#doing foliage is a drug

[sadlad03]

[devotion-disorder]

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again. 

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think. 

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently. 

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight. 

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”

[envy-of-the-apple]

ive been really obsessed with your gojo/geto naga oneshots and asks lately it feels like literal brain rot at this point its so good. ive reread it 6 times lol

i was wondering though, what would Geto do if Gojo was just a little bit too heavy handed with you? to the point of a sprained or broken arm or leg. Would he get mad at Gojo or just mad in general that reader was hurt? Also how would they act in response to the injured reader who can't do basic tasks themselves, I personally think they would enjoy the fact she relied on them even more to even move now.

Reminder requests are still closed!!!! I just love this idea so so much holdon lemme-

Part one Part three

(Yandere, dark, implied forced relationships, noncon touching, biting, language barriers, drugging(?))

Top of the Food Chain pt2

Dark!Naga!SatoSugu x reader

Two days later, Satoru still wasn't allowed inside the cave.

You can hear him, hissing and clicking, right outside, hovering just behind the invisible line Suguru refused to let him pass. If you weren't already in so much pain, you would have found pity on the poor thing. He wasn't allowed in his own home, even though the incident wasn't entirely his fault.

Technically, Satoru saved you. It was yet again another escape attempt. Something you'd been doing a lot these days once you've figured out these beings' intentions with you. You'd gotten past the rock quarry this time, a new record. Your plan was filled with holes: there was no way to truly escape the island. You had no boat, no way to call for help. Still, you ran, forgetting that there were more dangerous things on this island other than two territorial serpent men.

It was a monster. There was no other way to describe it. Big, ugly, shiny spikes and sharp teeth, eyes dripping with bloodlust. You would have been eaten, killed, maimed, if Satoru hadn't caught up with you in time.

The only collateral was the loss of nearby plant life and your broken wrist.

That had been Satoru's fault. He'd pulled at you too hard at the hand. The remnants of adrenaline from the fight, his anger, anger made him too rough on your fragile body. He froze at the wet snap, and then you started screaming. That was how Suguru had found you. Despite how much Satoru clicked and hummed and tittered, from his mate's look, you doubted it helped his case.

Another lonely coo made you wince. Suguru only huffed, wrapping you tighter in his coils. They were already warm from your body heat. The numerous animal pelts helped your comfort too.

"Make him stop," you beg, "he's been going on for hours."

At that, Suguru lifts his head from the base of your neck. He tilts his head as he surveys you, and you can't help but think how awful you must look. Sickly-looking from the pain, clammy skin. He can't do much about your appearance, but the least he could do was shut Satoru up.

"What want?" Suguru asks, "water?"

At that, he picks up a sack filled with sea-smelling water. You wrinkle your nose, turning away, cocooning yourself within his coils. With the increased pain, your appetite has decreased, as well as your thirst. The stress of being trapped like this along with your broken wrist was starting to take its toll on your body.

Suguru makes a sound of disapproval, shuffling around behind you. You know he's still mad about the escape attempt, but he's concerned enough for your well-being to put his anger to the side for now. He'd helped wrap your wrist, using something stretchy and soft.

You raise your wrist up, inspecting the thin material wrapped around your wrist. You're not sure what it is, it's too silky to resemble cotton. It must be from the foliage around the island. Yet, another strange thing you'd never find the answer to.

There's another rumble coming from the Naga's chest. He wraps a hand around your chin, bringing your face closer. In his other, he holds the dripping sack.

"Suguru," it's too soft to be anything more than a whine, "it hurts too much to take anything right now. Stop."

"Hurt?" he asks.

To that, you gesture to your broken wrist. It may not have been broken, you were no doctor, so you couldn't say for certain. But considering you'd been in the same amount of pain for two days, it really didn't matter to you.

A click, before he's tossing a glare at the entrance of the cave. He'd already given Satoru a beating right before coming to coddle you. Despite being bigger than his mate, Satoru is docile enough to take them. Suguru had been acting more aggressive lately. You had a feeling it was your fault.

He'd been inspecting your wrist every so often, but you see a different look within his brown eyes now as he takes your injured hand. He carefully turns your palm over, pressing slightly into your wrist. When you yelp, he retracts.

"Hurt." Suguru confirms. You can only nod.

"Hurt. No drink? No eat?" You don't like the way he's talking. As if he's putting a puzzle piece together. Coming to a solution you won't like.

When you go to pull away, his grip only tightens.

"No hurt," he says it like a promise, as though you're a toddler and he's coaxing you into drinking a sour-tasting medicine. His lips part, revealing the fangs you've often seen him use on meat, on Satoru.

Never did you think he'd ever use them on you.

"Suguru," you're pleading, trying to move away when he bends down, his hair brushing your sweaty forehead. You can feel his breath on your neck.

"No hurt," he repeats, and then he bites down.

He lied, of course, he did. His teeth puncture your skin, tearing through like paper. You think you screamed, or maybe it was more akin to a pitiful whimper. In the background, you can hear someone hiss, Satoru maybe?

For a second, you feel everything, the pain, the puncture wound, Suguru lightly licking your neck.

And then, you feel weightless.

It's hard to describe, but your brain feels like it's turned to mush. Your body feels like you're on a soft cloud, just there, floating. In the back of your mind, you remember how dazed Satoru would get whenever Suguru bit him. At the time, you just thought he was lovestruck.

When Suguru pulls away, he's smiling. A trail of blood, your blood goes down his lip. You can barely keep your eyes on him, close to falling asleep.

"No hurt," he says. When he leans down to kiss you, you accept without a single fuss.

You don't remember much after that, but you remember accepting whatever Suguru put in your mouth. The panic in your body was non-existent as he held the water-sack above your lips, watching as your throat bobbed. You think he kissed you a few more times, but you're not too sure. You were a lot more averse to kissing before. It'd make sense he'd take advantage of it.

When you wake up again, you're in between two bodies. The pain in your wrist is still there, but not as horrible as before. You're still groggy, mind fuzzy. Whatever Suguru had given you was still in effect.

Satoru is the first to notice you're awake. Suguru and him must have made up during the time you were unconscious. He props himself up, peering down at you. With how dim the cave is, you can barely make out his features. He looks just as guilty as he had two days ago.

"Sorry," he mutters, "is sorry."

If you weren't still high, you might have laughed. When you continue to stare, he takes it in stride, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then your lips. You wince in distaste, leaning back.

"Stop," you say but don't fight when he licks at your jaw. You can barely move your fingers.

Panic is still far away, a distant call than anything alarming. It should worry you, but you still can't feel anything.

Suguru is at your back. You can hear his scales move across the cavern floor. He gives a hum, content as he curls himself around you. He doesn't seem to mind Satoru's touches. Your theory that they must have made up is unfortunately starting to strengthen.

You could barely manage Suguru's coddlings. You don't think you'll survive Satoru's.

"Sorry," he mouths into your neck. You can feel the grip on your waist starting to tighten. He stops, rising up to stare at you.

Blue, almost glowing.

"But no more leave."

You're coherent enough to piece together what he means. You can't escape Satoru. You can't escape Suguru. You can't leave this island. Running away is useless.

The nagas understood it. It's time you did too.

"Yes," you finally say, "no more leave."

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Building a Hornet’s Nest

Male Wasp Hybrid Harem x Feminized Male Reader (CW: Noncon, musk, pheromones, bukkake, gangbang, double penetration, wasp men, oviposition, feminized male reader, drug-like cum, wasp transformation, DNA manipulation, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 3.7k (Sorry that this took so long. Sorry that this is so weird. I hope some people can find the degeneracy within themselves to enjoy it.) 

When your distant uncle had passed away and left you a property you were surprised to say the least. You were more surprised to learn that it was on Arcadia and that your uncle had never lived long enough to go and see it as he had been ill for some time before his passing and he was not particularly old either. Years ago, unknown to most of the family, he had procured a modest plot of land on Arcadia, a distant planet on the fringes of known space. A true modern day frontier. It was known for its mega-flora. With flowers that grew to the size of trees in some cases. It was also known for its giant docile bees. They were just like bees on Earth except much much larger and they were stingless, it was very easy to domesticate them and now people used them on Arcadia to develop many rare and exotic honey types from the strange alien flowers. Your uncle had wanted to be a beekeeper, he was apparently going to invite you on the venture with him seeing as how you were both into farming and working the land and you had helped him with his beekeeping when you were younger, but he never recovered from his illness so you did not find out until his death. With only a bit of hesitance you decided to pursue your uncle’s dream. When you first got to Arcadia you were in awe by how tranquil and picturesque it was, the pictures and videos that you had seen certainly did it no justice. Unlike Earth most of the foliage was various shades of red, orange, and yellow. Giant blooms of every shape and color imaginable were everywhere, with the exception of the clearing that a small settlement had been built in. Despite being here for a few decades it was still very much a quaint little frontier town, pleasant enough people, offering just the bare essential services. Then there was your new plot of land a few miles from town. It was… run down… to say the least. But you made due, you had sold everything of significant value that you had owned back on Earth and were fully committing to this new venture. And, after a few months, your efforts finally paid off. A giant mansion sized barn for your future bees was built and your house was repaired. All that was left to do was wait for your shipment of buzzy friends to arrive. Well they wouldn’t be so busy when they arrived, as they would still be pupa, but within a week or two the pupa would be finished developing into full sized giant docile bees, they would accept the barn as their home and set up shop. The day came when your shipment finally landed and you were so thrilled, they came off the hover truck and you hurried them into their new home, carefully placing them horizontally into cells in the walls and capping them. In truth you had been more than a bit worried, you were running perilously low on funds and had to go with a discount bee supplier that seemed just a slight bit unreliable. But it seemed you had worried for nothing, here were your bee pupa, nice and healthy. Though they did seem to be a slightly different shape than they looked from the advertisements and videos, you were sure that nothing was wrong. You could barely contain your excitement, you had heard that these bees easily imprint on their humans and are very loving, soon they would establish a hive and your goals would be obtained. It would be slow at first, as you only had enough to get three pupa, but you would get there eventually. You couldn’t stop yourself from checking the barn every few hours. 9 or 10 times each and every single day. The wait was torture. But finally, after about 12 days, you heard buzzing coming from the barn when you stepped out of your house in the morning, you practically tripped over yourself running back inside to grab the collars for them and then dashed back outside and across the field of flowers you had started to grow for them. You opened the door to the barn and… it was NOT what you were expecting. The three pupa were no longer in the cells you had packed them so lovingly into, but they sure as hell were not bees either. Instead, standing before you were three wasp-men. You knew what these were, genetically engineered human-wasp hybrids, that typically had smaller genetic contributions from several ant and bee species as well, that were typically used in highly regulated projects or otherwise extremely shady sources of labor on the very unregulated frontier planets. The question was how did you get them? Did someone’s order get mixed with yours? With how much energy and enthusiasm you opened the door with, they were all now intently staring at you, and to say that they were intimidating would have been an understatement. They all looked fairly similar to one another, red and yellow plates of chitinous exoskeletons covered their feet, arms, legs, chests, and backs. The only thing lacking the exoskeletons were their faces, abs, asses, and crotches. Which were very much exposed, showing off scarily long cocks and heavy balls. They had red bug-like eyes, they had fangs but otherwise regular mouths, but they sat between a set of wicked looking mandibles. Antenna twitched on their heads, sticking out from long blood red hair. Each had a set of large wings folded behind them. Their antennas twitched in your direction as they also sniffed the air curiously. Uh-oh. They were from a shady source so who knows how unpredictably they could act towards you, so you wisely decided to make a hasty retreat, but they quickly flew over to you and pulled you back deeper into the building. “Where’s the rush?” one of them inquired in a slightly buzzing but deep voice, “Me and my friends just woke up here and need some answers.” “Uh-uh okay, sure, what do you want to know?” The one speaking put his arm roughly around your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Well, we are looking for the person meant to be our queen, do you know where they are? Your scent is the only one here. Did you put us in the wall compartments?” “There isn’t any queen, but y-yeah I was the one who bought your pupa and put them in there.” He took a moment to feel you over with his antenna, it probably would have tickled had you not been scared shitless. “Sooo… you’re the queen? Or are you under someone??” “There isn't one! And I own this land and made this building for bees…” One of the other two wasp men chimed in at this. “Ha! Bees? Those weak passive ones that have no human in em and are about as smart as a pet dog? You’re lucky you got us instead, we are far superior!” The one holding you now much too tightly replied while flexing his free arm,”He’s right, we are much better. You really lucked out little queen~ We can keep you much safer.” He licked up your neck with a long narrow tongue making you shiver. “I told you, there isn’t a queen!” You were beginning to grow annoyed with the cyclic nature of this conversation. “You bought us? You own this territory? You put us in cells so we could grow?” “W-well yeah but… I’m n-not-” “You’re our queen then~ Don’t be scared we’ll keep you all safe from the big scary world! You’re far too weak and squishy to just be left alone.” “Ha! Yeah, just a pathetic squishy little human,” the third one that had been silent up until now chuckled as he poked you hard in the stomach. The one holding you grinded gently into your ass, his cock fully erect and prodding your cheeks. “This ass is soft too~ Bet it feels great inside, doesn’t it little queen?” “S-stop, please, I’m not a w-woman!” “Awe, our queen is a bit dumb too~ Good thing we came along to take care of you. It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re our queen yet, we’ll rape you full of our eggs. You’ll look so lovely full of our spawn~” As he said all of this he began to gently rub his hand against your crotch and the other two hybrid men stepped closer. Between the unwanted touching and the mention of the word rape you decided it may be worth the risk to try and escape anyway, but your struggles didn’t last long. The man holding you shook you a bit violently until you were unsteady and still and then held the top of his wrist to your neck. A long thick black needle protruded from his wrist and was pointed at you threateningly. You turned away, trying to put as much space between your neck and the sinister looking needle as possible. “Maybe you aren’t too dumb, you know what this does don’t you my queen? It’ll hurt terribly before paralyzing you and allowing us to play with you at our leisure and make you fulfill your royal duty~” You let out a pathetic whimper in response. “Oh, don’t worry, I don’t want to use it. How can you squirm around my dick if I did? So just relax and let this happen the easier, more fun way, okay?” He nibbled on your earlobe and you went completely limp in his grasp, signaling that you wouldn’t put up anymore of a fight. “Heh heh, excellent choice, my queen~” The other two wasps chuckled cruelly as well as one pulled your shirt off and the other wasted no time in unburdening you of your pants and boxers. They stared at you hungrily. Your nudity only fueled your fear and you had to stifle your instinct to flail, thrash, punch, and run. But doing so would surely make things much worse for you, better to just let them have their way and get it over with and hope you could sneak out after maybe when they were sleeping or otherwise distracted. You could feel the cock of the hybrid behind you gently rubbing against your hole as he licked and bit at your neck. He bent down behind you and spread your cheeks, making you shudder as an inhumanly long tongue prodded your hole before sliding in deep, stretching you out gently as it probed and making you twitch and grow hard as it found and focused on your prostate. The genetics for their tongues definitely came from long tongued bees. The wasp man behind you got up and resumed pressing his cock into your hole. “Just getting you good and ready queen~” He whispered softly into your ear. His large cock mercifully massaged copious amounts of thick precum into you to prep you for breeding. At least the entry wouldn’t be unstretched or dry, because that’s not something you would have put past them. The other two wasps were busy rubbing their hands all over your body, rubbing your belly, groping your ass cheeks, stroking your face with surprising tenderness, and contrasting that with rough greedy groping of your soft thighs and tugging at your hair. As the one behind you slipped inside your well lubed ass a second wasp enveloped your hard cock entirely within its mouth while the third kissed you passionately, its tongue fervently exploring every inch of your mouth. You couldn’t even yell in pleasure or protest the pain of having your ass invaded by a large inhuman cock as the long thin went down your throat, making you gag a bit. Finally respecting your need to breathe, the wasp removed itself from your face and began biting your sensitive neck, adding to the complete overly stimulating waves of sensation already being caused by having your dick enveloped by a hot mouth and your prostate gently kissed by the rhythmic thrusts of the other two insectoid men. The one attending your cock took his free hand to massage your balls and that led you to possibly the quickest orgasm of your life. In any other situation you would have been totally humiliated, but you were long past having any dignity today. The one behind you did not relent in his fucking of you, but instead picked up the pace a bit as he felt your body shudder, the one sucking you off hungrily swallowed your load before licking his lips and getting up. “My, you were really pent up my queen, and you produce such sweet honey for me!” He pressed his lips to yours, letting the taste of your own cum permeate your mouth. Between the kiss and the constant pounding of your ass you whimpered as you were already hard again, the wasp that had previously had its tongue down your throat now replacing the one that swallowed your cum at your cock, kissing the sensitive organ before licking it and sucking your recently emptied nuts. You whimpered as they continued to manhandle your sensitive body. The one pumping into your tight hole finally slamming in hard and cumming forcefully, depositing something round and hard into you as he did, making you flinch a bit in surprise as you remembered that they reproduced via eggs, it did not really hurt, but you felt a tingling inside where the waspoid cum touched you. The cock inside you lingered a while as it filled you but once it slid out and away from you your ass’ rest was short lived. One of the wasps laid with his back on the ground and with his cock pointing up, the other two bringing you over to him and forcing you to lower yourself onto his eager, drooling, prick. Your well stretched hole slid on him easily and he gripped you tight and forced you up and down on his length. That special spot inside you was rubbed once more, making you shudder in unwilling pleasure, your body completely betraying you. The pace was slow enough for you, and surprisingly he seemed unwilling to seriously injure his “queen”. As you were finally getting used to the motions one of the other wasps, the one that had already filled your ass, came up behind and slid his cock back inside you with his friend’s so that you were now being plowed in tandem by the both of them. As you gasped from the sudden extra intrusion abusing your insides the third wasp took advantage of your open mouth and wasted no time in putting his dick in your open mouth. You could taste his precum, oddly enough it had just a slight soothing effect and you noticed it tasted of honey. Filled to the brim with cock, you started to get a bit more relaxed as time went on, not overly so. You were still very unwilling and any pleasure was purely physical, incidental, and frustrating, but whatever was in the honey like fluid dripping from his cock was definitely making you a bit less stiff and just a tad bit less defiant. While this was happening you thought you could remember hearing something about this, that modified wasp and bee species made substances that could calm down their queens when distressed, both in fluids and via pheromones. And now that you thought about it the musk that hung heavily in the air was strangely comforting, it was like the more of the precum that dripped down your throat the more you were affected by the smell that these men were giving off. Not nearly enough to really lose yourself though, it was far more subtle than that. It was also probably why you did not feel too much pain anymore despite two dicks pistoning your ass, as one cock thrust forward the other pulled back. All the while the one occupying your mouth was happily pumping away, content with enjoying the wet warmth of your mouth as he fed you more pre. Between all the sensations overtaking your body, the cocks sliding in and out of you, the pheromones and relaxing fluid, and the hands roaming over your sides, face, and thighs, you couldn’t help but blow another load, right on the wasp that was below you. “See? It feels good to be our queen, doesn’t it,” he asked with a mocking chuckle knowing full well it was just your body’s response and it didn’t mean you were enjoying your predicament. After several minutes the one making you suck him pulled out and moaned as he came all over your face, covering you in warm slippery fluid. There were no eggs in this ejaculation, he was certainly saving all of those to be deposited deep inside you to go along with his friend’s. Your skin tingled a bit where the cum touched you and you began to feel just a bit dizzy as your inhibitions slowly lowered just a bit and you became even more relaxed. The cum was much more potent than just the precum and the load up your ass was gradually affecting you as well. Musk permeating the air was much thicker than it had been, or maybe you just noticed it more now, but it was making you drool a bit and you couldn’t help but bounce back a bit against the dicks in your suddenly hungry hole. “I feel really weird… can we stop now…” You stifled a cry, something wasn’t right, you were much more sensitive than normal to everything and you were having difficulty thinking clearly. The wasps all smirked as they ignored you, knowing that their fluid was slowly turning you into a weak little queen they could worship and fill with egg after egg. It was slowly changing your very DNA, making you receptive to hybrid pheromones, making you crave them. The one that had previously unloaded in you pulled out and came all over your back. Moments later the one below you working you on his shaft like some kind of living sex toy slammed you down to the base of his cock and filled you deeply with even more eggs and semen, causing you to spasm and moan weakly with a dry orgasm of your own. “Fuck! You’re a great incubator!” While you were panting and trying to recover the wasp previously abusing your mouth unceremoniously pulled you off the cock you were on and gripped you tight from behind, his erection easily sliding in your cum leaking entrance. “Not done yet, being queen is very busy work, you have to take my eggs too~” “P-please no more, I-I feel funny,” you pleaded desperately as your head was swimming with mixed signals. You knew you didn’t want this but you were so light headed you could barely think, and now these wasp men smelled so alluring, and wouldn’t having more eggs in you feel so nice? “I-I n-need to s-stop…” You felt an instinctual need to keep letting them fill you up, but at the same time you were burning up and truly felt feeble and sick. “Shhh, shhh, just relax, okay? You have been such a good mate for us so far~” He licked a long stripe up your neck with his thin tongue and held you tighter as he continued grinding into you. Without warning he started flying a few feet in the air while still breeding you, his insect instincts telling him to give you a proper nuptial flight. In no time the other wasps joined in as well, both of them in front of you, tending to their precious queen. Rubbing you up and down, smearing the fluid that covered you into your skin, giving little kisses and nibbles, and caresses where they saw fit. They were a bit brutish, but they knew the transition occurring in all of your cells was a rough one and they wanted to help their queen embrace his new role as easily as possible, especially since you had been such a perfect weak little mate for them. You would have continued to beg for them to stop, but it felt so nice now. And it would have been so ungrateful. These nice men were taking care of you so sweetly, giving you lots of eggs to tend to, choosing you to take care of them. It made you feel fluttery in the pit of your stomach. You were so lucky. With a shudder the final load of eggs was unloaded into you, the wasp man behind you wrapping his legs around yours as he came. They all gently lowered you to the ground, one of them keeping you in his arms with you leaning against him and burying your head in his neck before passing out from sheer exhaustion. The wasps’ fluids were still hard at work rewriting your DNA, somewhat like a virus. It was definitely taking a toll on you. Your harem of wasp-men took you to your house and had you all washed up and bundled in your bed, keeping a dedicated vigil over you as you had a deep but feverish sleep. They did not like seeing you uncomfortable, unless it was from them teasing you. But they knew it would be worth it, when you woke up in a few days you would be totally dependent on them. Your new insect DNA demanding you to always be by one of them for safety and telling you that you would constantly need to be incubating their eggs. Their pheromones would comfort, alert, or arouse you based on what they needed to communicate and you would produce some as well that allowed them to track you and be aware of your condition. You’d even grow antenna and your skin would take a reddish tone. You would technically be a wasp hybrid yourself, but that would be the extent of your transformation. Just a weak incubator hopelessly dependent on them for the rest of your life.

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

omg omg i need weird!reader and rafe walking around the woods and reader getting horny so rafe fucks her real good kdjwoqywlsbqks i cant

A million times yes. This is so them I’m obsessed. Thank you for this idea nonnie! Fucking outside, choking, rough unprotected sex, bondage, lil bit of breeding kink, spanking(with a belt), and a lil bit of fluff at the end, as a treat. A lil over 2k words. 18+MDNI!!

It was an average Saturday afternoon for you and Rafe. You drug him out to some random ass spot in the woods for one of your impromptu photo shoots and also “to look for cool rocks” in your own words. Rafe used to act semi annoyed that you turned him into a trained Instagram boyfriend but at this point he’s happy to do it. He loves watching you get dressed in your pretty little outfits and how you always have a vision down to the scenery. He adores your creativity.

After he had snapped probably over a hundred photos of you the two of you slowly made your way back to the car. You weren’t in any hurry. It was a beautiful day as the sun started to set into dusk, the glowing golden light shining through the branches of the trees as a perfect temperature breeze blew through your hair. You look at your boyfriend with heart eyes as he treks through the crunchy foliage with his hand in yours. His white tee is taunt around his shoulders and it’s just short enough that everytime he lifts his arms just right it reveals a sliver of his waist. The dark washed jeans he’s wearing are hugging his ass just right and there was just something about him in a SnapBack that made you feel especially feral. It didn’t hurt that he did all of this just for you, who could blame you if you wanted him to fuck you into the dirty forest floor.

“Heeeeyyy, Raafeee.” You call out to him in a sing song tone that causes him to let out a sigh because you only use that tone when you want something or you’re about to ask him some outlandish shit.

“What is it, princess?” His steps come to a halt and he turns his large frame towards you as he gives you a skeptical look.

“Do you wanna fuck?” You look up at him with a devilish smirk that completely contradicts how much of an angel you look like right now. The sun is shining through the trees down onto you like a spotlight in that pretty little white dress and sometimes he truly can’t believe you’re real.

“Right now?” Rafe chuckles as he returns your smirk with one of his own.

“Yeah, right fuckin’ now, baby. I want you to fuck me into the dirt.” Your voice is saccharine as you close the distance between you and lace your fingers in the soft cotton material of his shirt.

“God, I fuckin’ love you, you know that?” The corner of Rafe’s lips quirk into a smirk and his hands snake around you to grab onto your ass through the thin material of your dress.

“Yeah? You’re pretty alright too, I guess.” You giggle and lean towards him so your bodies are flush against each other as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Good. Because I’m about to fuck you into the ground like a dirty little whore.” Rafe starts to walk you until your back is pressed against a nearby tree before wrapping his hand around your throat and using his grip to connect your lips in a messy, wet kiss. Rafe grabs onto your hips and flips you so you're facing the tree. He grips onto your wrists so he can guide your hands to rest against the rough bark as his knee pushes your legs open at the same time. His palms run down your arms to your lower back where he pushes until you’re arched enough for his liking.

“Oh, look at you. You look so pretty in this dress baby. Like a fuckin’ Angel or some shit.” He runs his hands over your asscheeks before grabbing onto them roughly squeezing and jiggling your plush skin. “Too bad I’m gonna get you all dirty…”

He roughly pushes your dress up before cracking his hands down on both sides of your ass.

“Oh fuuuck.” You whine and moan as he spanks you again and again.

“Get this shit outta my fuckin’ way.” His fingers loop through the holes in your white fishnets before tearing them at the crotch and not stopping until your entire ass was exposed to him. He groans at the sight before him. The tights are ripped so they’re practically framing your ass like a piece of fucking art. You’re so wet the inside of your thighs are glistening and that tiny white thong was practically being swallowed by your creamy pussy.

“Goddamn, my perfect fuckin’ slut. So wet for me and I haven’t even touched your desperate little cunt yet.” You hear the sound of his belt buckle clanking and your pussy clenches in anticipation at what’s to come.

“You gonna spank me with your belt daddy?” Rafe can hear the smirk in your voice as you wiggle your ass and arch your back further. He swears if he had a ring he might propose to you right now.

“Yeah. You’re getting ten. Count.” You hear the whoos of the expensive leather gliding through the air before it lands a harsh smack on your ass.

“Oh fuck! One.” He glides the smooth leather across your skin before giving you another, harsher smack. “Two!”

“Now, say ‘thank you daddy’.” Two more blows come down on either side of your ass and it has you jolting forward causing the rugged bark of the tree to dig into your soft palms.

“Three. Four! Thank you daddy!” Five, six, and seven are the hardest yet but you count them all, thanking him after each one.

“So good for me, princess. Look so fuckin’ sexy right now. Two more. Count em’.” Rafe slides the belt between your legs, bringing it up to smack against your wet, barely clothed cunt.

“Fuck - oh my god - Nine.” He hits your pussy again and you feel like your legs are going to buckle from the mix of pain and pleasure your boyfriend is dealing you. “Ten!”

“Good fuckin’ girl, think you earned a reward, huh?” Rafe pushes your panties to the side and shoves two fingers knuckle deep inside you all in one motion. You don’t even have time to think before he’s thrusting them in and out of you at a brutal pace. “Gimme one, cum all over my fingers and then I’ll pound this tight little pussy till you cry.”

Rafe curves his fingers and pushes his thumb against your clit and that’s all it takes to have you gushing around his thick digits. “Yeah, that’s fuckin’ it, fuckin’ cum for me.”

He doesn’t stop until he feels your walls stop pulsing around him and your knees start to buckle. He pulls your back against his front and shoves his slick covered fingers past your lips. You take them in, greedily sucking your own taste from his skin.

“Please fuck me.” You whine and push your ass back against his clothed cock. He pulls his fingers from your mouth so he can push the straps of your dress down causing it to pool around your feet. You’re bare before him aside from what’s left of your tights and the black platform boots on your feet.

“Get on your knees. Hands behind your back.” You oblige him, lowering yourself down onto the fallen leaves and dirt below you. Rafe kneels down behind you with his belt in hand and wraps it around your wrists so you’re bound before him. “My perfect little toy. My pretty little doll tied up all pretty for me.”

He grabs onto one of your tits roughly pinching your nipple between two of his fingers while the other grips onto your jaw. His hard cock presses against your ass and god you want him so bad. He presses wet, open mouthed kisses on the column of your throat before licking a stripe along it.

“Tell me. Tell me you’re my pretty little toy to use.” The hand not on your jaw starts to make work of his button and zipper, pulling his thick cock from his pants. He thrusts forward so it slides perfectly between your thighs, his hard shaft rubbing perfectly between your pussy lips.

“I’m your toy, daddy. Just a hole for you. Please fuck me.” You whine and wiggle your hips, rubbing your messy cunt on his cock, desperate for any friction.

“I love it when you’re desperate and pathetic.” You can hear the smirk in Rafe’s voice as his large hand splays across your upper back and pushes you down until your cheek is against the ground and your ass is in the air. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

He lines himself up with your entrance and slams into you to the hilt. He immediately finds your sweet spot as he plunges his cock deep inside of you at a brutal pace. He grips onto the belt restraining your hands, using it to pull you back harder onto his cock with each thrust.

“Yeah daddy, fucking use me.” Rafe practically growls at your words as his free hand comes down to press your cheek further into the mud. It's so messy and primal. The way he’s fucking you like a bitch in heat while the ground below you dirties your skin and your milk white tights. Your expensive calf high boots are surely covered as well but you can’t bring yourself to care when this just might be the hottest sex you’ve ever had. Rafe uses his grip on the belt to pull you up so your back is flush against him, forcing him even deeper than ever as he continues to impale you with his thick cock.

“You’re so fuckin’ nasty, I fuckin’ love you.” Rafe grips onto your throat and it has your pussy pulsing around him as you cum undone on his dick. “Fuck, that’s right, cum on my cock, my perfect little whore.”

“Fuck, I love you daddy, I love you, I love you.” You’re babbling, drunk off his cock as drool starts to drip down your chin and onto Rafe’s digits. “Want your cum. Fuck me full, want it so bad.”

“Oh fuuuuck. Yeah - fuck yeah baby, gonna breed this cunt, don’t worry. Daddy’s gonna give you his cum.” You feel his cock slip from inside you and before you can question what he’s doing he’s unlooping your hands and flipping you onto your back. His dick slides back into you with ease, you lock your legs around his hips, using your boot covered feet to push him even deeper. His hands come down on either side of your head as he resumes fucking you vigorously.

“Takin’ me so well, princess, my dirty fuckin’ girl.” Rafe leans down so he can connect your lips in a filthy kiss as his plush lips practically swallow you whole. “Oh - fuck - I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.”

His hips slam against yours over and over before he tenses above you as he paints your walls. The feeling sends you over the edge with him as you milk his cock for all it’s worth.

“Goddamn.” Rafe chuckles as he pushes himself up so he can look down at you. Your hair is a disaster of leaves and tangles, there’s dirt smudged on your cheeks and across your chest but god do you still look like an angel. “You’re perfect, ya know that?”

“Mmm, you’re pretty perfect too.” You giggle and pull him down into a much more tender kiss. He obliges you for a few moments before pulling away.

“Aight, let’s get off this dirty ass ground and get you home, yeah? Get you in a bath and shit.” He pushes himself up and tucks his cock back into his pants before leaning down to hook his hands under your arms and man handle you to your feet. He grabs your dress from the ground and pulls it over your head before trying to get a few of the leaves out of your hair.

“Yeah, that sounds perfect. I love you, Rafe.” You smile at him like he’s your whole world and he feels his heart warm. He’s been wanting to marry you more and more lately.

“Got me all fuckin’ soft.” Rafe scoffs and rolls his eyes as he takes your hand in his and leads you back to the car.

All Things Rafe & His Weird!Girl Here

Tagging some moots: @sturnioloshacker @bimbotrashcan @babygorewhore @starkeysprincess

[captainfern]

literally anything graves pls pls pLS PLS PLS PSL

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Tusk

Commander Phillip Graves x fem!reader

[“Tusk” by Fleetwood Mac]

[18+]

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• summary - you and graves were enemies (kinda?) and are exposed to a weird chemical. the classic fuck-or-die scenario lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 3.2k • warnings - fem!reader, sex pollen, enemies-to-lovers?, unprotected piv (they're both drugged up so imma just leave this here as a reminder), praise, breeding kink !!!, strong language, violence

not ashamed to say i'm a graves whore 🙏

also love a good ol' fuck-or-die sex pollen fic lolol

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You crept through the woods with your assault-rifle clutched heavily in your hands. You were careful to step lightly, avoiding patches of twigs and dry leaves. Clouds brewed overhead and it smelt of rain as you sucked in a deep breath, eyes darting around.

Separated from your task force an hour ago, you had been forced to continue through the eerily quiet woodlands in pursuit of your target alone. A terrorist lurked somewhere beyond the sea of trees and you were determined to hunt him down.

Walking for a bit longer, the forest thinned and opened up into a small clearing. In the centre, the target you had been pursuing, kneeling on the ground and rummaging through the contents of a small plastic box, almost like a toolbox.

You cocked your gun and stepped into the clearing.

"Don't fucking move." You hissed, approaching slowly. Wind was picking up around you, rustling the leaves, tree branches swaying in the wind, making it hard to detect any foreign movement amongst the foliage.

The target turned, still on his knees, hands still in the narrow plastic box on the ground before him. You pointed your gun directly at him.

"Show me your hands." You said, trying to keep your anger at bay.

The man simply looked at you, not an ounce of fear on his face. You cocked your head to the side, and that's when you heard it— hurried footsteps running up behind you. Before you could react, an arm was wrapping around your neck, pulling you backwards.

You fell to the floor, the wind being knocked out of you as another man pinned you to the ground, the point of a long knife prodding into your stomach. Each shallow breath you took skimmed the blade rougher along your skin through your shirt. The mans other hand was ripping your gun from your hands, tossing it away.

"Son of a bitch—!" You grumbled, slamming your fist into the mans face repeatedly.

After a few blows, his nose bleeding heavily, he caught your arm and kept it pinned to your chest. You grunted, wiggling beneath him.

He shook his head at you. "Don't—"

A gunshot echoed loudly through the clearing, and the man on top of you exploded in a spray of red, collapsing to the side and rolling off your body. You quickly jumped to your feet, scrambling to pick up your gun as a couple more shots filled the clearing. You looked around, your stomach dropping.

Fucking Graves.

He jammed a fresh mag into his gun, cocking it and firing it at the man in the centre of the clearing. The man rolled across the dirt, taking his box with him. You scowled, cocking your own gun and running towards the man on the ground.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You heard Graves shout after you. "Don't get close!"

Why would you listen to him? As soon as you got rid of your target, you were seriously contemplating popping a cap in Graves' head too.

You stormed over to the man on the floor, who was trying to crawl away, bleeding from his leg. He turned onto his back as you lifted your gun, muzzle trained on his face. You had your finger on the trigger when he reached into his box, and threw something at you.

"Sergeant— fuck!" Graves ran over to you, shooting the man and killing him.

It was too late, and whatever the target threw at you exploded across your body in a massive, glittering cloud of yellowy-pink smoke. You gasped in shock, the substance invading your airways and filling your lungs. You stumbled back, skin caked in sunset-coloured residue, glittering beneath the sun rays filtering through the clouds.

Graves was coughing a few feet away from you, hunched over, his gun clattering to the ground. He had his hands on his knees, spitting up the substance that sparkled like glitter in his saliva. His skin was dusted with it too.

"What... what did I fucking say? Stupid fucking–" He cut himself off with a violent cough, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and standing up.

Meanwhile, you were wiping as much of the substance off as you can, your skin tingling. Not tingling in pain, but tingling with warmth. It didn't take long for the yellowish-pink colour to dissipate, leaving behind glitter that coated your skin like something out of fucking Twilight.

"What the hell..." You breathed, tasting something sweet in your mouth. Sugar, peaches, a hint of something earthy, like ginger.

Your brows furrowed, mind foggy. What were you about to say?

You looked over at Graves, who had picked up his gun and strapped it to his chest. He was looking at you, the same confused expression on his face, mirroring yours.

"What was that?" You asked, voice breaking.

Graves blinked down at the dead body, then squatted beside it, inspecting the contents of the plastic box. After a moment, he got to his feet so fast you though he'd been eletrecuted.

"We need to get out of here." He said, urgency in his tone. He wrapped a hand around your wrist and began pulling you away.

"What?" You scowled, tugging your hand away from his. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

Graves whirled around. "Don't start this. We need to get somewhere safe, sergeant, whether you like it or not."

You crossed your arms over your chest, skin still glittering. "Why should I listen to you?"

Graves sighed through his nose, a frown heavy on his face. "You know what? Fine. Don't come with me. Stay here and die in the fucking woods for all I care."

With that, he turned and stormed away. You watched him vanish into the forest, now alone with the silence and rapid beating of your heart against your ribcage. You were feeling abnormally hot for some reason. Something warm settled in your stomach, and you groaned, shaking your head to yourself before your legs started moving before your brain could think, and you were chasing after him.

•º•

Graves led you back to his armoured car, parked covertly amongst the trees beside a desolate dirt road.

By the time you both got to the car, you felt as though your insides were on fire. Your skin was heating up, your clothes suddenly heavy and uncomfortable against you. Sweat glistened along your bare arms and face, the glitter left behind from the substance still embedded in your pores.

Your arms and legs trembled when you clambered into the front seat, Graves slamming the door shut behind you. You placed your gun at your feet.

Something in the pit of your stomach was tight, like a ball of anxiety, making you feel all sorts of dizzy as your eyes struggled to keep focused. Your mind was foggy, too, but not in a nauseous way. Like everything around you was a dream, fuzzy at the edges.

But the worst of it all, you were throbbing.

You could feel your core pulsing, soaking your underwear. Your arousal was dripping out of you, making your face grow warmer as you squeezed your thighs together. Your tits ached within the confines of your bra, and you whined as Graves settled into the drivers seat and started the engine.

He spared a quick glance at you. He too was slick with sweat, his pupils blown wide like he was high on something.

"Are you alright?" He asked, sounding breathless, his southern drawl stretched across the vowels.

The armoured car rumbled to life, and the vibrations made your core flutter around nothing. A stream of arousal leaking from you and you could feel it. You whined, biting your lip. Your heart hammered against your ribcage so hard it was starting to hurt.

"Mhm..." you were trying to look anywhere but him.

Usually, you avoided looking at Graves because his smug face made you really fucking annoyed. But now... embarrassing enough, his smug face was making you horny.

Graves' driving was erratic down the narrow dirt road. He was trying desperately to get out of these woods as quick as he could, but it was no use. You were both truly in the middle of nowhere, and the drive was going to be long and severely uncomfortable.

He felt hot and sticky. Nothing like Texan summers. His clothes were drenched with sweat, smelling sickly sweet like ripe orchard fruit. He grit his teeth, feeling his cock throbbing within the confines of his underwear, stomach tight with the need for release.

What the hell was going on?

He tried to keep his eyes on the road, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, but he couldn't help it. Couldn't help sparing a glance at you beside him.

Bottom lip between your teeth, skin glittering with sweat and residue. Your pupils were blown too, like those fucking Beanie Boo stuffed toys. He noticed your thighs pressed tightly together, and the way your hands gripped the edge of the seat, shaking.

He ripped his eyes away from you with a grunt. His cock was hard now, straining in his trousers.

After an eternity (half a minute) you released a whine, the pressure building within you too much to handle.

"Graves..." you whimpered, hot and bothered and horny. "Graves, please."

"What?" He breathed, trying to be stern, but it came out more as a strained groan.

"I can't... I need... fuck," you wriggled in your seat. "I'm— ah, please. I need... I needa come."

Graves groaned. "Christ, don't say that, sarge."

"Please," you whimpered. "Help me."

"Christ," he grit his teeth and veered directly off the road before slamming on the breaks, the armoured car sheltered between the trees. "The Lord is testing me today."

Graves pushed his door open, hopping out before he slammed it shut. A moment later, he was clambering into the backseat.

"Come on." He whispered, and you bit your lip, crawling through the gaps in the front two seats until you were in the back also.

You moved to straddle him, your thighs pressing over his. His hands came to rest on your hips, just holding as the both of you looked at each other, sharing rapid breaths. Your skin was burning where he was touching you at the waistband of your trousers.

"What are we doing?" You whispered.

He licked his lips. "Don't know."

You kissed him, and he kissed you back. You cupped his face in your hands as his tongue broke past the seam of your lips, pressing to yours. You moaned into the kiss, exchanging sugary-sweet saliva that made your core throb. Graves let out a low sound, gripping your hips tightly and grinding you down onto the bulge in his cargos.

You moved your hips with his hands as you kissed. Shifting your aching core across the tent in the denim, the friction sending shock waves through your body, making your thighs quiver. You whined into the kiss, and Graves pulled back.

"Y'alright?" He whispered, foreheads pressed together.

You moaned, chasing his mouth again. This time, your tongue swiped against his lips first. You moved your hips, the seam of your trousers pressing roughly to your core, making you suck in a deep breath.

Graves moved one hand to the back of your neck, gently prying your mouth away from his. You pouted, the unsettling warmth returning to your lips and face the moment you weren't kissing him.

"Y'alright?" He repeated, massaging the back of your neck. "Need you to t-talk to me, sarge."

You nodded deliriously. "Yes, yeah, fuck, m'fine."

"We... I can stop if—"

"Don't you fucking dare." You hissed, rocking yourself harder onto his bulge, making his eyes roll.

He groaned, allowing you to pull him back into the kiss. Meanwhile, you reached your hands downwards and caught hold of his belt. You unbuckled it, then proceeded to unzip his cargos.

Graves groaned, pulling out of the kiss and lifting his hips, you still on his lap. You shuffled back and pulled his cargos with you. Dipping a hand into his underwear, you freed his cock with a moan on your lips. He groaned too, bucking into your touch.

"Holy..." He gritted his teeth, hissing out a breath as you clasped a hand around his cock.

It was hot in your hand, so hard it was throbbing against your palm. The reddened tip was leaking pearl after pearl of pre-cum, dribbling continuously from his slit. He moaned your name, head falling back against the carseat as you pumped him.

Your hole fluttered around nothing at the sight.

"Graves..."

"Yeah, baby, you okay?" He sounded fucked out.

You moaned. "Need you inside me."

"Oh, fuck," Graves whimpered as you began shimmying your own cargos away from your body. "Fuck, yeah, o-okay... okay, baby, hol' on... jus' hol' on."

His words were slurring together as he watched you, hard cock bobbing up against his abdomen. He groaned loudly, catching sight of your underwear— completely drenched, dark with your arousal. He cupped it with the palm of his hand, causing you to whine out his name.

"So wet, baby," he whispered, rubbing two thick fingers up and down your folds. "God damn, so fucking wet. Jus' look at you, doll."

"Commander..." you moaned, and you didn't mean for it to come out so sultry, but it did.

Graves moaned loud. He hooked his two fingers beneath the material of your underwear and pulled them to the side, exposing your sopping cunt. Your arousal was literally dripping from you, making Graves moan loudly again.

"Yeah, tha's right, tha's fuckin' right," Graves mumbled, eyes trained on your glistening core. "S'your commander who's gon' stuff this tight cunt."

You moaned around a sob as Graves guided you to hover over his cock. The head notched at your entrance, fireworks exploding in your stomach and he hadn't even pushed in yet.

"Hold this pretty thing outta the way for me, baby." Graves grabbed your hand, urging you to take hold of the edge of your underwear, keeping your fluttering hole exposed.

You listened, and he used one hand to grip your hip and the other to grip the base of his cock. Then, he pushed you down, thrusting his hips at the same time, his cock slamming inside you in one swift motion.

You had been slightly worried that the stretch would hurt. You hadn't prepped at all, and the size of him had made your breath hitch. But, as he bottomed out, your worries were gone. You were so fucking wet that he pushed in with ease, a loud, lewd squelch echoing around the armoured car.

Graves moaned your name.

You whimpered, feeling his fat cock pulsing inside you. So warm and hard. You squeezed around him, and Graves moaned again. Then, he grabbed both of your hips and began thrusting up into you with desperation. You put one hand on his shoulder to help stabilise yourself.

"G-Graves..." You stuttered out as his cock slammed into that spot within you over and over. Your body was on fire, rapidly approaching release the fastest you ever had. But the feeling settled deeply in your stomach, building tighter and tighter.

Your legs shook around him, the hand holding your underwear shaking too. Graves saw this and he knocked your hand away, opting instead to rip your underwear off your body. You gasped, the elastic snapping against your bare skin. Still fucking up into you, he stuffed the material into the pocket of his cargos, half-way down his thighs.

You would've made a cheeky remark if he hadn't stripped you of your ability to think clearly.

His cock kissed your cervix with each upwards thrust. He grunted deeply, pressing open-mouthed kissed along the expanse of your bare neck. He sucked the glittering residue from your throat, moaning, dragging his teeth against the soft skin.

You moaned, hands tightening around his shoulders. You were so close, a burning hot pleasure packed tight in the base of your tummy.

"Easy, baby, easy," Graves soothed as desperate whines left your mouth, your body shaking. "I've got you. Good girl... you wanna come? Yeah, you wanna come?"

"Please." You pleaded through a moan, and Graves placed his mouth to yours for a moment.

When he pulled back, your mouth fell open as his cock nudged you closer and closer to release. One of the hands he had on your hips snaked downwards, and you felt a finger press roughly to your clit. You keened, moaning loudly as he rubbed even circles across your little bundle of nerves.

"Please, please, please." You babbled, eyes drawing closed as your body grew tighter and tighter, the burning pressure in your lower tummy becoming unbearable.

Graves hummed, eyes on your face. "Tha's it, baby. Come 'round my cock. Come 'round my cock, good girl, tha's it."

The heavy pressure in your tummy released as you came, and you now realised what exactly it was.

You gushed around him, moaning his name over and over again. Your release flooded out past his cock, drenching his thighs and the light hair at the base. Your hole clamped and squeezed around him, wet squelches growing louder as his pace picked up.

You fucking squirted.

And Graves loved it.

He moaned. "Fucking hell. G-good girl, baby, oh my God—"

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, whimpering. You felt a bit better, but you were still burning hot. Your core was still sopping wet and overly sensitive. You just needed him to come.

Luckily for you, he was almost there.

Graves had both his hands on your hips again, chasing his high. He grunted and groaned, breathing erratically as his cock slammed into you. You whimpered and whined into his neck, and he was listening to you, squeezing your hips softly.

"Take it, baby, you can take it. Take my cock like a good girl, yeah? Almost there, baby, jus' sit pretty an' take it."

With a few more desperate ruts of his cock, Graves threw his head back and moaned your name. It made your cunt squeeze around him.

"M'coming, baby," he whispered. "Want you to take it all. Want to fill you up, alright? Want it to take, baby, want it to fuckin’ take."

You groaned, sucking on the warm skin of his neck as he continued to rut into you, thrusts becoming sloppier.

"Tha's it, baby, good girl, let my fill this tight cunt," Graves mumbled deeply. "Let me make you a mommy. Wanna make you a mommy, baby, come on."

He came with a moan of your name, stuffing himself so deep that you swore you could feel him in your stomach. You whimpered as he filled you, hot and sticky. There was a lot, too— Graves pumped you full, groaning breathlessly into the armoured car, cock plugging his seed deep inside you.

It didn't soften much either as the two of you caught your breaths. You weren't on fire, anymore. But your core still ached for him, even though he was literally still inside you.

You leaned back, and he placed a kiss to your cheek.

"You feeling alright, sarge?" He asked in a whisper, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

"Yeah," you breathed. "You?"

"Better already," he said. "But... let's go again, just to make sure we got it out of our systems. How's that sound?"

It sounded good, actually.

Really fucking good.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

i wanna fuck the shit outta this man no joke

[tosomeonessomeone]

f*cking mine.

words・ 5.8k /pairings・ Vampire Lee know x Afab!reader / genres・ thrilling?/ warnings・ intercourse, mentions of alcoholic drinks and drugs, minors DNI.

Hello lovely ones! At last, it has arrived ✨ I might have gotten a bit carried away with the plot and added some extra spice 😅, so if you’re underaged, you know the drill. 🐈‍⬛ anon, hope you enjoy it! Ps. yes.. I did a mood board for this fic.

YN and her friends eagerly embarked on their October adventure, seeking the thrill of Halloween in the heart of an eerie forest. Nestled among the trees stood their chosen sanctuary: a rustic cabin, beckoning with promises of mystery and excitement.

As the night deepened, laughter mingled with the rustle of leaves outside. After a lot of booze and a couple joints, truth or dare became their group game of choice, fueling the evening with daring challenges and revealing confessions. Amidst the flickering candlelight, an irresistible dare emerged from the shadows.

One of YN's friends, eyes glinting mischievously, proposed the ultimate challenge: to explore the forbidden path marked by a foreboding sign that declared, "road not taken." The warning was clear, but so was the allure of the unknown.

Despite the lingering doubt, YN felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, heightened by the warmth of intoxication.

As YN stepped cautiously along the winding trail, her friends' voices lingered in her mind, their laughter echoing through the dense foliage like a distant melody.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this, YN!" Ella’s voice chimed in her memory, tinged with a hint of disbelief.

"Yeah, this is like straight out of a horror movie," remarked Mia, her tone laced with excitement.

YN couldn't help but chuckle at the thought, her breath forming a misty cloud in the cool night air. "Well, what's life without a little adventure, right?"

"True that," came Hyo’s voice, her tone filled with encouragement. "Just don't get lost out there, okay? We don't need a real-life Blair Witch situation on our hands."

The mention of the infamous horror film elicited nervous laughter from YN, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. "Don't worry, I'll find my way back," she reassured them, her voice carrying a note of determination.

With determined steps, YN ventured into the darkness, guided by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the dense canopy above. Each footfall echoed against the forest floor, mingling with the whispers of ancient trees and the flutter of unseen creatures.

The path stretched before her, winding deeper into the heart of the forest with every passing moment. Shadows danced on the edges of her vision, casting doubt and uncertainty upon her path. 

The forest enveloped her in its embrace, shrouding her senses in a cloak of mystery and wonder. Every rustle of leaves, every creak of branches, held the promise of adventure and danger intertwined.

As she ventured further along the winding trail, the night itself seemed to hold its breath, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. Yet, despite the whispers of caution that echoed in her mind, YN pressed on, driven by an insatiable thirst for discovery.

YN ventured deeper into the forest, her footsteps echoing against the tangled undergrowth, she stumbled upon another cabin, its weathered facade a stark contrast to the one she and her friends called home for the night. The sight of the aged structure sent a shiver down her spine, its timeworn exterior whispering tales of long-forgotten secrets and untold mysteries.

Pausing at the foot of the rickety stairs, YN couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity tugging at her senses. The door, oddly ajar, beckoned to her like a siren's call, promising a glimpse into the unknown depths of the past. For a moment, she hesitated, torn between the allure of exploration and the lingering sense of caution that gnawed at her conscience.

"Okay, YN, let's not get too carried away here," she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is definitely starting to feel like something out of a horror movie."

As YN turned to leave, her heart skipped a beat as she was startled to find a man standing at the foot of the steps, his presence looming like a shadow against the fading light of dusk. In the dimness, his features were cast in obscurity, a silhouette shrouded in mystery and intrigue.

Frozen in place, YN's eyes traced the outline of the stranger's figure, noting the striking contrast of his dark hair against the pallor of his skin. His attire, adorned with chains that glinted in the fading light, spoke of a persona both enigmatic and alluring, drawing her gaze inexorably towards his face.

Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, YN struggled to find her voice amidst the silence that hung heavy between them. And as the stranger's gaze met hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine, he spoke, his voice a low murmur that echoed in the stillness of the forest.

"Can I help you?" His words, tinged with an air of mystery, hung in the air like a question waiting to be answered, his eyes searching hers for some semblance of recognition or understanding.

Summoning her courage, YN met the stranger's gaze with a steadiness born of determination. "I... I was just exploring," she replied, her voice trembling slightly with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. "I didn't mean to intrude."

As the words tumbled from her lips, YN found herself caught in the currents of a moment suspended in time, the air alive with the promise of possibility and the lingering scent of uncertainty. 

"Uhh..." YN hesitated, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I was dared to travel down the trail..." Her words faltered as she reached out to steady herself against the door frame, the weight of the man's scrutiny bearing down upon her.

As the man's gaze lingered on her, YN felt a flush of embarrassment color her cheeks, acutely aware of the disapproval etched into his features. His raised eyebrow spoke volumes, a silent accusation that hung heavy in the air between them.

"So you thought you could explore my house, huh?" The man's words cut through the silence like a knife, his tone laced with thinly veiled contempt.

YN mumbled her explanation, a quick shake of her head accompanied her apology. "No, just the trail. I apologize, I wasn’t going to enter,” she muttered, her voice quivering with a mixture of fear and apprehension.

The man stood there, his gaze piercing through her, his silence hanging heavy in the air like a looming storm. Seconds passed like eternities as YN waited, her nerves on edge, her senses heightened to the slightest movement.

"You do realize that you’re lucky to come across me here. These woods are not a safe place for a young girl like you to be wandering all alone," he murmured, his words a somber reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

YN swallowed hard, her throat dry with fear, her mind racing with a myriad of possibilities. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon her, the realization sinking in that she stood on the precipice of something far more sinister than she had ever imagined.

Then, with deliberate steps, the man began to approach her slowly, each footfall echoing ominously in the stillness of the night. YN's heart raced as she felt the weight of his presence bearing down upon her, making it difficult for her to even lift her gaze to meet his.

With each step backward, YN's heart pounded against her chest like a drumbeat of impending doom. The urge to flee surged within her, fueled by the primal instinct to escape the clutches of the unknown.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

As YN edged backward, her back hit the wall near the door, a momentary lapse that threatened to plunge her into the depths of uncertainty. Her pulse quickened, her breath caught in her throat, as she teetered on the brink of danger. The rough texture of the wall against her skin served as a stark reminder of the confined space, trapping her in the predator's den. 

He stopped just in front of her, his figure towering over her like a specter in the moonlight. His voice, soft yet laden with an undercurrent of warning, sent shivers down YN's spine.

Every fiber of her being screamed for escape as she stood pinned against the barrier, her senses heightened to the looming threat that loomed before her.

Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each one a desperate plea for escape, as she stood frozen in the shadow of his presence. The weight of his touch pressed against her, a tangible reminder of the darkness that lurked within the depths of the forest.

"These are my woods,” he leaned in, whispering close to her ears.

YN's voice trembled as she whispered, her words echoing in the stillness of the night. "Y-your woods?" she repeated, her disbelief palpable in the quiver of her tone.

The man's response sent a chill down her spine, his voice dripping with possessiveness and entitlement. "Yes, dear, my woods," he murmured, his words a chilling reminder of the power he held over the domain in which they stood. "This place belongs to me, and anyone who wanders in is fair game for me to play with."

YN's breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words sinking in like an anchor dragging her deeper into the abyss. The realization dawned on her with a sickening clarity: she was at the mercy of a predator, a wolf among sheep, lurking in the darkness of the forest.

In that moment, fear and defiance warred within her, each vying for dominance over her trembling form. 

"Would you like to know my name, darling?" His voice was a sinister whisper, laden with promises of power and submission. "I shall warn you, however, that once you say it, you will become subservient to my every whim and bound to serve me."

Her heart hammered against her chest as he spoke, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air like a dark cloud. YN's mind raced with uncertainty, torn between the allure of knowledge and the fear of what it might entail.

As he stepped back, giving her space to consider his offer, YN felt the weight of his gaze bearing down upon her. His challenge hung in the air like a dare, tempting her to take the plunge into the unknown.

"Are you brave enough to take on the challenge?" His words echoed in the stillness of the night, a test of her courage and resilience in the face of overwhelming darkness.

With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity coursing through her veins, YN summoned her courage and faced the man with the glowing red eyes. Despite the warning echoing in her mind, she couldn't resist the pull of the unknown, the tantalizing allure of discovering his name.

"I... I want to… know your name," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her heart pounding with anticipation and fear.

With a sly smile curling his lips, the man leaned in closer, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly intensity. "My name is Lee Minho, but for a sweet thing like you, you can call me Minho," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down YN's spine.

As the revelation of Minho's name hung in the air like a shroud of darkness, YN felt a momentary lull in the tension that gripped the forest. The weight of his identity settled upon her like a heavy cloak, its implications stretching far beyond the confines of the haunted woods.

In the stillness of the night, Minho regarded her with a knowing smile, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. Yet, amidst the shadows that danced around them, a spark of curiosity ignited within him.

"And what, may I ask, is your name, my dear?" Minho's voice carried a hint of amusement, his words tinged with a sense of intrigue.

YN hesitated for a moment, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily upon her. Yet, in the face of the unknown, she summoned her courage and met his gaze with determination.

"My name is YN," she replied, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling within her.

As the sound of her name echoed in the darkness, YN felt a sense of empowerment wash over her, a reminder of her own agency amidst the chaos that surrounded them.

In that moment, she knew that she had crossed a threshold from which there was no turning back. YN found herself inexplicably drawn to Minho, like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence. There was something about him that transcended the darkness surrounding him, something that spoke to the depths of her soul.

As she stood in his shadow, YN felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if she had known him in another life, in another time. His eyes held secrets untold, mysteries waiting to be unraveled, and despite the danger that lurked within their depths, she couldn't tear her gaze away.

With each moment that passed, the fear that once gripped her heart began to wane, replaced by a curious fascination that defied reason. There was an allure to Lee Minho, a darkness tempered by a glimmer of something more, something that called out to her in the depths of the night.

In his presence, YN felt a sense of belonging, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time and space. And as she stood on the precipice of the unknown, she knew that her fate was intertwined with his, bound by the threads of destiny that wove their way through the tapestry of their lives.

As YN's voice quivered with a mixture of fear and anticipation, she summoned the courage to voice the question that weighed heavily on her mind. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked, her words echoing in the stillness of the night, tinged with uncertainty.

Minho regarded her with an enigmatic smile, his gaze piercing through the shadows that enveloped them. There was a depth to his eyes, a wellspring of secrets and mysteries waiting to be unveiled.

"My dear YN," he began, his voice a melodic whisper that danced on the edge of the wind, "I am bound by the laws of this realm, as are you. What happens next is a journey that we must embark upon together, guided by the currents of fate."

His words held a cryptic resonance, a promise of truths yet to be revealed. YN felt a shiver run down her spine, the weight of his words settling upon her like a heavy cloak.

"In the heart of these woods, we will confront the shadows that linger within our souls," Minho continued, his voice a solemn declaration of intent. "But fear not, for I will be your guide, your protector, and your companion on this journey through the darkness."

As he spoke, YN's gaze lingered on Minho, a chill ran down her spine as she noticed something unsettling: his elongated canines, gleaming in the moonlight, betrayed his true nature—he was a vampire.

The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning, sending shockwaves of fear coursing through her veins. Her heart pounded with a mixture of terror and disbelief as she struggled to comprehend the truth before her.

Finally, YN found her voice, her words trembling with uncertainty. "What... what are you?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes never leaving his.

Minho's smile widened, revealing his gleaming fangs in the moonlight. "I am what you fear most, my dear," he replied, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down YN's spine.

Fear and fascination warred within her, each vying for dominance over her trembling form. As Minho's gaze bore into YN's, his voice, smooth and velvety, pierced the silence like a dagger.

"Shall we have dinner?" he asked, his words laced with a subtle invitation that sent a chill down YN's spine.

Minho's question hung in the air, the weight of its implications echoing in the silence that enveloped them. YN's heart raced as she grappled with the surrealness of the moment, the reality of dining with a vampire sinking in like a heavy stone.

The invitation, so innocently posed yet laden with sinister undertones, sent a shiver down YN's spine. Her instincts screamed at her to refuse, to flee from the darkness that threatened to consume her.

With a trembling breath, YN met Lee Minho's gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I suppose so," she replied, her words tinged with uncertainty, her heart pounding in her chest.

And as they ventured deeper into the heart of his cabin, YN knew that the dinner they shared would be more than just a meal—it would be a dance of shadows and light, a journey into the depths of the unknown, where danger and desire intertwined in a delicate balance.

As they reached the dinning room lit in the soft glow of moonlight and a couple candles, Minho gestured towards a rustic wooden table set with an array of fruits and delicacies. "Please, have a seat," he said, his tone inviting yet tinged with an air of mystery.

YN hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with a thousand questions and uncertainties. But something about Minho's demeanor reassured her, drawing her closer to the table with a sense of cautious curiosity.

As they sat at the rustic wooden table, YN couldn't shake the sense of surrealness that hung in the air like a thick fog. Minho's presence, though captivating, sent shivers down her spine, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath his charming facade.

Minho poured a glass of deep red wine, his movements graceful and deliberate. "Please, indulge yourself," he said, offering the glass to YN with a small, enigmatic smile.

YN hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the glass, before finally accepting it with a nervous nod of thanks. As she took a sip, the rich, velvety taste flooded her senses, warming her from the inside out.

"So, YN," Minho began, his voice low and melodic, "tell me more about yourself. What secrets do you carry in that beautiful mind of yours?"

YN's heart raced as she searched for words, her thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and fascination. "I... I'm just a girl, really," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing special."

As YN sat there, she couldn't shake the feeling of being nothing more than prey in the presence of a predator. His gaze, though captivating, held an intensity that sent a chill down her spine, a reminder of the darkness that lurked behind his charming facade.

Minho's eyes danced with amusement as he listened to YN's hesitant words, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "Just a girl, you say?" he mused, his voice a soft purr that sent shivers down her spine. "I find that hard to believe."

YN's heart raced as she met his gaze, her pulse quickening with each passing moment. She could feel the weight of his scrutiny, his eyes devouring her with a hunger that sent a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through her veins.

As they sat and dined in the flickering light of the moon, YN couldn't shake the feeling of being nothing more than a mere mortal in the presence of a creature far beyond her understanding. And as Minho's gaze lingered on her, she knew that she was merely a pawn in a game of shadows and light, a game where the stakes were higher than she could have ever imagined.

Minho got up at some point and walked closer, closing  the distance between them, YN's heart thundered in her chest, her breath catching in her throat as she felt the heat of his body leaning over hers. Trapped between him and the chair, she could feel the weight of his presence pressing in on her, suffocating her with its intensity.

With a gentle touch, Minho reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek skin like a whisper of silk. YN's breath hitched at the contact, her senses ablaze with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

"Shh, my dear," Minho murmured, his voice a soft caress against her ear. "There's no need to be afraid."

As Minho's breath caressed YN's neck, she couldn't suppress the shiver that coursed through her body. His words, a whispered caress against her skin, sent a thrill of fear and excitement dancing along her spine.

“You smell viciously delicious," Minho murmured, his voice a low, seductive whisper that sent a shiver down YN's spine. "Makes me hot."

YN's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to find her voice, the intensity of the moment rendering her speechless. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts, each one a tangled web of fear and desire.

"Wh-what do you mean?" YN stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

Minho's eyes gleaming with a hunger that sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through YN's veins. "It means," he murmured, his voice dripping with temptation, "that you are unlike anything I've ever encountered before, you are special."

YN's eyebrows furrowed with confusion, her mind swirling with a whirlwind of emotions. "Wait.. what?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

Minho's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes shining with an otherworldly light. "I'm simply showing you the truth, my dear," he replied, his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down YN's spine. "The truth of who you really are… mine… my mate”

The air crackled with tension as YN felt the heat of his gaze upon her, his proximity igniting a firestorm of emotions within her. She could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, each syllable laden with a hunger that sent her heart racing.

In that moment, YN's senses were overwhelmed by the heady scent of danger and desire that surrounded her. His words, though filled with a darkness she could scarcely comprehend, held a seductive power that she found herself unable to resist.

As Minho's tongue traced a soft line along YN's neck, a tremor of sensation rippled through her body, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. His touch, though gentle, ignited a firestorm of desire within her, awakening a primal instinct she never knew existed.

YN's breath caught in her throat as Minho's lips kissing a sweet spot near her ear, his kiss sending waves of heat cascading through her. In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the intoxicating allure of the night and the enigmatic figure who held her captive with his touch.

"Your skin," he whispered, his voice a soft caress in the night air, "it sings to me. A melody of temptation and longing."

YN's pulse quickening with each word that fell from his lips. She felt herself drowning in the depths of his gaze, lost in a world where desire and danger danced in a tantalizing embrace.

"In the darkness," he continued, his voice low and melodic, "we are free. Free to explore the depths of our desires, to succumb to the pull of the night."

With a graceful step backward, Minho gently took YN's hand, his touch sending a surge of electricity coursing through her veins. In the dim light of his cabin, his eyes gleamed with an otherworldly allure, drawing her deeper into the shadows.

"Come," he murmured, his voice a soft echo in the night, "there is much to discover.".

With a silent nod, YN followed Minho into the darkness, her heart ablaze with the promise of adventure and discovery. For in the depths through the walls, she would find the truest expression of herself, and the secrets that lay hidden in the depths of her soul.

Minho's touch was gentle yet possessive as he guided her through the labyrinthine corridors, each twist and turn a step deeper into the heart of the unknown.

And as they reached his room, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, YN felt a surge of anticipation course through her veins. 

As she felt his grip tighten around her waist, YN's eyes widened, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and desire. The air crackled with tension as she met his gaze, her eyes searching for answers in the depths of his own.

As Minho's hand trailed from her side to her nape, she felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that this kiss was going to be different, that it was going to be dangerous. And as his lips met hers in a slow burn kiss, she felt his fangs brush against her lower plump lip.

She knew that she should pull away, that she should resist the temptation that Minho offered. But she couldn't help herself. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

As his tongue slipped into her mouth, she tasted the danger and the passion that he offered. She knew that this was a kiss that could destroy her, that could leave her broken and shattered. 

And as the kiss finally ended, she knew that she was lost. Lost in the passion and the danger that Minho offered, lost in a world where pleasure and pain were one and the same. But she didn't care. She had tasted the forbidden fruit, and she knew that she would never be the same again.

As Minho's hand slid down to her back, she felt a jolt of electricity run through her. His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine. And as his other hand played with the bare skin on her waist, she felt a warmth spreading through her body that she had never felt before.

As he kissed his way down to her neck, she felt her heart racing with anticipation. As his lips brushed against her neck, she felt a surge of desire wash over her. 

"Are you going to bite me?" she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Lee Minho's eyes held a glimmer of amusement, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Not unless you want me to," he murmured, his voice a soft caress against her skin.

With a trembling breath, YN met Minho's gaze with unwavering resolve, her heart ablaze with the thrill of the unknown. 

As Minho's lips brushed against her skin, YN's breath hitched in her throat, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and longing.

"I want to taste you fully," His voice was a soft murmur against her ear, his words sending a shiver down her spine, "before dragging my teeth on your beautiful neck and drinking your blood… marking you as mine"

As Minho slowly undressed her, YN felt a thrill of excitement run through her body. She slowly undressed him in return, she felt a sense of power and control wash over her. She knew that she had him in her grasp too, that she could make him do anything she wanted. 

As YN's naked body glowed under the moonlight, Minho couldn't help but let out an animalistic sound, like a predator who had found its prey. He was consumed with desire for her, and he kissed her with a passion and need that left her breathless.

YN surrendered to Minho completely, knowing that she was his to do with as he pleased. She felt his hands roaming over her body, exploring every curve and crevice, and she moaned with pleasure as he took her to new heights of ecstasy.

As Minho moved YN's body slowly towards his king-sized bed, she felt a shiver of excitement run through her. She knew that she was completely at his mercy, and she surrendered to him willingly.

He leaned her down onto her back, and as he kissed down her chest, she felt a wave of pleasure wash over her. He tasted her breasts, making her let out soft moans of pleasure, and she arched her back in response.

Minho's actions were possessive and dominant, and they sent a thrill of excitement through YN's body. She knew that she was completely under his control, and she loved every moment of it.

He whispered in her ear, "You belong to me, and only me. I'll never let anyone else touch you like this."

YN shivered with pleasure at his words, feeling a sense of safety and security in his possessiveness. She knew that he would always protect her, no matter what.

As YN laid on Minho's bed, her body aching with desire, he continued to explore her with his lips and tongue. He moved down her chest, taking one of her breasts into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue.

YN moaned softly, arching her back and offering herself up to him completely. She had never felt so alive, so desired, so wanted.

Minho continued to kiss and lick his way down her body, stopping only to tease her belly button with his tongue before moving further down.

He leaned in, kissing the inside of her thigh before moving to her center, where he began to explore her with his tongue, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

YN moaned louder, her body writhing with pleasure as Minho continued to pleasure her in ways she had never imagined possible. And as she reached the heights of ecstasy, she knew that she was his, completely and utterly, forever.

As Minho continued to kiss and lick his way up to YN's body, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dominance and ownership over her. 

"You're mine," he growled, his voice low and husky. "No one else can ever have you like this. You're my little plaything.”

YN moaned in response, her body trembling with desire as Minho continued to explore her with his lips and tongue. She had never felt so wanted, so desired, so owned.

As Minho locked YN in between his arms, he looked deeply into her eyes and asked her, "Whose are you?"

YN whimpered in response, feeling a sense of pleasure and submission at his possessive words. She looked up at him with desire-filled eyes and replied, "I'm yours, all yours. I belong to you completely."

Minho smiled, a look of satisfaction on his face. He knew that he had complete control over her, and that she would do anything he asked of her.

"Good girl," he said, his voice low and commanding. "You're mine now, and I'm going to make you feel so good."

And with that, he leaned down and captured her lips with his, kissing her deeply and passionately as they lost themselves in a world of pleasure and desire.

As Minho continued to kiss YN deeply, he let his hand travel down between her legs to find it wet. He chuckled as he felt how wet she already was, his fingers tracing up and down on her lower region.

"Already so wet for me?" he whispered in her ear, his voice dripping with desire.

YN whimpered and moaned in response, her body trembling with pleasure as he continued to pleasure her with his fingers. She had never felt so alive, so desired, so wanted.

As YN reached down for Minho's manhood, she couldn't help but gasp at how big and hard it felt in her hand. She stroked it slowly, feeling his body tense up with pleasure as he let out a groan.

YN smirked, feeling a sense of power and control as she continued to pleasure him with her hand. She knew that she was driving him wild with desire, and that he would do anything to make her feel good in return.

As YN lined up Minho's member above her wet folds, she bridged closer to him with her other hand on his back. He took the cue and slammed himself into her without warning or waiting for her to adjust, his lips whispering profanities to her.

"Too big for my new plaything, huh?" he taunted. "Wasn't ready for it, baby girl?" He promised her that his fangs would break into her skin later, making her cry out in fear and pleasure.

Her nails found their way to his back, scratching him as he pounded into her with increasing force. She was overwhelmed by the intensity of their passion, and she knew that she was completely at his mercy.

And as Minho continued to take her to new heights of pleasure and pain, YN surrendered completely to him, knowing that she was his forever, body and soul.

YN felt herself getting closer to orgasm, Minho sensed it and brought his face near her neck, kissing and licking it. Her walls clenched around him, and in the right moment, he bit her neck, his canines deep, drawing out her blood, savoring the taste of her blood and the pleasure that he was giving her.

She let out a deliciously moan alongside a groan of pain, the sensation of the pain and her orgasm taking her higher than the things she used with her friends earlier. 

Minho continued jamming into YN's feminine parts, he slammed harder and harder until he finally came, painting her walls white with his release.

YN cried out in pleasure as she felt him release inside her, her body trembling with the intensity of their passion. She knew that she had given herself completely to Minho, and that he had taken her to new heights of pleasure that she had never even dreamed of before.

“You taste so good, baby girl," he said, lapping his tongue over the fresh bite. YN felt completely under his spell, lost in a world of pleasure and desire where nothing else mattered except for the two of them and the love that they shared.

As they lathere, spent and breathless, YN felt a chill creeping into her bones, sending a shiver down her spine. Panic flickered in her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath, her mind racing with uncertainty.

Minho's arms wrapped around her, a reassuring presence in the darkness. "It will be quickly," he murmured, his voice a steady anchor in the turmoil that surrounded them.

Her heart pounding, YN's eyes widened in disbelief. "Quick what?!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with anger and fear, her breaths coming in short gasps.

"Your transformation," Lee Minho stated firmly, his tone unwavering. "You. Are. Mine. Now."

YN's throat tightened at his words, the weight of their implications settling over her like a suffocating blanket. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry with fear, her mind reeling with the enormity of what lay ahead.

In that moment, YN knew that she stood at the precipice of a journey that would irrevocably alter the course of her destiny. With a trembling nod, she silently acknowledged the truth of his words, bracing herself for the darkness that awaited her on the other side.

to be continued?

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ .  #  ۫  ,  ⸺  A HOUSE IN NEBRASKA  !  

summary :: mike schmidt did not realize the weight of his mistake before it was too late. when he had first met you, his baby sister's beloved teacher, he couldn't imagine ever leaving you. with his aunt's demands to see her niece, however, he had no choice. now, a year later and two states over, everyday is spent suffocating on misery and memories. mike does not know how much more of this he can endure before he breaks.

word count :: 9.2k.

content warnings :: obsessive!mike, yandere!mike, fnaf movie spoilers, drugging, kidnapping, violence, stalking, & insinuations of s3x.

mike schmidt's yandere traits are . . .

obsessive, paranoid, & nervous

──── Everything is hazy.

Fuzzy. Blurry. Serenity in its sheerest form. The absolute definition of tranquility.

That April morning in Nebraska. The scent of sugar and crayons, the sounds of children playing outside, the scattered toys left on rainbow carpets. You're sat at the desk in your classroom. Warm light bleeding through the window behind you, framing you with flowering leaves and sunshine.

Across the room, Abby Schmidt sits on the floor. Her small fingers tap the glass enclosure where the class pet is. Mr. Cupcake, your iguana. Or, as you like to refer to him, your teaching assistant. His claws plunge into his food dish, copper-colored eyes scrutinizing his surroundings. Abby watches as the reptile chows on the fruit and foliage left for breakfast.

Sitting in the chair opposite your desk is Mike Schmidt. Sweat beads on his forehead, ineluctably distressed beneath your gaze. The suit he wore for this occasion juts uncomfortably into his skin. His fingers fidget with the trim of his tie. He looks at the woven basket of exotic butters sitting on your desk, wondering why he had gotten you such an aimless gift.

Mike is quiet, as usual. Austere, his permanent disposition. Despite his tireless efforts to express his thoughts to you, the words remain nestled in his throat. Conjuring any syllable in your presence is impossible.

You, however, do not have any wavering confidence. You reiterate the legal documents obligatory for Abby's complete transition to a new school. Noting how all necessities are now in your possession (albeit languidly, as Mike has been painfully trying to buy more time here), the relocation was complete. The obvious insinuation of your words, however, brings crippling dread like no other.

The last time you would ever see one another. Your goodbye.

Standing to your feet, you make your way to Abby and bend down beside her. You will miss your star student, as you have a soft spot for all the children in your classroom. In the process, you do not take notice of the way Mike instinctively reaches out to you. He's sure your touch would kill him, but it does not stop him from wishing for it. Even just a sliver of the precious rarity.

"I think Mr. Cupcake is going to miss you." Abby looks at you with wide, curious eyes.

"Don't tell the others, but you're definitely his favorite." That earns you a smile before she averts her attention back to the iguana.

When you stand, you find Mike breathing down your neck. Horrifically, as this memory still haunts him, he thought it'd be a good idea to hug you. And he practically throws his entire body weight on top of you. When you reject him by placing your hand on his chest, offering a handshake instead, fire spreads with your touch. Knowing he will never know what it feels like to hold you close to him is more excruciating than he is willing to admit.

Abby skips out of the classroom, an adorable pep in her step. At the same time, every step Mike takes from you feels like walking through an avalanche. Dragging him backward, begging to return to you. Almost as if it were his instinct, his body is trying to reject his advances of leaving you.

"Why do you always look at them like that? Like... Like they're a dinosaur or something?"

Abby's question causes Mike's brows to furrow. His feelings for you were certainly discernible. Even his young sister had taken notice of the odd behavior. Had he made it that obvious? He answers her with a weak, affirmative grunt. Too emotionally fatigued to find words to speak.

A sudden flare of biliousness deluges through his body. The hallway walls adorned with children's paintings have morphed into a colorful blur of vertigo. The floors disturbingly stretch in size, making the journey away from you all the more torturous. The suit he had tried to wear confidently sticks to his hot skin. Nausea squirms in his stomach like a dying cockroach. The room begins to spin, lights sway in his vision, and his knees fight for balance.

Mike hears his sister shriek his name before he falls to the ground.

One year later, Mike wakes from this same dream, once again.

Every night of this past year, he has dreamt the same thing. Your final goodbye and the sheer impact it took on him. It is a gut-wrenching memory, but he welcomes the echo of you with open arms. To feel your hand on his chest, see your eyes looking into his. This yearning heartache is the only thing keeping him alive.

For the umpteenth time, Mike faces the harsh, violent reality of his current life. Now, he is somewhere in Utah. Praying straight to God he'll somehow wake up back in Nebraska. Where he could see you again, where he could be happy again.

Tearing the headphones of his Walkman off, the song he had played on repeat comes to an end. He rubs his sleepy eyes. With newfound clarity, Mike shifts his gaze upwards. Taped to the ceiling is a drawing Abby drew. It's of you and him beneath a flowery altar, Mr. Cupcake as your marriage officiant. The picture aids him in his efforts to feel closer to you.

Mike doesn't even know how he survived seeing the drawing for the first time. Someone else validating his feelings for you and the realness of your nonexistent relationship was too much for him to handle. Even if it is a child doing so through a frivolous drawing.

When Mike shuffles over to place his Walkman on the bedside table, he skims over the assortment of clutter left there. Several bottles of sleeping medication had been indolently thrown onto the surface. The pills help his dreams feel more real, as though he were at your side once again.

A glance over, Mike's heart wrenches at the sight of the picture frame. Beside the mess of pills is a photograph of you he had torn from Abby's yearbook. As if you were watching over him while he slept, reaching out to him in the presence of his dreams. It's a comforting thought of his, to imagine you watching over him. Like his personal guardian angel.

Surely, he would prefer to have you physically with him, instead of just relying on these fantasies to hold him over. His stomach flutters at the mere idea of you being in his bed with him. Mike feels empty without your warm weight beside him.

Laying against his chest, huddling up to him for an early-morning cuddle before the day starts. He would ensnare his blanket around your still-sleeping form. He'd press ardent kisses to the top of your head and inhale the aromatic scent of your signature soap. Massaging his hands across your back. Caressing the balmy flesh of your body. It is the physical manifestation of nirvana brought directly into his palms.

Mike shakes the thoughts out as quickly as they come. So cheesy... What on Earth is he doing?

Although he has tossed around the idea of giving in and leaving Abby in their aunt's care, what kind of man would you think him as if he abandoned his family? And if he were to take Abby back to Nebraska, Social Services would surely hunt him down. The mere idea of being locked behind a prison cell is terrifying, but the prospect of never seeing you again provokes terror like no other.

Mike's head pounds as these thoughts haunt him. Reveries of brighter days in your presence, trepidation of being separate from you forever — this is how every morning usually begins. His dreams nestled in a nightmare. The chaos in his head brings him to where this story had begun altogether.

February. Two months before the last time he would ever see you.

Jane had demanded Abby live with her in Utah, threatening legal action in the process. Mike had no other choice but to succumb to her orders. It had begun as a minor inconvenience, considering his life in Nebraska was futile to begin with. However, it would soon become the worst decision he has ever made. He knows he should have fought harder, but Mike hadn't met you until after he verified their relocation. It wasn't until he had stepped foot into your classroom for the very first time had he realized the weight of his mistake.

With the start of his shift at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza approaching, he struggled to bring these rampant thoughts to rest. Resentfully, Mike rises from his bed. The sun has begun to set and his unsatisfactory power nap has come to an end. He trudges over to the foot of his bed and begins his usual set of push-ups. Triggering adrenaline through his body is essential to his daily routine. It helps ease his brain from all the chaos. An area he is in dire need of assistance.

For a moment, his thoughts are blank. It is such an oddity, that Mike is left stunned. Having a silent mind is a privilege that is unknown to him.

And just when he thought he had found coherence, the memory of you comes sprinting at him from the shadows. Mere seconds of emptiness pass before thoughts of you invade his mind.

A week after your final goodbye.

His disposition has suffered from a harsh descent since then. Mike is now irritable and aggressive to anyone who even faintly nudges his buttons. Snapping like a feral dog. Rough like a calloused hand.

Acknowledging weakness has never been his strong suit, but Mike is not a fool when it comes to how he feels around you. The overwhelming nerves stirred together with unwavering devotion make for a sugary-sweet, poisonous concoction. Something he could get drunk off for years to come.

Although his mind is stained in consideration, he cannot storm through the school doors and take you with him to Utah. Merely standing in your presence is enough to make him stop breathing. Contriving an abduction, one that includes you, no less, would fail miserably. And as he stated before, the prospect of being stuck behind bars and never seeing you again provokes terror like no other.

So, he gives in. He resentfully gives in to what his Aunt Jane wants and goes about his life.

There was only two more weeks before he'd leave his job as security at the mall forever. Mike meanders through the large expanse, actively averting his gaze from all the happy couples. Hands held together, eyes brimming with adoration, feeding each other ice cream. It never fails to make him bitter, which he prefers to assume it is because of how sappy the sight is.

He wonders what flavor of ice cream is your favorite, the look in your eye as he feeds you a spoonful. What kind of sweet words you'd give him and the way you'd blush when he drowns you in adoration. Within the safety of his mind, he has molded himself into the man of your dreams. You will just have to look past all the sweat and nerves to find him.

A flicker of movement captures his attention. Something strangely familiar in his peripheral. When he turns, his breath gets caught in his chest.

His wide eyes stare at you. Standing alone across the mall.

All Mike can do is gawk. Like a newly-born fawn, staring goggle-eyed and weak-kneed as he takes in the sight of the world for the very first time. A gasp of your name parts from his lips. He sways in his stance like a boat on the sea, his body melts like snow beneath the sunlight. Stood still in place, he feels that familiar sense of light-headedness return. He embraces the dizziness as a comfort, this time around.

Mike could almost laugh at this. At the same time, he could cry his heart out.

Of course, your roads would intersect. Of course, you would find each other in the end. Even when he had fully accepted he would never see you again, you return to him. Like a cloud of happier days, here to hide the torment for all.

And then, he's interrupted.

Walking uninvited into the scene is a stranger. A man approaches you, daring to drape his arm around your shoulder. Mike's eye twitches as he watches. The stranger then plants a kiss on your cheek, something Mike has wished to do since the first time he stepped foot in your classroom. With this man's hands all over you, the two of you begin to walk away.

The word "heartbroken" was something Mike had never felt before. It was something he never understood. He only heard of the word through brainless movies, where he swore he'd never let himself fall apart like the dumb characters do. At this moment, however, that term is stamped all over him in thick ink. A vivid exhibition of all the good and bad you have done to him.

Without another thought, Mike takes a step. Then another. Before he is breaking into a full sprint toward the love of his life and the parasite latched onto them. It's as if a puppeteer was controlling him, grasping hold of his spine and snatching a fistful of nerves. He shoves past any shoppers in his way, a few losing balance and falling to the floor. His speed accelerates with every hastening step, growing closer and closer.

The stranger looks over his shoulder a second too late before he is tackled. The two fall into an adjacent fountain with a loud clamor. Mike's fist clenches, before it surges down into his face. Then, he does it again and again and again.

Again. Again. Again.

And again.

Grunting like an animal, Mike can't stop himself.

Fuck you. Fuck you. 

Fuck you.

Don't you ever fucking touch them.

It is blinding, how enraged he is. In a mess of blood and water. The mere thought of someone laying a finger on you boils red-hot rage like he has never felt before.

Someone ensnares their arms around him and drags him away from the mess he created. When the splashing water eases down to calm ripples, he finally looks over to you to ensure your safety and- who is that? A different person is standing there, utter horror plastered on their face as they watch the scene play out.

They have the same height, the same clothes, almost the same everything. But, now that Mike is able to scrutinize who he thought to be you, he realizes he was completely wrong. He had only formed a desperate personification of you from memory. What has he done?

The dread is soul-crushing as the weight of his mistake crushes him. Other bystanders watch in shock. Mike's fists are bruised red, his clothes are wet and stained with blood. What on Earth was he thinking!? All he ever wanted was to protect you! To protect you from men like that!

Mike's vision doubles and his body shivers. All he ever wanted was to protect you. The only thing he can think about is you and the sheer devastation you have rained down into his life.

This memory playing through his head is abruptly cut short. Mike is then forcefully shoved back into reality when his hand slips during his set of push-ups. He falls face-first into the carpet, grumbling from the harsh contact.

It is a vile memory to have, as it is the reason he lost his job at the mall and truly eradicated any chance of staying in Nebraska. However, it showed him how irrevocably devoted he is to you. How the feelings he has for you are completely and utterly real. Someone like him, who prides himself in being aloof and controlled, was capable of causing such calamity. All for your safety.

It was a terrifying revelation, but it soothed him in a way he had never felt before.

Michael Schmidt needs you.

And unfortunately, his feelings are not powerful enough to stretch into physical reality. Even though it feels as though they are capable of doing so, they cannot mold the world to bring him back to you. They cannot protect him from the inevitability of leaving his home and being dragged to Utah.

Now, he stands at the entrance of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Ivy grows amongst the bricked walls. Bright paint fades from years of neglect. Mike breathes in the scent of midnight brume as he unlocks the doors, trying once more to rid his brain of the thought of you.

The flashlight in his hands illuminates the inside of the pizzeria. Specks of dust permeate the air. Flashy arcade games are riddled with age. Toys on the prize shelf are covered in a blanket of cobwebs. The once gaudy carpets are caked with dirt. And those God-awful animatronics still stand on that rickety stage. Mike takes note of all these little things with a sigh. If this place was still alive today, he knows you'd adore taking your students here.

As his nights have been spent for the last year, he walks through the dilapidated establishment as usual. On the desk is a stack of chunky monitors displaying several angles of the pizzeria. The "CELEBRATE!" poster on the wall mocks him. He plops down on the adjacent swivel chair. The old fabric peels and the wheels whine from his weight.

Unzipping his ragged backpack, he grasps hold of the book he had taken with him, Dream Theory. Adjusting the headphones of his Walkman on his head, Mike then flicks the dog-ear over and resumes his reading.

God only knows how many times he has read this damned book. And every time he rereads it, he prays he can somehow find an anecdote for this torment. A magic step-by-step guide that will bring him back to you.

Despite perusing this book from front to back, he still searches for more. He hates being awake. He'd much rather be asleep, where he can return to you. Any second not spent with you, even if the moment is not tangible, is a second gone to waste. No matter what the circumstances are, he could only ever wish to be with you.

Lethargy hits Mike like a slap across the face. The book in his hands is now reminiscent of a brick. The song that plays on repeat in his Walkman soothes him like a mother's lullaby. All of these sensations embrace Mike; they pacify his brain and body of any unease. And with a few more leveled breaths, Dream Theory falls from his hands and he drifts off.

With a beat, he's woken up with a sharp gasp. This time, however, he does not awaken in the same dingy pizzeria. He finds himself sitting at a picnic table. Located in the very same forest he had lost his brother years ago.

Looking down, Mike finds he is dressed in the same hunter-green sweater and jeans stained with grass. His eyes scan around the expanse, searching for the faces of his family. He cannot find his mother, his father, nor Garrett. No one. Everything is to no avail.

There's a shuffle from behind him. He looks, only to find swaying trees and fluttering birds. And then, a voice.

"I'm sad to see you both go." The familiar cadence has Mike's head snapping back forward. He is struck with desperation.

There you are, sat across from him at the picnic table.

If it weren't for the campgrounds you were both at, this moment would be identical to when he first met you. In that same classroom, on that same day. Every mannerism and timbre of your voice is a picture-perfect copy of that moment. Same look in your eye, wearing the same clothes and bead bracelets your students made for you. Same everything.

It is a precious memory. To sit here with you feels so real, as though the heavens had answered Mike's prayers and brought him back to you.

"Abigail has always been a stellar student. I have no doubt she'll flourish in her new school."

Your smile makes his heart sink. Everyone always looks at him with anger. Not you, though. You're different.

"She does have a tendency to keep to herself. But, I think she'll adapt well to the new environment." He remembers every word from your mouth.

The emotions he was struck with when he first met you come back in a near-fatal rush. Irrepressible tension and rapture plunge through the barrier of his flesh. Practically a duplicate of the exact memory.

Going to a standard school meeting for his sister was an event Mike intended to do briefly. Getting it over as quickly as possible is his standard approach to most if not all, aspects of his life. This day, however, he was thrown in a whirlpool when he found himself wishing to stay with you. Leaving you felt like something he could not bear to endure.

Mike is abnormally pale, drenched in sweat, and mere seconds from passing out. You place your hand on his arm, inquiring him about if he was feeling alright. Hook, line, and sinker. Your mere touch sent him charging away from any perceived sanity he once possessed.

The strictly platonic concern you had for his well-being is addicting. To a point where Mike abandons all morals to indulge in these newfound feelings you give him. Once a poised man has now been reduced to a gooey puddle of sheer fervor.

All he can do is nod in response, completely entranced by the sight before him. You take his assurance hesitantly, before reaching into a basket of children's toys beside your desk. As this memory usually plays out, you retrieve a bear plushie. You then tell him of how it is Abby's favorite to play with and how you wish to gift it to her before your final goodbye. He agrees, of course. Nodding once more to compensate for his inability to speak.

In these woods, however, you show him that orange toy plane his brother treasured. His gaze remains latched to you as stand from the picnic table and walk away. To his utmost surprise, you then bend down beside Garrett. When you present him with the plane, he accepts your gift with childlike elation. He is quick to abandon his recent endeavors in favor of playing with his new toy.

You stand on foot, watching with an adoring smile as the young boy takes off. Mike watches you. An emotional, muddled intensity in his eyes.

"This isn't... This isn't how it happened... This isn't real." In his state of confusion, Mike has found the ability to speak.

He captures your attention and your gaze reverts to him. In response, his mouth goes dry and all coherent thought vanishes. Just one look from you and his entire capacity to speak is robbed, once again.

"But, it could be... It's what you want, isn't it?"

You are correct. You have always been veracious and that attitude does not fail now.

So despairingly, Mike wants this with you. To raise Abby and Garrett together, he can only imagine the wonderful people they'd become under your care. Maybe you and him could even bring a few more beautiful lives into this world. He can only imagine how exultant his own life would become if this dream turned into reality.

The rest of his life would be spent with you in Nebraska, just like this. Mornings and nights spent together at the dining table, all delicious laughter and nourishing meals. He'll even let you bring that lizard, too!

Playing frivolous games in the backyard until the sun sets, dressing in ridiculous costumes to take the kids trick-or-treating, and helping them blow out the candles for every birthday cake. Hell, he'll endure the sweltering temperatures and screaming kids at Disneyland. Only if you're there with him.

And maybe after the bedtime stories and last tuck-ins goodnight, you and him can occupy yourselves with other activities. Mike is no stranger to these kinds of fantasies, after all.

You wouldn't fail Abby and Garrett. Not like he did. You could all be a family. Exactly like he has always wanted.

For a moment, Mike had forgotten how his life had inevitably turned out. He was so warped in the domestic bliss he could have with you, that he didn't anticipate how the next chapter of his life would manifest in this dream.

You are tackled to the ground. You fight, you kick, you scream — you do everything in your strength to get the man off of you. The very same man who took Garrett all those years ago.

Not a picosecond passes before Mike picks himself up, rushing to your safety. He intends to beat the man to a bloody pulp. His sole purpose on Earth is to protect you and ensure your safety, after all. In his efforts, his foot gets caught against the legs of the picnic table, sending him to the dirt floor. Mike is quick to scramble to his feet. His heart races a mile a minute; his eyes are blown wide in crazed worry.

When he stands, he finds that somehow within the few seconds spent on the ground, you had been shoved into the back of a car. You bang your fists against the rear window, pleading for him to rescue you. And that, Mike desperately tries to do.

He sprints after you in a blind, blurred panic. The sudden, swift movement of his body is painful, as though needles poke and prod at his skin. It is all he can see, hear, feel, think of. Losing you and the gut-wrenching devastation that would inevitably follow.

The car begins to accelerate faster and faster. His running pace gets slower with every step forward. Mike tries, God, he fucking tries, but you slip away from him like sand between his fingers. Just the same as it was when he lost his brother.

With his speed receding, his body loses all mobility and he cannot bear to run anymore. The harsh punt of his body falling to the ground pulls a grunt out of his throat. Mike whispers mantras of "I'm sorry," hoping that you can somehow hear his pleas. He prays that by some miracle, the man who took you will have a change of heart and bring you back. Sobs plunge through his chest. The misery seeps in like water leaking through a weak dam.

Consciousness comes back to him all too suddenly. A loud yell of your name erupts from him and echoes through the security room. Mike plummets from his desk chair and splats against the ground. His mind is still plagued by that scene, he is still racing to save your life.

Cold sweat drips from his head. His hands shake with a terrified tremor. He hyperventilates, as though he had escaped the depths of the ocean and were inhaling fresh air for the first time. Mike weakly props himself up against the desk, trying to calm himself.

An entire year of agony. Over 365 days of absolute Hell. Living without you has tortured him in ways he never thought was possible.

Sitting here on the filthy floor of this old pizzeria, Mike finally waves his white flag. He has given up. He cannot do this anymore. It is more than he can handle.

And without so much as another breath, Mike springs into action.

Max is surprised to see him back home so early. Flustered and ridden with sweat, Mike explains how there is an emergency at work and he needs her to watch Abby longer. She obliges and accepts the hefty pay he shoves into her hands. He is driving away before she can process what has just occurred.

The song he plays every night in his Walkman blares from the car radio. Your song. The idea brings him ephemeral ease. A dash of excitement.

This is what his life is supposed to be and if all goes well, it's what it will be in mere hours. Mike's foot slams harder against the gas, doing what he should have done long ago.

All he has to do is explain himself. Surely, you will listen and understand this is for the better. You will see through all his stuttered words and irrepressible nerves. You will taste the sickeningly sweet devotion dripping from his mushy, candied heart. Surely, you will understand this is all for you. And of course, you will love him, too.

Hours pass like gusts of wind. The welcome sign of Nebraska passes in a flash. Mike remembers the route like the back of his hand. He'd never forget the roads that lead back to you, after all.

Dawn is moments from rising. The sky is a dark blue, covered in blotches of dark, orange sunshine. Mike pulls into the parking lot of your school where only one car is present. Yours. And of course, he parks directly beside you. The prospect of being close to you, even with something as negligible as this, sends a hot shiver coursing through his body.

Mike tries to soothe himself as he lets out a shaky breath. A heavy trepidation is nestled in his stomach, still mixed with that crisp excitement. Sweat cascades down his face. His dark, curly hair sticks to his forehead. Nothing can stop these feelings. He may try, but his scattered heartstrings stubbornly remain ensnared around his throat.

When he stands, he has to latch onto the roof of his car to catch his balance. Any passerby would think he was drunk. Being at an elementary school would certainly not help his case, either. Fortunately, the only people here are you and him. No one else. Just the way it is supposed to be.

The path leading to you is familiar. The trees blossoming, the chalk drawings on the sidewalk, and the scent of the early-morning breeze. It reminds Mike even more of how much he missed you.

His wet palms grasp the handles of the front entrance. He pulls, only for the door to remain locked in place. A few more desperate tugs and he watches as his ploy peels apart from the seams. The consideration of breaking down the door is only present momentarily, before any and all function of his is cut short.

The door is unlocked and opened. Stood at the threshold is you.

And with more intensity than Mike had anticipated, the euphoria only you are capable of conjuring comes rushing back.

"Good morning!" is all you say. Your expression is cheerful. Kind. Gorgeous, as you always are. Exactly the way he remembered.

Now that you are finally here, Mike cannot fathom how he had survived so long without you. The pieces of you sprinkled throughout his life are brought to revelation. Your name carved into his bones, your warmth threaded through his veins, your breath stirred with his every word. It is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. The fact he had not collapsed upon making mere eye contact with you is a miracle in of itself.

"Oh! Are you the new security guard? I wasn't aware we were getting a new hire." You break the silence, referring to the yellow "SECURITY" stamped on his vest.

You...

You don't remember me?

The words don't manage to escape him. Instead, you send him into a state of stupor.

The impact your words have on him is nothing short of surreal. When Mike had memorized every sliver of you down to the tilt of your jaw and the curve of your spine, you had forgotten him entirely. For the year he spent longing for you, he was merely a bystander in the background. An apparition within your mind. You do not remember him. And no words in the English language could express the lethal heartbreak.

It has rendered Mike speechless and his inability to speak fills you with unease.

"Please, come in." Opening the door further, you try and usher him inside. All you wish to do is escape this conversation and the fervid eyes of this stranger.

Gaze still glued to you, he grasps hold of the door handles. His unconscious brain still decides to take the weight off of you. Mike has no choice now, he must convince you to stay with him. To beg you to choose him, to remind you of everything you once had with each other. To show you what losing you has done to him.

When you turn and walk away, he tries to find his voice. Mike wants to express all of this to you, but his efforts are futile. He is frozen and can only watch as you leave him again. The opposite direction of your classroom, this time. Towards the office. Most likely to ensure he was actually in the system.

Mike does not take this choice of yours for granted. Gathering up whatever morsel of strength is still left in him, he takes a few wobbly steps. He stumbles through the dark hallways, clutching his hand over his heart as he walks. His rampant heartbeat does not calm itself, no matter his attempts to soothe it.

Upon practically collapsing into your classroom, a flare of fleeting ease envelops Mike. To be surrounded by you is absolute ecstasy. Paradise is personified through flamboyant decorations and the scent of strawberries and books.

He scans every detail of your classroom. The new drawings on the wall, the jumble of recently purchased toys. He sees the new changes you have made in the past year and is shattered to know you were not thinking of him at all. As opposed to every second of his life being enmeshed with you.

Mike soon finds your desk. The first and last place he had ever truly felt happiness. On the surface, some of your clutter had been left behind. Too cute. A colorful planner had been left open to this exact date. A few papers are sat to the side, where students' assessments are in the process of being graded. Most important of all, your thermal scattered with stickers sits on a pained coaster.

Mike knows he should not consider it, no less think about it. You just need to be reminded, that's all.

With a paranoid glance at the door, he takes the orange bottle of sleeping pills from his backpack. He swiftly pours out several onto the desk. Then, he takes a stapler you had left out of reach from children's sticky fingers, crushing the thin white circles into a chunky powder. Your thermal opens with a quiet pop! and Mike pours the residue into your drink. He uses the straw to stir it around for effective measure, trying to ignore the incessant urge to take your straw for... personal use.

A storage closet resides right behind him. Mike leaves everything on your desk as it once was and is swift to hide inside. He leaves the door open a mere creak, within perfect distance to watch his plan unfold.

The minute without you feels torturous, as though it had lasted a millennia. When the aching sound of silence is filled by a creaking door, his heart practically plummets. Through the small peep, you enter his field of vision. You trot over to the iguana enclosure. Saying a quick hello to Mr. Cupcake, before making your way to your desk. Oblivious to the uninvited guest just inches away.

You take a sip from your thermal. Mike cannot find air to breathe or the ability to function.

You take another. This is actually happening.

One more sip. Your pen scribbles on your planner.

You take a sip. It is a blessing straight from God you cannot hear the hyperventilated breaths behind you.

Then, another sip. Holy shit, this is actually happening.

As you work, you reach over to grab some sticky notes. Your elbow accidentally nudges your pen, causing it to fall from your desk and roll across the floor. You stand to retrieve it with a grumble before a sudden wave of lethargy envelops you. It is all too sudden and acute. You have to lean on the edge of your desk to stable yourself.

Before you can question the sudden fatigue, your body fails you. When you inevitably fall, Mike is quick to catch you. Hell, his arms were around you before your legs even wobbled. Slowly, and with loving attentiveness, he guides your limp body to the ground. The adrenaline inside him is so penetrating, that he does not have a moment to process the fact he is touching you.

With you fully unconscious, Mike knows exactly where he'll be heading next. Only now, he'll have an additional passenger with him.

He secures your unconscious form into the back seat of his car. Fastening your seatbelt and triple-checking they are in proper function. Mr. Cookie, or whatever his name is, is in the front seat within his cage. Moving his enclosure and necessities from your classroom was a hassle, as told by the bite mark on Mike's hand. For you, though, he would endure far worse.

With the birds beginning to sing, there is little time before the world wakes up and his intentions are jeopardized. Mike drives off before anyone can see what he has done. Not even he has fully processed what he has done.

Leaving your car, your home, and your life behind, he begins the treacherous and exciting journey back to Utah.

Every car that passes has him gripping the wheel tighter, foot reader to slam harder on the gas. He had already lost you once, he cannot lose you again. Mike does not play music, either. The sounds of your breathing is his new favorite harmony.

He casts a glance in the rear-view mirror every now and then. You're draped among the back of the car, cocooned in the numerous blankets he brought for this trip. Beneath the windows, your head is rested against a fluffy pillow. He even snuggled a few plushies into your arms. The sight is so gut-wrenchingly adorable, Mike nearly crashes the car with how painfully distracting the sight of you is.

This was the state he stayed in for the first several hours of the drive. Mindless driving on freeways, checking on you (as well as continuously cooing over your cuteness), and holding his breath whenever he passes through busy areas or cops. Then, he gets knocked off course.

With blurred vision, you can barely discern where you are.

Sunlight makes you squint. Your mind is messy. You can hear the rumble of a car engine, feel the vibration against your form. The blankets wrapped around you are suffocating. You peel them off from your body, a few random stuffed animals fall to the car floor when you do so.

Mike nearly snaps his neck with how fast he turns around. His efforts to take you away were frivolous, yes, but he was sure he had given you enough pills to sleep through the trip.

"Hey, you're okay. Y-You're okay. Everything's gonna be okay. Okay? Just don't freak out... Please don't freak out."

You do the opposite of what he advised. Little by little, the pieces begin to click together. Panic settles in your stomach like a fresh sheet of snow. Hyperventilating breaths leave your shaking body, accentuated by your frightened whimpers. Who is this man? What the fuck is going on? Tears stream down your face with every question that litters your mind. And every cracked sob you let out is a fatal strike to your assailant's fragile heart.

Mike is quick to comfort you, as you can always count on him to do such. And how badly he wishes to climb into the back seat himself and hold you close. Everything he is doing is for the better, you must know that. As scary as this all may seem for you, he will do whatever it takes to convince you of this truth.

He reaches his hand back to soothe you, only succeeding in the opposite when you cower away from his touch. Mike cannot hide how poignant your rejection is, he is shocked he hadn't broken down into tears alongside you.

"... Are you going to hurt me-?"

"I would never."

He answers without a sliver of hesitation. Your shattered, sugar-sweet voice absolutely destroys him.

The weight of his declaration is so immense that you could almost believe him. You should believe him, as he only tells the utter truth. The fact you have been drugged and shoved into the backseat of a stranger's car, however, convinces you otherwise.

Looking through the window, you take note of the rural area you're in. Nothing but miles of trees to comfort you. No distinct landmarks to help you navigate your location.

Mike oscillates between looking at you and the road. While he's occupied with the road ahead, you take action before thinking thoroughly. Sweltering blankets torn off of your body, you unfasten your seatbelt as silently as you can. You mentally prepare yourself for the turmoil up ahead. Then, within a matter of a single second, you unlock the car door and jump.

Debris slices into you as you fall deeper into the forest. The world becomes a blurred frenzy of trees and cloudy skies. Your frail body is drowsy from the drugs still pumping through your system. Your ribs ache, your ears ring, and you are covered in gashes. Still, survival is the only prospect present in your brain. You pick yourself up from the dirt and dash forward. Never looking back.

April puddles and fallen pinecones ruin your expensive work shoes. Fresh flowers are squished beneath your steps. There is no path you intend to take, you only wish to get as far as you can from that man. Poison ivy and low-hanging branches slash at your skin. You do not think, you only push and push and push. Anywhere away from him.

The second you had opened that car door, Mike slammed down on the brakes. The scream of your name hurts his throat from the sheer volume. To see you jump, leaving him again, sparked fear like no other. He does not even bother to turn off the car or close the door before he is racing after you. He cannot lose you again. He can't, he can't, he can't.

Mike barrels into the forest like a feral animal. He is met with a terrifying sense of déjà-vu. He's seen this movie before, he's heard this song a million times. This dream has haunted him forever. Just when he is inches from touching salvation, you will be snatched away from him. And he will have to watch as his life crumbles before his very eyes.

His legs grow heavier with every step. He screams for you until his voice goes raw. His lungs feel as though they may collapse into themselves. Still, his efforts to find you do not falter. You would have to kill him if you wished to keep him away from you.

A tree branch crunches.

Mike stops dead in his tracks. Listening.

There's a pained whimper. Quiet amongst the soft winds.

He dashes toward the sound. Swift in surging through the steep hills and overgrown forestry in his path.

While you were running, you failed to notice a protruding tree root. When your foot hooks beneath it and sends you tumbling to the ground, you try and scramble to your feet. However, the burst of adrenaline that had gotten you this far could not combat the lethargy still in your body. You lay on your back, exasperated with debility. Entirely paralyzed.

"Y/N! Oh, thank God!" Mike collapses beside you, all while you stare at the stranger in utter terror.

Dirt and sweat paint his body. Eyes blown wide and crazed, his hands reach for you. Fearfully searching for any wounds. One hand cradles your face, caressing your skin with his thumb. The other rests against your hairline, petting the expanse with tender intent. Cries of both relief and terror fill the empty silence. To lose you all over again is a horrifying prospect he cannot fathom the weight of.

"N-... No..." Your voice is weak. Barely able to crawl out of your mouth.

Fingers latched into the mud, you try to drag your body away from this maniac. Mike brings your attempts to a halt, hands still latched onto your body.

"I'll be good, Y/N, I will... Just-Just stay with me!"

Your assailant does not listen to your feeble demands. Instead, Mike wraps his arms around your torso. Further ensnaring you in his locked embrace. He buries his face into your neck and rocks your body back and forth. Trying to soothe you into another slumber. His sniffles are overpowered by his sharp inhales of breath. Consuming your scent.

"You're not leaving me. You're not fucking leaving me!" Mike bawls out.

He is now a complete mess. Face twisted with ugly sobs. All hot tears and running snot.

"Just sleep now, okay? I'm right here..."

Blunt nails dig into your shoulder blades. His weight on top of you is suffocating. Please just love him and never leave him. That is all he could ever ask for, all he could ever want. He has spent so long without the one he loves most, he cannot bear to ever part from them ever again.

With a choked groan, Mike lifts your limp body from the ground. Sniffling reassurances echo as you reach a state of unconsciousness. He lifts you over his shoulder and your body loses all mobility. As he takes you away, your mind fades into a peaceful rest. Escaping is now a pipe dream.

Faint sounds of shuffling are what you're next awoken to. Pipes bang and thump. It is far more quiet than your last conscious encounter.

Darkness pervades your vision. Your body feels weightless, as though you are floating through a dream. You cannot move, no matter your efforts to try. As if your limbs had been glued to the fluffy expanse you've been laid upon. All you are capable of doing is releasing a guttural moan of disdain from the back of your throat.

"Easy, cub. Easy now."

No.

The voice is fluffy and easy. Horrifyingly familiar.

This can't be real; this can't be reality. This cannot be what your life becomes: rotting away in this stranger's embrace.

You were granted several mere seconds of solitude before hands were on your body, once again. The grasp lifts your body, to where your assailant sits behind you and rests your back against his chest. His efforts are gentle. Comforting. Though, the movement still has you wincing in discomfort. You hadn't anticipated how many injuries you had given yourself.

Speckles of your sight return in short spurts. There is light against the darkness, everything is gold. Drowned in the hues of candlelight scattered around the room. The glow is cast against a fuzzy expanse, to where you could almost convince yourself you were in a dream. And my God, do you wish it was.

You miss the rich, headache-inducing colors of your classroom. The judging stares of other parents who drowned their homes in beige decor never felt more comforting. You miss the screeching children with their constant need for attention. Their dramatic tears and obnoxious attitude would bring you peace like no other.

Mike plants his chin against your shoulder and all you can think about is the beautiful life you have lived until this point. His arm slithers across your torso, tightening with vehement need. It is loving in the most suffocating manner. You then hear a bottle unscrew through static noise. shushes you as he presses the lid against your lips. Water cascades into your mouth and down your dry throat, all while Mike presses impassioned kisses to your temple.

"There you go. Very good... You're perfect..." His tone is cordial as he ushers you to drink.

As much as you had tried to fight his attempts to give you water, it has fortunately provided you more clarity. The environment surrounding you fades into something more lucid.

You've been swaddled in a thick comforter. Soft and floral-scented, fresh out of the dryer. The king-size bed is at the end of the room and provides you with a clear view of everything. The lack of windows and decrepit staircase tucked in the corner tell you this is a basement. Soundproofed and locked up, your chances of escape are minimal. He does not want to let you go, that much is for certain.

Across the room is a chunky television. Movie cassettes sit in the cabinet supporting the television, where a newly purchased GameCube is left beside, as well. There's a bookshelf to your left, which is filled with old novels and children's books. Nothing was bought recently. Is there a child in this house? Lego sets and puzzle boxes are stacked next to the shelf. You come to the chilling assumption that it is intended to be something for you to occupy yourself with when he's gone.

Much to your satisfaction, Mike leaves from his spot behind you. He guides you back onto the pillow with romantic, loving ease. A gentle caress to your cheek before he goes. As if he was your doting husband taking care of you while you are ill.

When you look to your right, your heart accelerates when you find your iguana enclosure on top of a rickety table. Thank God he is alright! You do not know what you would do if this man had harmed Mr. Cupcake.

As words have failed you consistently, you whine out like a baby to express your wants. Your assailant's attention is back on you at record speed. The persistent need he has to ensure your comfort is almost pathetic. Teary-eyed and pouty, you reach for the enclosure holding your iguana.

Mike's body goes rigid. A gentle gasp emanates from him.

Are you... Are you reaching for him?

He practically throws himself back onto the bed. Sat beside your laying form, he almost can't bring himself to believe it. His deluded fantasies have bloomed into existence.

"Yes? What do you need, cub?" Please say him. Please say you need him like he needs you.

Mike looks at you and his eyes melt into candy. A gentle smile plastered on his face, he brings his finger up and boops you on the nose. Affectionate is his natural disposition. You're too fucking cute.

Mike had wasted an entire year without you. Too much time spent neglecting you of his love. Oh, you must have been so lonely without him. This is all he has wanted, after all. To take care of you. To take the weight off your shoulders and bring you ease like no other. He will spend the rest of his lifetime making up for the lost time. He would spend forever for you, slaving away to earn your forgiveness.

When you firmly establish what it is you actually want, no amount of sleeping pills in your thermal cup could stop you from seeing how defeated he is. Your rejection cuts like a dagger. Anyone can see this genuine fact. Still, Mike abides by your request. He'd tear mountains asunder for your happiness, after all.

Begrudgingly, he leaves your side. He opens the enclosure with struggle. Too many notches and slots. When he takes Mr. Cupcake into his hands, the iguana squirms and twists. Almost as if the reptile grasped what was happening. He propels his tail like a whip, reaching for the hands around him with his sharp teeth. His nails dig into whatever part of this stranger he can find.

When Mike plops him into your lap, Mr. Cupcake relaxes instantaneously. You snuggle him into your arms and are provided comfort from him, as well. His scaly flesh and jagged spine abrade your face, but you have never known a more soothing embrace. You plant a myriad of kisses and adoring nuzzles on Mr. Cupcake's skin. At the same time, you ignore the third wheel standing there.

Mike watches this and is nearly sick with want. Never in his life had he ever thought he'd wish to be an iguana this bad. The things he would give and the things he would take to be on the receiving end of your affections bridges off insanity.

Averting his gaze, he cannot watch the scene anymore. He had never expected to be so envious of a goddamn reptile. Mike grants you the time you want with that prickly bastard and leaves the basement. You hear the tumultuous clatter of all the locks and bolts being put into place once he is gone.

The time without Mike is something you do not take for granted. Silence is precious, solitude even more so. During his absence, you reel through the supercut of your life. You cannot find this man in any of your memories. You do not remember that face no matter how hard you try. He is the bad guy, the villain. The very definition of 'stranger-danger' you teach your students about.

When Mike returns, all of that disturbed turbulence comes with him.

In his hands is a cracked dinner plate with spaghetti and meatballs splat on top. The closer he gets, the faster your heart pumps. Setting the plate down on the bedside table, he takes your iguana from your tight hold. Mr. Cupcake still thrashes in his grasp, trying to bite and hit wherever he can. Good boy.

When the beast is locked away, Mike is idyllic to be alone with you again. He acts as though the current circumstances were romantic, where you and him are enjoying an amorous vacation. He then places the meal carefully in your lap, wary of the hot plate burning your precious skin.

"You need to eat, cub. You've been through so much. Too much." Mike's hand finds your face again, thumb caressing your cheek.

His mere words make you want to vomit your breakfast all over what is supposed to be your dinner. Still, you obey and begin eating. The dish is mediocre, at best. You've tasted better from the kitchen play set where your students wear chef hats and cook plastic food. Kidnapped and trapped in a basement, however, you'll take whatever scraps you can get.

Eyes glued to your plate, you do not watch as Mike takes a movie from the cabinet and pops it into the VCR. "The Immortal and the Restless" whirs to life as he returns to where you sit. Mike lays down beside you and joins you beneath the warm comforter. He takes the fork from your hands. A shiver cascades up his arm upon the faint contact made by your fingers touching. Oh, it is love. He then begins to feed you. There is nothing but sugary madness in his eyes.

Bite by bite, you are forced to watch soap operas and listen to nauseating love declarations.

"I was so alone out there without you, baby."

If only you hadn't been so fooled by a security vest and pretty brown eyes, you could be with your students right now. You could be free right now.

If only.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ PRAYING STRAIGHT TO GOD THAT

MAYBE YOU'LL COME BACK AROUND . . . ❞

no one asked for this but idc hehe.

gif creds :: mike.

[onismdaydream]

based off this idea from @misscimi

mdni 18+. fem/afab reader. incest (sibling). unprotected p in v. rough sex. dirty talk. creampies. use of handcuffs. cop!leon. leon is not a good person. not proofread.

┌──────────────═━୨୧━═──────────────┐

there were certain perks to being a cop. going through red lights, getting free coffee, having instant 'get out of jail free' cards. the list goes on.

another thing was that leon could take you to a secluded area where he knew the two of you wouldn't be bothered. in the forest that was in the outskirts of town, the dark and full foliage keeping everything concealed. all the officers knew of this place — a place where you could let off some steam. do the things you wanted to do without the fear of getting (publicly) caught. drugs and prostitutes were the common choice.

for leon, though, his guilty pleasure was fucking his cute little sister senseless. making you scream and cry on his cock was his favorite way to unwind.

leon pushed you against the cool metal of the hood of his cop car, his large hand in the middle of your shoulder blades to keep you in place. he had already stripped you down and handcuffed you, the metal digging into your wrists whenever you wiggled too much. you were hesitant when he suggested the restraints at first, nervous at the idea of being so helpless, but leon — the smooth talker that he is — eventually persuaded you. though you didn't know that you didn't really have a choice to begin with. now, you instinctively cross your wrists at the small of your back whenever he brought you here.

his other hand was holding his thick cock, guiding it up and down your dripping slit and relishing in the way your whole body tensed when he teased your hole. he loved you like this, so easy and pliable.

"you want it, baby?" he emphasized the question by slapping your clit with his tip, chuckling darkly as you whined. "gotta ask for it, then."

"please..." your voice was pathetic almost, so breathy and he had barely done more than groped your body. suddenly, your face was shoved against the car, his hand on the back of your head rough.

"you know that's not right."

"leon," you tried, tears prickling at your lash line at the dull pain, but his grip didn't loosen. "need you so bad, big brother, please."

"there you go." his hand trailed down, squeezing the back of your neck for a moment before he grabbed the handcuffs. "don't worry, lil sis. big brother is gonna make you feel so good."

with that as his warning, he quickly snapped his hips forward, pushing half of his length into your cunt. leon's moan was drowned out by your scream, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips when you cried out his name — his favorite sound.

he kept up the brutal pace, barely allowing you time to adjust as he pounded into you from behind, skin slapping skin echoing in the trees around you.

"so fucking tight every time," leon huffed, one of his hands on the hood of the white car to hold him up. "you'd think you'd be looser by now. considering how often i'm fucking this pussy."

"l-leon..!" you cried out, the way he bullied his cock against your walls made you dizzy. but it also made you even wetter, your arousal sliding down your thighs.

"yeah, you love your brother's cock, don't you?"

you nodded, your cheek rubbing against the smooth metal as he quickly thrust his length inside of you. you could feel your face heat up from the lewd schlick schlick schlick of your fucking.

"wanna hear you say it," he growled, yanking on the handcuff chain and pulling you to his chest. the new position gave leon the perfect angle to prod at that gummy spot, making you whine again.

"love it! love big brother's cock! n-no one else can — ah!" your mouth hung open, eyes rolling back as his other hand snaked around your body, thumb rubbing at your swollen clit.

"fuck!" leon hissed when your pussy clamped down around him, your walls pulsating with your growing orgasm. his thrusts became more sloppy, curses spilling from his mouth as your cunt kept sucking him in. "'m gonna cum."

a few more rolls of his hips and leon came with a loud groan, his fingers pinching at your clit making you tumble over the edge as well. the hot and sticky fluid slowly leaked from your pussy as he pulled out, the thick drops falling to the ground below.

"did so good, sis." leon praised, letting your spent body relax against the car, far too tired to even try to stand on your own. his eyes flicked to the windshield, smirking to himself as he saw the light of the dash cam. "i really needed that."

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Pandora was right, taking baths out in the wilderness was great! He could see the stars and point out the constellations as he scrubbed himself and practiced his singing where no one could hear him. This did not stop him from wearing swim trunks, so hess a litte paranoid. Sue him.

Pandora had been very clear about going deep into the wilderness where no one could hear him sing, because if they heard the siren song of a halfa and fled they would be haunted by it forever or until he himself tracked them down and sang a song strong enough to free them.

Ancients she knew him so well.

He had been minding his own business playing in the water with his multitude of floating duck candles, a purchase he begged Sam for when he was drugged out of his mind after a very devastating injury, and practicing one of the songs Pandora put on the "study list" called The Fairy King. If he didn't know any better he would think she was making fun of him.

He scrubbed his arm with a washcloth as he sung watching as the ducks floated around in the little super hero costumes Tucker had 3d printed for them. "Huh. It almost looks like they're dancing."

A light bulb went off in his head. He began practicing with his telekinesis as he sang, making the ducks dance together in little twists and twirls. He doesn't think he's ever had this much fun in a bath before honestly.

----

Red Robin and Nightwing were sneaking through the foliage looking for a supervillians secret base when they heard it. The sound of a full symphony playing live off in the distance. They nodded at eachother before heading in the direction the sound was coming from. They were almost on top of it when they heard the singing begin,

"When the house is still i can hear his song, beckoning me out into the ga-ar-den" the boys froze, this didn't sound anything like thier villain, they turned back to the noise edging closer, "his lullaby- promises sweet- escaaape"

Nothing could have prepared them for what they saw once they parted the underbrush, a glowing white haired teenager was standing in chest deep water, haloed by the moon behind, offering them an ethereal scene "He says, 'come my drifting flower i will hold you tight. Listen to the chime of stars and moo-oonlight-'"

The teen lifted up a floating ducky that was dressed like Red Robin in one hand and placed the other of his chest as he continued singing, "take my hand-and feel here- my heaart"

Red Robin turned beat red and Nightwing moved to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder only to have a twig snap underneath his boot. The guy whirled around and locked eyes with Nightwing for only a moment before screaming and falling backwards into the water. Bubbles rose to the surface of the pond only for a few seconds before they vanished all together.

It felt like a spell was broken and the two vigilantes just stood there for a second before nightwing jumped in to save a possibly drowning teen. No matter how hard he searched he couldn't find any proof that the guy was ever even there, save for the duck candles (?) that Red Robin had already finished collecting from around the pond.

RR didn't seem surprised that the guy had vanished and was examining the ducks. More specifically the bottoms. Dick went to see what was going on only for his younger brother to show him the bottom of the Nightwing duck.

There, in messy handwriting, was the ducks name: Duckwing

Dick laughed and started going through the ducks names, Quack-Hood, Bat-Bill, Red-Drake (which was kinda concerning and brought up the question of whether or not this guy knew any of thier identities) and funniest of all, a Robin one with a little plastic katana simply named Stabby.

----

Danny hid his face in his pillow after accidentally teleporting home. This was awful.

He waited until the heat in his face disappeared before taking a few deep breaths and thinking about how he was going to handle this. He obviously needed to track down the two Gotham vigilantes (what were they doing out there?) and break the spell on them before they become obsessed with him.

Then he remembered his ducks, "Aw man. What are the chances they didn't take my ducks?" Teleporting back to the pond after a full hour of being away showed a dark and duckless pond, much to his disappointment.

Now he added "recue the ducks" to his mental checklist.

Unbeknownst to him the vigilantes weren't the only ones to hear his song...

[sumeruin]

tag, you’re it!!

pairing: yandere! dottore x afab test subject! reader

tw: written by a minor!!!, dddne, heavy noncon, wound fucking, gore, biting, mentions of vomiting but it doesn’t actually happen, biting, lots of blood, blood drinking, kidnapping, drugging, use of weapons, stalking, pet names, dehumanization, i think that’s it, but if i missed anything please let me know!!

a/n: i honestly can’t defend myself on this one um. enjoy <3

minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!

you don’t think your heart has ever beat so fast. you can feel it racing beneath your skin as you run barefoot through the forest, blood rushing through your veins as you hold a hand over your mouth to muffle your desperate, horrified sobs. behind you, you can hear the man that’s been chasing you for the better part of an hour. his heavy footsteps, his terrifying laugh, his sickeningly mocking remarks as he spots the footprints you leave in the mud, unable to cover them up with him right behind you. the wind cools the tears on your face, and it feels like the archons are mocking you. you internally curse them for not granting you a vision, a way to get out of this horrible situation.

your legs burn, and your pace involuntarily gets slower as you sob helplessly, his voice filling your ears, condescending and horrible. “what’s the matter, little rabbit? i can hear you crying.” your legs give out, and you collapse on the muddy floor, your sobs increasing in their urgency as his footsteps get closer and closer. you squeeze your eyes shut, curling your body against the tree you fell against as he finally reaches you. you haven’t gotten a good look at him yet, and you hope you never do. you don’t want to put a face to the voice that’s been tormenting you all night.

you flinch when he reaches a hand out and strokes your cheek, shockingly gentle compared to what you had expected, and he lets out a condescending chuckle and yanks your jaw up to meet his eyes, growling out his words as he speaks. it seems he’s dropped the faux kindness from earlier. “look at me. look at me.” when you obediently open your eyes, sniffling and letting out pained sobs every few seconds, he grins, baring his unnaturally sharp teeth from below his mask and nodding as he appraises you. you feel like a piece of meat, and you’re sure that’s his intent. to dehumanize you, make you feel less than.

he nods to himself, then speaks again. “good. you’ll make a fine specimen, i’m sure.”

you stare up at him in fear, doe eyes widened as you try to flinch away from his iron grip. he doesn’t let you, you didn’t expect him to, though your struggling does seem to please him. you find yourself only more terrified at that fact. your voice is quiet, weak, and he only grins more at the sound. “what… what do you want from me?”

he doesn’t respond, only gives you another horribly wrong looking smile before, almost inhumanly fast, pulling out a syringe and sticking it in your neck. the last thing you remember before everything goes black is how painless it was. like he’s had practice.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

when you wake up, the first thing you notice is the apparent lack of foliage around you, instead replaced with sinister looking metal structures and cages that are stained with something that looks horrifyingly like blood. the second thing you notice is how securely restrained you are. there’s tight, thick straps around your wrists, elbows, knees, ankles, neck, and waist, all of which have locks on them, presumably so you can’t escape.

your mind wanders back to the man in the forest, and what he injected you with. how quickly it worked and left a gap in your memory. as you think more about it, you consequently get more scared. you’re suddenly pulled out of your thoughts by a loud, horrible beeping noise, which you come to realize is the heart rate monitor you’ve been hooked up to. you try to take deep breaths to lower it before the man comes in and realizes you’re awake, but you fail. of course you fail.

his footsteps fill the room, and the beeping gets faster as your heart rate increases more with the terror he inspires in you. he smiles at you again, and his voice rings out, terrible and anxiety inducing. “i see you’re awake. tell me, what’s gotten you so worked up, hm? is my laboratory scary? do you not enjoy your accommodations?”

he leans in closer to you, and you feel tears starts to pool in your eyes as your body fills with dread. the man seems amused by this, cooing softly at you and pinching your cheek in a way that’s somehow more dehumanizing than anything else he’s done so far. “please… please let me go,” you’re painfully aware of how pathetic you sound as you speak, but you hope he’ll take pity on you instead. realize you aren’t meant for whatever he has planned and release you, though you know deep down that you aren’t that lucky.

he laughs, then shakes his head no before speaking again. he talks too much, you think. “i’m afraid i can’t do that, little rabbit. though, i suppose some introductions are in order. i am il dottore, the second of the featuring harbingers, and your new master. i’ve had my eye on you for some time, dear. you… intrigue me. i have never seen someone quite as pretty as you are. so, you see, i just had to have you. you understand, i’m sure,” his voice gets on your nerves, though you know it’s best to be compliant when dealing with lunatics, so you simply nod your head as best you can with your restraints as he continues.

“good. you must be wondering what i plan to do with you, correct?” you nod again. “i have many ideas, i can’t say i’ve ever felt this way before, especially about someone as insignificant as you, so there’s quite a few things i’d like to try. of course, i will bathe you, then examine you more thoroughly than i managed in the forest. after i’ve collected your baseline vital statistics, and you have been thoroughly examined and cleaned, i will take you. for my research, of course. i believe it would be beneficial to encourage in coitus with you, as it might help me to better understand the origin of these feelings.”

you’re sure he can see the alarm on your face at how casually he mentions violating you in such a personal way, for he gives you a pat on the head that you think is meant to be comforting. it has the opposite effect, it only makes you more concerned. you shake your head no and give him a desperate, pleading look, your eyes filling with tears at the thought. “please, no! anything but that, i swear i won’t ever try to leave, just… please, don’t!”

his eyes light up, and you finally realize he’s removed his mask. you had been too caught up in your panicked fear to really pay attention to him, but as you examine him, his heavily scarred face, his blood red eyes, his aquiline nose. he’s… undeniably attractive, your brain supplies. you immediately try to push those thoughts away, he just said he was planning on raping you, for archon’s sake, you cannot find him attractive. he clearly picks up on your inner struggle, judging from the amused smile he wears and the way he leans in closer to you, softly caressing your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“i suppose if you’re that against me taking you vaginally, i could find another way to have you. though i can’t promise it will be as pleasant. it is quite hard to give the recipient pleasure in other orifices,” his cologne fills your nostrils as he leans in so close to you, your lips just barely touching. he smells like roses and leather, with just a hint of blood and bleach along with other chemical smells you can’t quite place. you hate yourself for thinking it, but it’s not an entirely unpleasant scent. in fact, you think you’d quite enjoy it on anyone else.

he hums, nosing against your throat and leaving a bite where your neck meets your shoulder. it’s painful, and you have to bite your tongue to resist crying out as the tears that had been building finally start to fall. you can’t hold back the choked sob that escapes when you feel the copious amount of blood that falls from the wound, sure to leave a scar. an inescapable, undeniable, permanent reminder of what he’s done to you and what he plans to do to you.

he ignores your distress, only whispering half hearted coos as he licks up all the blood from your fresh bite mark and groans softly at the taste. the realization that he’s getting pleasure from this makes bile start to rise up your throat. “shh, shh… you taste divine. perhaps that’s why i’m so enchanted with you. you’ve put a spell on me.”

dottore softly laps up the blood that pours from your wound, and you hate yourself a little more for thinking the feeling is somewhat pleasant. his tongue is soothing on your wound, his saliva is unnaturally cold, and surprisingly doesn’t make the cuts sting. you don’t know if it’s the blood loss or the paralyzing fear you’re feeling, but you can’t bring yourself to push him away.

he pulls his mouth away from your wound and wipes the last few beads of blood away from it with his thumb. he examines the way the ruby red liquid reflects the light and contrasts the back leather of his glove as it sits on his finger, and then he brings his thumb to your lips, his tone leaving no room for argument as he commands you. “open.”

you reluctantly obey, looking at him tiredly as the blood loss starts to hit you more and more, your vision slowly starting to become fuzzy at the edges, painting everything in a sort of giddy haze as the pain mixes with the pleasant feelings his sweet words and scent invoke in you. he gives you a smile, patting your head once again as he slides his thumb, still carrying your blood, into your open mouth. “good… good pet,” his hand strokes your forehead comfortingly, and the lights suddenly seem all too bright, your eyebrows furrowing weakly as you try to turn your head away from them.

“shh… just sleep, little rabbit. i’ll take good care of you. when you wake, i’ll be ready for the last part of my plans.”

you don’t have time to really think about what he means by that before the fuzzy edges of your vision fade completely to black, your consciousness quickly ebbing away.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

you’re passing out far too often for your liking, you decide as you come to. this time, you’ve been restrained on a soft bed in what looks like the private chambers of some very wealthy individual. it takes a moment for everything to come back to you, but the dull, throbbing pain in your shoulder quickly helps you remember.

you examine your surroundings once more, taking note of the black and dark blue color scheme of the room, along with the silver accents and luxurious feel of, what you assume is, dottore’s sheets. as you try to move to assess how secure your bindings are this time, you come to a horrifying realization. you aren’t wearing your knee length, cotton chemise anymore, and there isn’t a trace of any mud on your skin. someone has bathed and changed your clothes, into a much more revealing, practically see through babydoll dress.

you realize something even more horrific as you examine your body more closely. someone has also shaved you completely bare.

your attention is snapped to the door as dottore enters, holding a briefcase that gives you a horrible feeling. “good, you’re awake. i was almost worried i had injured you fatally.” he sets the briefcase down on the bed, not giving you a moment to speak, and pulls out a terrifyingly sharp dagger, turning to you with a small smile.

“now, since you seemed so distraught over me having vaginal intercourse with you, i’ve decided on an alternative,” he doesn’t elaborate further, only approaching you and inspecting your body as he marks out various places, mostly on your upper thigh or abdomen. you feel horribly exposed, wearing nothing but a sheer, short babydoll, but there’s nothing you can do about it. you have no idea what he plans to do, but you’re sure it will be torturous.

he finally settles on a spot, a fatty area just above your belly button on the left side, and he walks over to that side of the bed with the blade. he marks out a relatively large circle with a pen, and you realize what he means to do.

your struggles are reignited, and you start to sob as he places the pen back in his breast pocket and gently shushes you. “calm down. it will only be worse for you if you struggle, dear.”

your sobs grow louder as he makes the first incision, you start thrashing around in your bindings and trying desperately to get away from his blade. you give him a pleading look as he continues to carve a horrifyingly deep hole into your skin, and your voice is weak, breaking with every word from the excruciating pain of getting carved into without any sort of numbing solution. “p-please, can- can’t, ‘s- ‘s hurting me, st-stop-!”

he completely ignores you, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic from his bag and spraying it on the large wound. your pain is only increased, and you realize why you’re retrained so tightly. he finally looks back at your tear covered face, and gives you a smile as he pets your hair. “there, the hard part is over. now it’s time to continue the experiment.”

you sob, shaking your head no as you cry out from the pain, watching in horror as he undoes his pants just enough to pull his cock out. he positions it at the hole he’s created for himself, and, without any sort of warning, thrusts himself deep inside. you cry out, choking on your sobs and gagging from the all encompassing pain as bile starts to rise up in your throat once again.

he gives a deep moan as he starts to move, completely uncaring of your protests and the agony you’re in as he chases his own pleasure inside of you. his fingers curl around the other side of your torso, and he pulls you into each of his thrusts, only increasing your pain. “you truly are fantastic…”

you think you’re going to be sick.

how dare he enjoy this? how dare he violate you in such a way and have the gall to moan about it? if you had the strength, you think you might kill him.

you dissociate for most of the experience, something your eternally grateful for. you don’t want to remember any of it. the feeling of his thrusts into your limp body starting to falter and his cock twitching inside your, now more of a gash, really, remind you of the very real threat that he’ll cum inside of your large wound.

before you get a chance to plead with him not to, though, you feel the burning, hot liquid fill the space nothing should ever touch. it hurts, almost more than the actual fucking did, and you think you pass out from the feeling.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

when you come to for the third time, you’ve been bandaged and stitched up and dottore holds you in his arms, tucked snugly against his side while he writes notes, presumably about the torture he’s just put you through. he smiles down at you, petting your hair once again before he stands up, leaving you tied to the bed. “i wished to make sure you would wake up. now i must get back to my work.” he pauses in the doorway as he leaves. “you were wonderful, and my hypothesis was incorrect. having intercourse with you did not cure me. in fact, it only made me more taken with you. …i have decided to keep you, in light of this revelation.”

with that, he swiftly walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. you cry softly to yourself, and then feel a sudden weight on your lap. as you look down, you feel bitterness fill you at the sight.

there, sitting perfectly on your lap, taunting you, is a shiny, anemo vision.

[shibaraki]

BE STILL MY INDELIBLE LOVE ┊ CHOSO

tags: GN reader, shark mer choso, mating behaviour, accidental acceptance of courting, fluff, interspecies relationships, blood + mild gore (fish death), biting (plenty of it), fluff, forbidden love vibes

wc: 1K+

↱ for the mermay collab hosted by the teahouse server — written using @petrichorium’s prompts: “This is… food? For me? I can’t eat this” and “A cloud of blood billowing from a thrashing creature” ↲

Curiosity is just shrouded gluttony. The need to see more, know more, devour as much of the world as you can. Your village elders impressed fear on the young to keep them from treading far afield. They punished those that set foot beyond the borders. Do not leave the boundaries. Do not enter the woods.

You always had been an insatiable child. Restless and unhappily kept in your four walls. The hunger never settled. It drew you to stories of eldritch creatures cast away by God, tales woven with drunken mariner whispers, pages in books quickly torn at the spines and burned. A travelling scholar once told you that the Earth was covered in salt. The sea. The monsters you sought resided there, finding home in the briny depths.

There is a vein outside the village where the salmon run upstream to complete their life cycle. Every river led to the ocean, that much you knew. The first time you crept out of the village had been on impulse. You walked for miles, closely following the sounds of free flowing water until you stumbled upon the inlet. You recall how your feet sank into the mud, grit of silt and icy embrace, and how the oppressive current worked against you as you trudged downstream.

That is where you found Choso.

Where the treeline flanked the narrowing river on either side and rose to create a tapestry of foliage that obscured the sun, in a palatial veil of gold, you saw him; large and angular, a shadow moving on the riverbed. Half fish half man. A long dark tail and a pale belly that blended into skin. Torqued fins, caudal and pelvic, another beginning at the base of his spine, standing proud and tall. Black hair plumed around a gentle face, markings cut across the bridge of his nose. Serrated teeth hidden behind soft lips that tore into your ankle and unearthed a merry scarlet waterfall when you came too close.

Monsters are defined by their aberrance. Monsters are unnatural, wicked and ugly. On your second visit you quickly learned that Choso was none of those things, watching in awe as he drug himself onto the banks and cradled your injured heel. A long tongue too rough and dextrous to be human lapped over the scabbed wound in apology, his saliva numbing the residual pain.

Monstrous? No. To you, he is about as threatening as a limpet. You returned to his neck of the river every day since—rather, every day possible. He is the one to receive your first and last words. With each sun cycle and mark left on your skin your neighbour’s expressions grow more sour. Monstrous are the grating whispers, louder still, the eyes pinned to your every move; endured, only if it meant seeing Choso once more.

A cloud of blood billowed from a thrashing shadow in the dark crevasse. You wait in the mud, cushioned by dry grass pressed flat under your thighs. The surface ripples violently and eventually settles into foam, fizzing out in broad rings. The stillness breaks where a head rises from the water. Red rivulets paint Choso’s chin, running down the column of his throat and staining his gills as he drags himself ashore.

You hold a trepid breath. One swing of his large, muscled arm and there’s a severed fish carcass hauled into the dirt. It comes apart like wet paper, viscera spilling out in a streaming tide. “Eat,” he states firmly.

Choso doesn’t speak often. When he does it is usually just to demand something of you. Give when he needs to tend the thin wounds his teeth leave. Come when you’re too far from him. Watch when he wants you to pay attention as he dives deeper to perform strange, intricate dances for you.

Eat is a recent addition to his verbal repertoire. For some reason he is intent on feeding you. “This is… food? For me?” you smile ruefully, apprehensive as you poke at the dead eyed fish head at your feet. “I can’t eat this, Choso.”

He huffs. The currents break around a too-big tail as he crawls to your lap. You fall back on the soft earth, knees parting to accommodate his breadth. The fins on either side of his pelvis press into your navel. You reach out to cup his face in your palms without much forethought, drying blood now chipping under your fingers.

Something warm and pleasant coils in your chest when his whole body shudders. His gills flutter around a long exhale. You laugh quietly, relenting when he nuzzles his head against your midsection, blood smearing your clothes. Sometimes it felt as though he was trying to dig into your bones.

Head whipping to the side, he takes the flesh of your forearm between his jaws with just enough pressure to pierce skin. The flat of his rough tongue rolls over the wound, blood congealing. Satisfied, he noses at the sensitive skin of your wrist before returning your hand to his jaw. You barely flinch. Choso has done this so many times now you’ve lost count. He steadfastly refuses to tell you why but there’s never any malice in it.

A thought crosses your mind. Your arm falls limp to the side where his own lies. You feel him seize when your fingers enclose around his forearm. Choso stares unblinking while you bring his wrist to your mouth. Pliant, allowing you to shape him as you please.

His skin is thick and tough and so unlike your own. A rumbling purr begins to resonate in his chest as you sink your dull human teeth into him, biting down harder than you’ve ever tried, eyes clenched shut with the effort. Your jaw locks, a soft pop rattling around your skull when the scales break.

You reel away as his blood fills your mouth, sticking to your gums. The taste of copper pervades your senses. Hare brained, your elders called you. Foolish glutton. But in that moment, when Choso braces himself over your body, pinned back to the verge, he dubs you something new.

Crowding close to nip at your cheek, he murmurs, “Mine”.

[dumpsterfire-daydreams]

TW: Rape, TW: Sexual Assault, TW: Knife play, TW: Groping, TW: Drugging, TW: Kidnapping, TW: Forced Sex/Orgasm

Authors note: This is the darkest chapter in this story by far. So, if any of the above are not your cup of tea, please don't read this chapter. I truly don't want to trigger anyone.

Ghost POV:

As he crept through the thick foliage of the forest, Ghost chuckled at how easy this was proving to be. It was almost as if she had left a trail of flashing signs in her wake, each one blaring "I went this way! Come get me!". Her tiny little footprints stood out so clearly against the fallen branches and leaves. And she had disturbed enough tall grass to make her trajectory crystal clear.

Ghost crouched as he approached a fallen tree limb, carefully inspecting the story its markings retold. A short streak of shredded leaves crested over its rounded edge. Two large indentations dug into the earth immediately beyond it. And a messy pile of scattered leaves and dirt was right just ahead, bearing a print that resembled an outstretched hand.

She'd tripped and fallen here. So focused on what could be behind her that she neglected to look ahead. Ghost could almost taste her fear lingering in the air. The sweat on her skin as she pushed herself to exhaustion. She was wearing herself out. Good.

Reader POV:

The forest was so dark, you had to squint to see anything at all. It took a while for your eyes to begin to adjust, and you had plenty of cuts and scrapes to prove it. But once they had, you continued your frantic sprint through the seemingly endless forest.

You were never much of an outdoors person. The idea of voluntarily abandoning the comfort and convenience of home was the opposite to fun in your mind. So, when your parents had once tried to talk you into doing a wilderness survival youth camp, you'd shot them down without a thought. Little did you know, years later, you'd be kicking yourself for not jumping at the chance. Knowing how to find your way would have been really useful at the present moment.

Regardless, you pressed on. Any direction was fine by you as long as it was away from Ghost. He was probably already on the move by now, tracking you like a nightmarish hunter. So you tried to be both as fast and stealthy as possible.

It didn't take long before your legs began to tire, though. You'd maintained a near full sprint from the second you'd gotten out of his car. But you still couldn't see anything but trees as far as you could see.

As frustration set in, you decided it was time to change strategy and switch from escaping to hiding. Slowing to a stop, you scanned your surroundings in search of any cover whatsoever. The forest had gone quiet. Too quiet. So, wherever you decided to hide, you needed to find it fast.

Off to your right, there was a small cluster of bushes. Their leaves looked thick enough to conceal your form just enough in the darkness. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough. If you could just hang on until he wandered past you in his search, maybe you could double back and steal the jeep. Mind made up, you crept over towards your chosen hiding spot.

Out of nowhere, the steady silence was broken by the sound of a dislodged pebble bouncing off a nearby tree. You dropped to a low crouch, head whipping in the sound's direction. You couldn’t see anything, but that didn't mean he wasn't out there somewhere. It wasn’t until a full minute had passed without another sound that you moved again. You just had to get to those bushes.

Ghost POV:

Just as he'd anticipated, Ghost caught up with her in not much time at all. In her panic, she'd unknowingly zigzagged her way all over the place and likely believed she'd gotten much farther than she actually had. He moved like his namesake, floating through the darkness like a silent and deadly specter. The thought of having her to himself was plenty to speed him along his way. But the adrenaline rush of the hunt made it that much more exhilarating. When he finally spotted her, she was hunched over in a small clearing. He knelt into the brush and watched as she stood there, heaving for breath and clearly unsure of what to do next. Eyes now locked on his target, he switched his night vision goggles into thermal mode. He wanted details. Her silhouette came through in a bright collage of reds and oranges. Her body temp was high. And her respiratory and heart rates had spiked too. The numbers don't lie. She was nice and scared, as she should be.

After silently spectating for a bit, Ghost noticed her heart rate slow ever so slightly as she began moving towards a small clump of bushes. So she'd found a hiding spot. He smirked and grabbed a small rock. Without making a sound, he sent it flying through the air until it clattered against a tree behind her. The way she dove for cover and whipped her head around was quite entertaining. And just like that, her pulse spiked right back up again.

"Can't have you getting too relaxed, now can we?" Ghost mused, grabbing another rock. He patiently waited until she moved again. And as soon as she did, he took aim at a tree in an entirely different direction than the first and let it fly.

Reader POV:

Your head was on a swivel now as you fought the impending panic. Every time you thought the coast was clear, you'd hear something else. And every sound was coming from different directions! It couldn't be him. There's no way he could've caught you that quickly after such a head start!

But despite your logic, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was somewhere just beyond your field of view. Abandoning the thought of hiding, you jumped to your feet and took off running all over again. But you had barely taken your second stride when something large and heavy slammed against your back.

A pair of muscled arms locked around your waist as your legs were roughly kicked out from beneath you. You landed on your knees, immediately clawing at the air behind you to grab any part of him that you could reach.

"No!" The word came out of you in a shrill cry of desperation. It was blood curdling. It was raw. "Ghost, please!"

Those words were all you could produce. You kicked and screamed as he wrestled you to the ground, forcing your face into the dirt.

"Don't be a sore loser now," Ghost chuckled, flipping you onto your back and forcing his body between your legs. "You had your chance. You lost. Game over."

You squirmed, arms flailing in a feeble attempt to hit him. But he was quick to respond, grabbing them both at the wrist and pinning them above your head. He effortlessly held them in place with one hand as he sat back, enjoying your helpless state below him.

"Now," he said, roughly shoving your dress up to your waist. "Let's see what I've won."

A muffled sob escaped your lips as the cool night air washed over your bare lower half. You could practically feel the heat of his gaze as his eyes flitted down to where your thighs met. Through his mask, he grabbed the fabric of his glove and slipped it off before tossing it away. Maintaining steady eye contact, he slipped his hand between your legs. His skin felt cold against your skin as he prodded at your exposed sex.

"Well, well, well," he murmured, running the back of his knuckles over your sensitive folds. "Look who's already nice and wet for me. Does König know what a dirty girl you really are?"

You snarled with fear and fury, twisting your legs to kick him. But you soon found yourself arching your back with a gasped whimper as his fingers plunged into your depths without warning. He met your eyes unflinchingly, almost defiantly, determined not to miss even the smallest detail of your response.

"I don't want this," you moaned, resisting the twinge of pleasure you felt as his fingers repeatedly curled inside you.

"You really think you can lie to me right now?" He smirked, lifting his thumb to torment your clit as his fingers began thrusting into you. "Your greedy little cunt was practically dripping before I'd even touched you. No, you want this. You want me to hurt you. And I'm gonna hurt you so good, princess."

You couldn’t fight him. And you couldn't stop your body from translating his heated assault into the beginnings of arousal. All you could do was tremble at his touch as his fingers drove into the most sensitive places with deadly precision. And every moan his actions produced only seemed to spur him on.

As his fingers continued pushing in and out of your core, he released your wrists and produced a small knife. You immediately tried and failed to inch yourself away from him, fearing he would use it to maim or even kill. But you froze as he leaned forward and pressed the blade against your throat. Never in your life had you been so still, afraid even the slightest breath would cause the blade to slip below the surface of your skin.

Ghost pushed the blade down with measured pressure, stopping just after a drop of blood welled up at the knife's edge. But he didn't press any further. Instead, he trailed the knife down the length of your body. The blade cut through the front of your dress like butter, but Ghost still made sure to nick your skin every now and then along the way. And you didn't need clarification on his unspoken threat. He could kill you a million ways without remorse or hesitation. It wouldn't take much.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the knife vanished back into his vest as he returned his full attention to forcing his fingers as deep into your body as they could go. He spread them, experimentally stretching you out. But he let out a hissed moan as your body instinctively resisted, clenching tightly around his fingers.

"Bloody hell, you're tight. I bet he liked that didn't he?"

Finally, he withdrew his hand and forced you to watch as he admired the way the moonlight made your wetness glisten on his skin. Lifting the bottom of his mask, he took his time tasting you.

"And so sweet, too. But don't worry, he won't be on your mind much longer."

Your breath picked up as he unfastened his belt, easing it out of its loops before unzipping his pants. As he eased his clothing down his thighs, his stiffened manhood came free from its confinement and bounced heavily against your inner thigh. And the sight terrified you. Though he was a similar length to König, it was the girth of his sex that frightened you. If you thought König was a tight fit, there was no way Ghost could cram all of that inside you without significant pain.

You whimpered, shaking your head as you tried to press your thighs together. But the rejection only earned a growl of warning from Ghost as he forced them open even wider. He raised his hips, rubbing the firm head of his cock against your delicate lips and moaning as your wetness coated him liberally.

"Do you know long I've waited for this, princess?" He panted, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. "How long I had to stand back and watch his hands on you, just waiting for a chance to do this to you?"

"Ghost, please don't do this," you pleaded, a startled gasp of pain quickly following as he began to push against your entrance. "It's not going to fit!"

"From where I'm standing," he said, voice gone rough with arousal. "It'll fit just fine."

With a firm and brutal thrust, Ghost snapped his hips forward and impaled you on his length. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And the searing pain carried on as you screamed for him to stop. But he just kept going, developing a steady pace as he forced your body to adjust to the intrusion faster than it was able. As you writhed in pain at the onslaught, Ghost gave no indication that he would slow down.

"Go ahead and scream," he taunted with a curt laugh before groaning as your walls constricted around him as if to push him out. "No one's gonna hear you, princess. There's no one out here for miles. Just you and me. Just like it should have been from the start."

Every movement of his hips sent white hot pain rippling through your body. Your back stung as stray pine needles embedded themselves deeper into your skin with each thrust. You had nothing left to convince him and no way to make him stop. All you could do was lie there and grit your teeth through the pain, hoping that your tearful pleas would trigger whatever meager scrap of mercy he had in him. But as he increased the brutal pace, you were certain he had none whatsoever. You screwed your eyes shut, trying to block out reality. Trying to dull the pain. Trying to stop feeling anything at all as the pain began to brush dangerously close to pleasure. But his hand closed around your throat, forcing you to face him as he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"Eyes on me. I want you to know exactly who made you feel this good. I wanna pound every last memory of him out of your system until all that's left is me."

The very next thrust was all pleasure as his length made solid impact with your cervix. You couldn't stop the needy moan it produced. He knew exactly what he was doing. The choking, the roughness, all of it. You couldn't stop it from somehow feeling good. And the thought that such cruel treatment made you feel even the smallest bit of pleasure was beginning to break you. You wanted him to stop. You were still begging him to stop! But your body was now begging for the exact opposite. And you could tell from the cocky look in his eyes that he was well aware of that fact.

"Is someone getting close?"

"No," you gasped, despite the incessant moans you couldn't hold back. You looked away with a choked sob. "Oh my god! Oh fuck!"

He tightened his grip on your neck, leaning down to moan in your ear. "I think you're lying."

The punishing pace began to steadily increase as he pounded you into the forest floor with reckless abandon. With his thumb, he pressed down on the precise spot the knife had cut you and groaned as you hissed in pain. A steady string of curses rasped against your ear as he chased his own impending climax. And despite your best efforts, your own wasn't far behind. Short spasms tore through your inner walls, giving Ghost delicious tastes of what was soon to come as he grunted with pleasure.

"Tell me," he growled, panting against your shoulder. His voice was growing strained and desperate as his pace rapidly began to fall out of rhythm. "Tell me you've never been fucked this good in your life. Tell me I'm better. Tell me who owns this dirty little cunt."

You let out a strangled moan, feeling your body begin to tremble as your orgasm approached. But he wasn't satisfied. That wasn't what he wanted. He released your throat, and you gasped for breath as his hand seized your chin, enveloping your jawline nearly from ear to ear. His eyes were wild and the slightest bit unhinged as he pressed his face against yours.

"I wanna hear you say it! Tell me who owns you. Fucking say it!"

You sobbed as the unwanted pleasure overwhelmed you. You were in no place to resist him. You had no choice but to give him what he wanted if you wanted to survive.

Humiliated and afraid, tears streamed down your face as you spoke the words he demanded to hear, and your climax overtook you. "You do!"

His body stiffened above you as he clutched your hips, throwing his head back with a guttural cry as your walls spasmed around his length. And as your core increased in tightness, you felt him twitch deep inside you as the warmth of his orgasm was forced even deeper with each fading thrust.

Once he was finally spent, he pulled out. His chest heaved as he savored the rush of endorphins coursing through him, admiring his handiwork as he did. He liked what he saw. The tears that poured down your cheeks, the bruises that marked your body, the pale liquid seeping out of your abused sex. He liked all of it.

As for you, you couldn't move. Your body felt numb. You felt detached from reality, and you didn't want to ever come back to it. So you laid there, sprawled out where he'd left you. Dissociated and happy to remain so. Because anything else would be too painful to bear. You didn't even fight when you felt the familiar prick of a needle against your neck. And as the darkness closed in, you welcomed it. You hoped it would never lift. You hoped you'd never again have to hear the words Ghost was murmuring into your ear.

"Good girl."

I know this story includes some pretty dark themes. But at the end of the day, I care more about the well-being of my readers than I do for hits or kudos. Period. I never want my writing to conjure up emotions or feelings that negatively impact you beyond the story. This story can be dark and uncomfortable at times. But it is always intended strictly for fun and fantasy. If at any point along the way it stops being a pleasurable experience, please please close this page and walk away. My stories are never worth your well-being, loves.

[helvegen-s]

Rage, rage | eight

index

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: blood, injuries, description of injuries, self harm, bad familiar relationships, PTSD

Nimue and Azriel had bid farewell to everyone else before heading towards the Spring Court.

They had left early in the morning, winnowing themselves to the forest right in front of Tamlin's mansion. There, Nimue had magically bypassed any possible guards that the High Lord or his cousins had placed in the territory, and they waited among the trees, among the bushes.

Beside her, Azriel had shed the calm demeanor the princess had known the night before. Now, with all senses alert, he was the master spy of the Night Court. Nimue, hidden from view with a simple spell, couldn't help but watch as the Shadowsinger blended into the shadows of the trees, sometimes glimpsing only his eyes.

"What's the plan?" Azriel asked. They were waiting, not knowing for what.

"I'll go in, convince them you were torturing me, play dead, and when they least expect it, I'll kill my cousins and Jurian. But first, I'll find out their plans; I'm good at listening behind walls."

Azriel frowned.

He wanted to trust her, to put all his blind faith in her plan. In his right hand, he felt the promise tattoo they made last night pulsing.

"Okay. Keep me informed; every night I'll visit you to hear what you've discovered. Even if you don't see me, rest assured I'll always be there covering your back," Azriel raised a hand from among the shadows and touched Nimue, his hand on the female's muscular shoulder. He felt a shiver run down his spine and immense heat under the glove, the princess's body radiating a warmth so familiar that it made Azriel's bones melt.

Nimue looked at him and with a quick movement, pulled him towards her, a superhuman force making Azriel almost lose his balance. She held onto him, an embrace meant to crush bones that Azriel gladly reciprocated.

They stayed like that for a couple of seconds or a couple of minutes, they weren't sure, sheltered in each other's warmth, in the calmness of the bond between them.

"Thank you for trusting me, Azriel."

Get her out of here. She's in danger, she's scared. We can't let her go with those people.

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the warnings of his own shadows, and took a step back, letting go of the female. He stayed there, hidden among the foliage shadows, and under his watchful gaze, Nimue raised a hand on which appeared a knife made of light.

What was she going to...?

Nimue grasped the handle of the knife made of her own magic, and began with her arms: from her wrists to her elbows, she made small but deep cuts from which blood soon began to flow, dripping onto the forest floor.

When the smell of her blood reached his palate, Azriel felt like he was going to vomit. All his senses focused solely on that, on the dripping blood, on how the female was cutting her own flesh. Something inside him, deep within his being, stirred.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" before he was even aware, he had already taken a step forward, grabbing Nimue's hands and pulling them apart, his gloves staining with the red fluid.

"They have to believe that you've hurt me, that you've tortured me and I've escaped. I'll say you drugged me with faebane and that in one of your oversights I managed to flee."

Nimue freed herself from Azriel's grasp, and continued with the task, this time she stabbed herself in her own thigh, staining her clothes with her own blood.

She felt her body starting to heal on its own, so with her magic she kept the wounds open and minimized the pain as much as possible to remain conscious even after losing so much blood. When she removed the knife from her thigh, she only felt a slight tingling.

Azriel felt like he was about to faint. All that blood, flowing in streams over Nimue's precious white skin, over the neat dress she wore and the undergrowth beneath her feet.

Nimue finally tore her clothes and made some final cuts on her face, and looked at Azriel.

Then she realized he was trembling, still as a statue and staring at her, his eyes wide. Around him, those shadows danced frantically from side to side, some bold enough to approach her and hover over her cuts.

"I'll be fine. Wish me luck, pretty face."

Azriel swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He had seen it all, dismembered soldiers and people torn apart. By the Mother, he had done worse things to many people.

But seeing her like this...

They exchanged one last look, and Nimue started walking away, leaving the shelter of the forest.

The sunlight blinded her and she had to squint. She had chosen the perfect moment, as she just saw her cousins cross the mansion door and start descending the stairs. Behind them, the hateful human and the High Lord.

She had to focus on the cuts, on keeping them open, on mitigating the pain. She limped, dragging her right leg, her shoes soaked with all the blood she was losing, and when she saw her cousins looking at her, she let herself fall to the ground.

She searched every small corner of her being, every bit of anger she had suppressed over the last month, and pulled and pulled. She pulled until she felt herself explode, and let herself go.

She began to cry loudly, pretending false relief, letting out sobs typical of someone truly escaping from torture. Although in reality, she was just going back to the torturers.

She feigned relief when her cousins ran towards her and crossed the distance separating them in record time. She feigned relief when she felt them kneel beside her, asking her questions, starting to heal her wounds with their magic. She feigned relief when, between sobs and fake complaints, she began to answer them.

"They tortured me," she said. She took a breath and let out another false sob, this time her gaze fixed on Tamlin and Lucien, who were approaching cautiously. "They drugged me with faebane and tortured me. They're monsters."

Her cousins comforted her and ran their hands over her body, covering the wounds with their hands and closing them with that black and rotten magic that gave Nimue chills.

They kept asking her things and she answered, with little detail and between sobs: they had skipped a dose of faebane and that's how she had managed to escape, they had asked her about the Cauldron and her father's army, they had hurt her so much...

Her cousins bought it the first time, trusting their little innocent cousin, the king's beloved jewel. What reasons would the little princess have to lie?

However, between tears, she could see that Jurian didn't quite believe her. It didn't matter; sooner or later, he would fall too. And if not, she would kill him before he opened his mouth.

When they had healed all her wounds and the tears subsided, her cousins lifted her from the grass and led her carefully into the mansion. The blind faith the twins had in her was impressive, for they had also learned to see her for what she was: the key that would lead them to win the war.

They crossed the gate of the house and reached the vestibule. Before the doors closed behind them, Nimue glanced back, towards the edges of the forest, and with some effort managed to spot him.

Azriel stood there, astonished, following every detail of the scene with his mouth open. It had been so, so easy. And Nimue was so, so good at pretending.

A small pang of suspicion made it hard for him to breathe, but he soon felt the warmth of the tattoo on his right hand, as a reminder that he should trust, that he should trust the princess.

He fixed his gaze on her, on the other side of that clearing and inside the mansion's vestibule, and even at all those meters away, Azriel glimpsed the small cruel and rotten smile that the princess directed at him.

Here Nimue's plan began. Like a slow-acting poison, she would ensure to indirectly harm her father so much that he would think twice about even looking in the direction of Prythian.

The doors finished closing, and she turned her gaze forward, to her cousins, to Tamlin and Jurian, who a few meters away from her were discussing something quietly. She looked around, at the beauty of the house that Feyre had described to her, which, although somewhat neglected, was still just as intoxicating, when she felt a presence behind him.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the tan skin, the reddish hair. She didn't bother to turn around, but Lucien spoke low enough for none of those present to hear but her:

"You're not going to fool me, little princess," he whispered in her ear. Nimue turned slightly to look the male in the eyes. Amazed, she met the mechanical golden orb, while the other eye looked at her with suspicion and scrutiny. "I know no one forced you to escape from Hybern, I know what they're like in the Night Court. The others might not have noticed it, but the disgusting smell of the Shadowsinger was suffocating at the edge of the forest."

Nimue looked at him, a silly smile on her face.

"I like you, Lucien," she whispered back. She turned her gaze forward again, still feeling the male's presence behind her. "But I don't know what you're talking about."

Lucien growled and took a step back.

Nimue couldn't wipe the smile off her face. This was going to be fun.

She had spent the day testing the waters, tempting fate with innocent questions, silently observing how the relationship between the Spring Court and Hybern's people worked. She excused herself from dinner early, and under the watchful gaze of everyone present, she left the huge dining room.

As soon as she was out of sight, she ran through the hallways she had memorized all afternoon. She knew which corners to turn and which corridors to navigate, and she reached the door of what was her new room. When she entered, she closed the huge wooden door and covered all the walls with her magical guards: nothing and no one could see, hear, or feel what happened inside.

She smelled Azriel's scent in the room above the touches of roses and fruits, but still didn't feel his presence. She kept looking and inspecting the room from top to bottom, absorbing every detail, when she saw something on her bed: the same candies that Feyre had offered her in the Night Court.

Nimue felt her body vibrating with joy, feeling seen and loved. That someone, anyone, had thought of her and had managed to get those candies there.

She took the first one and brought it to her mouth, immersed in that intoxicating sensation that eating something so delicious produced in her, and didn't realize that Azriel was there, among the shadows cast by the moonlight in the room.

He simply remained silent, watching her in the midst of that raid she was carrying out on the candies he had left there, so she wouldn't forget. So she wouldn't forget that her place was in Velaris, with them.

With us.

"I'm glad you liked the surprise."

Nimue wasn't even surprised. She just kept enjoying the candies, glancing over her shoulder at Azriel.

"I knew deep down in your heart you'd end up caring for me."

She turned completely towards him, mouth full of sweets, hands sticky, and Azriel could swear he would die right there.

How could he not care for her, when there was something inside him that melted every time he looked in her direction, when their skins brushed against each other?

"How has your day been? Are you alright, have they done anything to you?" Azriel's voice tinged with concern did not go unnoticed by Nimue, who, smiling at him again, dropped onto the bed. She patted the space next to her on the adorned quilt, but the Shadowsinger stood in front of her, looking down at her.

"They haven't done anything to me, don't worry. They wouldn't dare because they know what I'm capable of, and they've played their part well."

Azriel frantically searched for any marks of the wounds and blood he had seen on the princess's skin, but found that the only scars there were the usual ones, those covering the fingers of her hands and caused by all the hours training with weapons. He felt something inside him click again, his most primitive instinct to protect her relaxing when he saw her whole and unharmed.

"Good. I'll pass on everything you tell me to Rhysand, and if you need anything just ask."

Nimue bit her tongue. She needed something, but she wasn't going to ask for it out loud. She wasn't going to ask Azriel to stay there that night, next to her. She wasn't going to tell him that being back with her psychopathic cousins had stirred something inside her, that putting on that mask of the evil princess had brought her back to her former life, where her stay in Velaris would have been nothing but a fever dream.

They looked at each other, in silence, and it seemed that Azriel understood what Nimue wanted to say, even without her uttering a word. He held her hands, which he hadn't let go of all that time, and knelt in front of the princess.

"I'll stay guard while you sleep," he whispered. Nimue swallowed the lump forming in her throat and prayed to the Cauldron not to start crying at that moment. "I'll make sure nothing happens and you won't be alone. You rest."

Nimue nodded and quickly got into bed under Azriel's watchful gaze, and as she drifted off to sleep, she whispered to him:

"In a couple of days, we'll be back in Velaris, and I'll make sure you show me the best bakeries in the city."

Azriel smiled tenderly, watching as Nimue drifted off to sleep, and stood guard until the sun was high in the sky.

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @saltedcoffeescotch @krowiathemythologynerd @donttellthecats @annblvd @annamariereads16 @crazylokonugget @smoooothoperator @superspideyparker @bookwormysblog

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Lost in the Weeds

Yandere Plant Man x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Non-con, anal sex, painful sex, violent sex, bondage, drugged reader, paralysis, sadistic yandere, dacryphilia, general yandere behavior, oviposition?)  Word Count: 1.8k (Sorry this took so long for me to write, I hope you all like it.) 

   You were a deep space interplanetary botanist specializing in the retrieval and propagation of medically important plant species. Right now you were on the barely mapped planet Varliss IV trying to find an extremely rare flowering plant, Solanum volātilis that, despite extraterrestrial origin, appeared to be a member of the family solanaceae.    All previous attempts to propagate this rare species in an artificial environment had failed, but you were sure you could figure it out if you could only find the plant when it had a few seed pods on it.

 Procuring some seed specimens was easier said than done though. The first thing you had to do was keep trudging through this damnable jungle. Luckily there were no life threatening species, but it was still a slog through mud and foliage, and the humidity was oppressive. And even if they were not harmful there were still a number of insects that bit and swarmed around mammals, requiring an explorer’s outfit that covered your legs and arms completely. An outfit that did nothing to help the sweltering heat.  You wiped your brow and continued your trek through thick mud and odd cyan and purple vines and leaves, thorns and thistles scraping and poking uselessly at your clothing.  After what was surely many hours of hiking from the clearing you had landed your spacecraft in you still had found no trace at all of the plant. It was a highly uncommon species though, so it was not like you expected this to be easy. Science seemed amazing and technical and sometimes even magical, but you knew that it all required a lot of grunt work.  You were about to set up your camp for the night in a small clearing you had stumbled across when much to your astonishment you actually found what appeared to be the bloom of the flower you were seeking on a vine.  You pulled out your magnifying glass and reference book as you got closer to make a positive identification. Yes, this was definitely the right flower, a large bell shaped flower that was deep purple with cyan streaks and dark blue freckle-like dots on the inside. Though the vine it was attached to was much thicker than it should be. Though any number of circumstances could account for anomalous growth such as that.  You rubbed the vine out of curiosity and were astounded to find that it felt unnaturally warm. You were much more astounded when it moved away from you entirely and then the figure of a large humanoid, easily 8 feet tall, was suddenly looming above you.  You fell back on your rump and looked up in disbelief, unable to find your words. The tall humanoid appeared to be male, his long hair was red but had several vines with cyan leaves going through it, his mouth had two thorn-like fangs, he had a large vine like tail covered in the flowers that you sought out, his skin was cyan with dark blue freckles and his arms, legs, and the tip of his very much exposed cock were all dark purple. His cock was also leaking a viscous magenta fluid that dripped a bit on your face.  “And just what do you think you’re doing, touching me like that!?” He growled as he looked down at you menacingly before using one arm to easily hoist you up and hold you about a foot off the ground. “How do you like being touched without permission, huh!?” “Wh-wh-what? No! I just- I um. I was ju-just looking for seeds! I didn’t kno-” You barely managed to sputter out before getting cut off by the monstrous plant.  “Oh, you want seeds, well why didn’t you just say so? I can bring you to all of the seeds for the flowers like the ones on me, no problem.” He put you down and brushed you off, something about the way he smirked left you unsettled, but you did not want to risk his anger and so you just muttered a thanks as he took your hand and started leading you away. You exchanged names while walking with him, learning his name was Drosera. You really should have just taken your chances and ran, because as far as Drosera was concerned you had marched into his territory and were now his private property.  He lead you deeper into the strange forest until finally you came to the gaping maw of a cave. You gasped as you entered and were greeted with the surprising sight of rays of sunlight streaming in through a hole in the roof leading to the creation of a sheltered grove. Moss, trees, flowers, vines, and a small babbling brook all hidden away from the world.    There, in the center, were indeed the flowers indicative of the plant you were searching for, this time without being attached to any intelligent life. You rushed towards them in your excitement and did not notice the sprawling vines of your companion quickly approaching you from behind as you were bent down to examine the flora.  Before you knew what had happened each of your limbs and your mouth had been completely wrapped up in tendril like vines. You tried writhing from their grasp but you might as well have been trapped by steel for all the good it did you. Your muffled wails and whines were equally useless, not eliciting even the slightest bit of empathy from your captor.  Tears rolled down your cheeks, pooling a bit at the vines that restrained your lips. The vines suspended you a few feet above the ground and pulled you towards him and he brushed the tears from your face with a deceptively gentle hand. “Awe, why are you crying little human? I am just about to give you exactly what you asked for.”  Drosera brought his mouth to your neck, ghosting his two thorn-like fangs against your sensitive skin before suddenly penetrating your flesh. You writhed in pain as he injected you with a powerful venom. He held you close with both the vines extending from his back and his arms as if trying to comfort you through the pain.  Soon you found yourself almost completely unable to move, capable now of only the most feeble attempts at struggling. Whatever he injected you with was clearly intended to do away with any possibility of escape for what was about to happen next.    The tight grip the vines had had on you loosened a bit, as he no longer needed to keep you so well restrained. He used his vines to slowly, almost sensually, peel off all of your equipment and clothing until you were left exposed under the excited gaze of his violet eyes. All you could manage to do was let out a small whimper as you averted your gaze.  Drosera roughly felt up your body, eager greedy hands rubbing and groping you all over, grabbing on to what was now his.  The vines that extended from his back still held you up despite your limp and envenomed state, they quickly moved you into a bent position, your head facing away from your captor as he gruffly gripped your hips, caring little, if at all, for your comfort.  You could feel more of his vines creeping up your legs, reaching and grabbing like tentacles until they found what they were looking for, your asshole.  They roughly prodded at your entrance as you stammered out pleas of mercy, sobbing and begging Drosera to please just release you, promising that you would never cross into his territory or even come back to this planet at all. But he just laughed sadistically, your cries serving only as fuel for his arousal.  Suddenly and without warning the slender vines prodding at you jammed their way inside, eliciting a scream from your sobbing form. There had been no stretching, no application of lube, just a brutal penetration. And he was certainly not going to stop with just his vines.  You could feel them writhing and probing their way deeper and deeper inside you, after the initial pain of them entering you faded it was replaced with an uncomfortable and disgusting feeling of being unnaturally full and violated.  Your sobs finally slowed down as you became more accustomed to your situation, and that is when Drosera decided he needed to apply more pain. To utterly and completely dominate you mind, body, and spirit. To enjoy those beautiful tears that set his heart aflutter while he was inside you.  So he withdrew his tendrils from your insides and before you could even breathe a sigh of relief replaced them with his giant cock, still dripping with pink fluid. You shrieked so loudly at him ramming himself into your un-lubed ass that he almost came on the spot. He could feel it in his cock each time a scream, whimper, or pained sob racked your body.  He pulled your hair roughly from behind with one hand while gripping your hip hard with the other as he continued abusing your poor hole in as painful a way as he could.  “You should be grateful, slut! You wanted seed so badly and that’s just what you are about to get!!” He chuckled cruelly at his joke as he continued ramming into you with more and more speed as he began to wildly chase his climax.  The plant man put a firm hand on each collar bone and jerk you back painfully to get as deep into you as he possibly could as he filled you with a warm viscous fluid, you were confused though when instead of that being the end of it he then started to fill you up with a lot of something that felt round and hard.  After filling you the vines holding you in place retracted and he sat you down in his lap, causing fluid to leak out of you and onto him, though he did not seem to mind at all or even notice.    It suddenly clicked even in your rattled and abused psyche that he had literally filled you with his seeds. A million panicked thoughts went through your mind. What if they sucked out all your nutrients and moisture to grow in your corpse, what if they burst through your skin, what if th-  Your horror must have been plastered all over your face because Drosera interrupted your downward spiral of fears by saying, “Don’t worry, they won’t harm you. They are like eggs and when they are about to pop open they will come out of you, you will such a lovely incubator to keep full of my children~”  You began sobbing and hyperventilating, still unable to do anything more than weakly twitch under the long lasting effects of his venom.  “Fuck, you’re so hot when you cry for me, so beautiful.” He gently wiped your tears away with his thumb as you realized this is what your life would be like from now on.  No more dreams or a career advancing science. Just sobbing and being a flower pot for some alien monster’s seeds just for the horrible crime of bumbling into his territory.

[angellake]

thinking of unicorn!reader meeting knight!ghost for the first time and im getting dizzy and and and and

( MDNI - stalking, description of corpses, ghost is a creep ❤️, non-con drugging, implied kidnapping, implied ghost/gaz/soap )

you're walking through the trees, fresh snow and frozen foliage crunching under hoof. icicles hanging from tree branches and scattering sunbeams below. its quiet and you're alone. peaceful.

you think, at least. not knowing what stalks you through the forest. a giant of a man on a mission. somehow silent despite the heavy armor he wears as he follow close behind you.

disregarding the perilous terrain, this is the easiest quest price has ever sent ghost on. you're far different than he'd expected. your body similar to that of a satyr, upper half dusted in fur yet human-like and nude. lower half covered in the same silky fur and legs ending in well cared for hooves. a long, curly tail swaying in the slight breeze. sparkling horn of bone sprouting from your forehead and a pair of fuzzy ears further back. he understands price's impulse to have you. a pretty thing to look at and keep.

it helps that you're seemingly oblivious to his presence, careless and at ease in your surroundings. he imagines it's due to years of isolation and your natural disposition. unicorns are said to be creatures of innocence.

it seems to be true, he thinks, watching you leisurely stop in front of a bush heavy with berries despite the season.

he stops short, only a couple of steps behind you. exhaling heavy as he watches you bend over, exposing the soft space between your thighs only briefly before your tail settles. soft hands plucking the red fruit from the branches. juices staining your fingers like blood.

watching you lick your fingertips clean does nothing to cool the fire in his blood. price's orders, the only thing stopping him from pinning your soft form to the frigid forest floor, ring heavy in his head. the words keeping him pinned in place. he flexes his hands, the chilly metal of his armor grounding.

it's only then, when you turn, that you notice him for the first time. eyes going wide and a small sound of surprise escaping you, turning into mist in the air. your ears flick backwards, pressed against your head.

it startles you, the creature wearing metal behind you. you've never seen one standing and free of nature's grasp. you only know of them to house the corpses of something. unfamiliar with the creatures feeding the trees with their rotting bodies. shiny metal wrapped in ivy and crawling with insects. smelling of rotting meat.

it strikes you that growing up isolated might have its downsides.

all you can do is stand there, nervously eyeing the behemoth before you. figure blocking the sun and casting a shadow. for once, you struggle figuring out if something means you harm. so used to dealing with animals, things forthcoming in their violence.

but it just stands there, silent and imposing. looking back at you. harmless, you conclude. not knowing better as you take a curious step towards it, quickly closing the distance. your tail dragging in the snow behind you.

( much to ghost's surprise. he thought you'd have enough sense to be at least wary. )

it's much taller than you expected, whatever it is. you have to crane your head back to look up into it's face. it smells like wet soil, something freshly buried. you wonder if it's pretty under the thing on its head. the last few corpses you'd come across in the same attire had bloated, rubbery skin and bulging eyes. some had been skeletal. you grimace at the memories.

you really hope it's pretty under there.

ghost, for once, is confused. watching you stand on the tips of your hooves, steadying yourself by placing your hands on his breastplate. your nose twitching as you peer up into the darkness of his helmet hiding his eyes.

he doesn't stop you when you reach for his helmet, forcing his head to tilt to the side. you're gentle. gentler than soap had been the first time ghost allowed him to lift the visor of his armet. but your hands roam him all the same. quickly busying yourself with feeling the joints of his armor and running your nails over the engraved textures.

ghost finally moves when you begin pulling at the leather straps of his satchel, catching your wrists in one hand. his sudden movement scares you.

the thing moves when you begin pulling at the leather pouch at its hip, grabbing both of your wrists in its massive hand. panic flares to life in your chest, forcing a neigh-like sound out of you as you struggle for a moment. calming down when you realize all it's done is stop you from touching its belongings.

you scowl at it. stingy.

it must sense your irritation with it because it makes a sound like it's amused with you. it only sours your mood and makes you stomp your hooves. at least, until you notice its free hand moving, opening the pouch you'd just been messing with.

your curiosity overpowers your aggravation as you watch it pull a clear bottle out. the liquid inside shiny and light yellow like the winter sun. you don't expect the bottle to be pushed into your hands and uncorked. it smells sweet and warm, like waking up from a nap in the sun. fur warmed and belly full of food.

without hesitation, trusting, you take a sip. it makes your tongue tingle and warms your throat. slightly thicker than water. you can't help but drink more of it, you've never had something so sweet before. besides the fermented fruit you found in a broken wagon one summer.

you make it halfway through the bottle before you start to feel odd. limbs suddenly heavy and unsteady. wobbling in place as you struggle to keep your eyes open. you don't even grasp what's happening as everything fades to black and you go limp.

it's easy to bundle you up and toss you over his shoulder after you drink the potion ghost's boys worked so hard on. he's proud of them and can't wait to show them the pretty thing they helped bring home.