming from his soulmate in so long. “But I suppose your father used to stay longer with jgs” he commented, probably only now seeing why he had thought so.

Neither added more, knowing that jc parents were still a touchy and fragile subject to touch, especially if it was wrh. The man instead went to sit at the table, some wine arriving at the same time, having called for some. “why not join me for a drink? It's still early we could talk a bit, if you want to of course" suggest wrh.

Jc feels like he should refuse, but decide otherwise. Maybe drinking a bit would help ease him up a-

bit for the night. So he just sits down, accepting the cup given to him and drinking it without much hesitation (it would be rather late in all this for wrh to poison him).

“you did good earlier" comments wrh after a couple of minutes of strangely comfortable silence. This surprised jc, who wouldn't have thought that wrh would see one of the somewhat fallen great sect being surely built back as good. Doesn't he want to be above everyone and one less sect against him is good?

Yet the comment does send some warmth in him, not used to such easy praise. “it just the truth, I won't let the ymj sect fall like this, I might be young but I am not unable to do it". The older man hums at this, a pleased smile on his face “Good" he replies as he pours him more wine “I never thought otherwise, you will surely do good". Then they are both silent again, jc unsure how to feel about this. He was praised and wrh had always believed he would take over his father's title? He never believed jc would give up that? Truly the man was becoming more different to what he had thought he was all this time. Or maybe was it something only he was allowed?

“The soulmark... can I see it again?” jc asked after a couple of wine cups taken, somewhat curious. He had only seen his before, many times even, wondering what the symbol might mean (now he understood). But he had seen wrh one only once and rather quickly to prove a point. “If you let me see yours” replied the man after a while.

It was only then that jc realised he had never shown it to wrh and he felt like the man never tried to sneakily find out. Had he believed wzl words so easily without checking? Had he believed jc reaction all this time without proof?

He decided it was a fair trade, taking more wine to give him more courage and make him less nervous. He then preceded to loosen his robes, trying not to look up at wrh who was doing the same. He did it enough so he could show the mark sitting at the very centre of his chest, only a bit lower than his collarbone, a dark red against his pale skin.

He finally looked up when wrh seem to be done, only one shoulder uncovered to show the left part of his chest, the same lotus on fire branding over his heart, a dark purple colour.

So they truly are soulmates.

His hand is itching to reach and touch it, as if to make sure this was not all an illusion.

He had found his soulmate when he somehow believed he would never manage to. Maybe he wasn’t fully happy about it being wrh, but he /had/ managed to find him, even if it had taken a rather painful road to get there.

He looked back up, only to see wrh smile to him /softly/, making his breath hitch. How was this man looking this softly at him?!? How come wrh was so different from what he had believed him to be?!

“Did... father know about your soulmark?” jc asked. He knew the reason jyl and jzx were engaged was because both jfm and jgs had found out their children were soulmates (how convenient was that really). But if jfm had known about wrh... would he have ever told him? Or would he have kept on saying “one day you will find” (although sometimes his mother gave him the impression if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have a choice to marry anyway).

“I don’t think he did, I am not known for showing my mark around a lot” he replied which seemed like a fair point. Jc couldn’t say the same. Not that he was showing it around all the time, but rather that he had often swum with other disciples that weren’t from ymj, so he had probably been seen by more than just his sect.

“Did your wife... had a similar mark?” asked jc, feeling strangely curious and chatty right now, maybe the alcohol was doing its job (and he was still accepting more wine). Something a bit sadder flashed across wrh face, offering him only a small smile. “No, hers was... of a flying bird, a beautiful mark too, really”.

“Did you... love her?” he asked a bit hesitantly, wondering if wrh had married his wife the same way his parent had.

“I did,” the man said with a sad melancholic smile, “We weren’t meant to be with each other, but we still managed to love each other”. This made jc smile despite himself, happy to hear it was possible, although it only made him feel sad afterwards, wondering why their parent could never have that too. He never felt like his parent had truly loved each other, it was not a secret that they weren’t soulmates either, their marriage had truly been political. But he still hoped maybe they managed to find something in each other at some point, even if it wasn’t necessarily love.

He then wonders if he could have that too, with wrh. They were soulmates, but it didn’t mean everything would necessarily lead to that (after all, he was still unsure if he could fully trust wrh).

As if feeling his trouble (wrh did literally) the man gave him a reassuring smile, “but you do not have to worry about my past love” he said, before standing up, holding a hand out for jc “It’s getting late, I think some sleep might be good for you”.

Jc accepted his help (for once), feeling his legs a bit wobbly under him, maybe he shouldn’t have drunk so much. He managed to change into some purple night robes, noticing how wrh gave him his privacy by simply turning away to find his own clothing.

He went to bed a bit hesitantly, unsure if it would bother wrh to share, yet it didn’t seem to since he laid down next to him, leaving him his space. It felt less awkward than he thought (or maybe it was the alcohol again), even feeling nice to be sleeping next to wrh. He fell asleep without noticing he had gotten a bit closer to wrh.

Afterwards, jc managed to get closer to wrh, allowing the man to get closer to him. It took a bit of time for him to be fully trusting of wrh, But the sect leader was doing his best to show him he /could/. Wrh even help with his rebuilding of LP, letting him go there alone, showing he was trusting him too.

Jc even managed to influence wrh to be less paranoid and less easily angered by other cultivators, actually managing to lift up the Qishan Wen sect reputation a bit, making everything a bit easier for everyone.

Wq even ends up telling wrh she might have a way for jc to have a new golden core, which they do talk about with him. Of course, jc would only accept if someone is willing, which wrh did find (although willing is probably not to word to use about this, but jc doesn’t need to know).

Jc feels like his relationship with wrh is complicated, but he knows things are better than when t all started and he can fully trust the man, allowing him to be something no one had ever been for him, slowly falling a bit more with how affectionate he could be.

=(ends. this has 5.5k words, at this point I might as well just make a fanfic out of it)=

Original

#my writing #tweet archive #medium story #mo dao zu shi #ruocheng #wen ruohan #jiang cheng #soulmate au #post-golden core melting #wc fucked up #and wen zuhliu is trying to fix it #5k - 6k words

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sandu-zidian · 2 years

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Not me every once in a while adding to this insanely expansive Star Wars AU for CQL/MDZS. Just made the sect political landscape set on a planet that is/was a colony of Mandalore, where because they’re quite separate from the planet’s political turmoil, are kind of is insulated and deal with their shit internally. The sects are also actual political entities now, having merged in part with the regional government at some point in the planet’s history. There’s still a distinction between the sect families and the actual government, but their relationship is much more tied and because of this the five great sects act as a government body together. The Wens have some sort of relationship with the empire when they take over Mandalore and gain access to their planet, and through them, problems begin to arise

#katantalks #it’s honestly kinda embarrassing how much I think about this au #fun fact WWX becomes an inquisitor as a double agent. he’s a fulcrum agent within the inquisitorius #and there’s a reason for that #also cultivation is still a thing but follows SW force rules so golden cores aren’t how they cultivate #but JC still loses his cultivation abilities but it’s not as easily fixed as in canon so he actually can’t cultivate/use the force anymore #but bc the sects have a mix of government and cultivation duties JC still has legitimacy as a sect heir even without cultivation abilities #the Nies are Mandalorians bc I say so <33 #oh and most characters are not humans I have alien assignments somewhere #mdzs #the war against the Wens lasts longer than in canon bc of the whole empire situation so our characters become rebels and entangled with the #rebellion #i think it’d be fun if they were close with the Ghost crew bc of their proximity to Mandalore’s revolt

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aurorawritestoescape · 26 days

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GOING DOWN || 3,4 k

Joel Miller x f!reader | Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: you have a hot boyfriend and a hot ex who’s still obsessed with you. Why not get the best of both worlds?

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, darkish!reader, toxic!reader, boyfriend!Joel, ex who desperately wants you back!Frankie, soft!Frankie, infidelity (reader’s), praise kink, size kink, unprotected piv, creampie, handjob, m!oral, pussy eating, cum eating, f!masturbation, stalking (reader loves it), voyeurism, exhibitionism, swearing, dirty talk, pet names princesa-princess, mi amor- my love. Reader wears a dress. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: I have no excuse for this one. I don’t know why I look at our baby Frankie and want to do all this. I’m not sorry though, it’s hot to me and also fictional😉 the title’s inspired by the song “I’m goin’ down” by Mary J. Blige and Frankie’s special talent😏 Happy Frankie Friday, my loves!💖

Written for @burntheedges ‘s roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was Exes. Thank you for the fun event, Kate❤️ Kisses to wonderful @milla-frenchy for beta-ing this filth😘 dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || more Frankie - The Hoodie

You are looking out of the window at the night street, illuminated by a few golden lights, when you feel Joel’s heavy hands on your hips and then his lips plant a kiss on your neck from behind.

“Let’s go to bed,” he mumbles, his gruff voice coated with lust.

“No, fuck me right here.”

He smiles against your neck.

“Really? Want the neighbors to see us, dirty girl?”

“Yeah. Neighbors,” you smirk, not tearing your eyes from the car parked outside your apartment building. Your ex’s Pickup.

Joel pierces you with his big stiff cock and before you start moaning like a whore, you open the window a little so you two can not only be visible, but also perfectly heard from the street. Cool autumn air hits your heated face and your nipples get hard under your thin dress.

"Oh yeah, Joel! Harder!" you cry out, reveling in the way he's dragging his huge manhood in and out your channel. You're taking it like a good girl-always wet and tight for your boyfriend's cock.

Your fingers swiftly pull down your neckline, exposing your bouncing tits to whoever might look through your window. And you're sure that someone is looking.

Not knowing about your sick game, Joel is grunting loudly, thrusting deep and hard into you, your back flush with his broad chest. He’s rubbing his stubble against your neck, then your cheek until you turn your face to him and your lips lock in a sloppy and passionate kiss, while he’s holding you close, drawing pleasure from your tight pussy.

Joel’s hand snakes under your dress and having found your naked cunt, begins swirling your clit between two thick fingers. You part from his mouth, whimpering loudly.

“Yeah, baby! Let ‘em hear what a slut you are for me. Getting fucked in front of the whole neighborhood.”

His words push you over the edge and you come on his cock, crying out from pleasure. You don’t fake it. There is no need. He is that good.

Joel follows you soon and shoots his thick warm cum into your pulsating core. When he stills and pulls out, you hastily fix your dress and grab your dog’s leash.

“I’ll walk Tom.” You kiss Joel with tongue and leave the apartment, leaking your boyfriend’s load with every move.

When you step out into the night, you walk along the street a few meters and tie your dog to a street pole. On your legs, trembling from the hard orgasm, you saunter to your ex’s truck.

The passenger door is already open for you when you reach it and you get in, feeling cold air lap at your pussy, coated in Joel’s cum.

A pair of beautiful kicked puppy eyes greet you there and you turn slightly in your seat to see your ex better in the dark car.

Frankie’s wearing a denim shirt, dark blue jeans and his favorite baseball cap that you always hated for hiding his gorgeous curls. He looks the same as the day you left him. Maybe the bags under his eyes are darker but it could be the poor lighting at fault.

“What are you doing here, Frankie?” Your voice is soft and calm, with a pinch of sadness thrown in for his sake.

The man nervously fixes his cap and glances at you from the side, like a guilty dog. He clears his throat and lies,

“ ‘m checking on you.”

His velvety voice caresses your ear, it’s soft like everything about his character. He starts chewing on his lip while his eyes are staring into the darkness ahead of him.

“No, you’re stalking me, baby. I see your Pickup everywhere I go. Near my work last week. I spotted you at the bar today. And now you’re here… spying on me through the window.”

He proves that he watched your little show when he spreads his thighs wider and bucks his hips, unwillingly attracting your attention to his big bulge. You both are quiet for a few moments.

“I miss you,” he finally admits, turning to you. His eyes are sad and sappy and you should feel sorry, bad or at least sympathetic but the overwhelming feeling in your heart is a triumph. He’s not over you. You’re the best he’s ever had and he desperately wants you back.

You’ve been feeling elated lately when you noticed Frankie stalking you. It’s been fun playing with him and you don’t plan on stopping. You pull your brows together and coo,

“I understand, baby, but you can’t keep coming here. Joel’s a jealous type. I don’t want any problems.”

While you’re talking, Frankie’s nodding along, eyes downcast. You place your hand on his shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze. His own big paw flies to yours and after bringing it to his mouth, he presses his lips to your palm. Your heart flutters at his need for you and your pussy tingles when you remember the way his plush lips were leaving kisses all over your body weeks ago.

“Baby,” you breathe out and he looks at you, not letting go of your hand. You see tears in his eyes, not enough to spill but enough to fuel up your ego. His eyes are so pretty like that, wet lashes and glossy chocolatey irises.

“Aww, Frankie,” you coo and open your arms to him. He rushes to you as if you’re his lifeline, wrapping his big strong arms around your torso and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You’re hugging him back, trying not to suffocate in his steel embrace and rubbing his muscular broad back. Frankie’s as big as Joel, both are much bigger than you, and warmth spreads deep in your core when his scent envelops you just like his body.

You smile when you notice him still wearing your favorite cologne.

Soon your body craves something more than just a hug so your lips part and a soft whimper escapes your mouth. You know well that your pretty noises always make him wild.

Your ex reacts immediately and you feel an open mouth kiss on your neck.

“Frankie.” Your tone is scolding yet fake and you sigh deeply, brushing his chest with your barely covered breasts. Your ex grumbles at the sensation and then whispers, his voice already strained with lust.

“I miss you so much.”

You hug him tighter and feel his hot breath on your cleavage when he leans lower to plant another kiss on your collarbone. His cap slides off his head and falls on the floor but he doesn’t care. Looking down at his beautiful dark curls you run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails and Frankie almost roars against your chest. His arms pull you closer to him, even though your torso is already flush with his. He slightly lifts you off the seat and you tug at his hair in warning, steel in your tone.

“Put me down, Frankie.”

He listens to you like he always does but your roughness earns another loud groan from him. You smile, imagining how hard his cock must be now.

Frankie leaves soft kisses on your clothed chest, your belly and soon his head is resting on your lap, while his arms are wrapped around your hips as if he’s scared you’ll float away.

You’re stroking his head, marveling at the silky waves of his hair, shining even in the dim light, and slightly tilt your hips up when his prominent nose pokes your mound through the thin fabric of your dress. As if thinking about the same thing, Frankie breathes in full lungs of your arousal and a guttural moan vibrates against your covered pussy.

“I miss her, mi amor,” you barely hear him mumble and you sigh. Recently satiated by Joels’s pounding, your core gets reignited with sticky desire and you bite your lip, your dark gaze sliding over his sexy shoulders and his head, with his face hidden. You part your legs just slightly, letting him closer to your needy pussy.

Like a dog sniffing out his favorite treat, Frankie’s nuzzling your lap, and his lips and nose are brushing against your tights, your lower belly, your cunt through the fabric.

You gasp when his fingers dig into your soft hips a bit too hard and he hastily relaxes his grip and looks up at you.

“Sorry, princesa.” His blown out eyes are filled with guilt and want and you give him a smile, cupping his scruffy cheek.

“It’s ok, baby, just be careful with me, ‘k? No marks.”

“Yes, yes, of course, mi amor,” he murmurs, returning his head back onto your lap.

After a couple of minutes in his arms, the fire in your core morphs into an ache and you squirm under him with impatience.

“I should go, Frankie. Joel’s gonna worry.”

“No, please,” he almost whines, hugging you tighter. “I—,” he stumbles.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I —? Can I see her?”

He’s staring up at you and you tilt your head to the side, faking confusion.

“Who?”

He knows that you understand but you need him to say it. So he plays by your rules. Like he always does.

“Can I see your beautiful pussy?” He sits up, facing you, his huge body squeezed in between the wheel and his seat. His bulge looks even more prominent now and you gush at the thought that he must be leaking into his boxers.

“Oh, Frankie, baby, you know I have a boyfriend. I can’t.”

His pleading eyes are fixed on you as he begs,

“Please, mi amor, just a look. I miss her so much. I miss you. Please.”

With another fake sigh you glance out of the window to check the surroundings, and after finding the street empty, you turn back to him.

“Ok, just for a second. Get in the back.”

“Thank you, mi amor,” he mumbles, hurrying out of the truck.

You squeeze between the front seats and sit down, turning to Frankie as he joins you at the back of the car. Your ex impatiently grabs the hem of your dress but you stop him.

“No one should know about this, understand?”

Frankie nods eagerly, mumbling yes’s like a junkie before getting a hit of his drug and you let him lift your dress and expose your naked pussy.

Your hands clutch the dress against your waist, and your legs are pressed together but it’s evident how wet you’re - your folds shine with Joel’s cum and your slick arousal.

Frankie’s breath hitches and his broad chest expands, straining his shirt.

“Beautiful,” he praises as his hand flies to the apex of your thighs.

“Nah-ah”, you grab his big paw midair and place it on top of your thigh.

“No touching. You wanted to look, right?”

“Yeah,” Frankie halfheartedly agrees, furrowed brows showing his discontent. “Then at least open your legs, princesa. Need to see her better.”

You try to contain your excitement as you tut at your ex,

“You’re so naughty, baby.”

You slowly part your thighs wide enough for your pussy to bloom in front of his hungry eyes.

Frankie’s mouth goes slack and his gaze clouds up when he sees your glistening pussy lips, puffy clit and your inviting hole. You shift a little on the seat, leaving wetness on the leather, and when you clench your walls in anticipation, you both see a little bit of pearly white liquid slide out of your entrance.

“Is this…?” Frankie mumbles, not tearing his eyes off your recently used cunt.

“Yeah. I know you’ve been watching Joel fuck me so don’t pretend that you’re surprised. My pussy’s full of his cum,” you say with defiance and wait for his reaction.

Frankie’s softly growls and his hand on your thigh contracts into a fist.

“Shhh, big boy,” you purr, bringing your fingers to your pussy. You gather some of Joel’s seed, leaking from your hole, and spread the creamy juices over your hardened clit. You rub yourself a few times and when a soft moan escapes your lips, Frankie echoes you.

“Feels so good,” you admit and begin pleasuring yourself in front of your ex.

“Jesus— fuck,” Frankie mumbles. His eyes are obsidian, forehead glistening with sweat with a few wet curls stuck to it. With his gaze tormented and pained, he reaches down to his belt.

“What are you doing, baby?” you ask, pausing your ministrations.

Frankie freezes and replies, stumbling over his words,

“I need — need to take my dick out. It hurts.”

“Ok, Frankie.” He hastily unzips his jeans when you add, “But don’t touch it.”

Frankie groans but then sighs with relief when he pulls the waistband of his boxers down, tucks it under his balls and his cock springs free. It hits his shirt and leaves a dark wet spot.

His member is throbbing, the dark pink tip, glossy and fat, is oozing his clear need for you and you lick your lips, enticing the man even more.

Frankie follows your orders and lets his cock bob and drip pre-fuck juice all over his balls and jeans while you moan again, tracing your sopping hole.

Your ex rubs his cheek, focused on the place he desperately wants to claim with his tongue and cock and croaks after wetting his plush lips,

“Let me kiss her, mi amor.”

Bingo.

That’s what you wanted as soon as you saw him at the bar today. If you cared to admit maybe you already dreamed about it when you noticed him stalking you last week. But what’s a prize without a game? Now it feels extra special.

With a little smile, you throw off your shoe and plant your bare foot on the seat, opening your thighs wider for him.

“You gonna taste another man’s cum on my pussy? just to kiss her?”

Frankie’s eyes snap up to yours and you see his defeat, his despair, his love in their depths.

He nods silently.

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” you coo. “Ok, baby, go ahead.”

With a grunt Frankie bends down, slowly adjusting his position between your legs so it’s comfortable for you, and when his soft warm lips kiss your cold cunt, you flutter your eyes shut with a pleased mewl.

Frankie’s always been the best at pussy eating. Joel often goes down on you but it’s different. He demands your ecstasy, claims your pussy with his mouth, makes you scream when his rough tongue impatiently rubs at your clit. His movements say ‘Give me’ while he’s eating you out.

But Frankie. He’s whispering “Take it”. Take your time, take your bliss, take my lips and tongue and use them, let yourself drown in pleasure. He laps at you softly and languidly, licking your pussy like it’s the most delicate flower, the most delicious fruit.

You grab your phone out of your pocket and text Joel that you met a friend by accident and need to catch up.

Frankie doesn’t see any of it, he’s gone, fully concentrated on pleasuring your soft cunt. His hands are gently holding your thighs apart, his face buried in your pussy.

“How’s she?” you whisper, raking your fingers through his silky curls and tugging on them slightly to get his attention when he doesn’t respond right away.

“I taste him on you,” Frankie grumbles, parting from your sex, “‘m gonna get it off you.”

He returns to work, making out with your folds and sucking the other man’s cum off your clit and you already feel yourself close to unraveling.

“Yes, like that, baby. My pussy misses you.”

You feel Frankie smile against your cunt before he begins stroking your clit with his tongue again and again until you cry out his name into your hand, while your hole clamps around nothing, walls contract and release another portion of Joel’s thick load.

Trembling from the orgasm that’s rippling through your body, you watch Frankie lap at your entrance, drinking the runaway seed and your slick, prolonging your shattering climax with this depraved act.

He doesn’t stop kissing your pussy until you get overstimulated and try to close your legs.

“Did so good for me, Frankie,” you murmur through heavy breaths.

“Thank you, mi amor,” your ex gruffs, sitting up, his face blushed, the gaze hazy and drunk on you.

He’s shivering from the arousal, his engorged cock generously leaking precum, and you take mercy on the man.

You scoot closer to him, wrap your hand around his hot cock and start slowly pumping it. It’s soaked with his juices so your palm slides easily over his hard length but to make him absolutely wild you gather some slick off your cunt and rub the underside of his cock where his tip meets the shaft with your wet thumb.

Frankie moans like a needy slut and in a second the first rope of cum shoots out of his slit.

You hastily lower your head, take the head between your lips and start drinking his load as he’s feeding it to you, jerking and thrusting his hips up, while your hand is gliding over his shaft.

You swallow everything to the last drop and lick it all over, cleaning his cock and earning a jerk of overstimulation from your ex. Then you sit up, wiping your mouth curled into a satisfied smile.

“Fuck, princesa, I love you,” Frankie breathes out falling onto the backrest, his cock softening but still standing at attention. You smile at his confession and your hunger finally seems satisfied.

You begin fixing your clothes and he watches you for a few seconds before tucking his cock into his jeans and then shifting closer to you. He gets into your space and you feel his warm hand pressed to your lower back. His huge frame is looming over you and you look up into his chocolaty eyes. They seem sad again.

“I want you back, mi amor—I... I need you.”

You sigh deeply and shake your head, taking his big hand in yours.

“You know it’s over, Frankie. I’m sorry, but I’m with Joel now.”

“Why? Why can’t you be with me? Why is he better?” He asks, furrowing his brows and leaning even closer to you.

“Baby,” you whine, averting your gaze from his puppy eyes and tracing hearts on his hand. “We talked about it. He’s …he’s like whiskey, he’s rough and heady and… you’re like hot chocolate, Frankie. You’re sweet but you’re too saccharine for me.”

“I can get rough with you, princesa.”

You giggle and shake your head.

“It’s not who you are, baby. And it’s ok. Someone will love you for it one day.”

You hear him sniff before he yanks his hand away from yours.

You know you should leave, break it off once and for all but the sick, mean, greedy side of your soul wants to pull him back as soon as you have pushed him away.

“Frankie,” you purr and grab his arm as he’s about to get out of the car. A slight touch from you is all it takes to stop him and he turns to you, his eyes glossy, his expression defeated.

You get closer to him and take his face between your hands. To kiss him goodbye. To poison him more.

He falls into the kiss head first, embracing you tightly, pressing his torso to yours so close it’s difficult to breathe.

You both moan against each other’s lips and you pull on his hair with passion and possessiveness. His tongue is licking into your mouth and you’re tasting yourself, sensing a faint trace of Joel’s cum. It’s so sick and twisted that another surge of arousal burns your core.

You make out for some time until you part from his lips.

“I should go, Frankie,” you whisper, snaking out of his embrace.

Frankie’s arms fall and he nods, looking lost and inebriated. You use this moment to hastily get out of his car.

“Bye, baby,” you chirp, smiling at him, but before you close the door he wakes up from the trance and calls for you.

“I won’t stop, mi amor,” he admits with determination in his shaky voice. “I’m gonna keep coming. I need you.”

“I know,” you say with a fake sigh and close the door.

You’re walking to get Tom, feeling Frankie’s eyes on your back, and trying to calm down, you bite your lip, but the excitement overwhelms you and soon a triumphant smile spreads across your face.

Thank you for reading!💖

MASTERLIST || more Frankie- The Hoodie

tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

Tagging lovelies who showed interest in my Wip post @sawymredfox @604to647 @thundermartini @bonezone44 @casa-boiardi

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deadlydelicious · 2 months

Text

So this season was 6 episodes to the normal 10 episode count, which means the runtime was reduced by 4 episodes, and from my viewing we missed out on the following storylines/ plot resolutions

Here be spoilers

Luther searching for Sloane

An ACTUAL EXIT FOR RAY

Allison and Viktor actually making ammends with each other

A flashback to Reginald's original planet covering the creation of the particles and how their world ended

SOME FUCKING DAVE KATZ?!

just generally any sort of fight scenes. We got like...one

POGO? we got a second of him in a flashback, but just a cameo as the butler in the current Hargreeves house would have been nice

Five also having a realistic existance in this new timeline (everyone else has a realistically shitty life but he's a high ranking CIA member at age like 18?)

They establish Klaus has been sober for 3 years (the time skip being 6 years) and clearly it's alluded to that Claire saw some of his antics when he was still using (her having been to the squat, her advising Allison drop him immediatly) but none of it is actually shown or elaborated on, or even alluded to until he grabs the TV, so it made Claire's change in attitude towards him come out of nowhere?

IS RAY CLAIRE'S DAD IN THIS WORLD OR NOT?! WTF IS UP WITH RAY

A Klaus storyline that...actually related back to the larger plot would have been nice?

Any explination about why Jennifer was IN A FUCKING SQUID?

A reason why Jennifer was infected with the particle in the original timeline. Like...was it a doomsday cult there like it is here, whats up?

Any of the brellies other than Lila and Allison having to deal with new/old family members in this timeline. Lila had a massive family (that is never explained) and Allison had Claire (AND RAY, FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS), but none of the other brellies have family members they have to pretend they know? that would have been golden

An exploration into the whole 'now Vik's been through every woman in town' thing. They just dropped that and ran. like...does he have commitment issues? is he emotionally distant? is he too clingy? why have all these women dumped him. Thats a big potential character beat to introduce and then abandon

Like the core of the plot - the two particles mutating into something horrible, Reginald having to shoot Ben in the OG timeline to save the world, the Gene/Jean timeline doomsday cult, them fixing the story by allowing the particles to be consumed and erased- that worked. but NONE of the dressing around about the actual siblings did. Like they literally dump Luther and Diego into the CIA's basement because they couldn't find a use for them, it was so fucking weird.

#tua #the umbrella academy #tua s4 #tua season 4 #the umbrella academy season 4 #the umbrella academy s4 #umbrella academy

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dogbites-puppylove · 6 months

Text

Yandere Batfam: Incentives

TW: description of yandere mentalities and actions (obsession, possessive tendencies, stalking, etc)

Tags: Yandere! Batfam x reader

Bruce Wayne: The Epitome of a Hero

Batman without fail has proven himself a near-perfect hero, impressive for the fact that he's first generation and had tackled Gotham's cursed land. But obviously, as with any being on earth, the stress of the facade weighs on him. The stretch between the isle of Bruce Wayne and the Scowl of Batman no longer cut clean. They blur and tear at him ravenously until he sometimes feels he is nothing but a ghost of obsession, of a boy in the middle of an alley with his parent's blood puddled around his knees.

Bruce, in essence, needs something to define himself, he is a man who cares for his partners painfully (each robin has chiseled a part of himself out) and yet he cannot choose them over his city (over his villains). He has nobody else to define who he is, he is nothing without them and as much as he loves being their father the cowl is the only thing he has left of what was once an unbreakable will

The darling plays a sort of anchor, a guide, a definition that Bruce can cling onto. For Bruce who cannot say confidently that he can live truly as either a civilian or a hero without regret, his darling is all he has to cling to. For even should he forsake his sacred code that defines him, forsake his morals that he clings to, and go off the deep end never to return he can still manage to drench himself in you.

You're in his bones, his flesh, and on his lips at all times of the night and day, the cowl and fatherhood are at his core and as they conflict, chipping away at him and forcing him into nothing but a broken mess you seep into the cracks and fill him up until all of him is nothing but you, you, you. Your scorn, your praise, all of what you say, you're what he can finally define himself off of.

It doesn't matter if your nails drag into his skin as a punishment, or even if you carve your woes into his flesh with a knife. He will take them as his law all the same he will revere your kisses, your soft touches, and your smiles. His unbreakable will is nothing in the end as long as he has you.

You have him in the palm of his hand, your word is law, you define who he is with your mood, whether he is a failure and must strive to be better or whether he can finally rest is all up to you.

Even from a young age when childhood should have been grass stains and scraped knees, Dick has always known an audience's eyes and dizzying heights. He knows his role, his actions and his expressions are all being watched, and taken into account and he knows best how to play the role of the easily lovable. Responsibility and acting all of this have been him forever, he's a natural at it. Basically, its second nature for him to mold himself into the one everyone likes, he knows the script and he plays it well

Richard Grayson: The golden boy

His entire life has been a role, something that he has to put his all into acting, the perfect robin, the leader of the titans, the leader of the young justice league, Nightwing-the vigilante who garners the respect of heroes and law alike. It is a tightrope walk of never-ending smiles and actions and if he slips it all comes crashing down and he cannot risk it. If he bows to the weight on his shoulders, even if it's all too much he has far too much to lose. Of course, he loves being loved, and he genuinely does love his family, loves his pseudo father and his little brothers and his friends but he knows who they love and it might not be him as a person.

The darling for him is a slow burn. a t first their a sort of self-fulfillment, just a little fix of appreciation from his favorite person, but the more he visits them, the more he drops some prefixes, is able to be a little rougher around the edges he gets lost in it, the brunt of his feelings finally flooding out from the cracks in his perfect facade and you're his addiction. He needs you to need him, to like him, to adore him he needs you to approve of who he is without the flashing lights and cameras. It's a strange mix of needing your approval to prove that he's still balancing, that the weight hasn't yet managed to take hold and drag him down, and needing you to see the fact that he is a broken grieving man. He's been used and weaponized and he just needs to know that outside of that Richard Grayson is still useable, love him outside of his role, be his everything meld your existence into his he's begging you

It comes to a point that he can almost no longer separate where you begin and where he ends, and he's never felt so intoxicated, so in love, because if love isn't the way he can barely focus, his brain clouding over and the way he basically turns into an animal for you, your loyal little dog he doesn't know what could possibly count. As long as he has your praise, your approval, and your need for him he's a brainless pet. Just love him, love him, love him or he might finally fall.

What many forget about the second robin is though he is the robin who crosses the lines others won't, the one who sees things to a more permanent end, Jason is the one who is more in tune with his emotions. They overwhelm him and lead him more than rationality but Jason has emotions, he bares his heart on his sleeve, and others are simply too blind to see it. Perhaps it's because of this strange self-awareness, of how fucked he is, how broken he is that he cannot delude himself in the same way his family does. He cannot seem to meld himself with you(how could something like him even think of being one with someone like you), but he's so desperate for the connection.

Jason Todd: The monster

In comparison to the other robins, Jason understands that he is replaceable. It's so easy to swap him out with any other broken street rat, hell he might even argue it would be an improvement. He's watched Gotham from its sewer, eyes glancing over crime alleys streets from broken street lights as a child, how women were beaten into submission by men with too much audacity and beer on their breath, how good men would be turned to corpses and looted, how children stood on corners and Gotham nods her head because his city is nothing it not vile and rotten in its core

He has known death intimately and hates life just a little bit more because there isn't anything he can feel truly justifies how Gotham lets the sewage and filth thrive. He's never had the luxury of childhood, of the safety of a child's innocence because he's aware that life isn't a gift, it's a cesspool of sin prepping souls on earth for hell. There's nothing good, but there are people who need protection from it and Jason goes about his days repenting for existing because there's no divinity, no god other than the men who see themselves on the top of the chain. There's no god before you.

His darling is a light, something near untouchable, someone who can do no wrong. Jason is the type of delusional where he can justify every single thing Darling can ever say or do, say the skies green and he’ll rearrange the dictionary just to prove you right. You in a sense define what is good or evil, something invaluable, something so good that they could even pity him. A benevolent deity bestowed open Gotham and he'd be damned if he let anything from the street touch you. Jason is the robin who came back wrong, the killer, the monster, the black sheep of the family of maniacs who want better from the world, and he's disgusting but he'll do anything for you.

In a sick way, he already knows well how his presence is painfully unworthy of you, but he longs, craves, and hungers for you all the same. He's reverent in his treatment. If he cannot connect with you by becoming one he'll be your loyal slave, your servant to the ends of the earth, his hands are already stained but even his own sins become virtues if there for you. He lives and breathes on you, everything he does is for you until the dead bodies piling his work are but offerings, sacrifices all for you. Carve a place in your body for him to reside, for him to leash himself upon so he can hide and forever more belong to you. A Divine and their monster acolyte.

Tim is a being born of neglect, constant patronization, rejection, and scorn. His only sense of motivation had been at first obsession without a sense of preservation. Tim has always known nothing but a world where he has to be able to provide to earn his right to stay, to exist. He knows intimately what it's like to be looked through, to be invisible, to have his own name replaced with another, or to have never been born, so like money he exchanges himself and all his actions in a transactional way. Every relationship for him is a simple give and take, he gives them what they want, and they let him stay and remember his name. As long as Tim is functioning and working he can't be thrown away, can't be truly invisible. As long as he is working he is kept.

Tim Drake: The Forgotten

Tim is smart, he knows how to run the table, and play the game and he does it well, he knows exactly how to pick apart everyone around him. Tears into them and learns, absorbs, and sees what they need, how he needs to act, what he needs to provide, and remakes himself for the sake of their approval. From the constant twists and turns of his character, Tim knows how to seek out the role, how to play it, how to thrive in it, Tim sees everything, and thus he is left feeling empty because nobody sees him. Something carnal in him screams for something, anything to tear him apart as well, to meet his obsession with their own.

His darling is someone who he needs to ruin him, he needs them to dissect him, to cut him up and tear away everything and covet his entrails. He's begging you to tear away at him, until Red Robin is nothing until Drake Wayne is but a far away title, and see him, see Time in all he is. Obsessive, disgusting, and desperate. He needs his darling to keep digging even as they see this and decide he's good enough to continue unraveling, to rip him open and keep something of him in your pocket.

As is apparent the relationship with his darling is almost masochistic in a way, with a clear power dynamic but what is to be noted is that while he is desperate he will never truly give up control. He knows when he is being manipulated, but he thrives on it, that you've picked him apart and have decided him worthy to manipulate, you get what he allows but he allows a lot for you. He wants his darling to devour him whole, to stitch themselves into a Frankenstein monster just as he has with them. Take on his mannerisms, remember his coffee order, his eye color, anything. He'd thrive just knowing they have a photo of him somewhere in their pocket. (as if it equates to the massive amounts of video he has on you, the photos, the cameras, the trackers, the microphones, the bugs, and chips)he just needs you to know who he is. He needs you to prove that Timothy Drake truly exists.

What most cannot see off the bat due to confident words and even more confident actions is that the most familiar feeling Damian is acquainted with is unsurity. He is a being born with a purpose, and the purpose was not to be human, it was to be heir, to be a leader to be everything that he needed to be. His life is a mix of criteria he needs to meet, of missions and proving himself and needing to be perfect, needing the validation of praise and a good grade. He is the heir of a league of assassins and yet he can no longer kill, he is the protege of a notorious hero and yet he contemplates lethality for too much, day in and day out Damian defines himself by this conflict and with true humanity alluding him, he cannot tell truly who he is.

Damian Wayne: The heir

The source of his need for competency comes from fear of inadequacy. Because if he cannot fit the criteria given, if he cannot prove himself worthy then does he even have the right to exist? When he has been born for a role he can no longer call his own, where does that leave him? Lost, he's lost and wandering and he thinks something is rotting in him. It plagues him, the fact that Damian Wayne is a leader, son, brother,heir but not human.

His darling in his case plays the role of safe haven, a little home in the form of flesh and blood where he can bury himself alive. He needs the surety they bring, there is no throne, no rubric or evaluation, there is only their own eyes and lips and Damian's own heart in their hands. They are his humanity, if Damian is a role then they are his wants and needs, they are his tears and very heart, he's sure if he could tear his chest open his darling would be there, cradled precisely within his ribs. In their arms Damian feels so painfully useless that he remembers he too has lungs that need air, that he too has basic needs, he feels helpless and ragged and he thinks that this sort of helplessness can be nothing but love.

Darling is living proof that Damian Wayne has something to himself outside of Robin, outside of al-Ghul, and outside of his last name. He is flawed, he sleeps and dreams and cries and is so very weak. He eats from the palm of your hand, everything that makes him disgustingly weak, mortal, he's putty in your hands, even if you were to feed him poison he would drink greedily. The thought of death, the foe that drove his grandfather to the pits over and over again, feels no harder than a feather brush with your arms around him.

Alfred: extra

Apologies

He is far too old to fancy himself a darling, and far too sensible to feel infatuation as strongly as his wayward family but he can care, and he can love and he would do anything for his family as he always has

Of course, he feels bad, lucid as he is he can see how they covet you, how they stress you and pull you so thin you might disappear but he cannot let you go, he hopes you forgive him.

He does pity you, is fond of you and your softer nature in the cave of monsters that lurk around for you as their sole prey and he’ll protect you as much as he can but ever since they've had you the manor has a bit lighter and they've smiled so much more he cannot truly let you go

He’ll provide everything but freedom, he'll coddle you through the transition and until he too must take his place in a grave but he begs of you to stay by his family of beasts

You're his only hope

Author's Note: Dipping my toes back into writing - if this seems familiar it's because it's a reupload! I was previously known as lovesick laboratories but my mental health took a nose dive but I'm back!

Tags: yandere batfam, yandere dc, yandere batfam x reader, bruce wayne x reader, dick grayson x reader, jason todd x reader, tim drake x reader, damian wayne x reader

#yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader

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sadhours · 7 months

Note

Ugh, that so hard... I picture Gator being so touchstarved but wanting to be rough with a soft side.... and Steve, well, I have a serious hand kink for the man, so... I feel like he'd lose his mind if his girlfriend had his thumb on her tongue.

i will start with the Steve one here and post the gator one separately bc… yeah… Steve’s hands

steve harrington x fem!reader

requests open! • masterlist

cw: 18+ minors dni, hand kink, oral fixation, smut, p in v, unprotected sex

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

steve’s hands are massive compared to yours. you’re always in awe of it when you press your palm to his, watching the way his fingers close and completely envelope the back of your hand. always so warm and soft. comforting in a way you hadn’t felt before.

but steve’s just as into it as you are.

you’re sprawled out on your back, sleep warm tangled sheets beneath you while he snakes his way between your thighs. large hands make purchase over the sensitive flesh as he spreads them. and you’re a little sore from the night before but your core aches in anticipation for more, slick already dripping from you. steve dips down to kiss you tenderly, the promise of his weight on you has your hips rolling up at him. your hands sliding into the hair curling at the nape of his neck. steve mumbles into the kiss, “you’re beautiful, baby.”

the compliment heats you up even more, whining in response as the pair of you smile into a needier kiss. steve’s hard against you, shaft of his cock fitting between your folds as his hands slide up your hips, sides until he’s holding your jaw. his hands so big it covers the entirety of your face, fingertips meeting your hairline while he deepens the kiss. his tongue gaining entrance into your parted lips and rolling against your own. he slips into you slowly, giving your sore cunt plenty of time to adjust to his size. you still gasp when he slides in, you always do.

steve breaks the kiss then, gazing down at you lovingly as his thumb grazes against your lower lip. you chase it, tongue darting out to meet the digit before you wrap your lips around it. steve’s eyes darken, zoned in on where you’re sucking lazily on his thumb. his lips part as he breathes out a shaky moan, his other hand moves to grip your hip. he reels back slightly, thrusting forward a second later. your eyebrows furrow and you moan around his thumb as he prods that golden spot deep inside you. he’s staring down at you in awe, adoring the way his hand cases over the expanse of your cheek. can’t help but push his thumb against your tongue as he drives his hips deeper before retreating slightly, drags his pulsing cock against your fluttering walls. you squeeze him so good, he hiccups out these soft and sweet sounds.

you stick your tongue out then, steve keeps his thumb fixed on it as he builds up a faster pace. maintains the deepness of it.

“such a good girl for me,” he praises you, voice breathy and gentle. goes straight to your head, feeling all warm and gooey. back arching from the delicious friction, nerves aflame with lulling euphoria.

he moves his hand then, prods his middle and ring finger against your tongue. your lips circle around them on their own volition, uncontrollable urge to have him fill you all over, wherever he can.

“Christ— you’re—“ he grunts out, hips snapping into you harder and quicker, chasing his own bliss. pounding against your sweet spot just right, just hard enough, just repetitive enough to have your pussy clenching around him as your orgasm crashes into you. your moans are muffled by his fingers, eyes rolling back as steve pants out the most pretty, shocked moan. all high pitched. followed by a slew of babbling, “that’s it, good girl, cum all over my cock, ah— ah, yeah, i’m gonna cum, you feel so good— fuck, ah!”

his hips drill harder, sloppier until they still and his face contorts all pretty as he fills you with his release. he pulls his fingers from your mouth, collapsing on top of you and nuzzling his face into your neck. you wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him tight, smile tugging your lips up at the corners.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x y/n smut #Steve request

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guccifrog · 7 months

Text

CAUGHT

⤷matt sturniolo x fem!reader

requested ✉

📀📀📀

⤷As the sun peeked through the curtains of your shared bedroom, casting a warm, golden light across the floor, you lay there, staring at your phone screen, your eyes scanning each word carefully. The bed sheets beneath you were cool and crisp against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat that seemed to be building up inside of you.

The door suddenly creaked open, and you felt a cool draft of air flowing into the room. You quickly hid your phone under your pillow, as you recognized the familiar silhouette of your boyfriend, Matt, standing in the doorway. He was taking a shower, his hair dripped with water, and a towel wrapped around his slender torso. You bit your lip, trying not to let your excitement show.

"Hi," Matt said casually, as he walked over to the closet to put his towel away. You smiled innocently at him, trying to appear nonchalant as well."How was your shower?" you asked, hoping the playful tone didn't betray your nervousness. He turned to face you, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"It was refreshing," he replied, making his way to your shared closet. You watched as he opened the door, searching for something. "Damn, I think I left my deodorant in the bathroom."

You grinned and sat up, crossing your legs. " I'll get it for you!" You quickly got up and hurried out of the bedroom, You grabbed the deodorant from the vanity and quickly returned to the bedroom, just in time to see Matt sitting on the bed, your phone in hand, looking through its screen with an amused expression.

"Matt!" You gasped, feeling a mixture of panic and embarrassment. You dropped the deodorant and ran as fast as you could to snatch your phone from his hand. But he was quicker. With a playful grin, he raised his arm higher, blocking your reach. "Give it back!" You exclaimed, trying to grab the phone.

"What an interesting thing to read," He said before glancing at the phone with a smirk as he read" warning this story contains a lot of smut- Wait, is that my name?" Matt raised his eyebrows surprised, giggling as you covered your face with your hands. "Matt sturniolo x reader?" He continued to read with an unreadable expression. "How many of these are there?" He snickered as he looked at you smirking.

He grabbed your hand and tried to remove it away from your face, his grip firm but not painful. You pouted, still trying to hide your face, his hand moved to cradle your cheek, forcing you to look at him. "You're blushing!" He teased, his grin widening. "So, what are you reading about me?" He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear as he glanced at the phone continuing to read" He placed his length against her core, making her shiver."

His hand was now on your waist, and he gently pushed you onto the bed his eyes not leaving your phone"She arches her back, moaning softly as he thrusts deeper. "Oh, Matt..." she whispers, feeling him pressed against her in a way that makes her ache" His eyes widen as his grin grows wider, his eyes now fixed on you as you hide your face again.

He slowly moved closer to you, his breath hot against your neck as he teased you. "Do you want to know what I did next?" he teased.

"stop it " You whispered, your voice shaking slightly as he continued to tease you. You felt his hand move lower, tracing soft circles around your hip, sending shivers down your spine. His other hand held your phone above the bed, still reading, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

"Fine" You sighed, rolling your eyes, as he looked at you confused.

"I admit it" you huffed avoiding eye contact with him.

"Admit what sweetheart ?" Matt asked, still holding your phone. He leaned closer, his lips inches away from yours.

"That I was reading smut about you" you mumbled, your heart racing as he leaned closer. His lips brushed against yours, and he smiled against them.

"What was that ?" Matt chuckled, as he let your lips go. Smiling teasingly as he watches your lips form a confused frown.

He collapsed on the bed next to you laughing, throwing his head back. "Oh, my god, you're expression was priceless!" he managed to get out between giggles. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and reached for the phone, but you moved it just out of his reach.

"Hey! Give that back!" he protested, trying to grab it again. You leaned forward, pressing your body against his, and pinned his arms down with your knees. "Nuh-uh," you giggled, shaking your head. He smiled up at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Matt's chest rose and fell with each breath as he stared up at you, his eyes studying your face." so?" He asked, making you raise an eyebrow" wanna watch porn together?"

"Matt!" You exclaimed, a blush spreading across your cheeks. But he just grinned wider"I'm just saying" he teased, moving his hands to rest on your hips, his thumbs brushing against your bare skin. "I mean, if you're into it..." He let the words trail off, grinning widely, as you playfully hit him on the chest.

📀📀📀

⤷taglist ☆@mattestrella @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @graceciesiels22 @urmom2bitch @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @b2cute @1horrormoviewhore1

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wangxianficrecs · 5 months

Text

💙 Caught in 4k by KizuKatana

🔒💙 Caught in 4k

by KizuKatana (@kizukatana)

E, Series, WIP, 184k, Wangxian

Summary: A night-hunt goes wrong, and Wei Wuxian is scapegoated for the death of the Jiang Sect Leader and the destroyed core of the Jiang Sect Heir. As punishment, his core is taken and given to Jiang Cheng, and he is stripped of his cultivation credentials and expelled from the sect. What everyone forgot was that Wei Wuxian was wearing the standard issue body camera that each cultivator wore on training missions and high-risk night-hunts. Struggling to make ends meet, Wei Wuxian finds his way to Caiyi Town with the doctor who performed the surgery, a partial core still secretly in place. His application to work at Cloud Recesses is summarily rejected by the hard-edged Second Jade of Lan after an unfortunate initial encounter. But things change when someone hacks into the Jiang systems and releases the footage of what happened. Kay's comments: The series is still a WIP, but the main story is complete! I am so weak for Kizu's modern AUs with cultivation, they are great. Especially the world building and how the cultivation society might function in a modern AU shines in this story. Definitely not a story for fans of the Jiang family, but a story for everyone who wants to see some retribution for the things Wei Wuxian went through. Here, Jiang Fengmian dies during a night-hunt accident where Jiang Cheng's golden core gets destroyed and Madam Yu makes Wei Wuxian give his golden core to him, unfortunately for her, his body-cam is still filming everything. Wei Wuxian finds himself taken in by Wen Qing and her family and we get the sweetest found family and Dadxian vibes here and then meets Lan Wangji as well, who's highly judgemental at first but soon finds himself drawn to Wei Wuxian as well. This story really got it all, the drama, the horny, the softness, the restitution & humor. Excerpt: Still Wei Wuxian forced himself to at least try one last time. “You could also interview me. Have me talk to your best talisman experts,” Wei Wuxian said, forcing himself to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Interviews are scheduled based on receipt of proper credentials and references.” “I don’t have any, at least not right now. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be a great teacher.” “No references, no interview.” “Come on. Look, ask me anything about talismans. You’re an experienced cultivator, right? So you must know enough to at least interview me to see if I know what I’m talking about.” “Simply ‘knowing about something’ is not sufficient. Our lecturers are renown cultivators, and masters in their fields. No references, no interview.” Wei Wuxian felt frustration well up in him, especially at the reminder that Lan Wangji didn’t see him as a cultivator. No one would, in his current condition. Why would they? He didn’t have a functional core, which was the main scale against which all cultivation efforts were measured. He thought he had done a good job of not getting his hopes up about the teaching position, but the suffocating feeling constricting his chest was calling him out for being a liar. He should have known better. Why did he never learn? Some people had luck on their said, but Wei Wuxian had never been one of them. “Right. Of course. Because it would be impossible for someone who wasn’t born to the fucking clan nobility to ever actually be good at something, and the cost of taking the mastery test makes sure that other people can’t do it!” Lan Wangji’s lips parted slightly, like he might say something, but his expression was as opaque and emotionless as before. Wei Wuxian didn’t need to sit around and listen to him defend the clan system. “Good to know that the Lan are just the same as all the other sects,” Wei Wuxian continued, his lips twisting into a sarcastic smile. “Thanks for making that clear.”

pov alternating, modern setting, modern with magic, yu ziyuan being an asshole, dysfunctional jiang family, jiang family bashing, canon divergence, golden core reveal, burial mounds ensemble as family, golden core transfer, golden core transfer fix-it, top lan wangji/bottom wei wuxian, dual cultivation, strangers to lovers, misunderstandings, meet ugly, families of choice, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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hallietblr · 1 year

Note

Could i get a conrad x reader smut where they are in a secret relationship/fwb and at the end maybe admit they like each other or start dating?

tangled up with you | c.fisher x reader

a/n: ahh i had such a good time writing this one for you! thank you so much for the request love <3

warnings: SMUT (minors DNI!), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), swearing, mentions of weed usage.

—

sneaking around with my best friend’s older brother made life so exhilarating, maybe because of the risk tied to it. i know that if jeremiah were to find out about conrad and my secret relationship that’s been going on for the past eight months, there’s the possibility of losing my best friend.

according to jeremiah, conrad and steven were not allowed to date or hook up with me. i was off limits. i was jeremiah’s best friend since the second grade and the last thing he ever wanted was for things to get complicated with his brothers (steven is basically another brother to him) having a relationship with me.

but feelings are feelings, they can only be suppressed for so long before moves are made.

and maybe the incredible sex tied to conrad fisher sways that statement.

i look out my bedroom window to see the jeep park on the side of the road. the silhouette of the golden haired fisher brother bobbing his head to the music. i giggle before turning to my vanity mirror to check myself out for the last time.

i fixed up my hair, touched up my mascara and lip gloss before spritzing myself with my signature perfume. i grab my phone that sat on my bed before scurrying down the stairs and yelling to my parents that i’m heading out.

i slide my vans on as i make my way over to conrad’s car. i open the door and he’s already smiling at me,

“hey pretty lady,” he winks, making me flush pink.

“hey handsome,” i say back as i settle into my seat, he cradles my face before pulling me into a long kiss. something we’ve both been craving for after pretending for the whole day around steven, belly, and jeremiah that we were, of course, only friends.

his lips tasted like mint and his chapstick, i smile into the kiss and i feel his lips turn upwards in response.

“you ready?” he asks after pulling away, i nod excitedly.

conrad always takes me to new places around cousins, we typically sit on the roof of the car and talk endlessly for hours into the night. sometimes we will smoke a j together, often making out and touching each other in places that isn’t normal for friends to touch.

the weeknd hums quietly as we drive in the night, his large and vascular hand placed highly on my thigh. his long fingers slowly crawling up to my centre. i feel myself getting more excited when his hand is centimetres away from my core.

he pulls away which makes me pout while he puts the jeep into park and steps out the door. he comes to my side of the car and opens my door, he offers his hand as i step out.

conrad brought us to the lighthouse, where waves crashed upon the large rocks and you can see the bright reflection of the moon and stars sparkling on the water. his muscular arms wrap around my waist from behind and we sway side to side, i’m taking in the beautiful sight.

he places gentle kisses on the back of my neck, and i tilt it to the side to give him better access. i can feel him smile at the action as he carefully sucks at the soft skin.

“this view is beautiful,” i tell him, turning around to put my arms around his neck,

“yeah?” he asks with a smirk, “well my view is better.”

his eyes flicker down me and back up to my eyes,

“you’re so cheesy”

“i love you, baby” he kisses me again,

i kiss him back passionately, my fingers getting tangled up in the locks of hair at the back of his head, “i love you so much more.”

so stands two teenagers, desperately in love, making out by the cousins lighthouse in the middle of the night. their hands running up and down the sides of each other before conrad pulls her back towards the car to continue their fun.

we both crawl into the back seat, he lays me down carefully across the three seats as he hovers over me. he removes his shirt in one motion before leaning down fo connect our lips again.

our teeth and lips are clashing as his tongue swipes across my bottom lip, i open my mouth to greet his tongue as it continues to explore.

his hand inches down my body, giving a soft squeeze to my boob before moving down to the edge of my cotton shorts. i sigh in pleasure as he slips his hand into my lacy thong, his fingers playing with the bundle of nerves that make me lift my hips up for more contact,

“please.” i beg him, arching my back as his lips kiss down my throat,

“relax, my love,” he mumbles against my skin, “i’ve got you.”

i moan out as two digits enter me, slowly but hardly thrusting into my centre, “fuck, you’re so wet.” he groans.

he continues to finger me for a few moments longer to prepare me,

“you ready?” he asks me and i nod, conrad kisses my lips again before pulling down my shorts and his own. his thick cock with veins running up it’s sides slaps his abdomen, released from the constrained boxers they were in.

my mouth basically drools at the sight. i’ve always knew that conrad fisher was handsome, but seeing him in the moonlight with his six pack and erected dick only made the wetness between my legs increase.

i watched intently as he lines himself up before sinking down into me, bottoming out. every vein and inch of his cock stretching me out in the best way possible. my head throws back at the feel of him inside of me as he thrusts deeply into me.

i moan loudly, grabbing the edge of the car seat and the head rest as i feel him nearly hitting my gut.

“fuck!” i cry out as he buries his face into my neck, increasing how hard he’s pounding into me. his hand grabs the back of my right thigh, pushing it to my chest to give himself a better angle to hit my sweet spot.

i bite into his shoulder, making him groan lowly as i feel his dick twitch inside of me. my hands are in a frenzy, clawing his back or pulling at his hair or anything to get him closer to me.

“you like that, baby” he moans as he continues to thrust his cock to my sweet spot that makes the knot in my stomach tighten. i nod quickly, “yes, holy fuck, you feel so good!”

“no matter how often i fuck you, your pussy is always tight for me,” conrad breathes out into my ear, “you feel so good around me, babe”

“m- maybe because your dick is so big,” i stutter out back to him, as i feel my orgasm coming closer.

“are you close?” he asks, “i feel your walls squeezing my cock.”

i moan out in response, unable to form words with the state of bliss im in. i cling onto his shoulders as my legs start to shake,

“fuck, i’m gonna come soon,” conrad groans, throwing his head back in pleasure, “where do you want it?”

“i- i’m” i try to speak, but my eyes keep rolling backwards, “i’m on the pill.”

he looks down at me with lust in his eyes, “are you sure?”

i nod, “fuck, conrad!”

he picks up the pace of his thrusts, now chasing his high. his hand reaches down to start rubbing figure eights on my clit to help me get my orgasm,

“come on my dick, baby” he tells me, “i know you can do it. i’m right behind you.”

“fuck, conrad!” i scream out, “i’m coming!”

“that’s it baby” he pants out

conrad litters my face with kisses as my toes flex upwards and my thighs are shaking. my back arches to his chest as i feel my orgasm crashing down on me all at once.

i release pornographic type moans and all i see is white as my nails claw down his back.

i feel him release inside of me, his warm coating my walls as he slowly thrusts me through my orgasm. he eventually pulls out and grabs a baby wipe that he stored under the driver to seat to clean me and himself up. conrad helps me put my clothes back on and kisses my shoulders while he pulls my t-shirt on.

we drive quietly back to my house where he kisses my goodnight before i exit the jeep. right as i open my front door i feel my phone buzz in my back pocket,

con <3:

goodnight my sweet girl, i hope you had as much fun as i did tonight! i love you so so much❤️

i blush at the text and turn around to the road where i see him blow a kiss in my direction. i pretend to catch it and place it on my heart before sending one back. i see a smile etch onto his face before driving off.

y/n <3:

i always have fun when i’m around you, sweet dream baby :) i love you!

#conrad fisher smut #conrad fisher imagine #conrad x reader #jeremiah fisher x reader #tsitp x reader #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher fanfiction #conrad fisher fluff #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah fisher x y/n #jeremiah fisher fanfic #jeremiah fisher smut #tsitp smut #tsitp x you #tsitp imagine

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space-atrium · 1 month

Text

Jiuyuan (scumcum) au where something goes wrong when the system trys to plop sy into sj body

(It arrives to early)

They end up in this mind-void space with the system; sy and sj start arguing with the system.

Somehow sj convinces the system to give him the protag Halo, but the system also has to shift around the other character halos to accommodate this.

(Something something pidw already happened as a written story there for this version of the world is different ect ect)

As a consequence, the system gives Sy a love interest halo because all others are fixed to characters or violate some rule about transmigrators, but there's plenty of li-halos to go around!

Unfortunately giving sj the protag Halo turns the story's genre into a tragedy, neither shen want this, they want a different genre.

But the system actually isn't in charge of classifying genres, it can give missions and change character classification.

So the system makes sy an oracle, his mission to aide sj if they want to change the story's genre. The system release them back into the world, sy is just tossed somewhere in a freshly new adult body, inevitably gets trapped somewhere.

Sj first mission from the system: find sy!

Meanwhile sqh gets an alert from his system for an account upgrade.

His options are; upgrade his account to vip admin* and lose all acquired b points, or Continue with current status

(*Conditions apply)

I don't see sqh willing charging his system status so something will have to happen to force him.

This stuff all happened while sy and sj where in the mind-void space.

So sj mission, he has to leave the sect to do it, the system is unhelpful in giving info on where sy is, sj has to search by himself. When he finds sy, hes been imprisonment by some rogue cultivators??(villain of the week goons??).

(Sy had barley been in this world for a week when he got captured for being an oracle, Sj finds him almost a month later) Sj discovers that sy has a first level golden core and of course gets pissed about it, sy never even worked for that while sj still doesn't have one.

Sy like 'chill I know where all the overpowered cultivation boosters are; the system gives a new mission: help sj advance to golden core level 1 with oracle powers!

(It's more complicated then that; getting the right booster depends on, time of day, faze of moon, time of season, type of cultivation- spiritual or physical, or even if you have demon ancestry)

What follows is a quest that takes much longer then it should, getting sidetracked, lost, attacked, kidnapped… Sj has been away from the sect much longer than he said he would (yes sj did get his cultivation booster eventually).

Funny thing, sy has this stat according to the system called: GODs favorite (derogatory). He's gods favorite hater.

Sqh after going through things on his updated account finds out there are other system users! And he can contact them through his system!!

(And that someone else has the protag Halo!!??)

Sj and sy randomly get a notification for "message from GOD" yelling ensures.

Yes sy is sqh's oracle

#svsss #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #shen yuan #shang qinghua #jiuyuan #scumcum #scum villian self saving system #scum villain #ren zha fanpai zijiu xitong #svsss au #protag halo sj au #atrium aus #the system did give sy actual oracle powers #he wont realize untill later when he starts knowing things that weren't in the book

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uhohdad · 6 months

Text

HIS

Stalker!Konig x Reader Fic

Summary: It makes him sick to think of the man he used to be. Who he was before you reduced him to an obsessive, jealous monster.

You ruined his life.

Word Count: 10k AO3

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, No use of y/n, AFAB & Feminine Reader, Unreliable Narrator, Non-Consenual Voyeurism, Stalking, Breaking and Entering, Abusive Relationships, Depictions of: Non-Con Sex, Choking, Hair-Pulling, Spanking, Slut-Shaming, Bad German, Orgasm Torture, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Smoking, Konig has a Love/Hate Relationship with Reader, Implications of Ghost x Reader, hopefully the reader isn’t too out of character for y’all, unfortunately this one had to be more detail oriented, you will be making an uncharacteristic amount of phone calls i’ll tell you that much

Continuation of this, but can be enjoyed stand-alone

He dreamt of you last night.

You were ethereal, liebe. A true angel - floating down to him in his dark isolation, basking him in your elegant golden light. He finally had your attention. The pleasure of having your gaze fixed on him, nothing but adoration in your sparkling eyes. Your hand extended gracefully out to him, delicate fingers cupping the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheek. A gesture of appreciation for the hours he poured into you, an acceptance of his protection. An apology, for denying him the ownership that he had earned over and over again.

An ownership he was overdue for.

A chill wrapped its fingers around Konig’s spine, unforgiving frost spreading from his core to his fingertips. Your expression had changed without transition, eyes suddenly pooled with malice, lips tightened in disgust. A growl thick with hatred reverberated through him when the thrust of your arm plunged a sword through his heart.

Frantic callused hands scramble to the wound, relieved to find only a shirt drenched in sweat as Konig shook the haze of sleep. Relieved to know you hadn’t seen him for what he really was, that you hadn’t rejected him so cruelly.

He was beginning to resent you for the sleep deprivation. He knew you were going to let him sleep in today. Every Saturday, after a long week of watching over you, you thank him with an opportunity to sleep in.

You ruined it.

Taunting him in his dreams - fooling him even after everything he’s sacrificed, letting him taste a moment where his fantasy comes true, only to rip it away from him so brutally.

Konig soothed himself by lying back, easing himself into the first half of his dream. He replayed the vivid image of you stroking his cheek, looking at him in astonishment after learning about everything he’s done for you.

Maybe he could forgive you for tearing open his chest. For letting him feel true bliss, even for a moment. To let him know what it would feel like to have you.

It’s the least you could do.

Konig doesn’t even recognize himself anymore. He’s entirely off the rails, fully succumb to his depraved behavior, helpless to the urges you’ve scraped to the surface. It makes him sick to think of the man he used to be. Who he was before you reduced him to an obsessive, jealous monster.

You ruined his life.

His passions, his dreams, his reputation - it all pales in comparison to you. Nothing he cared about before matters now. He feels like an addict, powerless to his addiction and chasing the high. He revolves around you, the center of his universe. He’s sure you’re the reason he’s alive. You consume every waking moment of his day, and now his dreams.

And you can’t even be bothered to look at him.

Ungrateful little brat.

You had a late start to the day, making Konig wait for you to sleep off last night’s drinks. It was well into the afternoon when you left your quarters, wearing your civilian clothes and attention glued to your phone as you navigated the paths of the base.

It was a breath of fresh air to see your face again. He’d been drowning, choking on his pitiful existence when you were apart. Dread eats him alive from the inside out, a swarm of maggots and flies deteriorating the meat of his flesh and organs. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand without being with you every moment of the day.

But here you are, his light, his warmth. He can feel you coursing through his veins - another hit of the drug he couldn’t get enough of.

You looked perfect in your jeans and t-shirt. It’s nice to see you out of the drab and ill-fitting clothes the military forces on you. The denim hugs the curve of your ass and meld tight to perfect hips and thighs. He thinks of the show you gave him last night, the way your ass looked in the thin fabric of your panties. He knows what’s underneath those jeans. You can hide it from the rest of the world, but not from him.

You’re not paying attention, liebe. Fingers pecking away at your phone, only glancing up to make sure you didn’t bump into anyone.

It’s dangerous to be alone like this, even more so to be unaware of your surroundings.

You always do this.

How could you be so careless?

This is why he has to sacrifice everything to protect you. To keep prying eyes and itchy fingers away from you while your guard is down.

Your brows pinch as you focus on your phone, lips silently reading the text that fills your screen.

Who is so important that you must risk your safety to return their message?

He wants to sprint up to you, close enough that he can look over your shoulder to read your messages. It takes strength for him to restrain himself, to wait until you’re far enough away before standing from his bench, his boots following in your wake.

Konig’s longed to get his hands on your phone for some time. He knows that phone contains secrets about you he could only dare to dream about. It’s the key to knowing your inner desires, to put him in the position to serve you as best he can. Your intimate messages, browser history, photos.

He wonders if you have nudes on your phone. The very thought sends his blood rushing.

Swiping through your dirty pictures, a collection of obscene poses from his muse. One of you arching your back and pushing your tits out for the camera. Another with you sticking out your tongue, begging to taste him and ready to choke on his cock. On your back, thighs spread, displaying a wet cunt ripe for tasting. On your knees, ass up and waiting impatiently for him to pound you ruthlessly from behind.

His fantasy is tainted by the sharp and scorching realization that if you did have nudes on your phone - you’ve sent them to someone. The thought of another man daring to lay his unworthy eyes on you has his eye twitching, a searing heat already peeling his skin.

Why would you give yourself away, like you’re worth nothing?

He forces a deep breath, redirecting his focus to his pace, strides nearly double the length of yours. He hates having to follow you from so far away. He wants to walk beside you. Towering next to you - he wants everyone to know who you belong to, the mountain they would have to conquer if they wanted to get to you.

He didn’t take his eyes off you the entire journey to your destination, delightfully surprised when you step into the mall. He was worried that you were foolish enough to go somewhere unsavory all by yourself. It’s even better that you were going somewhere with plenty of people around, enough for him to blend in the crowd. Such a wide-open building, perfect for him to keep a watchful eye on you even from a distance.

Maybe today you’ll make it easy for him.

He’s getting tired of you being difficult.

When you duck into a clothing store, Konig can’t help the smile that creeps on his face.

Going to pick out new clothes to model for him?

Oh, you really were being a good girl today.

He’s eager to see what you buy, heart rate accelerating as he imagines the possibilities. He’s already dressing you up in his mind like his little doll.

He settles at a table in the food court with a perfect view. You seemed to be in a rush - not wasting time as you scrape hangers across the metal clothing racks. Eyebrows pinched in concentration, jaw slightly cocked as you pressed your tongue to your teeth. You look cute when you’re focused.

Konig’s brow perks when you stop in your tracks, attention caught by a dress on the end display. Your face relaxes when you lay eyes on it, delicate hands running over its fabric. It was beautiful - a soft pastel blue, intricate azure and yellow flowers blooming on its pattern, a thin white lace stitched along the neckline. It was a dress fit for a princess, fit for his wife. He dives headfirst into a daydream about you wearing it once he’s domesticated you, hem dancing when you greet him with a kiss after a long day. His hands would find your waist when you stand on tippy toes to give him his welcome home kiss.

You flip the price tag before moving on, and his smile falls flat.

That’s the one. That’s the dress you’re meant to wear.

You like it, don’t you?

You stop every so often to check the time on your phone, pulling a face when you do so. Running late to something, he’s sure. Where are you supposed to be? And what’s so important that you needed a new outfit?

He watches you pull a hanger free, a black dress you hold up high enough to obscure his view of you.

No, liebe.

Don’t even think about it.

He can tell from his spot across the walkways that it’s too revealing. It would cut short at your mid-thigh, neckline that’s designed to show off your cleavage. Skin tight and would leave nothing to the imagination.

The kind of dress that would attract the attention of the wrong people.

Of course you would do this.

Dressing yourself like the slut you are.

A scowl smears across his face as he watches you walk up to the cashier.

So you were going to be difficult today.

Just when he thinks you’re finally cutting him some slack, you go out of your way to misbehave.

You’re quick to leave, whorish dress packed away in a white plastic bag and resting on the crease of your arm. Your hands find your phone again, a slight wince at something on your screen.

He’s too disappointed with your clear lack of judgment to think about what’s on your phone that’s stealing your attention.

He has to close his eyes, a few deep breaths to calm himself before he loses control, before he gives in and teaches you a lesson that you so desperately need.

His fists stay tight at his sides, knuckles splotched white on tight fists as he follows you out of the mall in haste.

With a hitch of his breath the rage carried on tensed shoulders lifts.

It’s the sun shining on your hair that grounds him this time. Locks shimmering, revealing their true color to him as the breeze makes your soft tufts dance. Your skin glows in the sun’s warmth - it takes him right back to the euphoria of his dream. Your light, liebe - he can see it.

Your pace slows when you reach behind you, pulling your phone from the sheath of your jean pocket. He can’t see your face, but he watches from behind as you bring it to your ear.

He seized his opportunity to close ground, enough that he can hear your side of the conversation. He normally wouldn’t get so close to you, but you seem to be extra distracted today, and Konig is too curious to miss out on your phone call.

“I know! I know, I’m sorry. I’m almost at the subway. I’ll be there in 20.”

Hearing your voice makes his heart skip a beat. He missed that beautiful voice, silky smooth and goes down like honey.

Especially when you sound so apologetic.

Is this what it’ll be like when you finally own up to the grief you’ve put him through?

There’s a pause before you speak again, a small laugh escaping you.

“He can wait.”

He?

Konig’s thoughts race before you had even finished your sentence, his moment of enamor shattering like rose-colored glasses.

Who’s he?

Is ‘he’ who you picked out that promiscuous dress of yours for?

Anyone who would be okay with that dress doesn’t have your best interests in mind, liebe. Konig knows what’s best for you, and it’s getting harder to watch from the sidelines as you make mistakes time and time again. He’s ready to interfere, to take control away from you, since you’re clearly not responsible enough to do it yourself. Someone needs to put their foot down. You’re begging for him to step in, to discipline you until you can demonstrate you’re capable of behaving.

“Uh,” You trail off in a hum before you respond, “I don’t know about that. You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“I don’t know.” You say with a whine, “This is already a lot for me. I don’t… this really isn’t my thing.”

“No!” You squeak out, followed by a forced casual, “No.” You’re suddenly flustered, stopping in your tracks when a nervous laugh escapes you. You make a quarter turn and Konig flinches when he sees your face, searching around for a quick escape.

“Just because I talk about him a lot doesn’t mean I like him.”

Konig’s eye twitches at ‘him.’ Who are you talking about so often that you’re being accused of crushing on someone?

Maybe you were talking about Konig.

He doubts it, but the idea dulls the edge of the blade you’re slicing him with.

“Because…” You huff, bailing on a sentence you started without thinking through, “Okay, fine. I’ll try. For you.”

What mess were you getting yourself into, liebe? He doesn’t like the sound of this at all.

“Okay, okay. I’m at the station now. See you soon.” Your phone slips back into your pocket.

Going on the subway all by yourself. Look at you, inviting danger in.

He’s locked onto your ass as you make the descent into the underground, hips swaying with each step down the concrete stairs.

If you look this distracting in jeans, what attention do you think you’ll attract in that fucking dress?

You reach for your wallet once you’re down the stairs, the pad of your finger freeing your subway card from its slot.

Shit.

He doesn’t have a subway card.

His gaze flicks to the kiosks before back to you, already swiping your card and pushing through the turnstiles. He scans the crowd before he lands on a pair of cops monitoring the station, ruining his chance to jump the stiles.

He almost drops his wallet as he fumbles for cash, rushing to the kiosk to pay.

He’s pleading under his breath for the machine to process faster. He’s convinced the kiosk could sense his fear, uncooperative to the forceful press of its buttons. Panicked glances over his shoulder reveal you progressing through the station until you’re around the corner and out of sight.

He’s lost track of you by the time he secures his card. The crowd parts for him, his intimidating stature coming in handy as he makes laps around the station before he realizes you’re gone, with no way for him to know where you are headed. A blackhole of dread swallows him whole - sweat escapes the flustered heat that blistered his skin, heart pounding against his ribcage. His hand finds his head, quiet but rigid expletives riding his exhales.

Why do you have to make things so hard for him?

He’s failed you. He’s sorry, liebe. He’s supposed to be your guard. Anything that happens to you tonight will be his fault. He suspects you’re really going to be acting out tonight, going somewhere out of your comfort zone with other men, dressed like a prostitute. Your light on display for anyone to dim.

White hot flashes of grabbing hands, lingering eyes, and cheap compliments invade his thoughts, stomach tightening and threatening to retch.

This is your fault.

You’re just a foolish little girl who doesn’t know what’s good for her. You’ve pushed him to his limit, he can’t let this go on anymore.

If you won’t behave, he’ll just have to show you how a good girl acts.

It takes him too long to realize he’s holding his breath, fist clenched and teeth grit as his rage burns him from the inside out. His eyes pinch shut as he tries to recenter himself, forcing deep breaths through his tightened jaw.

Nothing too extreme.

A gentle nudge.

A push to test the waters, to see if you can handle the expectations that go along with being his. To give you an opportunity to change your indecent behavior before he puts you in your place the hard way.

————————————————————-

Konig’s taken the lives of countless men, a ruthless brute in the heat of the battlefield. He’s been in thousands of life or death circumstances, finding himself on the other end of blades and triggers on a near daily basis. He thrives in danger.

It’s nothing in comparison to the adrenaline coasting through his veins as he picks the lock to your quarters.

He can hear his heartbeat, the rush of his blood deafening him as he crouches in front of your door, head snapping side to side to ensure the coast remains clear. He‘s nauseous with excitement, stomach churning and sweat soaking his clothes.

There’s a part of him, a sliver thin remnant of the respectable man he used to be, that manifests as a weight of guilt in his stomach. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, that he was so far beyond the line he couldn’t even see it anymore. This was a new magnitude of violating your privacy.

He knows that if he got caught, he’d be discharged faster than he could explain himself. He’d lose you, his warmth.

You left him no choice.

If you didn’t want this to happen, you shouldn’t have run from him. You’ve given him the perfect opportunity. He’s got more than enough time to get his fix, and it’s the only substitute he’ll accept for missing an evening without his eyes you.

When the lock finally pops, hands fumbling for the knob, he miscalculates his strength and sends himself tripping into your room. Quickly but quietly shutting the door behind him, clicking your lock back into place before standing straight, hands falling to his side.

The rush of standing in your room crashes over him like a wave, dizzy and disoriented as he takes you in.

He can’t believe he’s here.

In your room.

It doesn’t feel real, an out-of-body experience. A dream. His dream.

He doesn’t dare move for a full minute, breathing heavily as he fidgeted in his spot.

When he finally works up the courage to move, he inches himself towards your captivating things. A gloved finger grazes across your dresser as he inspects the belongings scattered on its surface.

He picks up a perfume, carefully uncapping it and bringing it up to his nose. With a deep inhale, his eyes flutter shut as he takes the scent of you in.

Immediate warmth pools in the pit of his stomach, already straining against the give in his pants. He spritzes into the air, the sun shining through the slats in your blinds catching on the cloud of mist. He’s hoping your scent will linger with him during his stay. He snaps the cap on with a satisfying pop and ensures he places it down exactly where he found it, cautious to leave little indication of his visit.

A shimmer catches his attention, eyes drawn to a dainty necklace. Two fingers lift it in the air, letting its reflection sparkle while he inspects the metal. He wants to put it in his pocket, a little trinket of his visit. Something to remind him that it wasn’t a dream. A piece of you to bring him comfort whenever he’s away from you. A good luck charm.

He resists the urge, placing it back on the dresser in a pile of intricate looped chains.

Your hairbrush is next, shaky fingers wrapping around the handle. His thumb skims over the bristles, watching them through half-lidded eyes as they rhythmically spring back into place. He inspects the glossy stray strands left behind in a tangled mess, imagining you gliding the brush through your gorgeous hair, your fingers following in its wake as you hum a soft tune.

He’s setting all your things down carefully, not only because he doesn’t want to leave evidence behind, but because he knows the worth of your priceless treasures.

He leans down, giving him a closer view of a polaroid taped to the edge of your mirror. You and a friend, eyes crinkled with big cheesy smiles plastered on your faces, arms wrapped around each other in a close embrace. Konig finds himself smiling at the photo, touching the border with the pad of his finger. He wishes that was him next to you, him you were embracing tightly, him you were happy just to sit next to each other on a night out.

He steadily slides a dresser drawer out, mindful to the sound of wood scraping against itself. Inside he finds your pajamas. He pulls his gloves off with his teeth, reaching in to stroke the material with his knuckle.

He grabs the shirt on top, oversized and well-worn. Broken in and softened over hundreds of restful nights. He brings it to his face and takes another inhale, getting high off the smell of your fabric softener and the image of you drowning in the shirt.

Once you’re in his grasp, he’ll make sure you only sleep in his shirts, liebe. Exposed thighs and legs peeking out from beneath his shirt that barely clings to your shoulders. A clear representation of the size difference between you two. A reminder to you of just how small and powerless you are compared to him.

He brushes the fabric against his stubbled jaw to know what it would feel like to rest his head on your shoulder. To bury his face into your chest after a long day. To rest his head on your stomach while you comb your fingers through his hair.

He wants to take it with him. Cut eye holes and replace his hood with it so that he can wear your shirt over his head every day, high off your scent as he inhales you in with each breath he takes.

He gently folds the shirt and puts it back into its place, closing the drawer before moving on to another. He thumbs through the rest of your clothes until he gets to a drawer that makes him freeze, heart stopping and fingers still laced around the handle of your dresser drawer.

Your panties.

His cock is at full attention now, painfully hard and leaking precum. Trembling hands make a slow descent, meticulously choosing his favorite. He holds them up to get a better look, picturing you filling them out, just as you were last night. The lower half of your ass peeking out to tease him. He didn’t think he would ever be jealous over scraps of cotton, but he knows these panties have kissed your perfect cunt and soaked up your arousal, everything he was entitled to.

He can’t help himself this time, liebe.

You have to understand that he can’t just let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

A reward, for all of the hard work he’s poured into you. For everything he’s sacrificed for you.

He stuffs your panties into his underwear, casual and discreet, as if he were stealing them in front of a crowd. He even looks side to side, just to make sure no one was watching over his shoulder. The feeling of your panties pressed up against his cock had him throbbing, staining the fabric a shade darker with precum. With a slight twitch of his hips, the head of his cock forces against the bundled cloth, electricity sparking through his lower half. He swallows hard, mouth turned cotton.

Konig’s getting intoxicated off of you, less gentle when he rummages through your nightstand. His arousal is taking control now, he’s desperate to uncover more of your dirty little secrets.

He holds a sharp breath, lips parting when he uncovers your vibrator. A deep purple and molded into the shape of bunny ears.

There’s a twinge of jealousy, accompanied by a pull of his lips.

Why use a toy when you can have the real thing, liebe? You don’t need a toy when you have him. He’d pleasure your cunt anytime you ask, lapping at your clit until you’re screaming his name. His tongue coercing orgasm after orgasm until you’re begging for him to stop, tears streaming down your face at the overstimulation. He’ll make you regret even asking him to pleasure you.

The jealousy is shelved when he pictures you on your back, legs spread and displaying your perfect pussy for him. Glistening with your arousal, face twisted in euphoria as you sway your hips on the vibrations. Soft moans would spill from your mouth, breathy whispers of Konig’s name on your tongue.

He stumbles backward onto your bed, hand reaching blindly behind him to find the mattress as he studies the soft silicone of your toy.

He can’t help himself anymore. He’s sorry, liebe. His erection borders on painful, balls swollen and cock begging for release.

It’s your fault.

Putting your promiscuous toys and dainty panties on display for anyone to find.

He lies back on your bed that creaks and flexes under his large stature, his head nestling comfortably on your pillow.

He fumbles the button of his pants, sloppily freeing his cock from the restraint of his waistbands. He wraps the jumbled mess of your panties around his shaft, holding the fabric in place as he grasps his base and steadily pumps himself.

You’re straddling him, cunt grinding against him through drenched panties. Biting your lip while you rock your clit on him, looking down at him with eyes glazed with lust.

He’s had enough of your teasing, liebe. He’ll punish you for working him up like this.

Yanking your panties to the side, lubing the tip of his swollen dick on your slicked rim. Tight grip indenting the flesh of your hips as he forces you down on his thick cock, watching your face twist while you strain to work around his girth. The biggest you’ve ever had. He has to train you, stretch out your tight little cunt so you can handle a good pounding. He’ll ruin that cunt, leave you a gaping cum-filled mess for any other man that dares to try. No one else will ever compare once he’s finished with you.

“Konig, I can’t-”

“You will.”

You’re soaking, liebe, just a wet little mess dripping down his pulsing cock.

His fingers slide down to your thighs, nails digging into you once you’re flush with the base of his cock, eyes fluttering shut as you struggle to take him.

“Look at me.”

You obey like the good girl you’re supposed to be, looking to him with pitiful, pleading eyes as he lifts you, a sharp gasp escaping when he buries fully into you.

He holds you in place with a strict grip, hovering inches above him while he thrusts up, mercilessly fucking your hole like the cock sleeve you are.

Choking on your moans, overstimulated by a mixture of pain and pleasure that has you squeezing around him.

“Take it like a braves Mädchen.”

A sob leaves you as he pounds into you, limply doubling over before he catches your upper arms, propping you up like a rag doll.

“Alle meine. You understand me, brat? All mine.”

A raw cry scratches the back of your throat, tits bouncing relentlessly against your ribs as he tortures your g-spot. An involuntary whimper rhythmically with each thrust, arms sore from Konig’s harsh grasp.

He forces you forward, bending you at your core so he can catch one of your nipples in his mouth with a tight suck. He doesn’t waver from his strict plunges into your cunt as his tongue eagerly circles the sensitive bud. The pleasure amplifies under the stimulation, he can tell by the roll of your eyes and the way you collapse in his arms, hypnotized by his power and stuttering out his name with broken breath. Giving yourself to him.

A brain dead, cock drunk little slut.

His hand snakes around the back of your head to grab a fist full of hair, a stiff yank forcing your neck to crane and pulling him off your tit with a pop. His spit turns cool over your nipple, tightening the pink flesh with a chill down your spine. Nails scratching desperately into his glistened chest, begging for mercy.

You won’t get any from him, little girl.

You’re his.

A toy to dump his cum into, a wet hole for him to ruin, a doll to control.

The clapping of slicked flesh on flesh fills the room, tugging your hair down to keep you from wiggling away from the ruthless fucking. Your swollen clit slaps against his mound with each bottom out, intertwining with the unforgiving pleasure of your abused g-spot and knitting into a cruel euphoria.

“Listen to your pathetic moans. Everyone will know who you belong to.”

The hand gripping your hair releases suddenly, repositioning to clench around your throat, silencing your moans with a threatening squeeze.

Your eyes snap open, an intoxicating fear spread on your features as your eyes beg for release. Pointlessly clawing at his grip, fighting for your stolen breath. He’s addicted to the way your horror steadily builds with each passing second he doesn’t let go.

He waits until your expression loosens, until your eyes cross and you’re seeing double. When he morphs into a blurry figure, floating farther and farther away from you, and the only thing you can possibly focus on is the brutal pounding of your cunt.

He lets you go seconds before you faint, cunt squeezing down on him with each desperate cough for breath. He grabs onto two fistfuls of ass, spreading you apart. Opening that cunt, making sure to fill you to the brim with each slam into you.

“Ko- gn’na cum!”

“Beg for it.”

A desperate, breathless cry tears your throat.

“Please, Konig! Please!”

A hand winds back, full palm returning to give a harsh smack to your ass. When you gasp in surprise, his grip tightens threateningly, voice lowered to a vicious growl.

“Address me properly.”

“Pl-” You’re briefly distracted by the rhythmic pounding, trailing off before he leaves another imprint of his hand on your ass.

“Please, Colonel! I-” The words get stuck in your throat, but your desperation pushes them through, so raw and pleading it doesn’t register to you as your own voice. You let off on a whine, eyes screwing shut while your body is degradingly shaken under the powerful bucks of his hips.

“Do it, brat. Cum.”

He watches your face contort, mouth fully gaped, suddenly radio silent as you convulse on his cock. He doesn’t let up on you, taking advantage of your walls tightening around him.

When your voice returns, you’re squeaking out anguished whimpers, squirming away from the progression into overstimulation.

He doesn’t let up. Your pleasure is nothing but collateral, liebe. He’ll use you until he’s finished. Bully you with his fat cock, ignoring your weak begging and futile attempts to pry yourself from his grasp.

It’s the harsh ripples of his orgasm - the warm droplets of his cum landing on his stomach, the sound of him choking on a hitched breath in the dead silence of your bedroom - that shocks him back into his pathetic reality.

Tensed muscles relax seconds after he’s milked the last of his intense finish, his sweat and shame wrapping him in a suffocating blanket.

He’s defiled you, liebe. A slimy creep, breaking into your sacred space and getting off in your bed. Where you lay your head after a long day, hiding from the world under these cozy covers. He’s tainted the sanctity of an angel’s hollow.

A disgusting, selfish pervert.

He buries his face into your pillow, breathing you in as he catches his breath and wipes away his mess with your panties.

“Tut mir leid.” He whispers into your silken pillowcases. He’s sorry, liebe. He didn’t mean to lose control like this. To let him get this close to you, close enough his depravity bleeds into your personal life. He meant to keep his distance, to keep you safe from him and his degenerative sickness.

But here he is, in your bed, pretending that you’ve welcomed him here. That he was giving you a fucking fit for a whore.

He feels dirty, he wants to shed his skin, to get a fresh start. A life where he never even met you. Where he never gave you full control over him. Where he never succumbed to his atrocious urges.

It’s too late.

You ruined his life.

His best course of action was a shower, to wash away the evidence of his sin and maybe feel clean again. To feel worthy of you again.

To bathe in your scent and take it with him.

To steal just a sliver of your light and wear it proudly.

The warm water soothes his aching muscles, always sore after a long week of strenuous work. He lets the water take him away, calming himself as much as he was capable under the circumstances.

He wonders what you’re up to. Where you’re at, what mess you’ve gotten yourself into without his supervision. Probably in that slutty dress and giving your attention to undeserving men. Flirting with them like a common whore.

The scent of your shampoo wafting in the hot steam eases his racing thoughts, closing his eyes while he massages his hair.

He imagines you’re in the shower with him, insisting to scrub him. He has to lean over so you can reach his head. Gently scratching his scalp, giving him a tingling sensation as you wash him clean from your tiptoes.

You’d scrub his body next, making a careful loop around his neck. Gently soaping his chest, lingering around his strong biceps. Feeling the strength that protects you every day. You’ll slide down to his stomach, attention on his tight abdominal muscles.

It’s his cock you pay the most attention to, stoking him clean, your other hand massaging bubbles onto his balls.

Such a good girl, liebe.

Taking care of him after a hard day.

When you’re done with him, he’d scrub you down, rough hands squeezing soft soapy tits.

He’d take his time with you, making sure to give every inch of you the care it deserves before flipping you around and fucking you ruthlessly against the shower wall, water clapping obnoxiously as he clashes into your thighs.

Such a good girl, liebe.

Taking care of him after a hard day.

Konig finishes his shower, wiping himself down with one of your towels before wrapping it around his waist.

He spends some time poking around your bathroom cabinets, curiously reading the labels on bottles of medicines. Helping himself to your Q-tips, your skin care, your deodorant.

He’s getting closer to the perfect mixture of your scent, liebe. He’ll carry it with him as long as he can, surrounding himself in a cloud of you.

When he’s done drying off & redressing himself, he carefully folds his towel and tucks it into the middle of your stack of clean towels. He bites his lip at the thought of you using the same towel that dried him.

Once he leaves the bathroom, he’s ready to poke through the rest of your things. He starts with the three sliding drawers that support the right side of your desk.

Pens, highlighters, chargers, scissors, tape.

A notebook?

He prays it’s a diary, a glimpse into your internal dialogue. He runs a finger down the thin metal coil of the spiral edge before flipping the cover.

He’s enamored with your handwriting, unique and flawed in its own wonderful way. It crafts inked scribblings documenting your time in training. Meticulously written notes on the processes of your position. He skims through the pages, filled to the brim with dry information.

You’re brilliant, liebe. The amount of knowledge that it takes to fill your shoes speaks to how intelligent you are.

He stops on a page with doodles in the corner, touching the hint of you peeking through dull instructional pages.

When he’s satisfied he plops the notebook back into its drawer and continues his search.

Batteries, a flashlight, a spool of thread.

A book.

He stops to read its spine, running his fingers over the raised title on the cover.

A romance novel?

A dark romance novel.

His heart skips a beat as he flips the book over and reads the summary.

You’re just as filthy and deviant as him, aren’t you liebe?

This is what you wanted, isn’t it?

You want him to follow you, to control you, to dominate you. You want him, don’t you?

He settles onto your bed, back flush with the covers as he nestles into your pillow. He peels the cover back, swiping through the introductory pages with his thumb, eyes attentively soaking in the words of the first chapter.

He’s determined to figure out your ideal man, your perfect idea of romance. This is his guide, he’s sure. Exactly how he should treat you to earn your affection.

The first chapter details a young woman who had finally built her perfect little life. Engaged to a supportive, loving, and devoted fiancé and settled into a cozy home in the suburbs surrounding the city where she worked. Working her dream career, it doesn’t pay much - but isn’t she oh so happy?

The first chapter lulls him, losing interest during the wholesome exposition.

He sets the open book on his chest, arm propping behind his head as he memorizes your room. He closes his eyes, absentmindedly stroking your cozy blankets. Giving a pleased hum as he nuzzles his head further into your pillow.

He wonders what it would be like to fall asleep next to you. To have you nestled into the crook of his arm, cheek pressed to his chest, arm draped over his torso. Flat on your back, his head on your chest as he listens to your heartbeat and soft snoring. Curled on your side, your ass pressed into his cock in a spoon, letting him grind into you as you drift off.

It’s the rattling of your lock that wakes him, his eyes snapping open in a panic and finding your window, sun no longer shining through the gaps in your blinds. He can hear your muffled voice through the door, belongings brushing against the wood as you struggle with your keys. He can’t believe he’s let the time slip through his fingers.

It’s your fault.

He hasn’t gotten a full night's rest in weeks.

It’s an intense scramble to clean up after himself, hands fumbling for your displaced book, vibrator, and soiled panties. He stumbles over his feet in a last ditch attempt to have you avoid spotting him, hoping the sound of your wardrobe door sliding closed is quiet enough to be concealed by the sound of your entrance.

He’s dead-still in his cramped position, terrified he’ll rattle the hangers that held your day clothes surrounding him. You flick on the lamp, a line of light casts a vertical strip on his face, pupil dilating as he peers through the gap in the closet’s doors. His heart is pounding in his chest, loud enough that he’s sure you can hear it.

He has never been this close to you before.

“Look, I know I’m usually chill about shit like this but that was not cool, dude.” You’re talking into your phone, pinched between your raised shoulder and cheek. “You can’t just bail like that without saying anything, my clothes were at your place.”

You take a deep breath, setting your wallet and keys down before kicking off your uncomfortable shoes. Konig’s leering gaze finds your ass as you bend over, one hand gripping the wood of the dresser to steady yourself. You do look good in that dress, liebe. Plump full thighs on display for him, skin tight cut teasing every inviting curve.

Your voice is softened when you speak again, “I’m worried about you, okay? I didn’t like that guy’s vibe. Just, let me know you’re…”

You trail off as you turn around, freezing in your place.

Your attention was caught by the soft blue dress with the intricate azure and yellow flowers, displayed on a hanger Konig had hung on your bedpost.

His gentle nudge.

Shit.

You freeze for a suffocating four seconds, face stone cold as you process the sight. Konig can see your gears turning, his face pinched in hot regret.

“…okay. Call me back.” You whisper, tone no longer strict with annoyance.

You quickly end your call before blindly placing your phone on the dresser behind you, stare locked on to the dress.

“Did I…?” You mumble under your breath, slowly stepping forward and reaching a careful hand out to touch the dress. Your brows furrowed, features drenched in confusion.

You look over your shoulder, and Konig swallows hard. This is it, you’re going to search for the intruder and find him. He’s in for a world of trouble- and that’s only if you don’t kill him first.

Your head turns back to the dress, now holding it with two hands, hem lifting off the floor.

Put it on, liebe.

The fabric slides through your finger as you let it fall into place, returning to your phone and swiping at its screen.

You raise the phone to your ear again, free hand rubbing your fingers together in a fidget. You sway in your spot, eyes darting nervously around the room while waiting through a painfully long set of rings.

“Hey - uh, Lieutenant.” You nervously clear your throat, “Sorry to bother you on the weekend- something kind of weird happened and I uh- I just have a question for you.” You let out a small nervous laugh, “Sorry. Bye.”

You quickly hang up, cheeks flushed as you press the side of your phone to your forehead in a clenched fist. Cringing at yourself for your awkward voicemail with a curse under your breath.

Why is Ghost always the first person you call at the first sign of trouble?

Konig is supposed to be the one who protects you, who keeps you safe.

He has to force his jaw open to keep his teeth from grinding.

You’re fucking him, aren’t you?

It’s all making sense now. Of course Konig hasn’t been able to catch you two in the act, the only way you’d be able to get away with it is by keeping it a secret. If anyone found out about your affair you’d both be discharged. Sneaking around and being intimate when no one’s watching, getting off on the forbidden love of a subordinate and a superior.

Konig can fulfill that fantasy too, y’know.

Konig can see your mind racing from your cramped wardrobe, pacing in your spot while you fidget with your nails. There is just enough doubt on your features, just enough doubt that he thinks he might get away with it. Gaslight you into thinking maybe you did buy the dress. Maybe you made a trip back home in between the mall and the subway. Maybe ‘bad vibe guy’ spiked your drink and made you lose a chunk of your evening.

As soon as Konig’s thighs start to burn from the contorted half-squat he’s in to fit in your wardrobe, there’s a knock on the door. You take a sharp breath, head harshly turning towards the sound. You freeze again, lips parted and eyes squinted in unease.

Another rap at the door, followed by your name spoken in a familiar voice. “You in?”

Ghost.

Got your message and came running to your rescue. Tricking you into accepting him as your knight in shining armor.

His face twitches at the way your shoulders relax when you hear his voice, holding back a smile as you rush to open the door.

“Lieutenant.”

Untelling eyes look you up and down, and you follow his gaze to your outfit, almost surprised that you are still wearing that filthy dress you‘ve been parading yourself in.

That’s why you bought it, isn’t it? You picked it out to show your curves off to him, the professor to your little schoolgirl crush.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry Lieutenant. I-”You let out a nervous laugh as you look over his unreadable face. “I didn’t know you were going to, um, stop by.”

Liar.

“Nice dress.” He says, impossible to tell if he’s being genuine or making fun of you. Konig’s not sure which he prefers, but his jaw shakes at the very sound of his voice.

“I just got back from a night out.” You explain, words pouring quickly in a desperate attempt to save character.

“I can tell.” He says, flat and gravely. He gives you grace by changing the subject, eyes peering over you and scanning your room, “Got your message.”

“Oh, yeah. No, it’s uh, it’s probably fine. Sorry to put you out.”

“It was quite the journey from across the hall.”

Your voice raises an octave when you try to sound forced casual, “You didn’t go in my room, did you? It’s just, you’re the only one with a key.”

The thought of Ghost having a key to your place makes him sick to his stomach. He’s probably already been here, already dug through your things to get his filthy hands all over your belongings.

He could sneak into your room at any moment, liebe. Inviting him to break in and take advantage of you.

An eyebrow raises, the extent of his expression, “No.”

Your fingers rub together again, “Are the guys- are they hazing me or something? I mean, it’s fine if they are. I get it, new guy and all- but I just need to know before I lose my mind.”

“What’s going on?” He asks, cutting straight to the chase when he hears the distress creeping in on your rambled words.

You clear your throat, looking over your shoulder, “That dress.” You say, looking to it and trailing off.

“Pretty.” He says, not straying from his uninterested tone.

Konig’s face twitches when Ghost compliments the dress.

It’s not for him.

“Yes- it is.”

“Having a fashion show?”

“No,” You give another timid laugh before your nerves make your face slink. “I didn’t buy it?” You finish on a high, unsure note, “The dress wasn’t here when I left, right? And then I come home - and here’s the dress.”

“An unusual form of hazing.”

“No, no- that’s not the weirdest part.” You point to it again, “I went shopping today, and that dress - I saw the dress, I stopped to look at it. That exact dress. I didn’t buy it, at least- I think I didn’t buy it.” You clench a hand into a fist, “I’m sure I didn’t buy it. I just got home and there it was.”

Ghost doesn’t speak, just looks down his nose at you.

Your hand flops dramatically to your side, head turning away, “You think I’m crazy.”

He says the first thing all night you can tell he means.

“I believe you.”

Your eyes perk up, looking up at him with stars in your eyes. The same way you had looked to Konig in his dream. The same spark of appreciation that Konig was entitled to.

And you’re giving it to Simon fucking Riley for doing the bare minimum.

Konig’s the one who got you the dress, liebe.

Ghost doesn’t give you gifts, Ghost doesn’t love you like Konig does.

He shifts in your doorway, arms crossing and head slightly tilted to the side. “You think someone broke into your quarters?”

“I… guess? I’m more worried that I am losing it. That I did buy it and I just, I just forgot.”

He takes a moment to analyze you, skimming over your nightclub attire before finding your face again, “You drinking?”

You hold a hand out, almost like you’re physically stopping his train of thought, “I know what you’re thinking, I only had two. I’m a lightweight, but, c’mon. Not enough to forget.”

He doesn’t say anything, making his silent judgments through half-lidded eyes.

Your tightly pressed fingers raise to touch your lip.

“Oh, I’m losing it, aren’t I?” You say with a whine, hand falling dejectedly to your side.

“You’re not losing it, soldier.”

“I’m losing it.”

“No. Listen to me.” He uncrosses his arms to hold a finger in your direction, “You’re not losing it.”

Konig can’t believe he’s talking to you like this. Stern, strict, and commanding you like Konig should be doing. Squashing the doubt that would safeguard his plan.

“The boys are probably just fucking with you. I’ll talk to them, yeah?”

You nod, slow at first but then more assuredly, “Yes, yeah.” You close your eyes, words relaxing with a sigh, “You’re right. Sorry, again, for bothering you.”

“No bother.” His head tilts again, “You alright?”

“All-left, apparently.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I don’t want to take your time. I’m okay.”

“I don’t mind.”

Don’t give in, liebe. He’s just looking for an excuse to leer at you in that dress. To come into your sacred room, to get a look at your precious things.

Your eyes flick to the floor before back to him, “Ah, okay. Sure.”

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” You ask when you turn away from him, giving him space to come in.

You’re always so thoughtful. Ghost doesn’t deserve you.

“No.” Ghost steps in while carefully eyeing your room. He inspects your window, nonchalantly checking over the locks before tugging at it to make sure it’s secured.

“No fun Saturday night plans, Lieutenant?” You asked with a cheeky smile, smoothing out your blanket to sit on your bed, feet dangling off the side.

“Not as fun as yours.” He says, eyes falling on your dress and lingering there a little too long for Konig’s liking. Ghost straightens out, leaning against your dresser to face you.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, adjusting the sleeve of your shoulder, “A friend dragged me on a night out.” You move to stand, moving towards the dresser Ghost blocked, “Not my usual getup. I’ll change.”

“Don’t feel obligated on my account.” He says dryly.

He doesn’t have your modesty in mind, liebe. Looking at you like you’re a piece of meat. He just wants you on display for him, a trophy.

You look at him, briefly attempting to decipher an underlying meaning of his statement. You glance to the guarded drawers before backing up to your spot on the bed. You tug the bottom of your dress down, eyes fixed on the ceiling as a stiff silence falls over you three.

“My friend, uh, set me up on a blind date.” You say after a clear of your throat, desperate to rid the awkward pause. You give him a small laugh, “It was terrible.”

“That so?”

You kick your foot, smiling at the ground, “Yeah, a friend of this guy she’s really into. All he talked about was basketball, and he didn’t ask me a single question about myself. I don’t think he even knew what my name was.” You roll your eyes, “And a bit too touchy-feely if you ask me.”

Konig’s sorry, liebe. That he wasn’t there to protect you. The thought of you being all alone on a terrible date makes him sick to his stomach. He’s sorry he’s allowed this to happen. He gave you too much slack on your leash, he should have kept you reined in.

“Must be difficult to gauge a woman’s comfort level when NC State is doing so poorly this season.”

You snort, happy to lighten the tension, “They’re actually doing pretty well. 4-1, apparently.” You say with a roll of your eyes.

Ghost gives an amused scoff, the closest thing to a laugh you’ve ever gotten from him. It catches your attention, and to his dismay Konig watches you purse your lips to hide a pleased smile.

Kick him out already.

“My friend ditched me, so I had to sit through all of the strategies the Celtics should have implemented last year, and she never even came back.”

“Mm, abandoned the buddy system. No good.”

“No good! Thank you. I had to walk home in stupid shoes I borrowed that don’t fit.”

“Now that’s just torture. Maybe we should start implementing that in boot camp.”

You deliver the laugh drenched in sarcasm, “Hah hah.”

“Next time, call me. We’ll do a full EVAC.”

That was Konig’s job.

You roll your eyes again, “I can handle myself.”

He gives a shrug and a shake of his head, “Don’t count out the buddy system.”

You pull your legs up on the bed next to you, thighs pressed together and bent almost underneath you. You look like you’re on a fucking casting couch, peering up at Ghost through thick eyelashes with those doe eyes, just begging for him to pin you down and expose what little of you was hidden under that dress.

“You really don’t have to stay.”

His eyes find the blue dress, still hanging on the bedpost, before he looks back to you, “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

The faintest blush spreads on your face, hesitating in your response.

“Smoke?” He asks after a few seconds, much to your relief.

“God, yes. Let me change quick.” You commit to shooing him from your dresser this time, pulling out the first shirt on top. The shirt Konig had touched to his cheek hours before, the unknowing and indirect touch filling him with a satisfying thrill. You grab a pair of sweatpants and disappear into the bathroom, leaving Konig to keep a close watch on Ghost through the crack in his wardrobe.

He starts eyeing your possessions, unworthy eyes befouling your priceless things.

Konig has to close his eyes to rid the sight. Stifling the urge to reveal himself and snap Ghost’s spine over his knee. He hates him, hates how he’s always coercing you from Konig’s safety, sneaking you away for the chance to get his hands on you. He’s never loathed someone more.

You’re just an empty-headed bimbo who bats her eyes and whores herself out for any man who pays attention to you. You’re too stupid to realize just how slimy he is.

Konig opens his eyes with the scrape of your bathroom door, watching Ghost follow you out to the hall.

Konig sighs a long breath once you’re both out of sight, he doesn’t know how long he’s been holding it. His fingers grip your things like he's trying to destroy them.

Fucking Ghost.

At least you changed out of that dress. The way Ghost’s attention drew to your chest and legs at every opportunity left him tensed in a seething rage.

Konig finally moves, taking his chance to stuff your cum-soaked panties and vibrator into his waistband, flexing the fingers that cramped up from his awkwardly clasped hands. He sets the book at his feet, popping his knuckles and stretching his legs while he considers the choice he has to make.

Does he sneak out now? You hadn’t suspected the wardrobe, now that you’ve changed you shouldn’t be digging in your closet until morning. He’s sure he’s sufficiently camouflaged, but there’s still the risk you’ll find him. This is his window to escape without consequence. He’d be able to supervise your smoke break, but he wouldn’t be able to sneak back in to watch the rest of your evening.

It’s the thought that Ghost might follow you back into your room, that he might try to take advantage of you in your vulnerable state, that keeps him in his spot.

Dread pools in his stomach when he’s away from you, knowing you’re under a predator’s stare. He’s probably got his hands all over you right now. He’s seen your thighs that beg for touch, your tits popping out of that dress that invites groping, a waist asking for a strong grip. Flirting desperately and using that charm that comes naturally to invite him to take you.

He’s stealing the attention Konig was owed. Basking in your light and adoration while he has to hide in the shade, longing for your soft warmth instead of this heat of irritability that boils under his skin. He pushes your day clothes from him in frustration, face twitching as he sifts through all of the worst case scenarios.

It takes you too long to return, Konig’s blackhole of obsessive thoughts intensifying with each minute you’re tangled in Ghost’s web.

“I hope not.” You say as you return, the smell of smoked tobacco clouding the room and singeing Konig’s nose.

“Here.”

Konig’s face pulls when Ghost takes the dress from you, manhandling and wrinkling the delicate fabric. It’s nauseating to watch him lay hands on Konig’s gift.

You’re supposed to wear his dress, liebe. Burn that slutty black dress, and accept the guidance you need. Give him even the slightest bit of control from you.

The rejection stings, turning him weak in the knees as the blood drains from his face. It tears his chest wide open watching you give his gift away like it was nothing. His face burns with humiliation, the prick of betrayal drying the back of his throat.

This is what he gets for going out of his way for you? For giving you a token of his affection? For the love and care he’s poured into you?

Fuck you.

You don’t get to make him feel this way. You don’t get to run from him when he knows what’s best for you.

“You want this back when I’m done?”

“Uhm,” You stare at it for a moment, the corner of your lip perking up ever so slightly, “Sure, yeah. It’s uh, it really is pretty.”

Konig swallows, eyebrows pinching and elated grin immediately plastered on his face.

You do like it?

Oh, liebe. He’s sorry he doubted you.

You do want him.

You can be a good girl for him, accept Konig’s redirection. You want to wear his dress for him, you want Konig to own you and teach you how to behave.

He can’t wait to see you in it.

“Will do.”

“Thanks for uh, y’know.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Night Lt.”

“Goodnight.”

When the door snaps shut behind you, Ghost sent packing, and Konig’s grin spreads.

You crawl into your bed, the same bed Konig had defiled hours earlier.

For thirty minutes you scroll on your phone, but Konig is happy just to watch your facial expressions as you react to the things on your screen. You watch silly videos, occasionally giggling at the content.

This part is just for him.

It sounds so wonderful to hear your laugh, liebe. He imagines it’s him making you giggle, a blush and coy smile as a result of a joke he made.

This is his favorite part of the day, when you settle in and he can watch you be your genuine self. It’s comforting to be with you while you unwind, he knows this is what it will be like once he has you, how you’d spend the evenings once you’re together.

And he gets to have his good girl all to himself.

The shower is the hardest part.

In addition to praying the evidence of his shower has fully drained, he knows you’re just a few feet away, completely naked and soaking wet. His cock twitches at the thought, still sensitive from his orgasm.

You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?

Teasing him like this.

He wants to follow you into the shower, see if he can peek at you from over the shower curtain. Offer to scrub you down, groping you like you’ve been asking for. Fuck you, how you deserve to be fucked.

His brow quirks when he spots your phone resting on the nightstand, charging after a long day out.

He waits until the sounds of the water hitting the ceramic loses rhythm, droplets now flowing down your body instead of raining on the tub.

He’s got time.

He takes a deep inhale before working open the wardrobe doors as stealthily as he can, cursing the creak of the wood under his shifting weight.

Mindful footsteps get him to your nightstand, shaking hands picking up your phone. With a push of your lock button the screen is illuminated, and his breath catches. He can’t believe you’ve left your secrets unattended for anyone to steal. How careless of you.

Your background is adorable, he can’t help but smile at the glimpse into an expression of your personality.

He swipes at the screen and his smile falls flat at the demand for a passcode.

Why do you always have to make things so difficult for him?

He huffs in frustration before he locks your device, using the dark screen and light from the lamp to search for fingerprints.

There’s a bunch towards the bottom, evidence of your fingers typing precious messages to your loved ones.

He needed those messages.

Konig thinks he can tell which smudges are your passcode. He’s got 6 possible numbers for a 4-digit code, and no way to tell which order.

He curses under his breath. He’s looking for a pattern. A birthday, a year, a sequence.

He’s got nothing.

You couldn’t have made it 1234?

He returns your phone to its spot. He’ll figure out your passcode, liebe. He’ll wait until he’s close enough to watch you enter it, get his fingers on it when you’re inevitably acting careless.

You don’t get to hide things from him anymore, liebe.

He’s earned it. You’ve lost the privilege of privacy.

This is a new level of immoral behavior, and now that he’s this close - he refuses to distance himself from you.

A rush so thrilling he can’t ignore it, a newly conquered high he’s never dared to risk, without the willpower to walk away from it.

It’s too late for you, liebe. He’s bleeding into you now, his sickness spreading into your life and infecting you like ink on cloth.

You’re his.

You just didn’t know it yet.

His (Part One)

Somethings Borrowed - Another Stalker!Konig Fic

The Girl Who Conquered the Mountain [Hunger Games AU] - Outcast!König x Reader

Meine Perle - Octo!Konig

Masterlist

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