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ladysharmaa · 2 months

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My miracle

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good

warnings: mentions of death

“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”

“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”

Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.

His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs.

“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”

“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”

“Like you are giving birth?”

“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.”

“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.

She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”

“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.

It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."

But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.

"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"

"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.

"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.

"Anthony..."

"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face.

The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.

With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.

"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."

"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."

"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.

On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.

Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.

And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.

It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.

"You have a daughter, Anthony."

He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."

"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."

Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.

"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.

The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.

"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."

"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.

"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.

Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.

Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."

"She is beautiful."

"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment.

He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #Bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #collin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x wife reader

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after-witch · 4 months

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Two Birds One Stone [Yandere Gojo Satoru x Reader]

Title: Two Birds One Stone [Yandere Gojo x Reader[

Synopsis: Gojo Satoru follows you home. ‘Alone in the Dark’ follow-up.

Word count: 3000ish

notes: yandere, noncon sex, humiliation, misogyny against reader

No one in your family, no one on the spacious estate--from the rotating guests down to the most menial of servants--believes that you are truly ill. Yes, your family let you return home without too many questions, let you bundle yourself in your room and come out only for meals that you leave as soon as it’s polite to do so. They offer to fetch the physician, and only smile indulgently when you insist that it’s a passing bug, you’ll be fine soon.

They do all these things, while they know that you’re not really unwell.

At least they grant you the mercy of not saying it out loud, at least for now, which is something you can appreciate. There is very little that you appreciate nowadays.

There is a soft knock at the door. One of the maids, then. They were trained to knock politely.

“Yes?”

The door gently opens to reveal one of the newer hires. A modest girl with the ability to act demure and professional just as well as any of the seasoned women who were multi-generational hires, whose mothers-and-grandmothers-and-great-grandmothers had worked for your family.

“Miss, my lord and lady have sent me to inform you that you have a caller.”

You clear your throat.

“Ah, unfortunately, I’m not feeling very--”

It was her turn to clear her throat, interrupting you. It almost made you flinch. It was an unusual gesture, not one your parents would have allowed. It should have been trained out by now.

“My lord and lady have sent me with explicit instructions that you are to come to the parlor immediately, even if you are unwell.”

You bite back a sigh. It must have been someone from one of the other families, then. Maybe throwing out another potential marriage match for you--your mother had fretted, especially recently, that you should have already been married by now.

The thought of sitting in that damned parlor and pretending like you weren’t constantly about to throw up from stress and shock made you want to tear your hair out. You should tell the maid to go away, and bury yourself under your blankets, and scream and scream because Gojo Satoru made you do something awful and the world was unfair and you thought he was your friend and--

No.

People like you didn’t have that luxury. So you force down your bile and half-heartedly make yourself presentable in the mirror, and follow the maid who escorts you down the hallway, out of the intimate private family rooms and into the grand hall that leads down to the parlor.

She stops you before you reach the threshold of the open door, and you almost trip on your dainty house shoes. The maid looks back at you with an expression that is something in between demure and overwhelmed. The skin of her cheeks flushes pink. She leans in, as if you were friends, and whispers,

“Miss, it’s--it is Gojo Satoru who has called on you.”

The world seems to drop out entirely. Yet you only feel as if you are falling as you stand there, hand braced against the door frame, head spinning. All the while, the maid grins, unawares, no doubt impressed that her employer’s daughter has associations with someone so well-known.

Sound pushes and pulls around you, distorting in your shock, but it’s there, clear as day: his voice. And your parents’ voices, all elegant and honeyed.

From your vantage point against the door frame, you can hear the trickling edges of their conversation.

“They were smart enough to ask me for some tips, and, well, how could I say no?”

Your mother’s voice oohs-and-ahhs. “No wonder we have seen improvement with them lately. All thanks to your generous tutelage, no doubt!”

You can practically hear the grin in Gojo’s voice.

“Well, it certainly helps that I like their company so much. Very much, in fact.”

You can vividly imagine the look that your parents have probably just given one another even before you cross the threshold of the door and announce yourself, curtsying slightly to your parents, as you’ve been brought up to do.

Gojo stands when you enter. Oh, the fucker. All etiquette and primness. Your stomach churns. If he wasn’t buttering them up, if he was anywhere else, if he wasn’t doing this to mock you, he wouldn’t be standing with his hands behind his back and a polite smile on his face. He’d be picking at his ear or lounging on the fine upholstery like it was some ratty college couch.

Your mother is fluttering towards you in an instant, smoothing down the wrinkled bits of your clothing, fingers darting over your face, looking for blemishes, scratches, anything that needs to be hidden or fixed.

When she’s satisfied, she lightly clasps your hand and leads you over to where Gojo and your father are standing. Your father greets you with a warm nod--unusual for him, but there is company, after all--and Gojo. Well.

Gojo smiles. Softly. You think, if he had his way, he’d be grinning like a cat that caught the canary. But that would be too much, in front of your parents. Too uncouth. So instead, he smiles lightly and sweetly and it makes you want to bend over and expel breakfast on your mother’s expensive rug.

“I’m happy to see you’re up and about,” he says. And then he reaches out and touches your shoulder. You stiffen.

You look to your parents--surely this is improper, surely they will say something--but your mother only presses her hand delicately to her lips and smiles.

Your head turns, slowly, back to Gojo. His smile widens.

“Don’t worry. I’ve told them about our private courtship. We don’t have to hide it anymore.”

The world should fall out from underneath you, but it stays stubbornly flat.

Your lips open and you will say something to make him leave, you’ll tell your parents what he did or feign illness or--

His hands move to rest on your hips, and--you jolt. Fingers dig into the skin of your hips through your clothing. A painful pinch that tells you: hush.

“I think it’s appropriate for them to have a bit of privacy, don’t you?” Your mother asks coyly, looking at your father. He nods solemnly and takes your mother’s arm. You have never, in your life, wanted your parents to stay with you more than you do now.

But they walk away. As your mother shuts the door, she gives you something most rare: a look of approval. How can she not notice the widened worry in your eyes? The anxiety in your expression? The mere presence of Gojo Satoru shuts out everything but his golden glow, the promise of his connection with your family.

The sound of the door shutting is like nails on a chalkboard.

You take the opportunity to jerk yourself away from him--to your surprise, he lets you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You hiss.

Gojo puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs easily.

“You weren’t around, so I came to you.”

You hate the way he looks too casual. As if you’d ghosted him after a bad study session and not--not….

“Of course I wasn’t around,” you say, almost spitting. “You…” But you don’t say it. Shame washes over you, hot and sticky.

The silence between you is just as warm, and you want to wash it off.

“Let’s go to your room for more privacy,” he offers.

“No.” Flat refusal is the only thing you can think to do now. Just say no, no, no, until he gives up and leaves.

Instead of leaving, he sighs, languid, and stretches his arms above his head. “Ah, your parents will be so disappointed that I left so early, after all that I talked you up.”

You hate him so much.

“C’mon,” he wheedles, when you don’t respond. “I just want to see where you grew up. Is that so bad?’

Show him your bedroom, make him leave. You cross your arms in front of your chest. “It’s nothing special. Just a room,” you mumble.

“Don’t say that!” Gojo reaches for you and ignores your flinch when he wraps his arm around your shoulder. “It’s your room, of course it’s special.”

Your stomach responds to his praise with a low roil, a remnant of how you might have responded to his compliments before all of this.

“There,” you say, voice tight and short, as you gesture towards your bedroom. You pointedly leave the door open but Gojo doesn’t protest.

It’s not the most impressive bedroom on the estate--that would be your parents’ room, followed by the siblings who managed successful sorcerer careers and have already had a few children.

But it’s cozy, and it's yours, and for you that’s enough. You just wish Gojo wouldn’t contaminate it with his presence. He looks at everything, smiling, humming. He goes to read a journal open on your dresser and you rush to slam it shut. He jumps back with an exaggerated grin and apologizes.

He doesn’t look and leave, like you hoped he would. Instead, he sits down on your bed and pats the space next to him.

“You said you just wanted to look.”

He pats the spot again. “I just want to ask about your training. Really quick.” The look you give him must be enough to kill, because he puts his hands in the air. “I promise, only a few questions about your training.”

Your legs tingle as you force them to move, one step at a time, to the bed. You sit next to him and the proximity makes you want to flee. But if you just do what he says and get this over with, he’ll leave. You can deal with your parents’ expectations about some courtship later.

He smiles when you sit.

“So, any progress? Better? Worse?” He looks down at you through his glasses. “Be honest.”

“I… I guess I have been getting better at concentrating,” you murmur. You’ve been forced to, really, since you didn’t want your parents to know about what happened.

“Aw, see? I knew it would help!”

It. Is that what he calls what he did to you? Your throat hurts.

“That’s not why you did it.”

Gojo has the audacity to quirk his head at you. It’s a gesture you know would make many women’s heart flutters. It just makes you want to close your eyes.

“No?”

You don’t respond, and after a moment, he gets up. It’s enough to make you sigh in relief. He’s leaving. He’ll be gone and you can figure out what to tell your parents and it will all be fine because--

But he doesn’t walk through the door.

Instead, he shuts it.

“Gojo--”

He gives you a look.

“No one will mind,” he tells you, voice light. “I’ll be quiet if you will.”

Your heart thuds, one, two, three.

“What do you mean?”

He looks at you as if you’ve asked him the stupidest question in the world. Maybe you did. Because he’s walking towards the bed now, forcing you to scoot backwards on it. You realize the vulnerability of your body in this position far too late, because before you know it, he’s crawling onto the bed with you.

“Wait--wait,” you sputter. “C-Can’t you just leave? Please?”

He leans over you and pins you down with the mere presence of his body.

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” He kisses your neck, and you crane it to the side, which only makes him kiss it more. “So cute. I’ve been thinking about you every day since then. Every hour. Every minute.” His kisses grow more numerous, on your shoulder, up your neck, your cheek, finally resting just above your lips.

“Gojo, stop.” He’s so close that your breath ghosts his skin, puffs against his lips.

“I’ve been thinking about the faces you made,” he says, voice dropping an octave. The words slink out of him like a snake. “How sweaty you got. What you looked like with your come all over that pretty face.”

If your cheeks get any hotter, you’ll get ill. You know it.

“Stop it,” you whisper, but your lips brush against his and he takes the opportunity to capture you in a kiss.

The distraction is enough to keep you from thinking about his hands, to keep you from being aware of his fingers unlacing the buttons of your blouse, of how he slides your arms out of the sleeves. You’re only wearing a thin morning camisole underneath, and the sound of it shredding breaks through the unwanted kiss.

“Gojo--” You say, or want to say, but all your words are muffled against him.

Saliva trails from his mouth--you want to gag--when he pulls away. “Satoru,” is all he says.

He’s taken off your shirt. He’s ripped your undershirt. You’re lying underneath him, ample chest bared, and he’s not going to get off you.

His fingers find your nipples and give them an unceremonious tweak.

“Don’t!”The word comes out too loud, too shrieky, and both of you still in the silence that follows.

You expect him to get off you now. You expect him to realize the danger of being found out and take the opportunity to leave; ego bruised, perhaps, but still--he would be gone.

Instead, he grins at you. “I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to come in and see us? Ah, but…” He rolls your nipples in between his fingers, and you jerk on the bed at the strange, electric feeling that shoots in between your legs. “Maybe you want to get caught?”

You press your lips firmly together--be quiet, you tell yourself, be quiet!--and shake your head.

He continues to roll your nipples, and your hips squirm against the feeling. “I think you do,” he muses. “You know, if someone did waltz in here while I’m balls deep in you, we’d have to get married.”

You practically choke on the unexpected sliminess of his words. But perhaps not so unexpected, considering what he was doing.

“Wh--What?” You hiss.

Gojo looks at you like you’re dumb--cute. But dumb. “I mean, your family is traditional, no? I don’t think they’ll let me deflower you and not make an honest woman out of you after that.” He spreads his fingers out and gropes the plump flesh of your breasts with his hands; his palms brushing against your hardening nipples makes you bite back a sigh.

“I mean--I meant--we’re not doing, I don’t want to do--”

He leans forward and rubs his nose against your cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. I like foreplay.”

“Foreplay?” You ask, helplessly, naively.

“Fuck, that’s cute,” he sighs. He begins to rub at your nipples with his thumbs, and there’s a warm, prickling sensation in them that makes your toes begin to curl. “You know how many times I jerked off thinking about these tits?”

“Stop,” you say, breathy. It feels good, and you hate it, but it doesn’t hurt--it doesn’t hurt, at least. That’s what you tell yourself to keep your mouth from screaming.

He ignores your words and squishes your breasts together with his hand, making them balloon almost comically.

“They’re so big, you know?” He pushes and pulls them apart. “How do you even stand up with these things?”

Humiliation blooms in your throat.

“Don’t be mad,” he says. “I’m not trying to insult them.” He sighs, then, and goes back to rubbing your nipples with his fingers, eliciting a whimper from your lips. “They’re gorgeous. Nice and big…”

Another whimper, this one louder, making you press your palm against your mouth.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He leans down, peering over his glasses. “Feels good when my fingers play with your tits?”

It does. You shake your head. But it does.

Gojo tsks lightly. You feel one hand leave your breast and reach down, down--sliding underneath the waistband of your skirt. Your body lurches but he’s too heavy and strong and you can’t move, even as he swipes his fingers down your underwear. You can feel the way his digits meet some slickness, smearing it around on the other side of the fabric.

“Your mouth can lie, but down here… you’re leaking.”

Your heart lurches with the memory of your leaking cursed energy, with the memory of the hard floor--and with the knowledge that it’s happening again.

Without fanfare, he grabs the waistband of your skirt and begins to shimmy it down. You kick and struggle, little noises escaping your lips that surely aren’t loud enough to be heard outside the walls. But it doesn’t matter. He’s stronger than you.

Your underwear goes down next, and you cringe at the feeling of wetness clinging to the soft material as he peels them down your legs. With your clothes gone, it’s easy for him to grip your upper thighs and pull them apart, exposing you directly to him.

“Gojo--” Your throat is dry and your words hoarse.

“Your pussy is prettier than I remember,” he says, ignoring your protests, ignoring the way your legs squirm. “Look--did your clit just twitch? Is it saying hello?” He smiles up at you, stupidly, and some part of you wonders if he really thinks you’ll laugh at what he’s saying. All you can do is swallow against rising bile.

“I was going to eat you out until you squealed first,” he begins, voice low. “But I don’t think I can wait. Besides, you look wet enough.” He rubs his thumb against your clit and you slap your hand back against your mouth at the sudden jolt of pleasure.

You know what he’s doing, even if you don’t want to admit it. You know before he reaches down and shoves his pants down around his ankles. You know before his boxers come down next. You know before you see his cock, hard like the last time.

How in the world is that going to fit inside you? You think. You feel, dimly, your privates clench and twitch at nothing.

“Your body is eager,” he tells you, cooing. “Even if you pretend that you’re not.”

“I’m not,” you murmur. He doesn’t listen. Your fingers grip the sheets of your body and you think dimly about what you’ve heard about sex. All you know is that you weren’t supposed to have it with anyone but your husband, lest you produce unwanted bastards to soil your family’s good name. Your mother had taught you all about the value of your “flower,” the importance of being chaste and virtuous.

And here you are, splayed on your bed, with Gojo about to take it all away from you.

You let out a whimper when he leans forward and rubs the tip of his cock in your folds. It’s thick and warm.

“Gojo,” you say, voice tight.

“Satoru,” he chides, sweetly. “I’m about to fuck you, honey, you can call me Satoru.”

You press your lips together and tighten your fingers on the sheets as he finally moves his hips forward, pressing his cock inside you, slowly.

It hurts. Enough that tears prick at the edges of your eyes, and you let out a soft, pained keen.

Gojo’s there, kissing you, as soon as it leaves your lips. His fingers brush away your tears even as he pushes forward, filling you up more, stretching you. The ache deepens, there’s a sting with it--you wonder if you’ll bleed, like your sister says she did, on her wedding night.

It doesn’t stop once he’s inside you. He pulls his hips back--there’s a brief relief from the feeling when he’s mostly out--before he pushes back in, and the ache reignites, making you jolt and whimper against his lips.

“Shh,” he tells you. One of his hands trails down your stomach, down your thigh, to rest against the top of your sex. His thumb begins to rub out slow circles, and an unwanted aching pleasure begins to build there.

It doesn’t make the pain go away. It doesn’t make the humiliation go away. All it does is introduce a sick sort of pleasure that makes you feel worse about yourself. How could you like this? It should be impossible, for your body to begin to feel a low, rolling pleasure that cuts through the pain–cuts through the horror–of what’s happening to you.

You whimper, bubbling out a little cry, and Gojo presses sweet kisses to your cheeks.

“That’s it, that’s my girl, you like that, don’t you?” The sweetness of his words is underscored by the wet sound of his cock thrusting inside you, by a faint slapping sensation against you every time he does.

But you do like it. Or your body does, and you’re not sure what the difference is, splayed on your bed, all warmth and sweat and aches. Gojo’s thumb presses deeper and your mouth opens–you gasp and he swallows your noises in a kiss, not letting up until his thumb is rubbing hard enough that your body arches and there’s a coil snapping inside you.

You grunt, animal-like, into his mouth. He grunts right back and shame curls over you, even as your body spasms in forced bliss. You can feel yourself clenching around him, as if you wanted him, as if you were trying to make the sex better for him.

He doesn’t pull away until you’re done clenching around him, and you shut your eyes for a moment to avoid looking at the almost dopey, pleased expression on his face.

The realizations hit you like slaps in the wake of your orgasm.

He made you orgasm. It felt good. You liked it, you hated it. You want more, you never want it again.

You just lost your virginity--still losing it, he’s not done–the precious commodity that your mother told you to guard well--on your bed. Before marriage. Before you were even in love. Before anything.

How could it be any other way, with Gojo Satoru? He takes, takes, takes. Takes what he wants because he can, because he knows it belongs to him, if he wants it. You, included.

There’s a gentle pat on your cheek and you realize Gojo is patting you, tapping you like he might a dazed sorcerer whose head met the rough end of concrete during a fight.

“Don’t get lost on me, now. Look at me… hey, you still here?”

“Yes,” you whisper, although it comes out more stuttered than you’d like with the shake of your body as he thrusts.

He plants a sloppy kiss on your mouth and moves faster. It hurts, still, but some of the more pressing sting is gone. Instead it’s an uncomfortable, new ache.

“You look so good like this, y’know?” His hands go from your cheeks to your breasts, and he squeezes them. “All ready to be filled up.”

His words take a moment to make any sense--and even then, you’re still not quite sure.

“Fill me… up?”

His thrusts get faster, and you hear your own breath stuttering stupidly as he fucks you. “Like I said--” His words are half-panting, but you get the feeling that they needn’t be; he only wants to seem undone, you think. “Want to fuck you. Want to breed you.” His hands squeeze your breasts, kneading at the flesh. “You’ll get real big, won’t you? With a baby in your stomach, just one at first, but--” He starts to speed up now, and you see a faint redness on his cheeks. “Fuck, who knows how many we’ll have.”

Cold fear clenches your stomach tight, and you resist the primal urge to gag.

“My-my parents,” you plead. Your parents would never let this happen, would they? Not if you told them the truth?

Gojo leans above you, looking down at you with a lascivious expression as he begins to thrust faster, making your breasts wobble with the motion.

“Your parents already approve. They feel honored, and they should, that I want to marry you. Have kids with you. Merge our bloodlines. Might have to fudge the due date, if this takes, but…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, his head veers down towards yours, and his lips practically crash into your mouth as he kisses you and presses himself deep inside you. He groans into your mouth and a warm, gooey feeling blossoms inside you at the same time. He came–inside you. You knew enough to know that was a bad thing, as far as potential pregnancies went.

When he pulls back from the kiss, he pulls back his hips, and something warm trickles out with his cock. It’s an awful feeling. The soreness, the wetness. The feeling of being used.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, voice tinged with something warm and breathy. “Did you like that? Making me come?”

You don’t answer.

Gojo doesn’t seem to mind. He flops down next to you and catches his breath.

“We should go back out there pretty soon,” he says airily. “They’ll be expecting us. Your parents, that is.”

Your voice is a croak. “What do you mean?”

Gojo leans up on his elbows and gives you a cheeky grin. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! I told your parents I was staying for dinner. Figured I’d work up an appetite in here… plus we can tell them all about our engagement over dessert. Two birds, one stone?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling, with its ornamented paintings. Pretty flowers and trees that your mother picked out when you were a baby. You had no input in it, just like you have no say in anything now.

No birds on the ceiling.

There are only the stones in the pit of your stomach, waiting to be retched up.

#yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo #yandere jjk #yandere #afterwitch writes

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ew-selfish-art · 6 months

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Dp x Dc AU: Danny and Tim are twins- And Vlad is the first to figure this out in his attempts to get DavlCo a new investor.

---

Tim was getting the creeps from this guy. It was as if the room got colder, the seconds got longer and the room's shadows moved to their own volition. He stared Tim down less like 'You punk kid' and more like 'You'll be mine' in a way that Tim didn't appreciate. At all.

The guy kept setting meetings up despite Tim's direct insistance that Wayne Enterprises would never touch DalvCo- not with a ten foot pole or for all the money in the world. Some how Tim's board of directors kept getting swindled by the guy and... therefore more meetings. More looks from this guy that made him want to crawl out of his skin.

Vlad asked him if he ever went by Timothy- Tim couldn't reply "that's not my name" fast enough. It apparently inspired the guy somehow. More meetings that Tim can't reject because of board members pop up.

It's been long determined that Jason doesn't get involved with Wayne Enterprises, but after the Uncle and a few other paid-actor solutions go up in flames- Tim decides to call up his older brother to act as a bodyguard and tell this guy to fuck off for the final time.

Jason apparently also gets the Heebee-jeebies from this asshole but his message is loud and clear to Vlad. There's a flash of green and then all of sudden it's just Tim and Jason in the room... Only Jason isn't acting like himself.

Putting it together- Tim reaches for his contingency F stash of Knock out gas and doses Jason. Vlad doesn't re-appear so Tim assumes that to mean that he'll be trapped in Jason's person until Jason wakes up.

Walking out of the meeting room with his bus of a brother over his shoulders- Tim quickly asks Tam to reach out to Vlad's Emergency contact. Surely there is someone in this man's company willing to explain what the fuck Vlad was trying to pull. Tim theoretically can keep Jason drugged asleep for a long time- surely that threat can get him somewhere.

The day drags on as Tim continues to keep Jason unconscious and eventually Tam lets him know that someone is here for Vlad. She says it with the addition of one of their codes- He mentally prepares himself for the worst and then... His doppleganger walks through the door? What the fuck?

Tim and Danny puzzle about one another for a little too long and Jason wakes up- Vlad pops out immediately. A shouting match between Danny and Vlad commences and...

"Man I knew our family had unresolved issues but seriously what the fuck has your clone dealing with?" Jason asks, as though he could watch this all day with pop corn.

"You made more clones?!" Danny screamed at Vlad who's only response is "Not this one! This one is actually polite!"

"Fuck you!" Tim and Danny reply in tandem.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #long post #tim and danny are twins au #twins au #tim is co-ceo of wayne enterprises and has too much shit that he puts up with because his board doesn't respect him #danny shows up and wants to conceal being a ghost for as long as possible but fucking vlad already possessed some fuckin guy #vlads plan is to abduct and adopt tim #vlad sees the resemblance immediately but when he asks tim the name question tims answer basically confirms it to him lol #jason is collateral damage here and is willing to throw down because of it #jason immediately being like 'oh look its a version of you i havent traumatized yet. i should not fuck up this one.'#jason danny and tim bonding over hating vlad actually brings danny into the family fold #he still lives in amity but now he has unlimited pocket change and a family that acts suspiciously like they're hiding being vigilantes

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nwjenz · 5 months

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❀YUNJIN AND HER IDOL GF huh yunjin x idol reader

○ genre: idol au, fluff warnings: intentional lower case, swearing

୨୧ you were apart of of aespa, yunjin was pretty familiar with your members but not much with you, she knew that you were known for your visuals and that you were very introverted but she didn’t know you on a “personal” level like she knew the other girls.

୨୧ the day she finally met you and it wasn’t just a small greeting at a award show it was when giselle invited her over to hang out she mentioned that none of her members were at the dorm so they could hang and talk about whatever they want so of course yunjin had to agree and come.

୨୧ yunjin and giselle were sitting on the couch as they gossiped without a care in the world until they heard a loud noise coming from the kitchen both girls screamed so loud you’d think someone was getting killed. they peeked into the kitchen to see giselle’s very introverted member leaning on the counter with a book in her hand, apple headphones over her head and a bungeoppang stuffed in her mouth and a plate of two more beside her.

୨୧ giselle let out a sigh of relief and yunjin just stared at you, she understood why you were so known for your visuals you’re gorgeous.

୨୧ yunjin remembers giselle walking towards you and pulling your headphones off of your head while complaining that you scared the shit out of her while you looked at your older member confused still with one half of the bungeoppang poking out of your mouth and yunjin found it adorable.

୨୧ yunjin heart melted when you muttered a soft hi to her as you followed giselle out of the kitchen and to the living room after being ordered to hang out with them as punishment for scaring them even though yn didn’t even know what giselle was talking about.

୨୧ she couldn’t keep her eyes off of you as her and giselle gossip, your little reactions to what they were talking about were hilarious and your shady side comments when giselle would ask for your opinion about situations were so entertaining.

୨୧ and that was the day yunjin knew she wanted to be your friend or more…

୨୧ and that was the start of yunjin coming to the aespa dorms every other day, you know just to her close friends and you…

୨୧she started making conversation with you anytime she ran into you, she’d even help you with baking after finding out that cooking and baking were your favourite hobbies.

୨୧ and she learned so much more about you. she learned that you were an ice skater for most of your life and even did partner work with someone under her company …

୨୧ which had yunjin side eyeing him in the halls with jealousy.

୨୧ months wen by and yunjin was falling for you harder and harder and so were you… and it didn’t take long until yunjin finally got courage to ask you out on a ice skating date which you agreed to of course.

୨୧ the date was filled with yunjin falling on her butt and you laughing at her as you skated gracefully and it ended with a kiss and you officially being her girlfriend

should I turn this into a series with the other members and their idol gfs??

#le sserafim #lesserafim x reader #huh yunjin #yunjin #huh yunjin x reader #yunjin x reader #lesserafim fluff #Lesserafim headcanons #aespa x reader #girl group imagines

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kittykattropicanna · 4 months

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Going absolutely feral over Mechanic!Simon and how you met him :(( I just want him so badddd

TW: pervy!Simon, smut, creampie, possessive!Simon, dirty talk (praise), he just wants you so bad girl, swearing, kinda naive!reader, brief mention of spanking

Mechanic!Simon masterlist

Regular masterlist

Just imagine you’re driving through a shitty little town somewhere in England, you don’t even know where you are at this point.

Your ex just kicked you out of your shared apartment in the middle of the night and you have nowhere else to go, your only option is to drive in your little shit box of a car as far away from him as possible.

Of course its poring rain and of course your car breaks down in the middle of the road surrounded by scary looking government houses and a very obviously high homeless guy screaming and yelling all sorts of profanities :(

With shaky hands you quickly look up every mechanic in town on your phone, its almost dead and none of them answer :( of course they wouldn’t! Its the middle of the night!

You don’t have insurance either! Everything is going wrong, you’re so lost and scared :(

You start to panic when there’s only one number left, with a shaky breath you call it and just as you think you're out of luck, a deep cranky voice answers begrudgingly obviously pissed that someone dared to call him at this hour.

Tomorrow is his only day off for the week >:(

Simons personal number was attached to the shop after Price promoted him to manager, now he has all sorts of dumb fucks calling him all times of the day and he hates it!!

But how could he say no? A poor girl called him in tears gasping for air between sobs and absolutely hysterical :(((( His not an ethical guy and a young girl like you that knows absolutely nothing about cars :( imagine all the extra money he could charge you? You wouldn’t question it either! Oh how could he say no to such a silly girl…

After what feels like hours a very tall, bulky, thick man with a scary balaclava knocks on your driver seat window and you scream so loud!!! His so scary and big! And his eyes! They’re are so angry :(((( he must be so angry at you for calling him :( you feel so bad :(

After he loads your car onto the tow truck he insists on driving you home

“Ohh come on sweetheart, would hate to see a pretty baby like you stuck in the rain, let me take you home darlin’”

His so pervy too! Subtly touching your arse and looking at your hard nipples that poke through you soaked shirt :(

He can’t help it! You can’t blame him! You’re not wearing a bra!

And with a beautiful face like yours and a body like that, what did you expect him to do? Not eye fuck you? Don’t be ridiculous.

You tell him that you have nowhere to go because your shitty ex threw you out and Si insisted you stay with him!!

“Oh pet, you poor poor girl, you want to get a room at a motel? No. Nooo. That’s no place for a doll like you, come stay with me darlin’, come on sweets, I’ll sleep on the couch, promise yeah?”

“I’m just tryna’ keep ya safe honey, its not nice around these parts, okay? hate for somthin’ to happen to ya”

And you know his right :( he came all this way in the middle of the night, left his comfy bed in the pouring rain just to help you, his from around these parts and he knows best!

His voice is so deep and husky, you just know a man like him could keep you safe!

You jump in the shops tow truck and he insist you take off your soaking shirt and put on his company jacket.

Its covered in oil and dirt, smells like cigarettes and is wayyyy to big for you. “Riley” is printed onto the left breast pocket with a large logo with the words “Price’s Motor Repairs” on the back.

Its so disgusting and smells musky but something about it makes your pussy clench!!! His so manly, so dominant, how could you not get turned on by him!!! You could feel his eyes roam your breasts as you sit in his jacket, chest completely bare underneath, hard nipples rubbing against the fabric :(((

Once you reach the shop, he drops your car off then shows you around.

He wants to impress you sooooo bad, showing you all sorts of tools and telling you what he uses them for, how he uses them to fix things. The whole time his talking all you could look at is his big muscly arms as he purposely flexes them for you.

Never in his life has he seen such a gorgeous, gorgeous girl and all he wants to do is bend you over his modified truck and fuck you so hard you’re creaming on his cock :(

And that’s exactly what he does! Before driving you back to his, he has you bent over, back arched and his callused hand wrapped around your hair as he ruts into you while you're still in his company jacket :((((

Your poor pussy hasn’t taken such a big girthy cock before, his wide hips connecting with your arse and slamming your much smaller body into the hood of his car :3

Thrusts so deep his car shakes from the force :)

As you moan and babble completely cock drunk you can hear him snickering and grunting behind you, whispering dirty words in your ear

Praising you between grunts….

“Look at you love, fuck, look at that perfect fuckin’ pussy, taking my cock so well, such a good girl, aren’t ya?” As he pounds into you so deep the tip of his leaking cock touches your cervix. A small squeal exiting your lips as he holds you there for a second, letting you feel for the first time what a real deep pounding feels like :)

“Never been fucked this good have ya baby? Never cum his hard before” he’d snicker has you cum for the third time, legs shaking and mascara running not from the rain this time, but from the tears of pure pleasure his so kindly giving you :(

And of course his coming inside of you! His loads are so big as well, when he finally lets himself cum he absolutely floods your pussy :)))

Your moans bounce around the tin walls of the shop, the sound of him slapping your arse echoing at the same time

You can feel the hot ropes shoot up inside of you as he continues to slowly thrust making sure none of it goes to waste.

He tries to suppress his moan, disguising them as grunts but a few slip past his lips :(

He doesn't pull out but that doesn’t stop his cum from leaking out of your cunt and down you beautiful thighs,

“Look at tha’ baby, fuckin’ hell, you did so good for me my gorgeous girl, so fuckin’ good”

He just met you but his already so, so possessive. :)

He carries you to his truck because your legs feel like jelly :( his so gentle with you too, whispering in your ear how good you did for him and how you're such an obedient girl, his obedient girl.

You fall sleep in his truck, curled up in the passenger seat, his company jacket still wrapped around your bare chest.

You’ve had such a big night and the sound of the soft radio and drizzle of rain lulls you to sleep.

You wake up in Si’s arms as his gently placing you into his bed.

“You’re alrigh’ darlin’, jus’ close ya eyes for me, ill be here”

Its safe to say he didn’t take the couch that night :3

Request are open for Mechanic!Simon, I would love to hear your thoughts so feel free send them through and add to the AU. im just obsessed w/ himmmm

!Disclaimer! - Above is NSFW content - MDNI - If you follow my blog without your age in your bio, you will be blocked - If you are under the age of 18, you are not welcome here, otherwise, enjoy :)

Cat divider sourced by @positively-mine from Pinterest - Pink line divider by @eloquentreverie - MDNI divider by @cafekitsune

Basic blog housekeeping - fic requests guidelines, boundaries and my rules for minors

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 1 month

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are you still taking recs?? if so could you do another one of the selene’s child x percy hcs?? ever since i read that i was obsessed!!! i love the moon and percy so this would mean everything to me!!

✮⋆˙ percy jackson x daughter of selene! reader blurb

content: percy jackson x daughter of selene! reader blurb warning: none that i can think of author's note: i know i know you said hcs but honestly i don't really want to do parts 2s for hcs bc i make mines pretty long and say pretty much everything i want to say lmao. so i made it a blurb, elaborating on one of the hcs about them breaking into seaworld during the night and sally and paul having to bail them out. oooooo i should have had selene show up to bail reader out bc sally and paul can't since they aren't her legal guardians (dont question it, i make laws now stfu) maybe ill make a part two or something i dunno idk

sally and paul were enjoying a peaceful night in. you should probably note the past tense. estella was over at a friends house and percy had taken you out on a date, something about an aquarium that they hadn't cared to grill him about. the pair were cuddled up on the couch, some movie playing in the background that they didn't care to listen to as they just talked to each other, enjoying the company of their lover more than anything. the house phone rang and they both looked over at it but ultimately shurgged. if percy or estella needed something, they wouldn't even think to call the house phone. sally wasn't even sure percy knew the number. so they let it go to voicemail, which was set to play on speaker, in case it was another call from one of percy or estella's schools or something important.

"Hello. This is a call from The New York City Police Department for inmate Percy Jackson. Say Yes if you would like to accept the call."

instantly, sally and paul were jumping for the phone, basically screaming 'yes' at the damn thing. there was a pause and then a clicking and they could hear the sound of breathing on the other end along with the faint sound of your voice. oh, they were going to kill him for getting their precious moonchild in trouble.

"mom? are you there?" percy asked through the phone and sally sighed out a breath, as he sounded pretty alright.

"percy, why in your father's name are you calling me from the new york city police department?" sally bit into the phone, paul comfortingly rubbing at her back but it was doing little to ease her anger. percy mutter something that sally didn't catch and she was about to rip him a new one when there was a shuffling on the other side of the phone, percy's whining voice growing faint

"shut up, you're just gonna get us in more trouble," your voice hissed, despite trying to muffle the phone sally and paul heard you loud and clear, "percy and i broke into sea world. we would have made it out had somebody not insisted we stop by the gift shop."

"if i ever go to an aquarium and not stop at the gift shop, that's not me, i've been replaced by aliens!" percy's voice spoke, clearly having yanked the phone back from you only for you to tug it back from him.

"we did not go to an aquarium, percy, we broke into an aquarium," you huffed at the boy, but sally could hear the smile in your voice. and she knew you weren't passive in this ordeal. just as troublesome as her son. paul had already grabbed their jackets and her purse, waiting by the door for the call to end.

"okay, listen up, you two, and listen good. this is your one 'get out of jail free card', okay? literally, getting out of jail free. paul and i are going to take the longest way we can, walking at the pace of snails, you hear? you're going to hang out in the jail for as long as i can make happen, got it?" sally stated, firmly and without argument.

"thanks, mom!" percy mused into the phone and she couldn't help but smile at the sound of her son's voice, forgetting for a moment that he was in jail.

"thanks, mrs. jackson!" you followed suit and sally could hear the beaming smile in your voice.

"of course," she sighed into the phone before hanging up, sharing a look with paul before the two burst into laughter.

"sea world?? they broke- they broke into sea world??" cackled paul, struggling to get the words out through his laughs. sally joined him, using their linked arms to keep her upright.

"i've raised an idiot! a complete idiot. goodness, i love that boy," sally hummed, smiling despite herself.

true to her word, it took her and paul nearly two and half hours to reach the police station, when if she had wanted to she could have made it in forty minutes. she and paul walked into the jail, paying the relatively small bail, before being lead back towards the jailcells. sally's heart melted at the sight and she urged paul to take a picture, her hand placed over her heart as she smiled at the sight.

you and percy were slumped against each other behind the bars, matching dusty sea world shirts on. your head was resting against percy's shoulder, your nose slightly scrunched, and percy's head was placed on top of your own, drool slowly dripping from his mouth into your hair. where your two bodies were pressed together, your interlocked hands rested, firmly wrapped and tangled together like seaweed in a torrential bay. or like comets dancing around each other, shooting past a bright moon and going deeper into space together.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader

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levisrations · 24 days

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Post War Levi thought: first time you both share a bed since living together.

One night you wake up from a nightmare, you wake up screaming. You get it together and lay back down to calm down as to not bother Levi in the other room. Some time passes and you think you’re in the clear but you hear his footsteps and his cane. He enters your room and asks if you’re alright. You explain you’re fine it was just a nightmare and as you were about to apologize for waking him he goes to sit in the chair next to your bed. You tell him it’s ok and to go back to bed but he insists on keeping you company. Truth be told he wants your company as well.

Some time passes and you feel guilty so you offer him to lay in your bed with you. He hesitates since he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable but you insist. So he lays next to you, you grab an extra pillow so he can prop his knee. You both lay down, you’re facing him while he lays on his back but his face is towards you. And it’s almost like you both decided silently then and there this is how you’ll sleep from now on. Maybe you’ll both sleep better. And what a surprise since sharing a bed the both of you have had better sleep since moving in. Less nightmares, not waking up every hour. Levis mood has certainly improved considering how sleep deprived he’s been for so long.

At this point all theres left is to have the conversation on what the nature of your relationship is. But saying those words out loud for some reason seems scarier than going against a titan and you’re both aware how ridiculous that is. One day one of you will say it. Or show it with a gesture. Hand holding, a kiss. Who knows. Right now you’re both content with how things are.

#levi #levi ackerman #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #aot #levi aot #levi ackerman fluff #slow burn

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kooeater · 7 months

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Pink ribbons | JJK

Jungkook x f.reader

smut, angst, slight fluff

warnings: dilf!jk, age gap, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, riding, cowgirl position, pssy play, teasing, huge mentions of cheating, homewrecker!reader, crying, toxic behavior, toxic situations, masochistic ass plot, emotional damage, soft yandere reader? switch reader/jk? Mental stuff..

How did you meet him? Well, he was your photographer, one of the most well known photographers all across town. He's worked with big companies and also some big stars as well. You were a 21 year old girl, who was a underwear model for Victoria secret. There were many departments for the underwear modeling agency, but you were more on the cute pink/white underwear modeler department.

Your photographer was Jeon Jungkook and hell did you want him so bad. It's not like you were stupid, you saw the ring on his finger, you seen the daughter on his phone lock screen, you saw his wife kissing him on the cheek every morning while they part their ways for work. Then why were you sleeping with him?

You needed to have him.

You caught his eyes when you started your own little signature look that the Victoria's secret agency loved, and so did Jungkook. Your pink ribbons wrapped around your thighs. You used your youth and beauty to lure him in, to have him inside of you. To make yourself his dirty little secret. You were know as "The girl with the pink ribbons" and known to him as "My secret with the pink ribbons"

You were riding the 32 year old male like your life depended on it, thighs wrapped up with your signature pink ribbons, even had one in your hair. Your tight walls sucking him in so well you couldn't open your eyes without seeing rose tinted hazy clouds all around you. His thick and long cock sliding in and out of you so well, every vein brushing against your gummy velvet like walls, making you both moan in euphoria.

"Fuck, yes baby. Like that." He chants in your ear as he felt you clenching around him.

You brought your hand to his throat, slightly choking him. Although you were small and submissive at times, you also liked having your own way with him. You liked to show him even though you're submissive towards him you can also be an dominate woman.

He let you take control, he let you ride him and control his movements to what you liked most. He found it adorable that you liked to take the lead, although you're always so shy when you do. He starts to whine out your name, so you slowed a bit down to slightly tease him.

Your dominate fantasies were fun while it lasted until Jungkook started to thrust up into your pussy, making you whimper and let go of his neck. Instead your hands went to his shoulders to help ballance you up, you needed it especially how his tip was brushing against your sensitive cervix.

Loud whimpers and moans leaving your mouth as you feel that twisting feeling in you tummy again. You don't know if your climax is coming or if his cock is just rearranging something in there. Your boobs were bouncing and Jungkook just knew he had to wrap his lips around your nipples. He loves your huge heavy tits rubbing against his face, he loves your body so much.

He loves to grip your small waist as you ride him. Grip your thighs while they're wrapped up with pretty pink ribbon, shower you and remove your small pink bows from your hair. He loves touching you so much, you make him forget all about his ... well burdens.

It wasn't long until both you and Jungkook were screaming out each other's names. You milked him dry of all his cum, he gave you a creampie.. your favorite. Feeling his sperm inside you was the best feeling ever, you didn't care how wrong it was. It's like drinking warm tea on a cold night, the warmth fills your body up with butterflies of coziness. The girls who get it get it.

For a moment while you were catching your breath and Jungkook was looking into your eyes, you swear his eyes sparkled. Although... it didn't last long.

He quickly and gently pushed you off his lap, quickly cleaning himself with a clean cloth. He threw away the condom he used previously but of course he took it off so he can feel you raw, and he also like fulfilling your breeding kink. You always tell him how bad you wanted him to get you pregnant with his babies, he thinks it's just some kink but you actually want to have his kids. You're obsessed with him.

You felt worthless whenever he leaves you on the bed with his cum dripping down your thighs, your pussy sore from his roughness and how he leaves you there like some whore. Being honest, you did feel like a whore. You were so young, pretty, perfect body.. you could have many of boys chasing after you but no. You wanted Jungkook, you wanted married man who already has a daughter.

Although you told yourself you felt bad, you honestly really didn't.

His wife can't satisfy his needs so you will, she doesn't make him feel as good as you do so you're going to continue to make him feel good. The thought of him cleaning his shared room up, doing the bed again so he can go back to sleeping by her side kills you. You hated leaving his house, you wanted to be the one that lived there with him. You wanted to be the one to give him children and to have his last name not that boring wife he has.

"I need to shower real quick, that should give you enough time to get yourself together and go back home." he said in a boring tone, like he's done using you for the week.

Your silence was loud. You usually said a soft "ok" or "yeah" but you didn't say anything this time. This time, you stay quietly on his bed, no blankets covering your naked exposed body. You looked at your own body, hickeys, bruises, cum, spit all over it.. oh and your ribbons. You looked at the mirror that was across the room, your makeup running down your face, bruised lips, marked neck, you even had his dry cum on the side of your face.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying?" He walks towards your small figure. Big fat tears dropping out of your eyes as your lips quiver, your breathing goes a little faster too.

He can see how you're upset about something, his mind automatically goes into the sex you two just had. A lot of women feel guilty and dirty after having sex with certain types of men, he thought you were going through the same thing. He isn't one to comfort another while they're feeling down but truth be told, he did care for you.

"I- I don't wanna.. don't want to leave you. I want to stay. please." your voice was shaky as tears kept falling down your cheeks.

Jungkook was a little confused for a second, he thought you were feeling guilty after sex but no you were just being clingy. Although he doesn't like clinginess much, he'd make an expectation for you.

"Hm, okay. There's no rush, I'd make you feel good of course. Your afterglow is coming in, I gave it to you. I gave it to my prettiest girl."

His prettiest girl. You liked that, you liked that a lot.

His muscular arms comes to pick you up as he sits down on his bed where you were sitting. He places you on his lap as he grabs the extra clean cloth he has, you place your arms over his neck so you're oh so close to him. He opens your legs suddenly and you let out a small gasp, he did it so he can clean you. His eyes go to your sore chubby pussy, a little red from the sex you two just had. He sees how both yours and his cum is dripping out of you still, trailing down your inner thighs. He places sweet kisses on your shoulder, dragging the cloth in between you legs making you hiss because of your sensitivity.

"It's okay baby, I got you."

You whine a bit before you got used to the sensation. He was careful with you, like you were a glass ball rolling on a coffee table and he had to balance the table so you don't fall and shatter everywhere. He was taking care of you.

It wasn't long until you were all cleaned up, tears becoming less harsh but still there. Crying because of how loved you feel at the moment, but you know it won't last.

You stop thinking about the cons as something in you kinda just happened, you found yourself grinding on his lap again.

You gasp at the sudden small slap you got on your inner thighs from his long tattooed hand.

"You're so nasty baby. Such a shy innocent girl flaunting around in her underwear as I take pictures, but such a nasty dirty girl naked for me in bed. You're perfect" his words made your heart skip a beat.

You open your legs a bit as you feel his hand go in between them. You look at him with pink flushed cheeks and round doe eyes as his finger parts your chubby lips apart and swipes up and down your slit. Your pinkish peachy undertone pussy was his favorite, he always says he wants to live in it, at first you found it funny but now you see it as such a compliment. You let out a small moan when you feel his finger rub your sensitive clit.

"m' so good, feels so good."

"yeah baby? So good? I love making you feel so good princess, hate seeing my beautiful girl sad. I'll make you feel so so good. All for my pretty little one." He kisses the side of your cheek, his chest brushing up against your back. You love feeling his abs against you.

He started to rub circles on your clit, he then suddenly slightly smacked your pussy making you yelp.

"keep them open doll" he chuckles in your ears as he spreads your thighs open again after you closed them due to the sensation he was making you feel.

His tattooed fingers were tracing your hole that was clenching around nothing, coming back up to your sensitive clit that was begging for more stimulation. He left sloppy kisses on your collar bone, marking you as his. You gasp in pleasure as he starts to rub your pussy in a fast speed, teeth nibbling and mouth sucking dark red purple kisses all over you.

"g-gonna cum Jungkook.. I'm gonna cum!" your body shook and trembled foward, shaking in his embrace. His muscular tatted arms grabbed your body closed to his chest as his fingers were being squished in between your thighs you were squeezing together

"c'mon over here, need to hold you close sweet cheeks" his voice was soft and comforting. You let him slightly drag you into laying position, your head on his chest as he brings his soft cover over his body and also yours. There was a good moment of silence, just you focusing on your breathing and Jungkook letting your warmth warm him up.

Your mind started to think again, and that wasn't the best especially while you're with him. You had to tell him you loved him, you couldn't keep it inside anymore. You had to tell him to make up his mind. You felt bad that his wife was still in the picture, but not because you felt bad for her.. you felt bad for yourself. You shouldn't have to share the love of your life with someone else.. you couldn't. You know you were the other woman, the home wrecker, the whore.. but you couldn't help but to fall for him.

You gave him your virginity, your body, your heart, your mind, your soul. You gave him everything and now it's his turn to give you the same energy back.

"Jungkook" you chirped as you pushed yourself closer to him if that was even possible. "Jungkook I have to talk to you. It's a kind of hard to process? Or.. I don't know. I don't want to put you in an awkward position or anything but.." you started to stall.

Jungkook looked at you in confusion, not understanding what the hell you were talking about.

"What is it? Don't be shy you can talk to me, I'm here." he chuckles out to reassure you that whatever you have to say, you can say it to him. Even though he doesn't know what you have to say.

"okay well, I know you're a married man and you have a daughter and all of that. I'm aware it's a sensitive topic we don't discuss much but I.. I need to tell you that I'm really starting to feel like I can't live without you. I can't sleep without thinking of you, I can't eat right when I do see you, I'm really just.. in love with you. I'm in love with you Jeon Jungkook."

You honesty has no idea what you expect from your confession, but it certain wasn't this. Jungkook had his face in between your thighs, sucking your clit as his fingers were going in and out of you at a good pace. He smirked as you fell apart on his tongue, proud knowing how good he's making his doll feel. You honestly had no idea what was going to happen after this night between you and Jungkook has ended. It's safe to say that as one is getting her heart broken, one's wildest dreams are going to come soon.

She stands outside the door, the door opened by just an inch, seeing the betrayal in front of her eyes. She knew he was cheating, she knew it was with someone from work. How could he? How could you. How could you smile and greet her hello whenever she'd pass by you at work to bring her husband surprise lunches? How could he tell her he loves her, .. that her and their daughter are his top priority? She was sad, and livid. He was pleasing you so good, he was making you feel good and she could see that.

In her mind, all she can think about is going to her parents house, where she left their 6 year old daughter at for the night and start to get papers ready to file for a divorce.

Her sad ending was your happy beginning.

And as for Jungkook? Wil he suffer? Hm, no. Should he suffer? Yeah maybe a bit, but what once was lust slowly started to turn into love. When he had you on his chest, your words echoing through his head.. saying you loved him.. he knew he loved you too.

He's get to see your pink ribbons when he wakes up, and when he sleeps.

an: I do NOT encourage this irl.. please do not take this fictional story and try to mix it with reality!! With that being said, WOOOO omg guys... I've been writing this for only like 2 days. It was supposed to be a draft just for some writing improvement, but it started to get a little too good, so I turned it into a fic lmfao 😭

hope you guys enjoy this 🤍🎀 like if you feel like it :)) !! ♡

- belle 💌

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lovifie · 2 months

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Darkfic!Gaz, nothing too extreme but this is not loverboy!Gaz, this is more of It-makes-me-want-to-laugh-at-you-when-you-cry!Gaz.

TW: emotional manipulation, a bit of dubcon, mentions of kidnaps

Everyone has a limit, and Gaz is not an exception.

He is still made of meat and bones, and emotions can be tamed but not ignored forever.

Working in the military takes a toll on everybody, both physically and emotionally. And survivor guilt is the worst of them all.

Gaz is back from his last mission, but many of his colleagues won't. Ever again.

Too many casualties.

Too many lives lost.

Too many injured.

And he is fine.

Not even a scratch he could pick at to feel the pain he deserves.

He shouldn't be walking home so freely, dozens of families are about to find out they will never be whole again.

And he is walking home to you, happy to welcome him back as if he was a hero, dinner warm on the table and you talking to him about your day.

As if he would care about how your colleague invited you to a company dinner in a couple of days. People died today, he couldn't care less.

But it seems you cannot get the memo.

“Can you shut the fuck up for a fucking second? Shit! I have been out for months, I just want some fucking quiet time and you keep fucking going on and on about you. How can you be so selfish?! Fuck! Just shut up, for fuck sake!” He says, standing up from the table and dropping his half-eaten dinner on the sink before walking upstairs to the bathroom to shower.

He regrets it the moment the words leave his lips, the hurt look on your face as if he had just hit you.

It had happened before, the pressure of his work gets too much, he keeps it in, not being able to complain to anyone, until it overfills and in the end you are the one that takes the fall.

He hates himself for it, you are literary the best thing he has, his sweet girl, always willing to take him in, more ways than another, always willing to listen to him, always patient, always kind.

And this is how he repays you, with shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

He'll get out of the shower and you'll be lying on the sofa, not wanting to share the bed with him, he'll pull you apart and back together on said sofa, and once you are satisfied and pliant he'll take you to bed to sleep on his arms.

Until it happens again.

He gets out of the shower, towel around his hips, and goes down to the living room. But you aren't there, his brows furrow; maybe you are picking the blanket from the room.

So he goes upstairs again, smiling when the room's light is on, and enters; smile quickly dropping when he sees you.

No. No. No. No.

His stomach sinks when he sees the suitcase open on top of the bed, clothes being thrown inside by you.

He can see the tears in your eyes, but you don't look sad, you look angry. You have never been angry at him, he can't wait to feel it.

“Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing?” He asks stepping closer, closing the suitcase so you can’t put any more clothes in.

You huff, looking at him with hate and tears in your eyes as you try to move his hand away from the suitcase. “I'm leaving, Kyle”

No, no, no, you can leave, he needs you, how can you leave him? What will he do without you?

“Why? Love, please, stop, talk to me, please?” He begs, making you throw the t-shirt on your hand to the floor.

“Talk to you?!” You shout at him. “Maybe I should talk to you the way you talk to me, Kyle! Then maybe you would get an idea of how much it hurts!”

He deserves it, he knows he does, but you have never spoken this loudly to him before, and it stirs something inside him. It makes him wonder if he can make you moan as loud, scream his name.

“I know, love. I'm sorry, I really am. You know that, right? You know that I love you to bits?” He asks, manipulation at his best. But you don't fall for it, you are far too smart to be blinded by his hurt expression. He tries to cup your face, if he can touch you he knows he's got you; but so do you, and you quickly move his hands away from your face.

“If you loved me you wouldn't treat me the way you do, Kyle.” You argue, clever girl you are.

“How can I not love you, dear?” He asks, body moving closer to you. Your hand rests on the middle of his naked chest, keeping him back. It's the back of your hand that touches him, almost as if your palm was too good to touch him.

Your touch is cold, both literally and figuratively and that makes him start to panic. What if you actually leave? What if he can't fix this before is too late? What if it is too late?

He needs you, he needs the control he has over you. Everything in his life constantly feels out of control, his superiors barking orders at him, enemies playing with him, and comrades dying on the battlefield without him being able to do anything about it. He needs to feel he is in control of something, even if that something is a someone and even if that someone is you.

He still pushes closer, the heat from his body pooling into the coldness of your touch. He resists the urge to smile satisfied with how your body betrays you. Kyle does love you, even if it is in an unfair, distorted and macabre way. And he knows you love him, in a genuine, comforting and undeserving way.

His hands manage to get to your face, pushing his face forward to kiss your cheek. Baby steps.

“C’mon, love. I'm sorry, please. I won't do it again, I promise. I'll work on it, I promise I never intended to hurt you. I'm sorry, it's the job, I promise. I love you, darling. I really do.” He says, as he drops kisses on your face, lowering to your jaw and the moment he reaches your neck, he smiles, hidden from your eyes, knowing he is keeping you once more.

Shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

“Kyle…” You protest, your hand still on his chest and some fight still in you, but he can work it out of you.

“I'm sorry, dear. I'll treat you better, I promise. As good as you deserve, I promise.” He has you against his chest now, and he feels your hand slowly turning on his chest; your palm much warmer against his skin.

He sucks on your neck making you whimper and he needs every bit of self-restraint not to laugh at you, not to laugh at how easy it was. He shouldn't have gotten nervous, he’s got you eating out of his hands.

The part of his brain that is still human, that tells him that you are still human starts to talk to his dismay. He knows it! He perfectly knows that he is a monster for how he treats you, that you should be with someone a hundred times better, such a sweet girl stuck together with such a horrible man.

But one of the many traits that make him such a horrible man is how egoistic he is, so he will keep you, even if you don't want to. He'll keep pushing you away and locking the doors so you can't run. Tomorrow he'll burn the suitcase, he is not letting you get this far ever again.

A glimmer of guilt sits at the bottom of his stomach, a useless feeling. It only means he needs to get inside of you soon, fill himself with the love he so little deserves and fill yourself with empty lies of eternal love.

He grips your thighs, urging you to jump on his hips. You resist for a second too long and he slaps your asscheek making you jump with a whimper.

“I'm gonna make you feel good, love. I'm sorry. I'll make it worth it, I promise.” He says, still biting your neck. The towel around his hips falls at some point, not that he cares; it would get in the way anyway. Just as much as your clothes are, he doesn't bother to let you back on the floor to take them off. He simply grabs the material and rips it on your crotch leaving your cunt exposed.

He is still standing, he doesn't want you to be able to rely on any support, he wants you to feel that if you don't grab him you'll fall, he wants you to need him just as much as he needs you. He slips his hand behind you, getting a finger inside of you making you whimper as you hide your face on his neck; clinging onto him and he loves it.

This is how he wants you, desperate for him. Just like he is for you. At his disposal, just for him.

He can feel the wetness dripping down his fingers, he knows he should add more fingers before sinking you on his dick, but he wants to feel you stretch around his dick, moulding yourself just for him, shaping your insides only for him.

You bite his shoulder when he does and he smiles, loving it, he needs it. He needs the pain you inflict on him when he is like this, the bites on his shoulders, the scratches on his back, the kicks on his lower back, all of it. He deserves, he deserves much more. You could sink a knife into his shoulder, cut him to his hip dragging the blade and he would still feel you need to do more.

He is so horrible to you, he knows he hurts you, and he wishes you could hurt him back, let him know what is like. But you never do, because you are too good to hurt the man you love and it only makes him want you to hurt him more.

He grabs your hips hard, making you bounce on his dick, the room filling with your moans and the sound of skin slapping on skin. There are no more thoughts inside his head, already forgetting the faces of those men who died today, already forgetting their names. This is why he needs you, it would consume him alive if it wasn't for you. He needs you.

You cling to him, moaning his name, you mind forgetting his harsh words already only being able to focus on the way his dick is hitting so deep inside of you.

He makes sure to go round after round, his seed spilling out of you making him grunt. He should get you pregnant, stuck with him for real that way, forever.

It's only when you can no longer talk that he gets in the bed with you, hugging you tightly, too afraid you'll think about leaving again.

It's usually at this point he can finally relax, go to sleep and forget about the nightmares his days have been.

But a new nightmare arises when he says, “I love you” and you answer “I know”.

Tomorrow, he is burning your suitcase and he is tying you to the bed. Enough playing around with him, he is here, and you don't need to go anywhere.

Shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.

And that will remain the same.

Whether you want it or not.

This was my first try at writing something more dark-ish. I'm not really sure if it even classifies as it, but. I hope you guys enjoy it anyway 🩷🩷

@waiting-so-long this is what you have done to me. I don't know if this fits the vision you had but I hope you enjoy it my dear! 🩷🩷

@sgtgarricks here you have it as well, wait no more 🩷🩷

T-List: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @lunari0 @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @dilara-del @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @tooloudarts

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voxsremotec0ck · 2 months

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𝐒𝐢𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞.ᐟ

ᯤ Vox x Fem!Reader

ᯤ NSFW, cockwarming, dom!Vox, mean!Vox, spanking, claws, riding, overstim

wc - 1k

˗ˏˋ Vox has a long day of work ahead of him and he knows just the thing to make it bearable ˎˊ˗

Today was going to be a long fucking day in his monitor room. He has to prepare next week’s broadcasts, look over blueprints for new products; basically anything you could think of Vox needed to do.

It also didn’t help that last night, Valentino went on another rampage, complaining about something Angeldust said to him at a club.

So to say the Tech Overlord was stressed and very much not looking forward to today was an understatement.

At least, he wasn’t until he got a brilliant idea.

And that brilliant idea of Vox’s is what led you here, straddling his lap completely naked with his cock buried inside of you.

You weren’t allowed to move, not until he finished all of his work. No, you were just meant to keep him company, keep him warm, and keep him entertained.

It was so hard to sit still with him, stuffing you full, tip just kissing your cervix. Especially when Vox would bring his hand to your back, gently running the tips of his claws along your spine and making your skin prickle with goosebumps.

You clung to his suit jacket to ground yourself. Your eyes were glued to the floor, watching his sharks swim around under the thick glass as a distraction. But the throbbing between your legs just got worse as time passed.

Just sitting here felt like torture.

All you wanted was for him to at least let you roll your hips, even slowly. Feel his hard dick move inside of you and drag across your sweet spot.

You didn’t even realize you had started moving until a loud smack filled the room, and your ass-cheek began to sting.

“W̵̦͌h̶̫̘̰͝ä̷̯̻́̐́t̶̰̼̋͌ did I tell you?” Vox’s smooth voice sounded like static, and you whimpered.

“Don’t move.”

“Correct, and what are going to do?”

You took a shaky breath and clung to him tighter, “Sit still.”

Game show noises rang condescendingly from the speakers in Vox’s monitor. “Good girl. I’m almost done, so if you can continue to be good for me, I’ll let you cum, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded against his chest, the nickname making you clench around him.

The sounds of Vox glitching make you realize what you’re doing and relax. A hand comes down to smack your ass again, making you flinch, “D̷͉͇͊̀̎o̶̬̔̌l̷͉̇̒͛l̸͈͛͝-“

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry it’s-“

“I know, you love it when I call you that, don’t you?” Vox asks, his hands squeezing your ass and his claws just barely piercing your skin.

You nod, and He smacks your other cheek, the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you making you moan, “But I can only call you that if you’re actually good for me. So will you be good for me, Dollface?”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good, I promise!”

Vox chuckles, “Good.”

Another hour passes like that, you trying your absolute hardest to stay still while Vox continues working. Your legs and hips are sore from being in this position for so long, but nothing is worse than the ach in your core.

You silently wish your flat-faced boyfriend would hurry up.

A sigh leaving Vox’s lips made you perk up like a dog, and the sound of the keyboard being replaced with the clicking of a mouse got your hopes up.

“Okay,” Vox hummed, making one final click with his mouse before leaning back to look at you, “All done.”

“R-really?” You ask, tears of relief filling your eyes.

The Overlord chuckles meanly and brings a clawed finger up to wipe a tear that escaped, “Yes, honey, really. Are you ready to ride me now?”

“Yes!” You sniffle, nodding your head so fast you almost bump it against his monitor.

“Then what do you say?” That cocky smile you both love and hate spreads across his screen as he asks.

“Please! Please let me ride you, please let me cum!” You all but scream, tears really falling now.

Vox’s smile grows impossibly wider, and he leans back in his chair, getting comfortable as he slips his hands in the crease between your hips and thighs, “Good girl. Now go on, make us cum.”

You didn’t hesitate for even a second. The moment those words fell from his lips, you were bouncing and rolling your hips, hands fisting his suit in a death grip.

Finally, you were chasing that release you craved.

“Fuck Doll, this really got you worked up, huh?” Vox groaned, squeezing his hands in your hips and piercing your skin with his claws. The pain made you cry out and clench around him.

You wanted to yell at him; of course, you were worked up after being teased like that for hours. Instead, all you could do was moan and hold onto him, already feeling your climax approaching.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum-“ You babbled out, trying desperately to fight it off until he gave you permission.

“Okay, but you better not stop moving.” Vox chuckled breathily, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

All you really registered was his permission to cum. Your body tensed as pleasure tore through your body, making your hips stutter and your back arch.

“God, you look so good like that.” Vox glitched out, his hands moving your hips for you, fucking you on and off his cock like a toy.

You were definitely screaming now, barely able to enjoy your orgasm as the Overlord roughly thrust up into you. Overstimulation made the feeling painful but didn’t stop a second release from building in your core.

“F-fuck Vox!”

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m the one making you feel this good!” Vox’s voice was buffering along with his screen, and you barely registered the lights flickering.

“I’m- fu-ck gonna-“ You couldn’t even finish your sentence, cumming without his permission and clenching around him like a vice.

“F̴̻̺̂̀ǘ̷̝͂̓c̶̣̈͒k̸̟̄!” Vox cried out, cumming inside of you and filling you up even more.

You could feel the static in the air as the power went out, but neither of you cared. Instead, you both sat there panting, limply holding each other as you came down from your highs.

“We,” Vox said through quick breaths, “are definitely doing that again.”

You chuckled tiredly and opened your mouth to reply before a loud, muffled scream tore through the quiet, and you recognized Velvette’s voice as she shouted,

“VOX I SWEAR TO FUCK!”

I can’t believe I have a little over 100 followers already omg

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #hazbin x reader #vox x y/n #vox x you #hazbin hotel vox #vox smut #hazbin hotel oneshots

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dmitriene · 1 month

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cw: mentions of groping and attempts at harassment, reader stays her ground, simon falls in love and kind of a horny mutt, smut is not the main curse.

simon keeps his distance from relationships, he has enough problems of his own, he rarely stays in one place because of deployments, and very often risks his life.

until simon observes a situation in a bar that turns his world upside down, making him feel a prickly warmth in his lower stomach and a whirlwind of thoughts consisting only of the same words

— “she's gonna be mine��

it was so easy, you only had to go to the bar for the first time in a long time to unwind, only to get caught by an annoying, nasty guy who didn't want to stop trying to touch you and whisper nasty compliments to you like — “your tits looks so good in this shirt„ “wanna get out of here with me?„ “don't play hard to get„

until it all turned into screams and pig squeals, as soon as you poured the drink from your hands on his gross self, ruining not only his clothes, leaving them sticky, but also his image, attracting the attention of almost all the customers and also the bartender, a clever one who immediately called for help to get the man out before he did anything worse, not to mention his squeals about — “fucking bitch! that how you react to some attention?!„

it's really easy, responding with rudeness to rudeness and not tolerating humiliation just for the sake of saving face, not even yours, in public, instead keeping your nerve and addressing rude people in their own language, before wiping your hands with a napkin and going back to relaxing by ordering another drink.

and simon is not at all ashamed to admit to himself that the whole performance, carefully followed by his thawed chocolate eyes, not only made him aroused, which caused him to fidget in the seat, spreading his legs wider and squeezing the prominent bulge in his pants, tenting against the fabric of the black jeans —

but also allowed him to imagine how it would have been in different circumstances, yelling at him about completely different things — while being on top of him, riding his fat cock with rough rolls of your round hips and loud slaps of your plush ass against his relaxed, muscular thighs, the warm, gummy walls of your cunny clench around his meaty cock so good, making him go delirious with just one imagination how hot you would sound with his name and orders slipping past your soft, bitten from his hungry mouth, lips — “h — haa, yesyesyes, simon! stay just like that, s' good!„

it's all enough to make simon break out of his habitual image in which he tries to keep a low profile, he calls the waiter to ask him to extend your drink at his expense, and it's really more than enough for simon, because you don't hesitate to find his gaze among the numerous tables when you're told that another cocktail you didn't ask for is a compliment from another customer, and simon doesn't hide his communion either.

he catches your gaze back, feeling a thrilling shiver in his body, and raises his glass of bourbon to the thin line of pale lips that spread into a smile of their own, accord when he sees your biased squint, but even though his slightly intimidating balaclava and broad physique, you nod, thankfully, your lips moving in silent gratitude — “thank's, sir„

that was his green flag, to sit in the bar until you were about to leave, leaving the room and his line of sight, slipping out if only for a moment, because simon couldn't let you go home alone after all that, coming out after you and as gently as possible touching your shoulder to make you turn, your gaze falling onto his warm eyes before processing the hoarse words he said

— “le' me wolk you home, hm? nothing more, jus' a safe wolk, lovie?„

and will you refuse? after all, no matter how hard you try to think otherwise, something in his whole form inspires of unexpected safety, so maybe he's the one who will be your normal company tonight.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

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gremlingottoosilly · 8 months

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Lovefool [dark!Konig x fem!Reader]

Konig gets to secure a little trophy from the battlefield. Hope you're in for a ride.

!TW! Kidnapping, Yandere themes, Dub-con, dark!Konig

Tags: Yandere, Dark Romance, colonel!Konig, dark!Konig, Size kink, Age gap(Konig in his thirties and Reader is in her twenties), Stockholm syndrome speedrun, Konig is a huge pervert, submissive Reader

You never knew who he was before he attacked.

Your teammates did – whisperers about KorTac getting on their tails, stories about their crazy psycho commander who could barely pass a word to his subordinates while smacking heads off trained men in full armor. Spooky tails for the recruits who refuse to train in their free time – something about “If you aren’t getting in shape by the end of the month, König is going to get you”.

You never knew who he was – you barely knew the organization you worked in.

Cyber security, lowly private military. They are hiring based on CV alone and didn’t ask for a fancy college and a few degrees in hacking that you could never get. They wanted experience, and you had at least a bit of it – you passed through basic training, never serving in the military before, but fine with promises of never actually going out in the field since you would be giving them intel and cyber support from the sidelines.

Well, they never told you that “the sidelines” would be 100 meters away from the actual battlefield.

You don’t even remember what the mission was about – something important, you guess, because they asked you to be here, on sight, computer in hand, and your comrades, with whom you barely talked outside of work, alongside you. Something about weapon smuggling, though you never actually understood if you were stopping it or doing it. Working in the middle of the European Union pays a lot, and it sort of counts as free travel – you’re somewhere in Germany, maybe on the border with Poland or Austria or Czech Republic. Nothing but fields of grass and occasional mountains. They gave you a riffle, a sidearm, and instructions to try not to get too wounded since they wouldn’t be dragging your body out of the field. S[read sheet with intel opened on your computer – you’re not their secretary, but at least they don’t want you to hack the Pentagon.

You heard screams from your tent: “KorTac”, “Compromised”

“König”

What was the weirdest thing – he was alone. A single man shouldn’t be able to take on a team of trained mercs, even as lowly as your company was. You all had weapons, armor, and means of at least taking him down as a group – and you were like a bunch of babies with toy guns on the playground when a pitbull came in.

Your leader fell first – you saw his head explode with a perfect shot right between his eyes. no one screamed sniper, but you still ducked under the field table, hoping that it would save you a few minutes of peace before you’d manage to delete all of the important files from your laptop. This was the protocol – if you are in the middle of dying, you need to first make sure that the enemy won’t get a hold of precious company correspondence and deeply personal photos of your cat.

You leaned forward to see what was happening on the field – you heard screams, you heard gunshots, you heard…

Laugh.

Deep, loud, the laugh that sounded both malicious and cheerful at the same time. It sounded like the man had a field day of breaking necks and stabbing his teammates. You've never seen so much blood on someone. You wish you never had.

Your teammates are falling like porcelain dolls when the elephant hits the kitchen, and you are trying your best to be a good little hacker and not let your company down before your inevitable demise. Turning on your laptop, waiting for whatever ancient version of Windows you had since the budget was mostly going into flashy guns and cool night vision headsets, you are getting ready to format all the disks when….

“The Windows update is in the process. Please, wait approximately 9 hours to complete”

Oh, hell no. You are not going to wait another 9 hours, you could barely survive for the next 9 minutes! Of course, naturally, obviously, you can just turn off the computer and get it off work because the files will get fried up and it won’t turn on again, ever. Which would still complete your goals, so…

— Come on, please…f-fuck, please, just let me…

“As a method of complete data loss prevention, Windows has disabled the ability to manually turn off your computer. Please, wait approximately 9 hours to complete”

— Found you, Maus.

Something – a hand, big, covered in the type of protection you never saw on your fellow soldiers – yanked your ankle, dragging you from under the table you were hiding under. The air stinks of blood and you involuntarily whimper, hands are going to grab the laptop. You need to smash it, destroy it, maybe just drop it hard enough on the floor, push it against the wall, and try your best to kick it enough to damage the disk and prevent KorTac from accessing the files.

The guy steps on your hand, taking the laptop away. You swear to god you hear a crack – you prayed that he would accidentally smash the laptop, but it was your hand under his boot.

— Hurts? Good.

You whimper as he carefully puts the laptop away, checking if it’s still working. He then returns to you – laying on the floor, fingers still shaking in pain, and attempts to grasp for the computer that was snatched away. There is nothing you can do – you have a gun, yes, and he has at least three guns and deadly man-bear hands, so even if you were fast enough to draw a gun before he would, he can just kick you like a puppy.

König – it’s him, it must be him, your teammates were screaming his callsign and talking about a devil who wears a sniper hood and has the height of a not very small tree – kicks you in the ribs, turning you from the side to your back, facing him. If you were stronger, you would do something cool – bite his ankles, for example. Or spit in his face as the last remaining tip of your dignity, before he would kill you or torture you or feast on your flesh.

— Verdammte Feiglinge, can’t even face your death like a man. Look at me, ja?

Crying isn’t a shameful thing to do. So, you cry. Soft little whimpers, sniffles, you are probably looking wet and disgusting, but you hurt, scared, and fucking tired and you want out of here, and you never actually wanted to be a soldier, and they all lied to you while promising to keep you out of the field, and this uniform is horrible, and you feel your tears soaking the half of bandana you were using as a face mask and…

He snatches the mask from your face. Look you in the eyes for long enough to make your whimpers even more audible. You can swear to god that his pupils were dilated. That his hands were shaking. You could see his eyes getting scrunched in that particular way that their owner is smiling – sincerely, openly, from the bottom of his heart.

— Please…p-please, be fast, I don’t know anything, I will…I won’t, I…

Rough, calloused hand goes to cup your face. The material of his glove is tough and soaked in blood as he smears it on your cheek, your fingers are going to wipe away the tears – you don’t understand what’s happening and you are even more scared, and your mouth is twitching in a terrified grimace. He pushes the tip of his finger into your mouth, making you suck on the blood and dirt of the fabric. You think you are going to throw up.

— Quiet.

You don’t understand why he didn’t kill you yet. He is touching your face, slowly, his one hand is enough to cover your entire head and you’re sure that if he’d want to just squish your brain like a rotten cabbage, he could just fine. He pushes his finger even deeper in your mouth and you lick it involuntarily because this is an intrusion and you have the brain of a two-year-old who sees the world through their ability to devour things, and his pupils dilate even more. He looks at your frown, your tears, and your lips wrapped around his finger.

He yanks you on your feet embarrassingly easy.

— You’re a hacker?

You blink a few times. Now, the protocol is that no, you can’t state who you are, If he knows that you are a hacker, he can take you away for interrogation, maybe torture you for passwords and the intel on your company, and being tortured isn’t something on your monthly calendar. Now, the protocol also states that you have to be able to die for your company, and…

He grabs your neck, lifting you – surprisingly gently, softly even, a hand supports your waist so you won’t be able to either kick him or get choked to death because of his grip.

— Answer me, Maus. I might have a reason to let you live.

You do want to live. Maybe not long, definitely not until you’re 100 years old with dozens of grandchildren, but being able to live past the next few hours and then days and then weeks does sound incredible.

— Y…yes. I’m a cyber security specialist.

He squeezes your neck more. Pushes you up, making you cough in your grip. You never experienced anything like this before – never had a guy strong enough to handle you like this. It would look cool from the side, probably – like something from a videogame. It would look hot in the porn, probably, if it was consensual and happening between two passionate lovers.

But you are his enemy, and he is yours – cold blue eyes peering right into yours. He is looking at you like a piece of meat, and not even in the lustful, hungry way. He looks like a butcher in front of a very good beef cut, thinking about where should he sink his knife to get the best steaks. A hunter standing over the wounded deer, thinking if he wants your head above his fireplace or taxidermy your whole body as a wicked trophy.

— Didn’t know they’d allowed someone so fucking small in the field.

You can swear to god that you saw him smile, under this hood. You can’t see his face, obviously, only the blood-soaked fabric and his eyes, but something still tells you that he is smiling. Enjoying your attempts to escape, maybe – you tried to kick him a few times, producing a deep, amused chuckle from his lips. He holds you so easily like you are nothing but a sweet little kitten. You might not be as big as him, but he still shouldn’t be able to lift a grown woman in full gear with just one hand. Right?

— I’m not…not s-small.

You don’t have much fight left in you. You are on the verge of just asking him to kill you, to be honest, your neck hurts and the pain spreading from your fingers pulsates and transforms. You hope they are not broken – even though you understand that your chances to live past these few minutes are very slim. Even your usual snark is lost, forbidden in the hands of a giant who likes to play with his food.

You do feel like a mouse – in a way that you would die under his boot very soon.

He – König, monster, colonel, fucking deadly mercenary – chuckles again. You can get used to this sound. Melodic almost, in a way that most alarms are melodic while telling you about inevitable catastrophe.

— Kleine verfickte Maus. Ich wette, dass du auch ganz eng bist.

He is laughing, again. Laughing and chuckling and you can’t take it anymore because he is so obviously stronger than you, it’s not fair. You want to put your foot on the ground and tap it like a spoiled brat, like a baby on the playground whining for their mom to take them home because other kids don’t want to play by their rules. The difference in skill is so obvious, that you aren’t even able to put on some sort of fight.

— Wh…I don’t speak German.

Your other hand – the one that didn’t get squished under his boot – goes to scratch his arm. Maybe put up enough struggle that he would accidentally let you fall right from his grasp. He doesn’t react and you feel hopeless. Weak, useless, you remember all the times you decided to miss training so you could just chill in the lounge with other rookies or do something on your computer.

— You will, Maus.

Then, there is only darkness.

***

You woke up…somewhere.

Come to think of it, it wasn’t the first time you woke up. You remember opening your eyes, feeling the vibrations under your cheek, hearing the noises of a car or other vehicle moving fast. Too fast for your already spinning head and stomach – you don’t remember if you were coughing or vomiting, but the movement wasn’t stopping to ever let you breathe. You were being transported somewhere, without a chance of knowing where you were heading. At least now, when you get to the final, as you think at least, destination, you’re clean.

As much as someone tied up to a chair somewhere that reminds you of a basement can be.

You’re stripped of your weapons obviously – not like you had a chance to use them anyway. Your hands are tied behind your back, your legs are bound to a chair, and your tragic lack of clothes is…more evident than you wanted it to be. At least you still have your underwear on – it still didn’t make the situation better. He saw you naked, completely, and he might do god knows what with you now.

Although you have some feelings about what he can do with a weak enemy hacker, half-naked and tied up in a secure place.

You would panic, but it requires energy. A resource that you don’t have right now.

— You woke up. Gut. Started to think I went too much again.

His accent is weird, you think. The thought only occurs to you now, when you can hear him more clearly while not being that afraid of getting out of this alive. His voice is weirdly calm for someone of his size – you want to think of gentle giants but this man is far from gentle and is almost too big to even be called a giant. A colossus, you want to say.

— Again?

Your voice is raspy, both from your sleep and from lack of water. When was the last time you drank anything? Probably more than a few hours – your throat is dry as sandpaper, and your head is dizzy from both your trauma – he either strangled you to unconsciousness or beat you hard enough – and the dehydration. You don’t want to spend another minute in this basement – you think this is a basement, at least, the high humidity on the walls and some garbage tossed to the corner is fairly evident. It’s large, too – you never saw anything like this. It might be a KorTac prison, but the remains of a bike and a few shelves of canned foods tossed to the other side of the room tell otherwise.

— We’re allowed to take trophies home. Sometimes I get…impatient.

You’re in his house? Does a monster like him even need a house?

“A trophy”

Funny how you don’t even feel that dehumanized. He didn’t kill you, you don’t feel the evidence of violation on your body – you are clean, neat even, your stomach and private parts aren’t hurting, and, as much as you hate to say this while tied up to a chair, you are as comfortable as a person in your position can be.

— What are you going to do with me?

You shake like a leaf. He finally steps closer to you, coming from the ladder – you can hear the lock and a heavy door being closed, setting your hopes of escape. Not like you could, in your position – the bruises already forming on your legs and hands, a numbed pain in your head and fingers. You feel shitty and comfortable at the same time, trying to tune off the discomfort and just concentrate on talking to him.

He didn’t kill you – this is good, you can work with this.

He left you alive – this is bad, he is going to torture you, he is going to do a million terrible things with you and you are not a part of a regular army, You didn’t get the torture resistance training. Maybe, if it was some of your friends, other girls in the group who got through military school and never missed gym to sit on their computers, they would have survived. You never felt so weak before – not even on the battlefield.

God, you’re scared.

— Your computer. My employer needs the info you had on it.

Oh.

It’s not personal, at least. He is here for the information, not to take advantage of your weak, fragile body. It made you almost feel at peace, almost made you forget about your lack of clothing and the damp basement you’re being put in.

— What sort of info do you need?

You slowly start to wiggle your hands in your binds – he used plastic locks, those stupid unremovable things that are slowly cutting the soft flesh of your wrists. You can’t untie them, but you can try at least tear them on the metal of your chair. You can try to, just to say that you did, and not feel bad about not resisting him at all.

— Your last mission. You were trying to smuggle weapons into the EU border.

— We were trying to stop the smuggling of weapons.

At least, you think you were – your head hurts, your memories are dizzy, and they never actually told you what kind of job you had. Come to think of it, actually, you never asked whether you were the good guys or the bad guys – it was always about money, paychecks, getting your job done and not dying from lack of nutrition because most tech-jokey jobs are already filled with uninspired chatbots and graduates from fancy colleges with a dick between their legs. Not reserved for tired women like you – so you turn to, ironically, paramilitary organizations. How the tables have turned.

— That’s not what our intel says, Maus. Do you want to lie to me?

You don’t. You just don’t know if you are telling the truth or lying because you are too fucking tired to even think straight.

He comes closer, and you whimper involuntarily. His breath hitches.

— Scheisse…they knew who to hire.

He grabs you by the neck again, and you can finally see him fully – towering over you, cold blue eyes staring right into you. You sob, not able to handle your emotions because, oh god, he is going to rape you, torture you, and then put a giant burning stick right in your ass because everyone knows that this is the best way to hack a computer – you just need to find the person who put the password in the first place.

— Can’t you just hack the computer yourself?

He chuckles – you’re getting tired of that sound. You hate that you found his voice attractive, you hate the fact he is keeping you down here. You want to destroy that part of your body that likes the attention – how his eyes are only kept on you. Never had a guy kidnapping you before, and you fight the feeling of disappointment that strikes you when you remember that he is here because he needs the intel. Not because he wants you.

— It wasn’t a…conventional operation. Can’t waste manpower on breaking the walls you installed.

His hand goes to cup your face again – you frown, breathing stops because he is so close and he takes off his gloves, allowing his rough, calloused fingers to linger on your cheeks. He squeezes your face in an almost adorable manner and steps back again. You lick your dry lips again, trying hard to keep at least one part of your body moisturized, and his breath hitches again.

He goes behind you, ruffles through shelves – you can hear something falling, his awkward grunt as he had to pick it up. He is more clumsy than you though – more nervous also, hands are jittering and fingers twitching every time you look at him. Adorable, really, how this huge mess of a man can look so innocent and almost nervous in front of you.

König returns after a minute or two, holding…a water bottle. Closed, lid still on, little plastic wrapping in place. You have half a mind about just drinking it, even though he doesn’t offer it to you. Not like you could open it yourself, with how your hands are still tied up behind your back.

— You don’t speak German.

It’s not a question – it’s a statement. you watch him opening the bottle with ease, large hands are working on something so fragile and delicate. You can’t remember the last time you had sex, not with how fast your head is spinning and memories still foggy, but you think it was a long time ago – because you feel your cheeks heated from the simple actions of his large fingers ripping through soft plastic.

God, you don’t really remember what was happening before you got here, not in detail, but you know that you needed to get laid like, a year ago.

— No.

— You will.

— Wh…what do you mean?

Is he going to make you install Duolingo? Is this what it all was about? Some elaborate prank, a marketing campaign, a tough lesson for silly girls who think that knowing just your native language is enough to live your life and…

— When you want something, Maus, you have to say “bitte”.

If you were a strong and cool soldier, you would use this moment to jump from your chair, using the weight of your body to fall on him and make him lose balance, and then spit in his face as your last remaining blast of human dignity.

But you aren’t a cool and strong soldier, and you really need to drink.

— B…bitte. What does this mean?

— Please.

He is almost whispering, the water bottle tanging in his hands in front of you. You take your time, considering the possibilities – you can play like a good little prisoner and allow him to take your pride and just toss it aside. You can play like an obedient hostage and ask him nicely, hoping that it would be enough.

You don’t know what to do – appearing too shy and soft can give him…ideas. And you don’t want this crazed giant who is keeping you bound in his basement to get ideas. You can…you probably can spend more time without water. Or food. Or shower and change of position.

You take your time answering, and his demeanor seems almost…anxious. His eyes are darting between the water bottle and your face, between his hands and your body – like he can barely keep a calm facade and not force you into doing something nasty. Like he is almost afraid that you are not going to cooperate and he would really have to hurt you in a meaningful way.

— Can I have water, bitte?

— Gutes Kätzchen. Drink, you’ll need it.

In the end, you broke down first. Not because you are this weak, but because being a brat won’t save you in a situation like this. You don’t want to die over something as trivial as your pride.

König seems…at ease. He takes off the bottle cap and brings water to your lips, allowing you to drink as much as you want. You lick the remaining drops from your lips and he puts a half-empty bottle aside.

— I won’t tell you the password.

You mumble under your breath, barely audible. He chuckles.

— I count on it, liebe.

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