#control room escape hatch

[sw5w]

The Threat Passes

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:11:13

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - AFRAID

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ dark!boyfriend!rafe cameron ⋆ reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe hatches a plan to ensure you stay by his side, by making you dependent on him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language noncon/dubcon, smut, rafe drugs reader, substance abuse, toxic relationship, emotional abuse, baby trapping/forced pregnancy, possessiveness, controlling behaviors, threats of violence, loss of virginity, corruption, breeding kink, dirty talk (like a lot), abandonment issues, manipulation, rough sex, hairpulling, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, powerplay, choking, semi public sex, car sex, creampie (please dni if your sensitive to these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 8,960

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ is there a plot not really, it may seem long but 80% of this is smut. this is unrelated but i think his season 1 & 2 rafe hair were elite to me but I just hate buzz cuts on everyone so my opinion doesn't matter here. The ‘Lila’ is now edited I use it as a placeholder (because for some reason I hate putting y/n while writing) before I replace it with y/n but of course my dumbass forgot to do that when I published this.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･Afraid･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

(༝༚༝༚ lana del rey)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe sits across from you at your usual table in the country club, his jaw clenching rhythmically as he watches you flip through the college applications. His fingers drum against the polished wooden table, creating a nervous pattern that matches his increasing anxiety. The sight of all those prestigious university names makes his stomach turn - Harvard, Yale, Princeton - each one threatening to take you further away from Outer Banks, from him. He barely touches his plate of steak, too preoccupied with the growing unease in his chest.

"Why the fuck are you even looking at schools that far?" He snaps suddenly, his voice carrying a sharp edge as he reaches across to snatch one of your fries, popping it into his mouth with more force than necessary. His blue eyes darken with barely contained irritation, especially when he catches Topper's wave from across the room. He returns it with a curt nod, his attention immediately returning to you. "You know there's perfectly good schools right here in North Carolina. UNC's got a decent program."

You glance up from your binder, your eyes meeting Rafe's intense blue ones. You set down your fork carefully on your half-eaten Caesar salad, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The sunlight streaming through the country club's windows catches on your hair, creating a halo effect around your skin. "Baby, we've talked about this," you say gently, "These schools have amazing programs for what I want to study. And it's not like I'm making any decisions yet - I'm just looking at options."

The afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on his rings as he reaches up to run a hand through his disheveled hair, a telltale sign of his growing agitation. The country club bustles around them with the usual crowd of Kooks - women in tennis whites gossiping over martinis, men in polo shirts discussing their latest yacht purchases. But Rafe's focus remains fixed on those damned college applications, his jaw working overtime as he grinds his teeth.

The cocaine from earlier isn't helping his paranoia, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them. The idea of you leaving, of losing control over this one good thing in his life, sends a fresh wave of anxiety through his system. His free hand unconsciously reaches up to rub at his chest, a nervous tick he's developed. The country club suddenly feels too small, too confined, and he can feel his breathing getting slightly erratic. "Just... just put those away for now," he demands, trying to maintain his composure despite the rising panic in his chest. "We're supposed to be having lunch, not planning your fucking escape route."

You reach across the table with your free hand, your fingers brushing against his chest where he's rubbing anxiously. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something sharper - probably remnants of whatever he'd been doing before lunch - fills your nostrils as you lean closer. "Rafe, you're spiraling again," you observe quietly, mindful of the other diners around them. Your eyes flick briefly to Topper and his mother as they pass, offering a polite smile before returning your attention to your increasingly agitated boyfriend. "And you know that's not fair. I'm not trying to escape anything, especially not you."

"Besides," he continues, his tone taking on that manipulative edge he's so good at, "You really want to leave all this behind? The island, the parties, me?" He leans forward, lowering his voice to that dangerous whisper he uses when he's trying to get his way. "You know I can't follow you out there. I've got responsibilities here, the family business..." His hand shoots out to grab your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make his point. "And what about us? You're going to throw away what we have for some fancy degree you could get right here?"

The weight of his intense stare makes you shift in your seat, your sundress rustling against the plush cushions. You can see the telltale signs of his growing panic - the clenched jaw, the rapid breathing, the way his fingers keep twitching against the table. Part of you wants to close the binder, to give in like you usually do when he gets like this. But another part, the part that's been dreaming about life beyond the island since you were little, keeps your hand steady on the applications. "What about a compromise?" you suggest, your voice taking on that soothing tone you learned to use when he's on edge. "What if I apply to both - some schools here in North Carolina and some out of state? That way we have options to discuss later?"

Your free hand moves from his chest to his face, your thumb gently stroking along his clenched jaw. You can feel the tension there, the way he's grinding his teeth. The chatter of the country club fades into background noise as you focus solely on him, knowing how quickly his mood can shift when he feels cornered. "And hey," you add, your voice dropping to a whisper as you lean even closer, your lips quirking into a small smile, "No matter where I end up going, you know you're the only one I want, right? These other Kook boys could never compare to my Rafe Cameron."

The familiar weight of the promise ring he gave you three months ago sits heavy on your finger, catching the light as you move. You learned over your time together that sometimes Rafe needs this - needs to be reminded that he's your choice, that you're his. Even if the possessiveness sometimes scares you, even if his mood swings leave you walking on eggshells, you can't deny the way your heart still races when he looks at you like he is now - like you're something precious he's terrified of losing. "Can we at least look through them together? You might see something you like too."

Rafe lets go of your wrist his hand shooting out to slam your binder shut with enough force to make nearby diners jump. "Don't fucking patronize me," he growls, his voice low and threatening despite their public setting. The gentle stroke of your thumb against his jaw only heightens his agitation, like a match to gasoline. "You think I don't see what this is?" He leans forward, invading your space across the table, his blue eyes wild with a mixture of possessiveness and barely contained rage. "First it's just 'looking at options,' then suddenly you're gone, probably fucking some ivy league asshole who doesn't know you like I do." His breathing becomes more erratic, the hand on his chest pressing harder as anxiety mingles with his growing anger. The familiar scent of your perfume - usually calming - now seems to mock him with its potential absence.

"You're trying to leave me, just like everyone else. Just like my mom, just like Sarah..." His voice cracks slightly on his sister's name before hardening again. "Well, I won't fucking let you."

You tense at the sudden shift in Rafe's demeanor, your heart rate picking up as you watch him slam your binder shut. The warmth drains from your eyes, replaced by a flicker of fear you try desperately to hide. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as he invades your space, his paranoia rolling off him in waves. You’ve seen him like this before, but never quite this intense, never quite this threatening in such a public place.

"Rafe, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you glance around at the other diners who are now openly staring at them. Your sundress suddenly feels too thin, too exposed under his wild-eyed gaze. You can smell the mixture of his cologne and sweat, and see the way his pupils are dilated - clear signs he's high again. "You're making a scene. Can we please just discuss this somewhere private?" 

A laugh escapes his throat at your suggestion of talking, the sound drawing more concerned glances from nearby tables. "Discuss? There's nothing to fucking discuss." His voice takes on that manipulative tone he knows works so well, mixing threat with vulnerability. "You belong here, with me. Do you think any of those places are gonna love you like I do? Understand you like I do?" His eyes flick to the promise ring on your finger, a visible reminder of his claim on you. "Or maybe that's what you want - to get away from the crazy boyfriend, right? Is that what this is about?"

The cocaine-fueled paranoia reaches a crescendo as he suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He towers over you, his presence intimidating despite the public setting. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans down close to your ear. "And if you try, I'll make sure every single one of those fancy schools loses your application. Don't test me, baby." His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, a twisted mixture of threat and affection that's purely him. "Now get your shit. We're leaving." His hand moves to grip your upper arm, ready to pull you up from your chair, his entire body vibrating with barely contained violence and possessive need.

The promise ring feels like it's burning on your finger as tears start to well up in your eyes. "I'm not trying to leave you," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. I'm not trying to leave you, I love you, Rafe. You know I do. But you're hurting me right now." You can feel your body starting to shake, whether from fear or adrenaline, you're not sure anymore.

You let him pull you to your feet, knowing resistance will only make things worse. Your college applications lay forgotten on the table as you stumble slightly, your legs weak from the sudden movement. "Okay," you concede, your voice small and defeated. "Okay, we can go. Just... please calm down. Please." Your free hand comes up to rest on his chest again, feeling his racing heartbeat under your palm. "Let's go to your family's place and talk about this properly. Just you and me, baby. Like we always do."

Rafe feels you trembling beneath his grip, and something in your tear-filled eyes pierces through his cocaine-addled rage. His breathing is still erratic, but the feel of your hand against his racing heart starts to ground him. The familiar scent of your perfume begins to cut through the paranoid haze, reminding him of lazy mornings in his bed, of your soft sighs against his neck. His grip on your arm loosens slightly, though he doesn't let go completely.

"Fuck," he mutters, running his free hand through his disheveled hair as reality starts seeping back in. The stares of the other country club patrons finally register, and he can feel his father's disapproval even in his absence. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he struggles to regain control. "Yeah... yeah, okay. Let's go home." His voice is still rough, but the dangerous edge has dulled somewhat. He reaches past you to grab your binder, shoving it under his arm - he's not leaving it here for you to come back to later.

The walk to his truck is tense, his hand moving from your arm to the small of your back - still possessive, but less aggressive. The cocaine is making him jittery, his thoughts racing between paranoia and guilt. Once you're inside his truck, he slams his palms against the steering wheel, making you jump. "I just..." he starts, his voice cracking slightly. "I can't lose you too, baby. I can't." His blue eyes, when they meet yours, are still wild but now tinged with desperation rather than rage. "Everyone leaves. Everyone always fucking leaves."

He reaches across the center console to pull you closer, burying his face in your neck. His breathing is still uneven, but slower now as he inhales your scent. "Stay," he whispers against your skin, his voice taking on that vulnerable quality that only you get to hear. "Just... stay with me. Please." His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. It's the closest thing to an apology you’re likely to get from him, this moment of raw vulnerability between the storms of his temper.

Rafe paces anxiously across Topper's home gym, his footsteps echoing against the polished hardwood floors as sweat drips down his bare chest from their workout session. The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the expensive exercise equipment. His muscles are tense not just from lifting weights, but from the constant anxiety gnawing at his insides about your potential departure. The cocaine from earlier is still coursing through his system, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them.

"I'm telling you guys, she's fucking leaving me," he complains, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he continues his relentless pacing. The familiar panic starts rising in his chest again, making him rub at it absently. "All these fucking college applications... Harvard, Yale, Princeton. She's planning her escape and I can't... I can't fucking let that happen." His blue eyes are wild as they dart between Kelce and Topper, sprawled across the leather bench press seats, watching their friend's mounting distress.

Kelce exchanges a knowing look with Topper before speaking up, his voice careful as he watches Rafe's increasingly agitated movements. "Man, you need to chill. Maybe if you weren't so fucking intense about it-" Rafe's sharp laugh cuts him off, the sound bouncing off the mirrored walls. "Intense? You think I'm being intense?" Rafe's voice rises as he spins to face them, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "My girl's trying to leave the fucking state, and you're telling me to chill?"

"Well," Topper drawls, wiping his face with a monogrammed towel, "you could always do what my cousin did when his girlfriend tried to leave for college." He pauses for dramatic effect, a smirk playing on his lips. "Got her knocked up. Can't exactly go to Yale with a baby on the way, can you?" He's clearly joking, but something in Rafe's expression shifts, his eyes taking on that dangerous gleam that appears when he's formulating a plan.

"That's..." Rafe stops pacing, his mind racing with possibilities. His jaw clenches rhythmically as he processes the idea. "That's fucking perfect." He starts pacing again, but this time with purpose, his movements predatory rather than anxious. "She'd have to stay. She'd be tied to me forever." His voice takes on that obsessive quality that appears when he's fixating on something. "No more fucking college applications, no more threats of leaving. She'd be mine, completely mine."

"Dude," Kelce sits up straighter, realizing Rafe's actually considering it. "I don't think that's what Topper meant-" But Rafe's already lost in his world, his cocaine-fueled paranoia latching onto this new solution like a lifeline. "She's still a virgin too," he continues, more to himself than his friends, his rings catching the light as he gestures animatedly. "Waiting for the 'right moment' or some shit. Well, guess that moment's coming sooner than she thought."

"No, no, this could work," Rafe continues, his voice taking on that edge that suggests he's spiraling into one of his episodes. "Her parents are traditional as fuck, they'd make her keep it. And Ward's always going on about wanting grandkids to carry on the Cameron name..." He's fully pacing now, his movements jerky and aggressive as the plan solidifies in his mind. "She's been hinting about wanting to do it soon anyway. Valentine's Day is coming up..."

The gym falls silent except for the sound of Rafe's footsteps and heavy breathing. Neither Kelce nor Topper dare speak, knowing from experience that trying to talk Rafe down when he's like this - especially when he's high - is pointless and potentially dangerous. They watch as their friend works himself into a frenzy, plotting the permanent capture of his girlfriend with the same intense focus he applies to everything he wants to possess.

"It's perfect," Rafe finally declares, stopping his pacing to face his friends. His chest heaves with excited breaths, sweat making his skin shine in the fading sunlight. "She'll never leave me then. She'll have to stay here, raise our kid, be the perfect fucking family." 

The thought of you, permanently his, unable to leave him, sends a rush of possessive pleasure through his system. "You guys didn't hear any of this," he suddenly stops, fixing both Kelce and Topper with a threatening stare. "Not a fucking word to anyone, got it?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that reminds them why people are scared of him, why even other Kooks think twice before crossing him.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe," Topper mutters, running a hand through his hair as he watches his friend's descent into this new obsession. "This is fucked up, even for you." But he knows that look in Rafe's eyes. Once Rafe sets his mind to something, especially when he's high, there's no talking him out of it. The gym feels smaller suddenly, charged with the energy of Rafe's newfound determination.

Rafe stands at the door of the l/n estate, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in his tailored black suit. His blue eyes are slightly dilated from the line of cocaine he did in his truck to calm his nerves, but he's made sure to eye drop and cologne himself thoroughly. The velvet box containing the surprise he has planned for later weighs heavy in his pocket as he shifts anxiously, his rings catching the light as he reaches up to adjust his tie.

When Paul opens the door, Rafe immediately straightens his posture, forcing his most charming smile - the one he uses when he needs to impress. "Good evening, L/N," he greets, his voice steady despite the cocaine making his heart race. The older man's scrutinizing gaze reminds him uncomfortably of his own father's disapproving stares. The foyer behind Paul gleams with old money - crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and family portraits that speak of generations of Kook legacy.

"Rafe," Paul acknowledges with a slight nod, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the young man's appearance. There's something about Ward Cameron's son that has always set him on edge, though he can't quite put his finger on what. Maybe it's the occasional wild look in his eyes or the way his daughter seems to walk on eggshells around him sometimes. "Y/N is still getting ready. Come in." He steps aside, allowing Rafe into the pristine foyer.

The sound of Rafe's expensive dress shoes echoes against the marble as he enters, his hands sliding into his pockets to hide their slight tremor - partly from the drugs, partly from anticipation of what he has planned for tonight. The house smells of old money and fresh flowers, much like his own family's estate, but somehow more sterile, fitting for a plastic surgeon's home. His fingers brush against the small packet of powder in his pocket, next to the ring box - just enough to keep him steady through dinner.

"I trust you'll have her home at a reasonable hour," Paul's voice cuts through Rafe's thoughts, making him turn to face the older man. "Of course, sir," Rafe responds, that practiced smile still in place even as his jaw clenches slightly. "We just have reservations at Le Bernardin, then maybe a walk on the beach." What he doesn't mention is the rest of his plans for the evening - the champagne waiting in his truck, the blankets he's laid out at his secret spot on the beach, the pills dissolved in one of the champagne glasses that will make sure everything goes according to plan.

The sound of heels on marble draws both men's attention to the grand staircase, and Rafe's breath catches in his throat. You descend like something out of a dream, your skin glowing against the deep red of your dress making his hands itch with the need to touch you. His blue eyes darken as they track your movement, his mind already racing ahead to later in the evening, to all the ways he plans to claim you completely.

"You look fucking perfect," he breathes out when you reach the bottom of the stairs, catching himself too late to censor his language in front of your father. But he can't help it - the cocaine making him more impulsive than usual, and the sight of you making his blood run hot. He steps forward to meet you, one hand reaching out to brush against your waist, proprietary and possessive even under your father's watchful gaze. The scent of your perfume mingles with the lingering chemical taste in the back of his throat, making him dizzy with want and anticipation.

Tonight's the night, he thinks, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as Paul insists on taking pictures. Tonight you become his completely, permanently. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. The thought makes him pull you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Ready for your Valentine's surprise, baby?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that anyone else would recognize as a warning, but he knows his sweet, innocent Y/N won't catch it. Not until it's too late.

Rafe helps you into his truck, his hand lingering possessively on your lower back as you climb in. The interior smells of expensive leather and his cologne, mixed with something chemical that makes you wrinkle your nose slightly. He slides into the driver's seat, his movements are precise despite the cocaine coursing through his system. The engine purrs to life, and he immediately reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he pulls away from your family's estate.

"You really do look fucking incredible tonight," he murmurs, his blue eyes flickering between you and the road. His thumb traces circles on your palm, a gesture that would seem sweet if not for the slight tremor in his hand. "That dress is driving me crazy." His rings catch the streetlights as you drive through Figure 8, passing other massive estates and perfectly manicured lawns.

"Thank you, baby," You respond softly, your free hand smoothing down the red fabric of your dress. "You clean up pretty nice yourself." You glance at him, admiring how the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp jawline. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner? You've been so secretive about tonight."

Rafe's grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. "It's a surprise, remember?" His voice carries that edge of control he can never quite hide. "But first..." He reaches behind your seat with his free hand, pulling out a small gift bag. "I got you something to wear at dinner." Inside is a delicate diamond necklace, the stones catching the light like tiny stars.

"Oh, Rafe," You breathe, reaching for the necklace. "It's beautiful. You didn't have to-" You are cut off by his laugh, that sharp sound that always makes your stomach flip. "Of course I did. Only the best for my girl." He pulls into a secluded spot overlooking the water, putting the truck in park. "Here, let me put it on you."

His hands are slightly unsteady as he fastens the necklace around your throat, his breath hot against your neck. "Perfect," he whispers, his fingers trailing down your spine. "Just like you'll be after tonight." There's something in his voice that makes you shiver, though you can't quite place why. "What do you mean?" you ask, turning to face him.

Rafe's eyes are darker now, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. "Just that I've got big plans for us, baby." His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Tonight's gonna change everything." He leans in closer, his other hand sliding up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do," You whisper, even as something in your gut tells you something's off. You can feel his heart racing where your bodies are pressed together and you can smell something sharp and chemical on his breath beneath the mint. "Rafe, are you okay? You seem...different tonight."

"Never better," he responds, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Just excited to give you all your surprises." His hand moves higher up your thigh, possessive and demanding. "Now, how about we have a little drink before dinner? To celebrate Valentine's Day?" He reaches behind the seat again, pulling out an expensive bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Rafe pours the champagne with calculated precision, his hands steadier now as he hands you your specially prepared glass. The moonlight filtering through the truck's windows catches the diamond necklace at your throat, reminding him of how perfectly it marks you as his. His blue eyes track your every movement as you accept the glass, noting how the red fabric of your dress has ridden up slightly from your position.

"To us," he proposes, raising his glass with that dangerous smile playing at his lips. The cocaine makes everything feel more intense - the way your perfume fills the confined space of his truck, the soft sound of your breathing, the sight of your lips touching the rim of the glass. He watches intently as you take a sip, something predatory flickering in his eyes. "And to all the surprises tonight has in store."

"Mmm, this is really good," You comment, taking another sip. You don’t notice how Rafe barely touches his glass, too focused on watching your drink. "But shouldn't we head to dinner? We don't want to lose our reservation." You move to check the time on your phone, but Rafe's hand shoots out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with practiced possessiveness.

"We've got time," he assures you, his voice dropping lower as he leans closer. His free hand comes up to trace the line of the necklace, fingers ghosting over your collarbone. "Besides, I want to enjoy this moment. Just you and me." He can feel your pulse racing under his fingers where they press against your wrist. "Finish your drink, baby. Then we can talk about dinner."

He watches as you obediently take another sip, then another. "You know what I love about you, Y/N?" His voice is rough now, heavy with want and something darker. "How fucking perfect you are. How innocent." His fingers trace patterns on your inner thigh, making you shiver. "How you trust me completely."

"Rafe," you breathe, and he notices your words are slightly slurred now. Your eyes are starting to look unfocused as you blink slowly at him. "I feel... strange." The champagne glass slips from your fingers, but he catches it smoothly, setting it aside. His heart is racing with a mixture of cocaine-fueled excitement and dark anticipation.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, pulling you closer as you start to sway slightly. "I've got you. Always got you." His lips brush against your neck, just above the diamond necklace. "And after tonight, you'll always be mine. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving." His voice takes on that possessive edge that would normally frighten you, but the drugs in your system are making everything feel distant and hazy.

"What did you..." you try to ask, your head falling back against the seat as your limbs grow heavy. Rafe's hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the drugs take effect. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, making his expression look almost demonic as he smiles down at you.

"Just making sure tonight goes exactly as planned," he whispers, his other hand already reaching for the blankets he has stashed behind the seats. "Don't fight it, baby. Just let go. Let me take care of everything." His lips crash against yours, swallowing any protest you might have made as the drugs pull you deeper under their influence.

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your movements become increasingly sluggish, your normally bright eyes growing heavy-lidded and unfocused. He shifts in his seat, reaching to recline both of your seats back to create more space in the truck's cabin. The moonlight streaming through the windows casts ethereal shadows across your skin as he positions your body how he wants.

"Rafe..." you mumble, your voice thick and confused as he spreads the blankets beneath you. "What's happening? I feel so..." Your word trails off as he captures your lips in another possessive kiss, his hands already working at the zipper of your red dress.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers against your mouth, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. "Let me take care of you." His fingers trace the newly exposed skin of your back, savoring how you shiver under his touch despite your drugged state. "You look so fucking perfect like this. So helpless. So mine."

Rafe's hands slide possessively over your body as he peels the red dress from your drugged form, revealing the black underwear underneath. His blue eyes darken with predatory hunger as he drinks in the sight of you laid out beneath him in his truck, the diamond necklace glinting at your throat like a collar. The softness of your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, the little whimpers that escape your lips as you try to fight through the fog in your mind.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, his voice rough with desire as his hands roam over your exposed flesh. "Just let it happen. You know you want this." His fingers trace the edge of your lacy bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the delicate fabric. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment. To make you completely mine."

"Rafe, please," You slurred, weakly trying to push at his chest. "Something's wrong... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth crashing against yours, his tongue forcing its way past your lips as his hand slides between your thighs. He groans when he feels how wet you are through your panties, his cock straining against his suit pants.

"Look how ready you are for me," he rubs circles against your clit through the lace. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind's trying to fight it." He pulls back to admire his handiwork - your lips swollen from his kisses, your pupils blown wide from the drugs, your chest heaving as you struggle to focus. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna put my baby in you tonight."

Rafe’s fingers hook into your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs as you weakly try to squeeze your thighs together. The moonlight catches on the wetness between your legs, making him groan. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he breathes, his fingers spreading you open. "All perfect and untouched. Not for long though." 

Rafe's fingers work methodically between your thighs, spreading your wetness as he watches your face contort with unwilling pleasure. His other hand pins your wrists above your head, his rings cold against your feverish skin. The truck's windows are starting to fog up from your heavy breathing, creating a private cocoon around you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, sliding two fingers into you, feeling how tight you are around them. "Gonna stretch you out nice and slow before I fuck a baby into you." His cock throbs painfully in his pants as he watches you arch beneath him, the drugs making you more responsive even as you try to resist.

"No... Rafe... please," You whimper, your head thrashing weakly against the leather seat. But your body betrays you, hips rocking against his skilled fingers as he finds that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as you gasp, reminding him of his ownership.

"Look at you, taking my fingers so well," he praises darkly, adding a third finger to stretch you further. "Can't wait to feel this tight little cunt around my cock." His thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles that make your whole body tremble. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Make sure my cum stays deep inside you until it takes."

The way your walls clench around his fingers, the little sounds you make as he works your body, the perfect arch of your back as you fight between pleasure and resistance. He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out.

"Please," you beg, though whether you're begging him to stop or continue, even you don’t know anymore. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing from his touch as the drugs make everything feel more intense. "Rafe... I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, curling his fingers inside you as his thumb speeds up on your clit. "Come on my fingers like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cock." His blue eyes are wild with possession as he watches you fall apart beneath him, knowing that after tonight, you’ll never be able to leave him. 

Rafe’s fingers work relentlessly between your thighs. His free hand moves from your wrists to grip your throat, right above the diamond necklace, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my fingers."

Your body betrays you even as your mind tries to resist, waves of unwilling pleasure building under his skilled touch. The drugs make everything feel heightened - the stretch of his fingers inside you, the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the heat of his breath against your neck. Your legs start to tremble as you approach your peak.

"That's it, baby," He watches your face contort with pleasure and confusion. His cock strains painfully against his suit pants, demanding attention. But he forces himself to wait, to savor this moment of taking your innocence piece by piece. "Give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel."

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the truck's cabin, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working between your legs. Rafe's eyes are dark with possession as he watches you fight against the inevitable, knowing that each moment brings him closer to his ultimate goal. The moonlight catches on the sweat beading on your skin, making you glow ethereally.

"I... I can't..." You whimper, your back arching off the seat as pleasure builds to an unbearable level. The drugs make everything feel like too much and not enough all at once. "Rafe, please..." Your fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders. "You can, and you will," he commands, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that brooks no argument. His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you see stars while his thumb circles your clit with practiced precision. "Come for me now. Let me feel it."

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your body trembles beneath him, your back arching off the leather seat as pleasure builds. His fingers work relentlessly inside your pussy, stretching and preparing you for what's to come. The way your walls clench around his digits, the little gasps and moans you can't hold back, the perfect arch of your spine as you fight between resistance and ecstasy.

"That's my good girl," his free hand moving from your throat to grip your hair, forcing you to look at him. "Watch me while you come. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you fall apart." His thumb continues its relentless assault on your clit as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body shake.

Your eyes flutter open, glazed with drugs and unwilling pleasure. The moonlight catches the tears gathering in your lashes as you stare up at him, unable to look away from his intense blue gaze. Your lips part in a silent scream as the pressure builds to an unbearable level, your body tightening around his fingers.

"Please," Her hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, leaving crescent marks through his expensive shirt. "Rafe, I can't... it's too much..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, his voice rough with desire and dominance. "Come for me now, baby. Show me how good I make you feel." His fingers speed up inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the truck's cabin. "Let go. Let me see you fall apart before I fuck you properly."

The combination of his skilled fingers, the drugs in your system, and his commanding voice finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body goes rigid as pleasure crashes through you, walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you come with a broken cry of his name. 

"Beautiful," he breathes, working you through the aftershocks as you tremble beneath him. "But we're not done yet, baby. Not even close." His free hand moves to his belt, the sound of the buckle loud in the confined space. "Now it's time for the main event. Time to make you completely mine."

Rafe takes his time unbuckling his belt, the metallic sound echoing in the confined space of his truck. His blue eyes never leave your face as he watches you come down from your high, your body still trembling with aftershocks. Your chest heaves with each breath, the glisten of sweat on your skin, the slight quiver of your thighs as they remain spread for him.

"Look at you," he grunts, finally freeing his throbbing cock from his pants. "All fucked out from just my fingers, and we haven't even gotten to the best part yet." His hand wraps around his length, stroking slowly as he positions himself between your legs. The head of his cock brushes against your sensitive folds, making you whimper. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment."

"Rafe," You slur, your drugged mind struggling to focus as you feel his size pressing against your entrance. "Wait... I'm not ready..." Your weak protests only serve to fuel his desire, his grip tightening on your hip as he holds you in place. The diamond necklace at your throat catches the moonlight as you try to shift away.

"You're more than ready, baby," he counters, using his free hand to spread your wetness along his length. "Your body's begging for it. Been begging for it all night." He leans down, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss as he starts to push inside your entrance. The stretch is intense, making you gasp against his mouth. "Gonna make you take every fucking inch."

His cock inches forward slowly, savoring the way your walls resist his invasion. The truck's windows are completely fogged now, creating a private world for just the two of you. Rafe's breathing grows heavier as he feels your tight heat enveloping him, his control starting to slip. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave bruises. "Taking my cock so well, just like I knew you would."

Tears stream down your cheeks as he stretches you open, the mixture of pain and drugged pleasure making your head spin. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. "Almost there, baby," he pants against your neck, his hips still pushing forward relentlessly. "Just a little more and you'll have all of me." His free hand slides between them to rub your clit, knowing the added stimulation will help your body accept him. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum, make sure it takes. Make sure you can never leave me."

Rafe's hips finally meet yours as he bottoms out inside you, a groan of satisfaction rumbling deep in his chest. Your walls flutter around his length as you adjust to being completely filled for the first time. The truck's cabin is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the leather seats creaking beneath them with each subtle movement.

"There we go," he pants against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands grip your hips possessively as he holds himself still, savoring the moment. "Been dreaming about this for so fucking long, baby. About claiming you completely." You whimper beneath him, your mind is hazy from the drugs as your body struggles to accommodate his size. Tears continue to stream down your cheeks, your fingers clutch weakly at his shoulders as you feel him throb inside you.

"Please," you manage to gasp, though your drugged state makes it hard to form coherent thoughts. "It's too much... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth capturing yours in a demanding kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as his cock has invaded your body.

"Yes, you can," his hips starting to move in shallow thrusts. "And you will. Gonna fuck a baby into you tonight, make sure you can never leave me." His movements gradually become deeper, and more purposeful, as he establishes a rhythm. "Watch me while I do it. Want to see those pretty eyes when I breed you." One hand slides from your hip to grip your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he fucks into you. "That's it," he praises darkly as your body starts to respond despite your protests. "Take it like a good girl. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

Rafe's movements become more intense, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force as he chases his release. The truck rocks with your movements, his hands grip your hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into you, watching with dark satisfaction as pleasure and pain war across your drugged features.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," he groans, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat just above the diamond necklace. "So fucking tight around my cock. Like you were made for this." His thumb traces your bottom lip as he continues his relentless pace. "Made to take my cum, to carry my baby."

Your head thrashes weakly against the leather seat, your body overwhelmed by the mix of drugs and unwilling pleasure. Your walls clench around him involuntarily as another orgasm builds, making him grunt with satisfaction. "That's it, baby," he praises darkly. "Squeeze my cock just like that. Show me how much your body wants this." His free hand moves between them to rub your clit, determined to make you come around his cock. "Gonna fill you up so good," he pants, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he nears his release. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it takes. Make sure everyone knows you belong to me." His fingers speed up on your clit as he feels your walls starting to flutter. "Come for me now, baby. Let me feel that tight little pussy milk my cock."

Rafe's grip tightens on your hips as he feels his release building, his thrusts becoming more desperate and erratic. "That's it, baby," feeling your walls clench around him as another orgasm builds in your drugged body. "Come on my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cum." Your back arches off the seat as pleasure crashes through you against your will, your walls squeezing his length rhythmically. The sight of you coming undone beneath him finally pushes Rafe over the edge. With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your pussy. "Fuck," he pants against your neck, grinding his hips to ensure his cum stays deep inside. "All mine now."

He collapses on top of you for a moment, both of you catching your breath in the steamy confines of his truck. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as he finally pulls out, watching with dark satisfaction as his release drips from your used pussy. "No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. You're stuck with me now, baby." Without a word, he starts fixing his clothes, already planning your next encounter in his mind. 

"Let's get you home, baby," he says, his voice rough as he helps you dress on shaky legs. "Don't want your daddy getting suspicious." His hand rests possessively on your thigh as he starts the truck, knowing that after tonight, everything has changed. The drive back is silent except for your occasional whimpers, the drugs still making your head fuzzy as she processes what just happened.

A week later,  

Rafe lounges against his truck at the Boneyard, The beach is relatively empty at this hour, just a few surfers catching the last waves of the day. His blue eyes track your movement, noting how pale you look, and how your usual confident stride seems shakier. A smirk plays at his lips, though he keeps his expression carefully neutral.

"Hey baby," he calls out, pushing off the truck to meet you. His hands immediately find your waist, pulling you close as he studies your face. "You sounded weird on the phone. Everything okay?" The concern in his voice is perfectly crafted, masking the satisfaction he feels as he takes in your distressed state.

Your hands tremble as you pull away from his embrace, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. "Rafe, I... I need to tell you something." Your voice cracks slightly as you speak, tears already gathering in your eyes. "I went to the doctor today..."

"What's wrong?" Rafe steps closer, his hand coming up to cup your face with practiced gentleness. Inside, his heart races with anticipation, but his expression remains one of innocent concern. "You've been sick all week. Did they figure out what's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant," you whisper, the words carried away by the ocean breeze. Your eyes search his face desperately for any sign of recognition, any hint that he remembers your Valentine's night. "But I don't... I can't remember... The last thing I clearly remember is having champagne in your truck..."

Rafe's eyes widen in perfectly feigned shock, his hand dropping from your face as he takes a step back. "You're... what?" He runs a hand through his hair, the picture of a young man receiving unexpected news. "But we've never... I mean, I thought you wanted to wait?" His voice carries just the right amount of confusion and disbelief.

"That's just it," Your voice rises slightly, panic evident in your tone. "I don't remember! Valentine's Day is just... fuzzy. But the doctor said I'm about a week along, and you're the only one I've been with..." you trail off, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

Rafe pulls you into his arms, hiding his triumphant smile in your hair. "Shh, it's okay," he soothes, one hand moving to rest possessively over your still-flat stomach. "We'll figure this out together. I'm here for you, baby. Always." His voice drops lower, taking on that dangerous edge you're too distraught to notice. "Guess those college applications won't be necessary anymore, huh?"

His hand tightens possessively around your waist as you tremble against him, his other hand still resting on your stomach where his child is growing. The setting sun casts long shadows across the beach, the sound of waves providing a backdrop to your quiet sobs. His blue eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he feels you collapse further into his embrace, exactly where he wants you.

"What am I going to tell my parents?" You whisper against his chest, your voice breaking. "My dad... he's going to kill me. And all my college plans..." You pull back slightly to look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks. "Rafe, I can't remember anything from that night. How did this happen?"

Rafe's jaw clenches as he maintains his facade of confusion and concern. "Hey, look at me," he demands softly, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Your parents love you. And my family... well, Ward's always talking about wanting grandkids." His thumb wipes away your tears as he studies your face. "Maybe this is a good thing, you know? You and me, starting our own family."

"But I had plans," you protest weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt. "Harvard, Yale... I was supposed to get out of Outer Banks..." You don’t even notice how his grip tightens painfully at your words or the flash of possessive anger in his eyes.

"Fuck those plans," he growls, before quickly softening his tone. "I mean, things change, right? Sometimes for the better." His hand slides up to cup your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "You've got me now. Got us. Isn't that better than some fancy college where you don't know anyone?" He’s super hyper-focused on every detail - the way you unconsciously lean into his touch, how your body fits perfectly against his, the slight swell of your breasts that's already becoming noticeable. His other hand remains possessively on your stomach, imagining how it will grow with his child.

"I'm scared," You admit, your voice small against the sound of crashing waves. "Everything's happening so fast, and I can't remember... that night is just blank, Rafe. Doesn't that bother you?" You search his face for any sign of recognition, any hint of guilt.

But Rafe's expression remains carefully crafted a mixture of concern and determination. "What bothers me is seeing you upset," he lies smoothly, pulling you closer. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You and me and our baby. "No more talk about leaving, though. You belong here, with me. Got it?"

"We should tell our parents soon," he says, his voice carrying that edge of control he can never quite hide. "Get everything out in the open. But first, promise me something, baby. Promise me you'll stop looking at those college applications."

Your eyes widen with fresh tears as you stare up at him. "But Rafe, I can't just give up everything I've worked for..." Your voice trails off as his grip tightens slightly on your chin, his blue eyes darkening with barely contained possession.

"Those dreams were for the old Y/N," he states firmly, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "The one who didn't have a family to think about. Things are different now." His other hand presses harder against your stomach, a reminder of what's growing inside of you. "You've got bigger responsibilities. To me. To our baby."

The waves crash against the shore behind them as silence stretches between them. Rafe can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers where they rest against your throat and can see the moment you start to break under the weight of reality. His plan is working perfectly - soon you’ll be completely his, tied to him forever through your child.

"I... I need time to think," You finally whisper, trying to step back from his embrace. But Rafe's grip remains firm, keeping you close as the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. His expression shifts into something darker, more possessive.

"No more thinking," One of his hands slid up to tangle in your hair. "No more plans that don't include me. You're mine now, Y/N. The sooner you accept that, the better." His voice carries a threat wrapped in velvet as he stares down at you. "Or should we talk about how convenient it is that you can't remember Valentine's Day?"

Rafe's threat hangs heavy in the air as your face drains of color. His fingers tighten in your hair, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. The darkened beach feels suddenly oppressive as he towers over your trembling form.

"What... what do you mean?" You whisper, your voice is small and frightened as you search his face. The familiar warmth in his blue eyes has been replaced by something cold and calculating that makes your stomach turn.

"You really want to know what happened that night?" he asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. His hand slides from your stomach to your hip possessively. "Want me to tell you exactly how I made sure you'd never leave me? How I watched you drink that champagne, knowing what was in it?"

You try to pull away, but his grip is iron-tight as realization dawns on your face. "No," she breathes, shaking her head in denial. "You wouldn't... you couldn't..." But the predatory smile spreading across his face tells you everything you need to know.

"I did," he confirms, pulling you closer until your faces are inches apart. "And now you're carrying my baby. No more college applications. No more dreams of leaving. You're mine forever now, baby." His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek with mock tenderness. "And if you ever think about telling anyone... well, who's going to believe the girl who can't remember her own Valentine's Day?"

The waves crash behind them as your world crumbles around you. You can feel the weight of the promise ring on your finger - once a symbol of love, now feeling more like a shackle. Rafe watches you process everything with dark satisfaction, knowing he's won completely.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask through your tears, your voice breaking on the single word. The hand in your hair tightens as Rafe's expression turns almost tender, though his eyes remain cold.

"Because you're mine," he states simply as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I take care of what's mine. You'll see, baby. This is better than any fancy college could ever be." His hand moves to rest on your stomach again, possessive and threatening all at once. "Our little family, together forever in Outer Banks. Just like it should be."

[scriberye]

🔞 Hunt

─────────────────────────── JAGO SEVATAR x GN!READER ⚠️🔞 Explicit Sexual Content, Predator/Prey, Violence, Blood It's a tradition on Nostramo for a groom to infiltrate and kidnap his future spouse from their family home. If he succeeds he's worthy, or he dies trying. a/n: Sevatar chases you around a ship. Good luck, Heretics!

You stand in the hangar bay of the 114th’s ship, trying to come to terms with what the hell just happened. Moments ago, Sevatar had announced over a ship-wide vox cast his intention to marry you. The next thing you knew, you were plucked from the Nightfall and transferred to another one of the smaller ships.

Tovac Tor, Captain of the 114st and the closest person Sevatar considered a friend, took it upon himself to act as your guardian, whatever that meant. “Stay close,” he orders you. “And follow me.”

You follow, taking the chance to look around the unfamiliar ship. Night Lords linger in the shadows, red lenses glinting and eager. There’s a strange lack of human crew, no lumbering servitors. They’re all strangely absent.

“Captain,” you call out, trying to get your ‘guardian’s’ attention. “Would you mind explaining this tradition to me?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Tovac hums thoughtfully, his pacing unchanging. He doesn’t even look back to acknowledge you. “It’s pretty simple. Sevatar is going to fight us to get to you, and if he wins you’ll be his cute little human spouse.”

“And if he doesn’t get to me?”

“He either succeeds or dies trying.” Tovac replies with a shrug, leading you onto the empty command deck. There’s not a soul here either, just the persistent hum of the ship’s system and flickering lights on the control panels.

“Where’s the rest of the crew?” you ask.

“You’re full of questions.”

You shoot him a sour look. “Of course I am, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Backtalk. I see why he likes you,” Tovac remarks, a hint of amusement in his tone, adjusting the lightning claws on his gauntlets. “We moved them below deck. They’re not family so their participation is not required, and I can’t risk… collateral damage.”

That’s some relief. The crew is safe and not decorating some Night Lord’s armor.

Suddenly, the klaxons blare, signaling Sevatar’s arrival. You inch back, heart pounding, as Tovac takes a battle stance, energy crackling across his claws. His breathing quickens. You can see it in the way his armor moves. He’s excited.

The door slides open, and out from the shadows, Sevatar appears, blood still fresh on his armor. His chainglaive revs and snarls. A shiver runs down your spine. But those cold, dark eyes aren’t on you — they’re on Tovac, the last obstacle blocking him from getting to you.

“Run!” Tovac shouts, standing between you and Sevatar. You don’t need to be told twice. You turn and bolt from the command deck, escaping down another corridor with your heart pounding in your chest. The sound of their violent clash echoes behind you, fading as you get further away.

Your mind races, trying to think of what to do next. In your frantic searching, you find a storage room and dart inside, seeking a hiding spot. The room is cluttered with containers and equipment, and you squeeze yourself behind a stack of crates. There’s a maintenance hatch nearby, offering a potential escape route should you need it.

The door hisses open. Heavy ceramite footsteps echo in the room as he draws closer. They stop. Silence.

“You can’t hide from me,” he taunts you, his tone almost sing-song. “I will find you.”

And you know he’s right. Sevatar is relentless and you’re his favorite prey. Your breath catches as the footsteps come closer. You press yourself up against the wall, hands clamped over your mouth to stifle your breath.

The footsteps stop.

With a sudden, violent motion, Sevatar kicks the crate you’re hiding behind, sending it flying into others in a cacophony of noise.

“There you are,” Sevatar says. He towers over you, blood drip-drops from his armor onto the floor. He reaches up, releasing his helm with a hiss and tossing it aside, revealing the twisted smile on his handsome features. You bite your lip. He spots the hatch next to you.

“Oh, don’t even think about it, sweetheart.”

You slam your hand against the button, opening the hatch and throw yourself into the tunnel, scrambling to put as much distance between yourself and him. Sevatar reaches in after you, one massive hand feeling around as he reaches for you. He grabs your ankle in an ironclad grip and you let out a startled gasp.

He yanks you back through the hatch; you scream and claw at the metal for purchase, but to no avail. Sevatar tosses you onto the cold floor, and you push yourself up onto your hands, chest heaving.

“Jago…” you gasp, eyes wide. His eyes wander shamelessly over your body, hungry and possessive. His smile widens as looms over you, unlatching his codpiece and tossing it aside with a clatter.

His hands are on you in moments, ripping at your clothes and exposing your naked body to his gaze. You suppress a shudder as the cold gauntlets run up your legs, leaving angry red welts in their wake. You let out a small whimper. Sevatar squeezes the flesh of your thighs, forcing them open and up.

Sevatar looms over you, leaning down to press his cold-scarred lips against yours. It’s a shockingly tender kiss by Night Lord standards. But you fight back, not content to let Sevatar just have his win. You push against his chest, knowing full well that it’s futile against his size and the bulky armor.

You bite down on his lip — hard. The bitter tang of blood floods your mouth.

He recoils with a hiss. And to add insult to injury, you spit the blood out — it connects with his cheek, leaving a crimson streak. Oh. A dangerous glint ignites in Sevatar’s eyes, a delicious blend of predatory delight and dark amusement.

“Oh, little one, you are going to pay for that,” Sevatar says with a smirk. He rears back and grasps your waist, hauling you back and up onto his lap. You bite back the urge to moan, feeling the stiffness of his cock pressing against your thigh.

He forces the head of his cock into you, and slowly, painfully, sinks himself deeper into you. Each little thrust is deliberate and rough, making you feel every inch until you’re as full of him as your body will allow.

“O-oh! Fuck! Jago…!” you cry out, pushed the limits of where pain and pleasure mingle together. You grab onto his wrists, grounding yourself as you breathe through the overwhelming sensations.

“That’s it,” he says with a grin. “You’ll behave next time for your husband, won’t you?”

He starts to move inside you, his pace quickly becoming relentless and brutal. The storage room fills with the sound of heavy pants, and breathless gasps echoing off metallic walls. The crack and hum of his armor. Your torn clothes rustling. And the slap of skin as his hips pound into yours.

Sweat coats your skin, trickling down your forehead. Finally, it becomes unbearable; he pushes you over the edge, your body trembling and shaking as you cum with a cry of pleasure. Sevatar doesn’t stop though. He tightens his grip on your hips and jackhammers himself into you. With one final, brutal thrust, he stills, and a deep, satisfied groan echoes through the room as he fills you with his release.

Slowly, he pulls out of you and you collapse back onto the floor. The cold mingling with your sweat soaked skin and sending a chill through your spent body.

“Still with me, love?”

You hum weakly, lifting your hand enough in a half-hearted thumbs up. “That’s one way… to propose,” you say as your voice cracks, rough and strained from the screaming.

Sevatar laughs. He leans over you once again, kissing you again, and this time, you don’t bite him. You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Let’s get you back to the Nightfall,” he murmurs, pecking your lips a few more times, “and I’ll drown you in the baths.”

Your laugh turns into a fit of coughing. Sevatar pulls away, your arms slipping from around him and he gazes at you in a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. He hunts down his missing codpiece and attaches it, before pulling his helm back over his head and sealing it with a hiss.

He returns to your side and scoops you into his arms. Exhausted, and a sticky, hot mess, you nestle in against him, soaking up the cold touch of his armor.

“If that was a traditional proposal, what’s a wedding look like?”

[gigabyte-flare]

There’s No Escape (Part 1)

Summary: You are going through a rather nasty breakup as you escape your ex-boyfriend’s apartment while he’s away on a top secret government assignment. You move to a completely new state in hopes he won’t find you. You clearly underestimated his determination because he has no intention of letting you go. 

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 1.1k (Next part should be longer! Wanted to get story building stuff out of the way before getting to the good stuff ;) )

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic 

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings may be added in the future

A/N: @dollrxst, @hxllfiredoll, @nexyswrites, @ghostkennedy, @lipglossanon and like a bunch of others who’s fics I’ve consumed and have been inspired by, this is all your fault and I’m not even mad about it. Please excuse grammatical errors and such, it’s been a hot second since I’ve written stuff like this. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was now or never.

Leon Scott Kennedy, your soon to be ex-boyfriend, is away on some top secret government assignment and isn’t due back for about three days. You had been seeing each other for about six months and he insisted you move in with him after three months. He seemed wonderful at first, but living with him proved to be way more than you had signed up for.

He was bat shit insane.

You weren’t sure if it was due to unaddressed trauma from his line of work or whatever but his controlling and sick nature was ludicrous to you. He was controlling, manipulative and sick in the head. His idea of fun was holding a knife to your throat while fucking the absolute shit out of you. That was just the tip of the iceberg on the things he forced you to do for his pleasure. 

Anything you absolutely could not live without was getting stuffed into your little Jeep Renegade. If it didn’t fit, it was getting left behind because you had absolutely no intention of coming back. Clothes, toiletries, some of your books, your video game console and games, a couple pillows and some sheets all got stuffed in. When you were confident you had everything essential for your impromptu move, you closed the back hatch on the Renegade and grabbed your purse, phone and car keys from the kitchen counter, making sure to leave the copy of the apartment key you miraculously found behind. You lock the apartment door and shut it. You lean up against it and take a deep breath before you rush back down to your car. You had a long ride ahead of you; Washington D.C. to Boston was about a 9 hour drive.

It was now or never; you weren’t about to squander this opportunity to escape.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It was dark by the time you finally arrived in Boston. You navigate the confusing winding streets and find your apartment that you got with your best friend, Becky. You see her come out of the front door as you pull up in your car and park. You see her wave as you step out.

“Hey, you made it! I trust you had a good ride,” she inquires.

“Yeah, long as hell, sorry I’m so late. What time is it?”

“It’s like 9:30, come on in! I ordered pizza for us,” she says, motioning you in. 

You grab your purse, keys, phone and one of the pillows you had stuffed into your car and go inside the apartment. You decide you can unload your stuff in the morning. The kitchen is the first room you end up in and you set your stuff down on the small island before stumbling your tired legs into the living room where the smell of pizza was calling your name. You practically collapse in a reclining chair after grabbing a slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table. You let out a loud sigh of relief. You made it. You escaped.

“How are you feeling?” Becky asks before taking a bite out of her slice of pizza.

You finish chewing on yours and swallow hard, “I’ve never been so happy in my life. I’m honestly surprised I’m not dead from some of the bullshit Leon pulled.”

Becky shifts nervously on the couch. She was the only person you confided in about your sick, demented ex-boyfriend. You didn’t even tell your parents, you didn’t want to worry them. 

When you moved in with Leon, he forced you to quit your well paying I.T. job and forbade you from ever leaving the apartment alone. He took your phone away, but you found ways to sneak it back so that you could at least contact Becky. You didn’t want to think about the things he made you do; it was an absolute miracle you weren’t dead or pregnant from the amount of abuse you endured. 

“He hasn’t contacted you yet, has he?” 

You shake your head, closing your eyes as you lean back in the recliner, “nah, he won’t be back from whatever assignment he’s on for another few days, and I blocked his number.”

“Good,” Becky replies with a nod.

“I’m going to hit the sack,” you say suddenly as you get up from the chair and begin to walk back into the kitchen to collect your stuff. 

“No problem, I’ll help you unload your car tomorrow. I was able to get the day off from work.”

“Thanks, Becky.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It’s late in the afternoon when Leon finally gets home from his excursion, his forearms covered in scraps and bruises. He couldn’t wait to see his baby girl, his cock growing hard from the anticipation. 

He fumbled with his keys in the low light until finding the correct one to unlock the front door to the apartment. He unlocks the door and opens it.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” Leon calls out.

But there’s no response.

“Sweetie? Are you asleep?”

Nothing.

Leon could feel adrenaline rush through his veins as he starts to frantically search each room for his sweetheart. He became hyper aware of the dead silence of the apartment the further he searched. When he got to the bedroom, he ripped the closet doors open and found most of your clothes were gone. He ran into the bathroom; your toiletries were gone. Almost all your belongings were gone.

“No, no, no, no, nO, NO, NO!”

Where could you have gone? He never in a million dreams imagined you would ever leave him. You belonged to him. You were his everything. Everything he did, he did it for you, he did it to keep you safe from the disgusting world. Pure rage began to flow through him as he stalked back into the kitchen. Unsheathing his knife, he stabbed it into the center of the small dining table before he used both hands to flip it, letting out a primal growl as he did so. 

“That fucking ungrateful bitch!” he growls before walking over to the overturned table to retrieve his knife. 

“I loved you, took care of you, protected you… and this is the thanks I get…”

He pulls out his cellphone, dialing your number and putting the phone to his ear.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please check the number and try again.”

Taking a deep breath, he then attempts to send a text to the number.

We’re sorry, the number you have entered is not valid.

Breathing heavily, he puts his phone back in his pocket, balling both his fists and closing his cobalt eyes. He stood there for a moment, seething when he suddenly appeared to have a revelation. His eyes snap back open and he digs his phone back out from his pocket and opens an app. A smile slowly overcomes him as stares down at the phone like he was staring down at a long lost lover.

“There you are. Don’t worry baby girl. Daddy’s coming to get you.”

Part 2

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OK RUIN DLC AVAILABLE!! Can I make a request then? How do Ruin glam.freddy, Ruin glam.chica, Ruin Monty, and Ruin Roxy react to an overwhelmed reader? Too much is happening to Child Reader and he ends up crying or bursting with rage. How would they react to the reader? (sorry for my english 😅)

Oh don't worry! Your english is good! (for this, we'll just say reader takes Cassie's place)

.........

Prototype/Ruined Freddy

All you wanted to do was find your friend, and you thought you'd find an ally in your quest when you discovered Freddy in the decrepit Fazer Blaster room.

But something was very wrong as he emerged from the wreckage, joints clicking and parts shuffling before he finally turns to screech at you with great hostility.

Not with his mouth, as he lacked a head, but with his birthday cake hatch that acted like a gaping monstrous maw.

He hunted you down like a wild animal, chasing you until you managed to reach the next inhibitor-

Only for Freddy to be there first, cornering you at last and almost daring you to come closer.

But you were so terrified, so stressed that...you just hid somewhere and cried, not caring what happens to you anymore. "I-I'm sorry, Gregory..I can't do this. I'm too scared and I don't know where I'm going!!"

It's in that moment where Freddy briefly snaps out of the M.X.E.S programming controlling him.

He may have been a prototype, but he did have similar directives to his successor--that being to ensure the safety and happiness of all children who visited. That was his priority.

He follows your cries, and instead of attacking, he offers you the green present in his chest to cheer you up.

You worried it was some trick, but you take it anyways, finding a scratched-up Freddy magnet inside, barely recognizable aside from the shape.

Relieved, you smile and pocket the gift, wiping away your tears. "Th-Thanks, Freddy.."

He stands back up, only for the M.X.E.S to take ahold of him again.

While he's fighting back against it, you duck under him and turn off the inhibitor before making your escape, not looking back once even as he storms after you.

At least you knew he wasn't doing this on purpose.

Ruined Chica

If you weren't already overwhelmed enough by everything happening within the ruined mall...Chica's shattered voicebox was the icing on top.

The noises hurt your ears so, so much..and suddenly you became terrified of every creaking or grating metal sound, always thinking it's her.

Staying on your toes was important, of course, though it was getting to be too much for you to bear.

When she's hunting you down in one of the kitchens, you're so stressed that you end up hiding and covering your ears, trying not to cry as the noises continued.

Before they...abruptly stopped, as she's now aware that her voice simply wasn't going to come back.

But in that moment, she heard your sniffle and immediately found your hiding spot.

You think you're doomed until she sees you covering your ears still, and despite her eyes being out of sorts..

They looked quite guilty.

The M.X.E.S has no control over her at the moment, so she spares you and leaves.

At some point later on you find her original voice box, seeking her out and repairing her to the best of your ability.

"I smell pizza!!" She trills, before the reality sets in that she has her voice back at last!

And it's a brief moment of happiness for her before she shuts down, seeing you by her side as her vision goes dark.

While doing this didn't make you any less stressed about your search for your friend...you felt better knowing you helped her.

Ruined Roxy

She wasn't targeting you because of the M.X.E.S, but rather because she assumed you were Gregory, threatening to tear out your eyes and make them hers.

However she decided to stalk you at a very bad time, as you began shouting and throwing stuff at her after getting so fed-up with coming to dead ends and Helpi's irritating voice.

The first thing was a plushie, which isn't super effective in hurting her, but the sudden impact startled her nevertheless.

Then you began pelting whatever you could find on the ground. Soda cans, crumbled papers, etc. even as she apologized over and over, shielding herself.

"K-Kid, I'm sorry..!!"

"I'm not afraid you anymore!! LEAVE ME ALONE, FREAK!!"

Suddenly, she freezes up, sniffling before she touches her face self-consciously.

"Th-That's right..I'm...I-I'm a freak...I'm a hideous freak!!" She wails, ultimately collapsing to the ground crying.

You stop, realizing the (emotional) damage you've done and....feeling guilty when you see her sobbing.

You honestly thought she was mindless like all the others...and yet..part of her old personality remained, notably the "insecure" part of it.

Keeping the mask clipped to your side (as you didn't wanna see her through some green hologram), you approach and kneel down, awkwardly trying to comfort her.

"Roxy? I-I...I didn't mean to call you that. I'm sorry." You frown. "You're not a freak, you're still..um...p-pretty. I..I've just been angry and I took it out on you...because you keep thinking I'm Gregory."

She's surprised to hear that you aren't actually him, but is still hurt by the insult.

You stay with her for a bit, reminding her of the mantras she used to tell herself back then, and she begins to repeat them with a smile on her face.

"Your tail is beautiful, your hair is beautiful..and everyone loves you."

"My tail...is beautiful. My hair is..beautiful...and everyone loves me.."

"Yeah, that's good!"

Ruined Monty

He used to be the coolest character to you.

But now? He was nothing like his former self. Just a mindless beast crawling around and trying to bite your legs off.

It was sad, in a way.

Yet you've been attacked by him nonstop ever since you got that stupid mask.

He didn't just scare you, though.

If anything...you got angry right back at him, shouting at him to go away and/or throwing whatever you could to keep him off your back.

Somehow he keep finding you. It's like he had some personal vendetta against you and was powered by rage alone.

In Gator Golf, you found a golf club that wasn't broken, deciding to keep it with you should you ever need to defend yourself.

He was an alligator, yet it somehow shocked you when you're trying to reach the next conduit to unlock a door....and discover that he can swim.

You were stuck traversing boxes like you were playing "the floor is lava"...except the lava is Monty, of course.

When you finally unlock the door, he roars and makes a desperate grab for your leg, and would have succeeded in dragging you into the electrified water...

Had you not used the club to break his hand and chip some of his teeth.

It seemed to bring him genuine pain....but you didn't care.

"Sorry, Monty...BUT I'M NOT YOUR DINNER!!!" You shout as you knock him back into the water, watching him fry.

Part of you felt guilty for doing that once you calmed down and got to safely, but what else could you do?

He was too far gone to help. You had to put him out of his misery.

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 1 (shibari)

The Oni x Reader Drabble

The Oni's eyes glared at you from behind his demonic mask, filled with fierce stubbornness even as he hung suspended in mid-air, bound by the intricate knots of rope. His muscular frame strained against the tight ropes binding him, his rage and defiance palpable even through the restraints.

As you circled around him slowly, holding a leather riding crop in your hand, you could feel your own excitement building within you. The prospect of dominating such an imposing man was intoxicating to you.

You approached him cautiously, testing his control over himself as well as your own confidence in this situation. You ran the tip of your crop across his chest slowly before striking him hard on his exposed abdomen.

A grunt escaped from beneath the mask as pain flared through The Oni's body. Despite it all though he still managed to keep his core firm and unflinching. Kazan was so focused he didn't even see you set the riding crop down on a table beside him.

As you stepped away from the table, you closed the distance between yourself and the helplessly bound samurai. Reaching out, you grasped the thick ropes that held him in place, pulling on them with a determined strength that belied your small frame.

Your fingers dug into the rough fibers of the ropes, leaving deep impressions behind as you pulled harder. He grunted and groaned under your assault, his muscles tensing as he struggled against his restraints.

This was fun and all, but you were starting to want more. But you know how Kazan would get if you released him early.

"I don't know why you insist on doing this "shibari" thing. Takes way too long to get to the good part," You mutter as you continue to tug at the rope.

Kazan growled beneath his mask, the sound reverberating around the room. Through gritted teeth, he spoke, "It…is tradition." His voice was strained but audible. "And it helps me control my rage."

His gaze shifted towards you, studying your face. Despite his predicament, he couldn't help but admire your audacity.

With a sly grin, you lift your knee, gently applying pressure to his erect cock. "Is that so?" you muse, your gaze scanning his face.

The Oni's eyes narrowed slightly, his body tensing involuntarily as you applied pressure to his throbbing member. After a moment, he let out a slow breath, trying to maintain composure despite the mounting tension in his body.

His response was measured, almost contemplative. "Yes, it does." His voice now had a hint of challenge, as if daring you to go further.

You suddenly pull away from him. "Then I guess I should let you control it alone," you chirp, strolling toward the bedroom door. "Enjoy your peaceful meditation," you tease before exiting and gently shutting the door behind you as a dumbfounded Oni watches you leave.

As soon as the door clicked shut, he began to struggle against his bindings once again, hoping to free himself. However, his efforts proved futile; the complex knots kept him restrained.

Minutes ticked by, and the tension built inside him as he waited for your return. His erection hadn't subsided, but neither had the uncomfortable throbbing in his groin. The Oni growled softly under his breath, frustrated by his lack of control over the situation. As he hung there, waiting for you to return, Kazan began to wonder if maybe he should've let you have hatch the last trial you two were in.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Difficult:

Summary: Enemies to lovers (kind of), you are on a mission with overly handsy General Skywalker, you try to resist but... come on...

Warnings: None :)

Word count: 1,340

The dimly lit corridor of the Republic Cruiser seemed to close in on you as you ventured deeper into the heart of the ship. It was barely wide enough to fit the two of you. Anakin Skywalker, your fellow Jedi and mission partner, led the way, his Jedi robes flowing gracefully around him. You were following closely behind, green lightsaber securely fastened to your belt. The tension of the mission hung heavily in the air. 

He looked back at you as you met the end of the corridor, a wide grin on his face. He loved this. General Skywalker, the saviour of the Jedi, the golden boy, chosen one – he wore many titles, but in moments like these, he was just Anakin, still a teenage boy. You could only humour him as you nodded back, gesturing that you were ready to continue. 

His face turned serious then, his blue eyes flickering in the darkness, moving towards the door to your left, the door which hopefully led to the emergency escape passage, and a ladder towards your goal; the intelligence offices. He had aged in the war, you all had. 

We reached the door, and Anakin brought his gloved hand to the control panel. With a soft hiss, the door slid open, revealing a narrow passage bathed in dim emergency lighting. It was clear that this part of the cruiser hadn't seen much use in a long time.

“After you.” He said, his cheeky demeanour somewhat undermined by his searching, scanning eyes and defensive stance. He was ready for a fight, ready for some enemy to come out of the dark. You were certain that he was capable, that he knew what he was doing. His casual tone still annoyed you though.

It wasn’t the first time the two of you had been paired together for a mission, it happened with increasing frequency, especially as Anakin climbed through the army ranks for some reason… 

The passage seemed to stretch on forever, a labyrinthine maze of twists and turns. It was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the Republic Cruiser's more accessible areas.

As you walked, your sense heightened and your body became more alert. Your fingers flexed slightly, sensing an energy coming from somewhere ahead. The passage was far too dark to see any further than a few feet ahead but eventually your hands found the rungs of the ladder that you had to climb.

Anakin glanced at you, his eyes locking onto yours in the dim light. "After you," he repeated, gesturing for you to start the ascent.

You rolled your eyes but acquiesced. Tucking your hair behind your ears you began to climb, your boots echoing softly against the metal rungs. As you ascended, you couldn't help but feel Anakin's eyes on you, his presence close behind. The tension in the confined space was palpable, and you knew it wasn't just the mission that was causing it.

“These missions really do bring us closer together, don't they?” He says from underneath you. 

“It’s certainly cosy, General.” And it was. The ladder was enclosed in a small pipe-like structure, enough room to crouch and climb and not much else. 

The ladder seemed to go on forever, each rung taking you deeper into the heart of the ship. Your heart raced, not just from the physical exertion, but from the pressure of Anakin’s gaze. 

As you neared the top of the ladder, and the cover which you would need to arise from, Anakin climbed close behind you. His hand brushed against your waist and he pulled himself to your level, his long arms encapsulating you body. You tensed and resisted the urge to elbow him. His presence sent a jolt of electricity through your body. He didn't move his hand away, even as he ran his other over the edges of the hatch. You couldn’t pull away either, clinging onto the ladder with him against your back. 

“Do you mind?” You say, sharply. 

“Not at all.”

You close your eyes, praying to the force for patience.

“Ready?” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. His voice was low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. It was a dangerous game he was playing, in the darkness of the passage, with the mission hanging in the balance…

He opens the hatch quickly and jumps out, clearly ready for a battle. But he meets no resistance, instead he lowers his hand down to help you out of the tunnel. 

You shove his arm away and pull yourself out stubbornly. 

The dim emergency lighting cast shadows across Anakin's face as he watched you with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Always so difficult, aren't you?" he remarked, his voice laced with a touch of sarcasm.

You shot him a glare, your eyes locked onto his. "I can handle myself, Skywalker," you retorted, your tone dripping with irritation.

Anakin's lips curled into a smirk, and he stepped closer to you, closing the distance between you. His eyes bore into yours, his blue gaze unwavering. "I've noticed," he said, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

You gritted your teeth, refusing to be distracted. “We have a mission to complete, General.” You say the last word slow, as if to put him in his place, like he wasn’t your leading commander. 

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a tingle of frustration through you. "You're always so serious," he said, leaning in closer until his lips were dangerously close to yours. "You should learn to relax a little.”

The proximity between you was maddening, and you couldn't help but be acutely aware of the tension that hung in the air. Anakin's gaze flickered down to your lips, and you could see the desire burning in his eyes. But then he steps back, and smirks. 

Anakin sighed, his expression shifting from playful to serious. "alright," he conceded, straightening up. "Let's get this over with.”

The two of you continued down the narrow passage, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface. It was a constant battle of wills, a push and pull of attraction and irritation.

As you reached the intelligence offices, Anakin took the lead once more, his focus on the task at hand. You followed closely behind, your senses on high alert, scanning the area for any signs of danger.

The mission proceeded with precision, your Jedi training guiding your every move. Anakin's presence was a constant, reassuring presence by your side, even as you exchanged sharp words and glares. It was a dance of conflicting emotions, a battle between desire and duty. In the end, you prevailed, the enemy defeated, and the mission accomplished. But as you stood there, victorious but bruised, the tension between you and Anakin remained unresolved.

He approached you, his eyes searching yours, his voice softening. "We make a good team, you know," he said, his words filled with a sincerity that caught you off guard.

You couldn't help but soften in response, the anger and frustration giving way to a reluctant admiration. "Yeah," you admitted, a hint of a smile playing at your lips. "We do.”

Anakin's lips curled into a genuine smile, and he reached out to touch your arm, a gesture of camaraderie that felt strangely intimate. "Maybe one day we'll figure out how to get along outside of missions too.”

You raised an eyebrow, your guard still firmly in place. "Don't hold your breath, Skywalker."

Anakin didn't waste a moment. His lips crashed onto yours in a fiery, passionate kiss, and any pretence of restraint was shattered. It had probably been building for months. The world around you faded away as you lost yourselves in each other's embrace. His hands moved possessively over your body, fingers tracing the contours of your curves through your Jedi robes.

Almost without stopping, but with a cursory glance around the room, Anakin dragged you over to a narrow door to the right, closing it behind you, you realised that it was a closet. 

[1singulargrape]

Some SukuIta fic recs on AO3

Here are some of my favorites skit fanfics! I've put tags I found relevant but not all of them. Most of the summaries are from the stories themselves although I improvised some. I hope you can find something you'll enjoy <3

Is this Stockholm-Syndrome? by BaeBeyza

Completed

Status : 14k, 6 Chapters, Complete (M)

Tags : Alternate Universe - Yakuza; Accidental Kidnapping; Implied/Referenced Child Abuse; Non-Consensual Drug Use; Rape/Non-con Elements;

Summary : In which Yakuza Boss Sukuna gets accidentally kidnapped by some hapless idiot

Comment : It’s the “kidnapped by the yakuza boss” trope but reversed! Fun but not really lighthearted /!\

Your path into bloodlust by BaeBeyza

Status : 26k, 10 Chapters,Complete, (M)

Tags : Alternate Universe - Fantasy; God Sukuna; Weretiger Yuuji; Blood and Violence; Hurt/Comfort; Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary : Sukuna, the God of the Hunt, laid his eyes on the golden-eyed hunter

Comment : They both change the other, in a way. Yuuji really Goes Through It in this one but so does Sukuna >:)

Seven Days to Fall in Love by macabrecabra

Status : 35k, 7 chapters, Complete, (E)

Tags : Sci-Fi AU; Survival horror kind of

Summary : It was supposed to be a routine mission, but instead, Yuuji finds himself crash landed on an alien world with seven days to get to the rendezvous point in order to escape the planet. A task only made more difficult by the cursed entity he is expected to keep under control as his vessel.

Comment : I’m not that much into sci-fi but it was still a lot of fun. This story features Yuuji and Sukuna being nearly the same and complete opposites at the same time, and being forced to cooperate in spite of it which is amazing. Also, Sukuna acting like a feral animal/teenager was great!

between our teeth by goodnightfern

Status : 10k, 3 Chapters, Complete, (NR)

Tags : A/B/O; Forced Bonding; Forced Pregnancy; Gross Pregnancy shit; Cannibalism; Incest (kinda?)

Summary : Some rational part of Yuuji’s mind lies dormant beneath this drugged heat. He knows this scene: the monster of an omega, snarling even in forced stasis, struggling to resist the enormous burden of cursed energy sitting heavy as the ocean in this room. As a child he’d run his tiny fingers over the corded strength of his four arms, snuck a peek at the drooling wound in his stomach. He knows the heavy breath barely animating this mountain like his own heartbeat.

Comment : I adore the worldbuilding here. This one features Yuuji changing Sukuna as much as Sukuna changes him and it’s so delicious. Originally a one-shot then expanded upon and it’s one of my favorite take on a/b/o so far.

Love for my child series by BaeBeyza

Status: 3 parts, >100 000k, Complete, (M)

Tags : A/B/O; Rape/Non-Con; Kidnapping; Forced Pregnancy; Lima Syndrome; Eventual Escape; Hurt/Comfort; Self-harm;

Summary : 

Part 1 : Yuuji, a young omega, is kidnapped, raped, and forced to have a child for the “evil man”. Even in this mockery of a domestic life he doesn’t give up on escaping.

Part 2 : Five years after escaping the evil man's grasp, Yuuji finds himself navigating life with his dear son. Fate has other ideas, however...

Comment : The characterizations in this story drives me insane, and part 2 is just banger lines after banger lines (I’m very biased towards this story I rotated it in my mind for months <3). The main storyline is complete while part 3 includes extra-stories and is still ongoing!

Ongoing

I was sent to spy on the demon lord but it turns out he's hot and I'm now his captive?! by rhapshie

Status : 42k, 8 Chapters (1 left), Ongoing, (M)

Tags : Demon Lord Sukuna; Adventurer Yuuji; High Fantasy

Summary : Itadori Yuuji. Gold-rank adventurer.

He picked up a quest to survey the area around the demon lord's castle, but he was caught and held captive. The only way he can escape is by killing the infuriatingly hot Lord Ryomen. And thus, he hatches scheme after scheme to do just that.

Little does he know that in demon culture, assassination attempts mean courting... So, Yuuji unknowingly begins to court the demon lord.

...Oops?

Comment : OH THIS ONE IS SO MUCH FUN! I’m almost tempted to put the crack treated seriously tag because of how silly it is. I really like how the relationship between the main pair develops, and the interactions between Yuuji and the rest of the cast are fun as well!

Aconitum by AttackRabbit

Status : 30k, 10 Chapters, Ongoing, (E)

Tags : A/B/O; Set In Ancient Japan; Implied/Referenced Abortion; Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault; Former Soldier Yuuji; Mentions of War

Summary : Apothecary ex-solder Yuuji while out foraging for vegetables finds a severely wounded alpha. After deciding to save him, Yuuji's life of chosen solitude is threatened.

Comment : This story has managed to surprise me in several ways and every chapter is a treat! I love the care put into showing Yuuji’s competences as an apothecary but there’s so much more to talk about in this story. The author went out of their way to create a fictional language for it as well and it makes it so much more immersive, I hope you can at least check it out!

The Greatest Curse of All by CB_Magique

Status : 106k, 32 chapters, Ongoing, (E)

Tags : A/B/O; Graphic Depictions Of Violence; Rape/Non-Con; Enemies to Lovers; Slow Burn; Lots Of Hurts; Physical Abuse; Miscarriage; More pairings not mentioned in the tags

Summary : [...] Unfortunately, during a Special Grade curse attack, he ends up tricking the King of Curses into a binding vow, completely by accident. Forced into servitude, the safety of all humanity now depends on Yuji being able to sate Sukuna’s desires.

Sukuna does not like being tricked and will not take that disrespect lying down. He is determined to break Yuji. However, Yuji may end up breaking him down first.

Comment : so fucking peak… The tags aren’t lying that burn is SLOW. We’re barely crawling here damn but at least we’re past the lowest point of their relationship! yippee! I love the attention put into describing Yuuji’s day to day life in Sukuna’s mansion (he’s basically forced to live like people from Suku’s time). The interactions between the 2 are often very intense and I love them. Also! There are a lot of creative uses of cursed energy/techniques!

One shots

AITA for being mad at my family for the cruel methods they used to get me to live with them? by BaeBeyza

Status : 1.8k, One-Shot, (M)

Tags : Crack Treated Seriously; Written like a reddit post

Summary : Hello!I was told this is the place to come for advice and I really need it for my current conflicted situation! The title isn’t as bad as it sounds, I just recently found out a bit about my husband and step-kids which led to a lot of anger on my end and I just want an unbiased opinion.

Comment : This one is short and fun, and people are roleplaying in the comments! Poor Yuuji :’)

What color is my blood...Red, black or white? by izugirl

Status : 10k, One-Shot, (E)

Tags : Top Yuuji; Bottom Sukuna; I guess it’s kind of Pw/oP but there’s a lot going on still

Summary : “If I make you feel pleasure,” Yuuji says with the most serious face possible. "You'll leave him alive and it'll just be you and me. Does this sound fun enough for you?"

Or in the midst of battle in the cursed land of Shinjuku, Yuuji asks the King of Curses an unusual question and finds out that the myths about him left out much more than his cursed technique.

Comment : I’m quite literally blowing kisses towards the open tab for this fic. It’s so fucking good. Hello. It goes so hard. One of my favorites of all times for sure. Features : Yuuji and Sukuna being obsessed with each other in an unhealthy way (and being in denial about it), these 2 being the other’s downfall and just… I can’t put it into words but the vibe is, when I try to give a mental image to this story the first this that comes to me is juicy raw meat. Red, bloody and appetizing.

like a lollipop by satorusyuji

Status : 1.3k, One-Shot, (T)

Tags : Crack; Unreliable Narrator; Out of Character

Summary : Yuuji’s terror slowly morphs into confusion while he’s pinned under Sukuna.

Comment : This one is an easy way to put me in a good mood. It’s silly. Doesn’t take much more than that to make me like something XD

Telluric by SmolAfro

Status : 7k, One-Shot, (E)

Tags : Alternate Universe - Trojan War Setting; Alternate Universe - Mythology; Odysseus!Yuuji; Poseidon!Sukuna; Porn With Plot

Summary : Yuuji keeps forgetting to include Sukuna in his prayers. Sukuna in turn makes his life miserable, until Yuuji makes amends.

Comment : OOOOOH. OH THIS ONE. I don’t know what the fuck the author put into that one but just thinking about it puts me back in the state I was after reading in for the first time (read: unwell). I don’t even have the words it’s just- it’s peak. It's just- it's so good I love it so much please read it

the one who will teach you about love is... by The_Rose_That_Blooms

Status : 5.8k, One-Shot, (M)

Tags : Alternate Universe - Heian Period; Courting Rituals; Crack; Minor Violence; Mainly yorozu's POV

Summary : Countless yappings from her attendant, lessons she forced her teachers to teach and herself to be taught, having to get used to the sensation of fabric (sometimes the itchiness was unbearable) wrapping around her skin because it was considered ‘decent’, and most of all, making sure she’d get picked to present herself, among 20 other ladies and men, to Ryoumen Sukuna-sama and become his bride.

Comment : Yorozu’s POV is really funny (and very unhinged). I greatly enjoyed her torment :3

[fishyvamp]

Day 3 of Kinktober 2024

"Such a brat"

Dead by Daylight Pairings: Evan MacMilian | The Trapper X GN!Reader Rating: M | Mature | NSFW 18+ MDNI Word count: 1.3k+ CW: CNC, negotiated kink, Reader gets blue balled Summary: It's that time of year and your normally sweet boyfriend isn't feeling quite himself. Prompt: CNC | “God, you love it like this, don’t you?” Ao3

The Trapper was a blighted monster at this moment. Seemingly fueled by mindless rage. Hook after hook, Each survivor downed in minutes not a single gen completed as he came for the last one, you. The Beast barreled towards you as you ran for the shack. You needed to get out of his way already. You need to find the hatch and escape. There would be no escape however as the moment you ran under that damn pallet you screamed loudly. The sound bounced off the walls of the empty shack the gen only half finished. A painful reminder that none of you had been quick enough to keep him away from the gens, Your leg screamed in pain as you desperately pried the trap off of you. The trial was brutal and pure carnage as you had fought to keep everyone alive as long as possible, but it was all for naught. With a grunt and another scream, you fell to the floor dying. Honing stone, of fucking course he used today of all days to sharpen the traps. He was leaving nothing to chance.

The Trapper, agonizingly, walked toward you picking you up slowly. Basement was right there and all he’d have to do is take you down into the heart of The Entity and she’d be happy. You struggled as he picked you up, but The Trapper pushed you against a wall, Blighted serum dripping from his open sores, his mask oozing and dripping down onto your torn bloodied clothing. The Killer holding you up by the curve of your ass against the wall. Feet instinctively wrapping around him causing a hardness to press against your groin. “God, you love it like this, don’t you?” the usually familiar voice comes out monstrous and hollow. “I can make you feel so much better like this than I ever could as that spineless maggot you call a lover.” a trembling growl ran out. His hand pressed you further into the wall, the wood groaning under the extra weight. 

You wanted to speak and defend him, but you were in the trial and only killers were allowed to talk and be heard. So you just let out an indignant grunt, which earned you a hand around your throat. Trapper growled in your ear, “You know I’m right.” his words felt like a threat as you gasped for air feeling lightheaded from the lack of it. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it felt unfair. Why was he allowed to taunt you and make you feel this way? Please, You mouthed. The Trapper pulled his hand away, masked face leaning in pressing against your pulse as he took a deep breath. “You know I can smell you, right Brat?” It was a threat laced with lust and wanton need. “I can feel your arousal. That delicious hole, begging to be speared on my cock.” he inhaled deeply, the hand on your ass kneading the flesh drawing out more whimpers. It didn’t help as he began to grind into you. “You like this don’t you? You like feeling helpless.” His clothed cock rubbing against you the large member grinding into you rubbing your aching sex. He was right, there was something about being made helpless under the weight of a monster that excited you. You had begged for this in a way, but that didn’t mean you were ready to admit any of this.

Seeing you getting flustered the killer relaxed pausing for a moment before throwing you over his shoulder. “Don’t fight or I’ll hook you.” He chuckled darkly smacking your ass firmly as he walked to the foundry. The monster’s boot echoed against the grated stairs as you climbed to the control room. A beaten-stained mattress on the floor. Without much care he dropped you onto it tearing at his own clothes, his coveralls falling to the floor exposing his heavy cock. Even being erect it could barely hold itself up under the sheer weight. His balls were covered in thick coarse hair, large, and heavy as he moved in on you. You lick your lips without even thinking, The trapper noticed this of course, and held the erection as if showing it off just for you. “You want to be a good Brat and suck it already?” despite being posed as a question, you didn’t think it was.

You got on your knees and opened your mouth, hands in your lap as you felt brainless at this moment, The action itself seemed to please the beast, he closed in on you cupping the back of your head as he brought your mouth to his length. The monster growling as you licked the slit of his cock. The smell was like honey and flora, no doubt thanks to serum. Taking a moment you worked your way along the length taking it in little by little jaw stretching to accommodate the sheer girth. The monster was impaint though, pushing in harshly causing you to gag around the length as it pressed into your throat. The cock mostly sheathed inside your mouth he began a steady pace growling lowly, “built like a proper slag.” his grip tightening as he kept a slow but aggressive pace 

“That’s a good Brat, take it just like that.” He grunted. Your hands moved one palming the front of your pants the other cupping his balls as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You could feel the veins as he twitched in your mouth the man leaning forward to brace against the wall directly behind you. He was getting into it his hands running through your hair tugging harshly to keep you in place. The mask twitched and shifted as The Trapper fought to maintain his composure. Poor guy must’ve been pent up all trial. His pace became fervent. “God, look at you, no self-respect. Nothing but an obedient hole.” The words coming out strangled as he neared closer and closer to the edge, “Shit, I’m…” He gasped for air pulling out abruptly glowing orange cum spurting forth covering your face as you obediently held out your tongue to catch what you could. Trapper stroked himself as he leaned back closing his eyes, letting the waves of ecstasy wash over him. Panting he fell to his knees knocking you over as he forced the both of you on the mattress.  His arms wrapped around you for just a moment.

“Spit it out,” he growled into the mattress. A smirk graced your face as you looked at him with a shit-eating grin. “I’m not joking, Spit it out, I don’t know what it’ll do to you.” His words came out like a genuine concern. The monstrous facade was gone. He knew you too well, you knew that you would happily eat his release even if it had been tainted. However, the fact that it tasted like honey probably didn’t help. “Just do it.” he sat up mask contorting into a scowl. You just laughed Rolling your eyes you complied, spitting out the blighted fluid before leaning to kiss Evan on his cheek. Mouthing the words, I love you, Evan.  “Hatch is just east of Shack. Get out before the entity starts clawing at the walls,” he warned, lying spread out, his naked form on full display, the blighted serum glowing under the dark light. The statement caused you to sit up offended. 

Don’t you deserve the chance to get off? After all, Evan was only like this for a short time. He was extra big all over and you had agreed to this in hopes of getting your hands on all of him. As if reading your mind The Trapper folded his arms sitting up straight. “I don’t particularly like getting blinded four times in a single chase, Brat. remember that next time and maybe then I’ll indulge you.” The Trapper just stared you down laughing as you pouted. “Now git, before I decide to hook you anyways. I’ll see after trial.” You nodded your head grumpily walking out of the foundry down the steps towards where he said the hatch was knowing you’ll get payback later.

[lex-the-flex]

Infectious Defenses

Las Plagas! Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Summary: Trapped by Lord Saddler, the man believes he has the best weapon at his fingertips. Unbeknownst to him, nothing can break the alliance between two of the greatest D.S.O Agents.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning(s): HEAVY ANGST, brief action and violence, descriptions of injuries, Las Plagas nearly takes control of Leon, mentions of brainwashing, the reader being a badass, and MEGA FLUFF!

A/N: I’M SO HYPED FOR THIS GAME!! And the new trailer made me loose my mind!! I hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated!

The heavy rainfall made seeing the pathway to the cathedral nearly impossible in the dead of night. Hoisting Leon closer to you, there was no room to breathe, and your muscles started to ache from carrying his weight against your tired body.

Coughing more frequently, Leon tried his best to cover his mouth, but he couldn't. Letting his left arm dangle, the only thing he could do was trudge his feet along the gravel trail to the church's entrance.

"Come on, Leon. It's just a little further." You shouted against the rain, hoping he'd hear you.

"I'm trying, Y/N..." Leon mumbled in between another coughing fit.

Reaching the cathedral's front steps, you pushed the door open with your hip, hoping the barrel of your submachine gun tied to your back would provide a little help. With the large wooden doors swinging open, the force alone made you and Leon fall to the floor.

Breaking your fall, Leon held you in his muscular arms, not wanting you to collide with the stone flooring. Heaving past your shoulder, Leon gasped for a rush of cold air, begging for anything to enter his collapsing lungs.

Even when he's dying, Leon is ever the gentleman.

Moving to your knees, you carefully held a hand on Leon's chest, hoping to keep him still. Grabbing your wrist, the young man wheezed for any kind of saving grace. Taking a few herbs from your hip pouch, you held the medicinal mixture to Leon's chapped lips, he swallowed the remedy with a few sips of water out of a spare canteen from Luis.

Laying back, Leon slowly released his grip on your wrist, the agent's breathing returned to normal. Focusing on continuing the flow from in through his nose and out the mouth, Leon balances on his elbows.

"Y/N? You okay?" Leon asked and a crease formed in between his dark brows.

Motioning for your barely bleeding shoulder, a small quiet giggle escapes from your lips, and a quick smile fills the corners of Leon's dull pinkish lips.

"What?" He asks, returning to his normal self.

But before you can respond, an echo of vile laughter fills the cathedral's empty hall, and your face drops. Turning to the altar, Leon subconsciously clutched your arm in his hand as he rose from his spot on the ground.

"So the lambs decided to return to their Shepard after all. But don't worry, you'll soon become one of us, Mr. Kennedy. Then your partner shall fall in line right behind you." Lord Saddler explained as the two of you stood to your feet.

“You're wrong. I don't carry the same blood as you and your men." Leon said, pacing to the foot of the altar.

“Ah but you do, my boy. Once the egg hatches, you will see the true path.” Saddler snickered, waving his hand towards his infested staff.

"Leon, what's he talking about?" You ask, standing at his side.

"Ah, so you don't know, Ms. L/N. You were more than fortunate enough to escape my grasp. It'll be a miracle once you accept this wondrous gift!" Saddler projects, with a smirk lighting up his eerie face.

The Lord's spine-tingling eyes try to break your spirit, but you stand strong beside Leon. Unclipping your own modified handgun, you aim the barrel toward the sadistic leader.

"Nah ah ah. I wouldn't do that if I were you." Saddler mocks you, wagging his finger in your direction.

Your pointer finger barely begins to squeeze the trigger just as Leon begins to heavily wheeze. Reaching for the base of his neck, Leon descends to his knees, as if he can no longer stand up straight.

"Leon, are you alright? Here, take my hand." You instruct never letting go of your gun.

Rejecting your hand, Leon pushes you back causing you to stumble towards a pillar.

"Don't come near me, Y/N! I can't... I can't--" Leon replies, staggering in place.

Beneath his olive skin, a series of dark crimson veins begin to emerge on top of his own. Clasping his hands on his chest, Leon takes in a few uneven gasps out of desperation, hoping, praying for this to just be a bad dream.

"Ah yes, the time has come!" Saddler praises, praising the power before him.

Switching targets, you can't decide whether to aim at Saddler or Leon, you choose the latter. With a firm stance, you begin to march toward Saddler with your gun held high. But before you can reach the foot of the altar, the sight of Leon taking hold of your gun startles you.

Swiping the gun from your hands, the D.S.O. Agent tosses your piece of artillery across the room. Your hands start to shake uncontrollably as you try to cover the gasp that sneaks from your mouth. Gazing over the man who now stood before you, it was as if Leon became a different person in a matter of seconds.

"Exult all! And let it be so!!" Saddler shouts, witnessing the true marvel before him.

Sinking to the very mold of the pillar, your fingers grip the old stone, hoping the cold will soothe your sweaty palms. Watching the dark mass inch its way up Leon's neck, he faces the ceiling. Gritting his teeth together, a terrifying scream escapes Leon's lips, and it shakes you to your very core.

You've never heard Leon scream. Let alone in pain. This man was not your partner, friend, or the man who shared the same infatuation with.

This was not your Leon.

Making eye contact with your gun, you bolt towards it, ducking under Leon's attack. Switching the safety off, you aim the gun at Saddler and shoot. The bullet makes contact with Saddler's shoulder and he falls through a hidden trap door behind the waist-high flat table.

The moment Saddler disappears, Leon collapses to the ground, and the terror that once controlled him is gone. Rushing to his side, the crimson colored veins vanished.

"Leon?" You question, nudging his exposed skin with the butt of your gun.

Jerking awake, Leon held up his hand to see the sight of your gun aimed at him. Wiping his sweaty face, he looks around the cathedral.

"What happened?" He innocently asks, trying to process what had just occurred.

Just like that, it was like a dam opened, and a rush of tears flowed down your face. Standing before you, Leon takes your shoulders in his hands, and leans his forehead against yours.

"You, you lost control, Leon. It's like you... became a different person." You tried to explain through a series of sobs.

"But I didn't, Y/N. I won't let that virus take me. I'm here and I don't plan on going anywhere." Leon whispered to ease your sobs, taking you closer in his arms.

re taglist ~

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[cherry-pop-elf]

Hoof Race

Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Can be read as platonic

I’m going through ALOT because of a dickwad of a piano teacher. So imma just project and vent here. I love piano, but I don’t love the piano teacher. My own personal Umbridge. Bleck. So it’s gonna be sloppily written, projective, just. I’m going through a lot right now. A lot a lot.

Summary: Your first detention with Umbridge. Needless to say, very traumatizing. At least you have a pair of red heads to comfort you. Along with formed an escape plan to get you out of there. With some help

Warnings: Umbridge, scars, blood, depression, anxiety, stress, crying, trauma, Umbridge being Umbridge. Physical Violence against Reader from Umbridge, Humanism(Racism against other species) Surprise Guest Appearance for the Book Lovers from one of our favorite Divination Teachers

“Where is our little lab rat?” Fred huffed, as he was looking around for you. With George trailing behind. Looking in all the directions that Fred wasn’t looking. You had promised to meet them at Hagrid’s to test out a new product to help with calming animals. Something that was more so a Comission’s for Hagrid than anything else. Would be a nice little treat. Tea, fang, and laughter. Just one problem. Where are you?

“Should have never given Harry that map.” George would grumble, as he was getting worried now. Where were you? You aren’t one to break a promise. Especially to miss out on hanging with Hagrid. Who wants to purposely avoid a cozy evening with him? Especially since the twins had hoards of candy to share. If you missed a treat like that, it has to be beyond your control.

“Checked the dorm, checked Myrtle, checked the Requirement’s, checked the green house-“ The twins would finish each others sentences, as they walked. Trying so hard to think of where you could be. That’s when they stopped infront of the Defense Room Doors. They were open, but the office door was closed. They slowly looked to each other, before bolting inside.

“But Miss Umbridge, it hurts-!” They heard you shout, now that they were pressing their ears to the door. “It’s not suppose to feel good, darling. I should have expected such idiocy from someone who found it wise to speak out of turn-“ Umbridge would huff, as her heels could be heard pacing. A mixture of sharp clicks, and your hiccups.

“Mr. Firenze is not a THING-!” You snapped, only for a sharp smack to echo in the room. Made the twins wince, as you hiccuped again. “That beast is indeed that. Why defend that vile creature, when it even identifies itself as a beast-? Hm? Shouldn’t expect much from an idiotic child like yourself.” She lectured on.

“What do we do?” George whispered to Fred. What could they do? She was still a professor after all. Regardless, they had to do something. Anything. SOMETHING. They had to think fast, before you got even more hurt. Or worse. Expelled.

“Twins-?” A voice called itself, making the duo look over. The familiar blonde hair, and clips of hoof steps, made it clear who it was. Their newest teacher, given Umbridge very literally fired their old one. What a god send, as the twins were able to hatch a plan.

“Please please-“ They made praying hand gestures, as they pointed at her door. Making dramatic movements to try and convey they needed a distraction. Not wanting to get detention next. Never thought detention could be worse than anything Snape could offer.

The echo of another slap was what made the ever calm teacher connect the dots. Oh how he dispised such treatment. It was inhuman. That’s saying something from a man who used to live with trantulas the size of buildings. He would quickly motion for the red heads to quickly go hide under the stairs, before he cleared his throat.

“Mistress Umbridge? I need to speak with you about a matter at hand-!” He called, with a hoof stomp for added volume. The duo was quick to run under the stairs, and narrowly miss her gaze. An ever-plastered fake smile was on her lips, as she would walk down the stairs. A twitch to her eye was given, as she was now forced to speak to the centaur.

"Yes, Firenze? Whatever could you need at this late hour?" She asked, while the twins were quick to rush into the classroom. Left quite a sight. There you were, with bloody hands. To bloody to even make out what scars she had to make your write this time. Along with a firm bruise on your cheek, from her had no less. They were enraged, to put it lightly. This was the last time she would ever do this. That was their promise.

They were quick to your side, as you wrapped your arms around them. Your savior. "She just kept insulting him, and it wasn't right. He's a good teacher-" You would sniffle, as George would use his wand to try and clean your hands. He sneered at the words on your skin. Busy with tending to your immediate wounds, as Fred tried to calm you down and explain the plan.

"WAIT WAIT-I UH-I AM JUST A CENATUR! A WITCH LIKE YOURSELF KNOWS MORE THE I!" Firenze shouted, making the twins realize their time was running out. "Just be quiet, and follow our lead-" Fred just said, and you listened. Typical behavior, after all. They were always scheming, and you were happy to get into any mess they offered.

"Well....You are just a centaur. You aren't modern, or cultured, such as myself. I suppose i can remind you how we properly function here." Umbridge would smugly say, as Firenze tried so hard to not roll his eyes. Was worth it, as he was able to watch you be escorted back under the stairs. That firey red hair hidden away. Just in time, because even his calm soul can only take so much.

"Oh dear, Mar's is infront of Saturn. You know what that means, I better return to my classroom-!” She had no idea what that meant, no one did since it was a big lie. Least it sounded good enough to make her scoff. Feeling as though she wasted her time with him. Regardless, she gave a friendly smile. Now walking back towards her office.

The second her back was turned, the blonde stallion quickly motioned for the three of you to hurry to him. Fred and George basically carried you, as they did. Needing to work fast. Was just yanked around like a doll, but there was no choice. The moment Umbridge had gasped, noticing you were gone, you three were on his back.

“Where did-“ But it was faded, as you three were not having a horse ride of your life. Escaping her, this night. Quite the adrenaline rush. Riding the back of your teacher, as he tried to not trip down the stairs. Least you had Fred and George to comfort you. Holding on to the straps on their teachers body, for his supplies, and comforting you.

“Well clean you up, and make sure that this is the last time she ever hurts anyone.” Fred said, with a firm nod. You never thought the twins could look so angry before. Was scary, but also a morbid reassurance. Given Umbridge’s gaslighting was getting to you. Thinking you were a burden, failure, worthless, just horrible. Didn’t even noticed you were starting to cry. It was all too much. The boys would hold you close, and just hold.

“Dreadful woman. Dreadful dreadful just oh so dreadful-“ Firenze would keep on muttering, as he tried to not break an ankle on those ever moving stairs. Full of much spite as anyone else. Suppose that meant the twins had someone on their side, at least.

“You are gonna crash with us tonight.” Fred said to you, as Firenze took that as advice on where to go. Now heading to the Gryffindor common room. “Think of it as a big sleep over. Chilling in the common room’s living space.” George echoed. Childish, but there is joy in childhood. Had you smile in approval.

“Here, allow me to offer some assistance.” Firenze then spoke, as he rummaged in his bag. Still trotting along, as it was just a hallway roam now.

“This should help with your healing and recovery. Sometimes spells can not solve all problems.” And a small bag was offered to you three. Most likely a herbal of some kind. The kind textures were very reassuring. A reminder you weren’t crazy. That she was in the wrong. Not you. Still, made you tremble in fear.

“Gonna be ok. She’s not gonna hurt you anymore.” Fred reassured, with a kiss to your head. Followed by George hugging you tightly. Just helping ground you, as the centaur finally stopped at the painting. She didn’t even ask for the password. As if she wanted to delay much needed rest.

“Rest, if you can. When you join me for our class, tomorrow, you are permitted to not join. You may just relax, and star gaze. That often times relaxes myself.” Firenze offered, as he laid down at the open wall. Allowing you three to get off. He understood you were a victim, and offered sanctuary where he could.

“Thanks…” You sniffled, as to not be rude. He knows, he knows. He gave you a pat on your head, and a smile, before taking his escort away. Leaving you three with your thoughts. The twins mostly thought of how to make whatever happens to Umbridge look like an accident, while you were still shaking from the ordeal. Murder plots can be for another time. You were first.

Escorted to the common room couch, you were as pampered as you could be. Hands properly wrapped, the herbal deal brewed, helping clean up the blood stains, using their latest invention to help clean up your bruise. Just doing what they could, as you sniffled and hiccuped.

Once done, you were soon lying against Fred. With George semi on top of you. As if some kind of pressure therapy. A means to make sure no one could touch you, or sneak up on you. Was nice. What was nicer was the random fellow classmates who walked around. May it to get something to drink, unable to sleep, what have you.

They took notice of you, could quickly grasp it was Umbridge, and let you have your comfort. May it be making sure you three had a blanket, staying extra quiet to not disturb you, or asking if you needed anything. Just some humanity against the darkness.

The comfort of the twins, the easing calm of the tea, and the sound of the ever lit fireplace. It helped you come back to earth again. Just what you needed. Reassurance that you were the victim. Not the other way around. Just deep breaths of fire, cinnamon, and gun powder.

You’ll be ok. You’ll be ok, and the twins promised.

As if they ever would break a promise.

[sw5w]

The March on Theed

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:20:49

[softspeirs]

These Heartbeats Clear (3): Rosie Rosenthal x OC

A/N: I just can’t stop myself from imagining what it was like after the first mission for the Riveters when they get back from the flak house. So here we are. Our friend Grace Fleming is back. This technically takes place after this fic, but you can read them separately from each other. These Heartbeats Clear Masterlist

three - don't break my heart (no promises).

He’s standing outside the officer’s hut, wondering what he’s supposed to do now. He doesn’t want to go inside.

Today’s mission went well, but it doesn’t change the mood that’s hovered over him since his forced break the week before.

He had hesitated at the hatch, that morning. His fingers drumming out a rhythm on the plane, he had shut his eyes, and had to force himself inside.

Hand on his hips, he shakes his head, frustrated with his inability to control his emotions and do his job.

That’s where she finds him.

“Captain Rosenthal?” Her voice cuts through the white noise in his head, jolts him back to the present. He shuts his eyes for a half second, making sure that when he faces her again, his smile is present and accounted for.

He is happy to see her; he doesn’t have to pretend, not really.

“Lieutenant Fleming. Heading home?”

The women’s huts aren’t anywhere near here. He knows that. Knows it means she’s gone out of her way to seek him out, and while that would normally make him grin and arch a playful eyebrow at her until she blushes in that way he’s learning he really enjoys, he can’t find it in him this evening.

She tilts her head. “No. Can’t sleep.”

“The matron’s gonna have your head.”

Can she hear it, he wonders? The way he’s fighting with his own voice not to crack, the way he’s desperately trying to have a casual conversation despite the fact that he knows why she’s here?

She rolls her eyes, takes a step closer to him. “She’s all bark, no bite. Besides, she wouldn't mind that I'm checking on you. Not after--" She stops herself.

It lands between them like an anvil, the elephant in the room they’re both trying to pretend isn’t there.

“You don’t have to check on me.” He says after a few minutes.

“I know. Still wanted to.”

His breath catches in his throat at the sincerity in her voice. Whatever this is between the two of them, he’s both terrified to let her in and fighting the urge to close the distance between them every second they spend together.

It’s just — the last two weeks have been absolute hell, and what kind of ending is he writing for her by letting this thing between them happen? If he gives in to their easy conversation, her gentle smiles and kind eyes… what sort of fate does that leave her with? Another day watching a plane not come back? How could he do that to her?

And that's assuming he's not imagining all the little moments that have stacked up since he got to Thorpe Abbotts - the softly exchanged words, the smiles and the reassurances, the way he can't take his eyes off her when she's in the same room.

“I can hear the gears turning up there.” She says softly. “Are you... are you okay, Rosie?"

He nods. "I'll be fine. It was just tough, getting back in the saddle today. But I'm fine."

“Captain—“

“And I really, really don’t want to talk about it. Please, Grace. I can’t… I have to just go to sleep, put today out of my mind, and try to figure out how the hell I’m going to do this again tomorrow.” Her name escapes him without his permission.

Her eyes widen slightly, but then the look on her face changes. It seems to say two can play this game. “Robert.” She says firmly, eyes narrowing. Something in his chest tightens at the sound of his name in her mouth. “If you keep everything inside, you’re going to break down eventually.”

He knows she’s right, but there’s a part of him itching for a fight. “You don’t understand what it’s like up there, Lieutenant.”

She flinches a little at his tone. He feels guilty for a split second, but he can’t stop himself.

“I never thought twice about doing my job until I got sent away, and I know everyone thinks it was for our own good, but that's not the way I like to do things. I don't like things being left unfinished."

Her gaze is pensive, thoughtful. "It makes sense that you're angry."

“You’re damned right I’m angry. I’m not supposed to be one of the only pilots here. We aren’t supposed to be the only original crews left. But I don't want to sit around and talk about it. If I talk about it, I won’t be able to get back in the plane the next time, and there isn’t anyone left, Grace.” He’s heaving great, shaky breaths by the time he’s finished. He can’t look at her.

“Do you feel better now?” Her voice is surprisingly calm. He expects her to get angry with him right back, or to get upset. He expects her to walk away from him, like he knows she should.

He doesn’t expect her hand, a light touch on his arm. “You’re right, Captain.” She says. “I don’t know what it’s like up there. I don’t know what you’re feeling now and I’ll never be able to fully understand. But those were my friends too, and you're not the only one trying to put before out of your mind.”

He looks up, sees a unique type of hurt in her eyes. Remembers the cackle of Bucky Egan’s laughter at a dry comment she makes to him while he sits on the edge of the table in the pub, letting her worry over a still-too-red cut above his eye.

Remembers her crouching down to ruffle Meatball’s fur, rolling her eyes at DeMarco as he brags about what a good copilot the dog is.

“And I know you have to bury some of it so you can get back in the plane,” she continues, taking a step even closer. “But just promise me that when you do need to talk, you’ll talk to someone. Even if it isn’t me. Because if you don’t, if it gets to you… you might make a mistake up there.”

He opens his mouth automatically to contradict her, but she reaches out to straighten the knot of his scarf before he can speak, continuing, “And if one day that plane doesn’t come back… well, that would well and truly break my heart, Rosie.”

His heart begins to beat again at the combination of her words, her proximity, and the feeling of her hands, her hands that save lives and are so sure and confident, lingering there on his chest.

He’s sure she can feel the rapid pounding of his heart beneath his flight suit.

“I won’t break your heart, Grace.” He says. His voice is like gravel.

He doesn’t promise. She doesn’t ask him to. They both know it’s impossible.

[httyddragonfox]

The Horror of Callum's possession: Season 6 ed.

This has a different tone than season 4, and I'm more talking about the one he doesn't know about. Let's go back to the beginning:

Callum is super worried about Aaravos using him again, so he's gung ho on getting that pearl destroyed so Aaravos will no longer be a threat. Of course, no one is taking precedence on this like he is; Thinking it's better just to keep it safe in the secret dungeon. Callum cannot sleep, thinking about Aaravos controlling him again, seeing as they're technically in the same building now. Of course, Aaravos decides to confirm Callum's worries and controls him. He gets him to access the pearl, and gives him a vision of him being inside the prison while Aaravos smashes it. That's a blatant cue to Callum that Aaravos is going to use him to get out. Callum wakes up and sees that he's holding the pearl, which he knew he didn't go to sleep holding.

I'm surprised he didn't freak out all the way to Rayla's room. Rayla of course doesn't think it's anything serious, while Callum is scared now. He quickly hatches a plan to get Aaravos away from the people he cares about. He has Barius make some candy that looks like the pearl to act as a decoy while the real pearl is taken far away to the icy north, (hopefully to be destroyed), whilst covered with an anti-magic blanket so that Aaravos can't try anything.

[I.E. that must've been some plan of Callum's if Aaravos didn't want it enacted]

They make their way to the star-scraper, after telling the king the plan, assuring him he has nothing to worry about; the pearl will be far away from the kingdom.

Once at the Star-scraper, they discuss on how to destroy Aaravos/the pearl safely. They are told Aaravos cannot be killed. Rayla reacts with a simple, "Oh, that's why they imprisoned him." Meanwhile, Callum is devastated. He really wanted to be rid of this potential threat that would use him and hurt his loved ones. Now he knows he will always somewhat be around. This means that Callum will never be safe. Later on they get a prophecy saying "all I see for you is darkness."

Earlier on, Callum had a fight with Rayla. He admitted he did dark magic again, he knows how vulnerable he is to Aaravos' manipulations and he hates that fact. Now after that prophecy, he can't help but think about how Aaravos told him he'll be his one day. According to Callum, he can't sleep because he's too anxious. As Callum said, "he's ruined;" Callum thinks he's doomed to be Aaravos' puppet, knowing that there's no way to kill him, and he has darkness inside of him. Callum knows he's a threat to his friends and family.

Rayla tries to assure him that maybe they can just leave the pearl there, as at least it would be out of the way. They ask the celestial elves to help them, and this is where the horror part comes into play.

In the alternate future, Kosmo tells them that the pearl is actually fake. When Callum hears this, he realizes many things.

No one at Katollis knows the real prison is there, so they're no on guard in case someone comes for it.

Even if they had found a way to kill Aaravos, he wouldn't have been there to deal with. He escaped.

They went all this way to keep him far away from everyone, and that didn't work.

Thanks to Rayla (but I think he already knew), Aaravos controlled him again! Not only that...but he didn't even notice!

That's like being hacked but not even noticing until your friends start getting weird messages you never sent. Callum would feel he'd have no control, not even being sure when he does have control. Seeing as he can't notice when it's happening anymore.

They try to tell him about a ritual to cleanse the darkness from him so he won't be controlled anymore, but Callum would feel so violated and helpless that nothing could save him from being Aaravos' pawn. I'd feel like I'd mess that up too (maybe Aaravos would control me in the middle of it to keep me as his pawn or worse kill me).

Whelp...Kosmo decides not to tell Callum, because the better course of action would be to cleanse him to avoid Aaravos controlling him again.

Still it's terrifying knowing Aaravos could control him at any moment and Callum wouldn't even be aware of it.

If you want to read about how one might feel about the rest of the episode Link here

[puhpandas]

balloon world is GGY's princess quest theory:

so theres been speculation that Balloon world in SB is like Dr Rabbits equivalent of princess quest for Vanny because of the purple glitches inside. im here to add on some evidence to that theory

so ruin confirmed that the Princess Quest ending (free vanny) is canon. it hints at it multiple times and it pretty much confirmed. epecially with THIS room in ruin.

the third princess quest (aka the cabinet that freed vanny plus killed glitchtrap) is shown on its side with a sword driven through it. implying its been conquered and shut down.

its this exact theme that made me notice it in balloon world as well.

in ruin, the room with the balloon world arcade cabinet is still accessible, even though it seemingly has no impact on the story (it was famous for being disappointing when sb first released). in that room, balloon world is also shattered. and when you put on the mask, like seeing the sword driven in princess quest with the mask on, you see this.

the eclipse from balloon world is shown outside the cabinet in the AR world like the sword in PQ.

this is what the game looks like normally:

and by normally i mean ONLY when you glitch it out. this screenshot is a product of using the games mechanics to reach multiple PURPLE glitches across the arcade game. and multiple (meaningless) messages appear as well. That same eclipse is shown outside the machine in ruin.

we know pretty much nothing about ggy outside of the book. so here is what i think happened by this evidence along with more from the games in general:

pre sb, very close to the actual games events, gregory had been glitchtrapped just like vanessa before suddenly freeing himself on accident. this could have happened from anything, but my idea right now is that ggy found the secret room and unknowlingly played the game that held his free will because of his love for arcade games (shown in his high scores)

queue gregory getting freed from glitchtrap and waking up with amnesia pre sb. hes stuck in the pizzaplex with no memory and is freaking out. vanny and glitchtrap immediately know he isnt under control anymore. vanny goes after him herself, posing as vanessa during business hours

gregory escapes and after freddy crashes on stage, he hides in his stomach hatch. queue security breach, where vanny sends the animatronics after gregory to bring him back to re-glitchtrap him/just kill him so he doesnt tattle (let me take you to your parents/your family is looking for you)

due to the content massacre in sb, we can only guess if balloon world had ggy hints or if it meant anything before they removed any mention at all. eclipse feels like a last minute filler, and that could work in canon too. maybe eclipse was the games way of filling that hole gregorys conciousness left in the game

and when everything is said and done post SB, when gregory kills glitchtrap for good in princess quest, the machine breaks. and anything related to the VANNI network/glitchtrap virus is leaking out into the AR world, but contained in the pizzaplex.

and thats what i think :) this amnesia + ggy theory for gregory can also work with cut voicelines from security breach + ruin. it seems like gregory still doesnt fully remember/understand that he was glitchtrapped, and him seemingly being best friends with cassie but not contacting her at all after going missing is explained by the fact that he literally didnt remember her until he saw that she existed.

and maybe the memories started coming back after that, setting up for him eventually remembering all that he did as ggy

not to mention how a ggy reveal would perfectly explain why gregory would cut the elevator if it really was him. it would at least add context.

[lilacella]

🎂 Sirius' Birthday Week Day 6: Birthday Ficlet!

This was supposed to be cute and cozy but somehow it got quite angsty 😬. Sadly, I don't get to choose what the parasites make me write so I hope you enjoy!

You can read this as romantic prongsfoot or not (though I personally encourage you to ☺️).

Birthday Boy (ao3) T rated | 1,2k

"Happy Birthday."

James' quiet voice rips Sirius from his thoughts. A smile creeps onto his face as he turns around to his best friend, who has just emerged from the roof hatch.

The roof of Gryffindor tower has always been Sirius' favorite spot. Especially when it is dark, like now. It is calm and quiet. He can overlook the entirety of the schoolgrounds, right up to the Quidditch field - but noone can see him. Hidden between the chimneys, wrapped in a thick blanket against the cold, he sits and observes the depths that lurk only a meter away from his feet.

On the roof, it's just him, his thoughts and the wind. Noone bothers him up here. Noone, except the people he doesn't mind being bothered by.

Which brings us back to James.

In one hand he is carefully balancing a tiny cake that is too small for the fullsize candle stick James has stuck in the middle. The other is busy clutching two opened bottles of beer. Why he isn't just using a levitation spell escapes Sirius' understanding, but he has to admit that James' focused expression adds to the charm of the scene.

"How's the party going?," Sirius asks nonchalantly and reaches out to relief James of one of the bottles.

"Suprisingly good, considering the fact that the birthday boy has fucked off to the roof before it even started." James drops down next to him and places the cake in front of Sirius' crossed legs. The light of the candle flickers defiantly in the wind.

"Thank you," Sirius says and trails a thoughtful finger through the molten wax dripping down the side of his cake decoration.

James rubs his arms through his sweater. "Aren't you getting cold?"

Sirius wordlessly lifts one side of his blanket and lets James huddle up to him.

He knows what James will say before he does.

"I'm alright, Prongs."

"Are you sure? Because you've got a warm common room full of people waiting for you with presents, and yet here you are, sitting on the roof in the dark like a bloody gargoyle."

"I wasn't the one who invited them."

James sighs. "Well, I'm sorry that I assumed you would want to celebrate your 17th. My bad." He picks a crumb off the cake and eats it, staring straight into the night.

Sirius nudges his shoulder apologetically. "I do. Just not...not down there."

James turns and looks at him thoughtfully.

"You know, Pads... I know you. I know you really damn well. But sometimes I don't get you."

Sirius isn't sure why that sentence stings so much. Maybe he's just sensitive today. He turns away so James doesn't see the tears suddenly prickling in his eyes, threatening to spill.

He feels how James' arm snakes around his waist and how his chin is coming to a rest on his shoulder.

"Talk to me."

It isn't a demand. Not even a request. More like a plea, murmured softly into the wind rushing past his ears.

Sirius hates talking about his feelings. Damn, he hates feeling his feelings. Sometimes they feel like an endless lake threatening to drown him in its bottomless darkness.

But right now he is on the roof. Hidden from views. Just him, his feelings and the smell of frost in the air - the first snow only a few days away. And James.

So it's alright to talk. Up here, nothing he mutters into the darkness really counts. It will simply be swallowed by the night.

"I always thought I would be happy. Once I turn 17. Do you know how long I've been waiting for this day? To finally be of age, out of their control..."

It is a silly question. Of course James knows.

"I always thought I would be happy. Overjoyed, jumping around, singing songs on the fucking table." Sirius takes a swig of his beer. "But I am not. I'm not happy James. Why am I not happy?"

Now the tears fall after all. It doesn't matter. Not here. He takes another big gulp and washes the salty taste off his upper lip.

A gust of wind tugs at his hair, probably blowing it into James' face. If it does, he doesn't complain.

"Do you miss them?," James asks.

The question feels like a punch to his chest and he chokes out a startled sob. The candlelight in front of him goes blurry.

He doesn't know how to answer. He doesn't. He hates them. He is glad he has left. But also he does.

"I think I just miss what could have been."

James nods as if Sirius' words had made any sense. Maybe they did.

"I don't want to go back. I don't want them to come after me. I'm glad they are leaving me alone. But... But it still hurts." He takes a shaky breath. "I always thought they would fight me, you know? Come after me, turn up at the station, write me threatening letters or something. I've spent the past years being terrified of that. And now - Nothing. And I should be glad. I should be relieved. But somehow..." He trails off.

"It hurts," James completes the sentence for him. His fingers rub calming circles on his side.

Sirius wipes at his tears.

"I guess now it is over. After today... After today there's no going back." He angrily shakes his head.

"And I don't want to go back! Fuck them! It's just... It feels weird they gave up so easily. And..." His stupid voice breaks.

"And this is the first birthday they didn't send me a letter."

His tears run down his cheeks like a hot river, almost steaming in the chilly november air.

He has always hated the letters his parents used to write him on his birthday. They sounded formal and fake and always included at least one backhanded compliment, trying to nudge him towards the behavior they deemed fit for a heir of the noble and most ancient house of black. He often burned them halfway through reading them. But somehow the absence of the black envelope on the breakfast table this morning had made him loose his appetite.

It infuriates him. He has left and yet they still seem to hold so much power over him. Ruin his fucking birthday, even! He chokes out another sob.

James gives him a firm squeeze.

"You'll always have me," he states matter of factly.

Sirius smiles through his tears and turns towards him, leans his forehead against his.

"I know," he croaks.

Sirius can feel the warmth emanating from James' skin on his own. He is glad he has come up here.

"You'll never spend a birthday without me again. No matter where you hide, I will find you!"

"I know," Sirius sniffs.

"I love you, mate." James cups his face and wipes the tears off his cheeks with his thumbs.

"I know," Sirius says and tries to find James' eyes behind his glasses but he can only see his own puffy-faced reflection.

I love you too.

James smiles as if he had heard his thoughts. "Then blow out the candle, git."

He does, wishing for James' promise to come true.