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bloodblanks · 5 months ago

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one umbrella cover two [mr. scarletella x reader] — chapter ix.

You search for a way to stop your grisly transformation.

note: reader is not player (mc).

author’s note: dead dove: do not eat. this fanfiction will contain dark and explicit content, including heavy dub-con, stockholm syndrome, violence, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

In Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis, a man wakes up one day and discovers he’s become an insect.

You never thought your high school reading would come back to your mind after you had graduated, but as you stared at your grey fingers, aghast, all you could think of was that goddamn bug book.

Your first thought was that you were mistaken. Perhaps your vision was playing tricks on you. It was not.

That led you to wonder if you were sick in some way or another, but as much as you hated to admit this, no common illness that you knew of would cause your hands to be both grey and still functioning as normal.

This conclusion then brought you to think of just what else this could be. The only other instances of grey skin you knew were either argyria, which was caused by consistent exposure to silver compounds, something that did not apply to you, or the strikingly ashy skin that all the residents seemed to possess. You didn’t know why you would share the same skin tone as them, but it was hard to ignore the way your mind was screaming at you that you were becoming one of them.

It was slightly better than turning into an insect, but it was far from ideal.

You scrambled to search your body for any other suspicious patches of skin, but to your ever so slight relief, you didn’t find any. Nonetheless, your panic persisted, your body feeling much too hot and sweaty as you considered your situation.

It was only logical to assume that you were transforming for one reason or another, and the only reasons you could think of were that either it spread from one resident to another, or it was the space you were in. The first would be devastating, but the second was technically still fixable. If you returned to your world, you could stop this horrifying metamorphosis before it worsened.

All you needed to do was leave, which was much easier said than done. You didn’t have time to waste, however. Not anymore.

With newfound motivation and fear, you opened the door, before another devastating realization dawned upon you—the world outside the door was no longer the same.

You had no knowledge of what happened; the only thing you could think of was the strange earthquake you had experienced. Perhaps that messed things up, but there was no plausible explanation for why an earthquake would rearrange entire rooms and hallways without any sign of damage to the structures. Not that you knew of, at least.

Shit, you cursed internally, scanning the foreign environment before you. Do I just have to wander around and pray I find the right way? It seemed like it.

You didn’t have a choice, that much you knew for certain. If you turned into a monster, you would never be able to return to your world like normal again. It wouldn’t be a matter of being held captive or not at that point.

You begrudgingly closed the door behind you, making your way through the unsettling space once again.

You had only just entered the first room when you stopped in your tracks, the appearance of a figure startling you. It didn’t take you long to recover from your shock this time, however, as you soon realized it was just a mannequin. It was dressed head to toe in monochrome clothes, paired with a wide-brimmed black hat.

While it did cause you to halt for a moment, you had seen much stranger things and entities here, so much that you merely let out a shaky breath before pressing forward.

“Hello,” the mannequin suddenly spoke. Before you could process the situation, it had moved and was standing right before you. You gasped, every single muscle in your body tensing up simultaneously as you violently flinched at its sudden movement.

Okay, so it’s not a mannequin. More likely than not, it was another resident of this place, much like the severed head you had met. You were unnerved, but the bewilderment didn’t phase you as much as it would have mere days ago. It felt like you had seen a lifetime of surprises in these couple of days alone.

“Hello,” you nervously greeted back, reluctantly waving at it.

“You look ▮▮▮▮,” he stated. The word sounded familiar. You recalled having heard Mr. Silvair say it before, but you didn’t know the meaning quite yet.

“Not understand ‘▮▮▮▮,’” you repeated the word back to him, hoping for some clarification.

“Me perform ▮▮▮▮,” he replied. You realized then that his mouth wasn’t moving when he spoke; it appeared he was wearing a mask of some sort. Perhaps he’s not just a moving mannequin, then.

You watched him intently, your body still rigid and ready to run—or knowing you, freeze—at the sight of danger. The masked entity took out a cup, holding it before you.

“▮▮▮▮,” he stated. You assumed he was referring to the cup as you had never heard the word before and there wasn’t much else he could be talking about, but considering the vagueness of this language, you figured it would be safer to assume it to refer to all containers.

“Sheet ▮▮▮▮ container.” The masked man pulled out a sheet of fabric, covering the container with it. You deduced from that the word you didn’t know meant ‘cover.’

When he pulled the cloth off the cup, you saw that it was now filled with something that made your eyes widen with hope—water.

“Possible have?” you blurted out your question without thinking, too excited at the sight to contemplate it further. The man was unresponsive for a minute, during which you realized that you had interrupted his magic trick.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly mumbled, hoping you hadn’t upset him. You didn’t mean to be rude, but you had no clue how to communicate that. Damn this language barrier, you thought.

The masked magician seemed to hesitate for a second longer, before handing the glass of water to you. You were unsure whether you should take it or not. On one hand, you were most definitely being rude right now. On the other hand, you were completely dehydrated. Your base instincts took over as you reached for the cup, gulping the water down in one swift movement.

As plain as water was in terms of taste, at that very moment, the liquid was absolutely delectable. It was even cold, more than you had hoped for as far as refreshing went. In the back of your mind, you considered it may not be completely sanitary to drink. You quickly brushed that thought aside; you’d deal with the consequences of that later. Whatever sickness you had would be easier to deal with than dying of thirst, surely.

“Thank you,” you gushed, beaming at the masked man. “Thank you!”

He paused again before holding out his hand. You guessed he wanted the cup back, and you complied, placing the container in his much larger palm. When you returned his cup to him, he proceeded to cover it with fabric once more.

“Sheet cover container,” he said, before lifting the cloth away and revealing a full glass of water. “▮▮▮▮ appear.”

You mentally noted the new word down as referring to liquid before you brought your hands together, eagerly clapping in enthusiasm.

“Me like!” you exclaimed.

“▮▮▮▮?” he questioned, using the word from earlier. Does it mean ‘fun?’

“Fun!” you agreed, hoping you were using the word correctly.

The entity brought the cloth back over to the cup, hiding it from view.

“Sheet cover container.” He removed the fabric, and the cup was once again empty. “Liquid disappear.”

“Fun,” you smiled, though you couldn’t help the slight disappointment at not having more water. You were still parched.

But then the magician brought the sheet back to the cup, this time wordlessly repeating his trick. He handed the full glass of water to you.

“Welcome.” He sounded pleased. Needless to say, you were too.

—

You hadn’t expected the masked entity to continue making you water, but he had conjured up glass after glass of precious hydration until you’d had your fill. You had thanked him, but before you could ask him anything else, he disappeared.

You continued on your way, wandering in a random direction until eventually, you miraculously stumbled upon a dilapidated space filled with various junk. You were fortunate that whatever head injury you suffered hadn’t messed with your memory too much, and you were able to recall the path the chopped head—you mentally noted to give him a name when you see him—had led you the first time.

Thanks to your lack of too-severe head trauma, you found yourself at the door of Mr. Silvair’s basement.

With your hand in a loose fist, you let your knuckles gently knock against the door, holding your breath as you waited for a response.

“Enter.” Mr. Silvair’s voice rang out, and you could almost hear the intrigue in his voice. You wondered if knocking was a mannerism limited to humans.

You gingerly opened the door, your body jerking slightly at the sight of Mr. Silvair. Though he didn’t terrify you per se, his height—even taller than Mr. Scarletella—was nothing short of intimidating, and you were also rather jumpy just from the environment. While your journey here had gone smoothly, you were confident there was danger lurking around every corner nonetheless. All it would take was one wrong turn.

“Hello,” you greeted him with a small wave. You noticed the head sitting on the sofa, and you smiled at him. He returned the expression, appearing happy to see you here.

“You ▮▮▮▮!” he exclaimed.

“Not know ▮▮▮▮.” You turned to Mr. Silvair, awaiting a possible explanation. The man began walking towards you, eliciting a small spike of anxiety. To your surprise, he merely opened the door behind you, walking out before letting it close.

“Leave.” You could hear him from the other side of the door.

The door opened, and Mr. Silvair walked back through.

“▮▮▮▮,” he stated. You nodded in understanding.

“Return,” you echoed the word. He appeared pleased, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

“Correct.”

You weren’t sure if you should get directly to the point or not, but the conversation had died down, and the silence was beginning to make you feel awkward. You swallowed the saliva that had pooled in your mouth before you stuck your hand directly out in front of you, showing him your ashen fingertips.

You were unable to gauge what the expression on Mr. Silvair’s face meant, but it didn’t last very long, quickly giving way to an enthusiastic grin.

“You change,” he said, the words instantly causing your blood to run cold. The temperature in the room appeared to have dropped, your skin suddenly prickling up and forming goosebumps. “Human appear world. Change body. Change ▮▮▮▮.”

You didn’t understand the last word, but you hastily assumed it meant mind, not caring enough to ask for further elaboration. Your heart was plummeting downwards with each passing second, sinking into the abyss of your stomach, which was tying itself into knots. You had already assumed it, you had considered the possibility before, but hearing it as a fact was much more difficult to process.

“How stop?” The words tumbled out of your mouth instantly. You looked at Mr. Silvair with desperation in your eyes, a silent plea for him to have the answer.

“Not know,” he replied, though his eyes gleamed with delight as he looked away from your hand and directly into your eyes. “Me ▮▮▮▮.”

At this very moment, you couldn’t care less what the word meant. You just wanted to get out of here. You just wanted to leave this godforsaken place. But it wasn’t like you could do so by simply willing it.

“Me ▮▮▮▮ you?” Mr. Silvair asked a question, using the same word that you really couldn’t be bothered trying to understand. The fact that you were beginning to learn the language here only made you feel more stuck, more trapped.

“Not know ▮▮▮▮,” you sighed, resigned.

“▮▮▮▮,” Mr. Silvair repeated, pointing to the room in the back. You remembered that room—it had horrified you when he first showed you it—vividly, with all of its chains and bloody instruments. You weren’t sure what the word meant, but there was not a chance in hell that you’d agree to anything related to the miniature torture chamber.

“Not want.” You shook your head firmly, hoping your protests would actually make a difference. If he desired so, he could drag you in there by force; you were well aware of that.

“A shame.” He sounded disappointed. But as much as you didn’t want to upset him, no amount of disheartenment could convince you to step foot back into the gore-covered room.

“Sorry,” you mumbled a half-hearted apology. You weren’t really sorry about not wanting to be dismembered, but you didn’t mean for him to feel bad, either.

“Me not upset,” was his response. You nodded slowly, before changing the subject to something more pressing.

“How exit world?” you asked. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the answer to that, either.

“Not know.”

You nodded, your eyebrows knitting together as you digested his response. He didn’t know how to stop your macabre transformation, nor did he know how to leave this realm. But there had to be some sort of entryway; a point of intersection between your worlds. Mr. Scarletella seemed to be able to leave this realm and return, seeing as he took you from the Ghost Apartments.

“Thank you,” you murmured, a visible frown on your face as you tried to decipher the mechanics of this world. You had to be missing something—if only you could remember how Mr. Scarletella entered the Ghost Apartments...

“Welcome,” Mr. Silvair answered. His follow-up came before you could utter your own words. “Goodbye.”

You forced a small smile, waving at both him and the chopped head. For a brief moment, you remembered that you had wanted to give him a name, too. However, you weren’t in the mood to do so right now, and it wasn’t like you wanted to stay for long enough to even use the name again.

“Goodbye.” You kept the small, saccharine smile on your face as you turned to the door behind you, opening it and walking through.

As you walked back up the stairs, you could hear the heavy door shutting slowly behind you, closing with a small click.

—

You had been wandering around by yourself for a while, each uncertain step tiring you out more than the last. The exit was nowhere in sight, and you were starting to doubt there was a physical point of connection at all. Maybe you’d really have to kill something and sacrifice its blood to open a portal back to your world. Or however those things worked.

You were resting in a seemingly peaceful room, curled up on one of the chairs, when you noticed the appearance of a doll that was definitely not there before. You had always been wary around dolls—they were nothing short of unsettling—but the sight of one in this specific, ghastly environment was even more horrifying. Especially after you had found out just how many paranormal occurrences and tales of the supernatural were, in fact, real, you were not about to take your chances with this doll.

You slowly got up from where you were standing, taking one cautious step backwards at a time, your eyes not leaving the sinister figure. Perhaps it was silly, but you couldn’t help worrying that it would jump up and murder you while you weren’t looking. You just needed to back out of this room and close the door. Hopefully, that would be enough to get it away from you.

“What you do?” A voice snapped you out of your focus, at the same time causing you to jump, your spine instantly straightening out as panic shot through you.

For a brief moment, you forgot about maintaining eye contact with the doll as you hastily spun around to see who your interlocutor was.

You weren’t sure how many lives you had, but one of them was definitely lost at that moment. Your heart froze over in your chest, the atmosphere turning glacial and your face paling as you stared in horror at the man before you—none other than Mr. Scarletella.

“Sorry,” you finally squeaked after a long minute of gaping at him.

Much to your overwhelming dread, Mr. Scarletella did not appear pleased with your response. If anything, he seemed upset, his eyes narrowing as he raised his umbrella—oh god, were you going to die—and swung it directly at you.

It was no different from the initial situation with the crowbar woman. You didn’t react in time, only squeezing your eyes shut as you braced for the impact.

You heard a loud crash before you felt multiple smaller taps against your shoulders and one on the head. There were some clattering sounds that eventually came to a still.

When you opened your eyes, you saw the remnants of the doll on the ground—you knew you shouldn’t have turned your back on that thing—and Mr. Scarletella before you, his umbrella back at his side.

“You hurt?” he asked, leaning down to take hold of your face, moving it around to check for injuries.

“Not hurt,” you replied after a lengthy moment of processing what had just happened.

“Why you leave?”

You tried to gauge the expression on his face, but failed—he appeared completely stoic, though there was a hint of something in his eyes. It seemed like concern, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking on your end. He was more likely to be furious right now.

“Uh,” you started, trying to find the right words, realizing then that you had forgotten to ask Mr. Silvair how to say thirsty. “Consume... Consume liquid.”

Mr. Scarletella seemed to be watching you, appearing to analyze your response. You held your breath, hoping you would get away with the excuse this time. Your heart pounded in your chest, and through the silence in the room, the rush of your blood was all you could hear.

At last, he spoke.

“▮▮▮▮▮.” You weren’t sure what the word meant, but if you recalled correctly, he had said it too when speaking to Mr. Silvair.

Seeing as you didn’t know the meaning, you stayed quiet, uncertain of what you should say.

“Me take you,” he stated. He was reaching towards you, about to pick you up, when a bolt of panic went through you, causing you to squirm out of his reach.

“No!” you protested, before realizing you weren’t speaking the right language. “Cannot take!”

Mr. Scarletella appeared surprised, but your words did nothing to deter him.

“Why?” he questioned, reaching for you again. You took a few steps backwards this time until your hips hit the table behind you.

You stuck out your hand, trying to show him your fingers.

“Change body,” you repeated Mr. Silvair’s words from earlier. “Change mind.” Surely, that was a justifiable reason to let you go.

Mr. Scarletella intently observed your hand, eyebrows raising ever so slightly, before he smiled. The sight of his grin sent a raw chill running down every ridge of your spine, your hair standing on end.

“You my.” His smile didn’t falter. “My human. My not human. My.”

With how cold your blood ran in that instant, your circulation might as well have frozen over and halted.

Under any other circumstance, hearing someone tell you they wanted you regardless of how you are, be it monster or human, would be something flattering. His words, translated into human tongue, would be a perfect line for a romance film, or some sort of drama television show. Maybe a soap opera.

In your situation, however, it wasn’t necessarily not flattering. It just also happened to be petrifying.

“Want leave.” You tried to keep your voice firm and tone steady. You didn’t miss the way his eyebrow twitched ever so slightly at your words, which reduced your courage significantly. You didn’t want him to be mad, but you couldn’t stay here any longer, so you pressed on. “Not want change.”

You could see the hurt flash across Mr. Scarletella’s features, and the hesitation before his next words only further proved that.

“You my,” he pitifully repeated his last words. “You want me. You give me name. You give you name.”

Your lips parted, your jaw dropping in shock. You did give him a name, and you did give him your name, but how those actions equated to romantic—was it even romantic—interest was beyond you.

Your mouth opened and closed a few more times, like a fish out of water. You were lost for words, not knowing how in the world you were supposed to explain to him that exchanging names was not evidence of attraction.

Your eyebrows furrowed, your mouth pressing into a thin line as you tried to think of what to say. Eventually, you let out a resigned sigh before asking a long overdue question.

“What you want?” You looked at him, exasperated. Suddenly, the entity grinned, his smile stretching hauntingly wide. You gulped—a lump had formed in the back of your throat.

“Want you.” Mr. Scarletella immediately answered. “Want together. Me you together.”

“Not understand,” you lied, condensation beginning to bead on your forehead, your palms feeling clammy, and your body unnecessarily warm. You had an idea of what he meant, the knowledge stirring deep within your viscera and causing a sharp discomfort in your gut.

The silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity, each millisecond drawn out longer than the last. Perhaps time had paused for a minute, because neither of you spoke nor moved. The only sign that you hadn’t been frozen in time was the vicious beat of your heart and the singular drop of sweat that slid down the back of your neck.

“Me teach you.”

next chapter ->

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thank you everyone for reading and supporting my work! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

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mischievousandquestionable · 1 year ago

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step brother choso x reader summary -> you know you can always rely on your step brother to take care of you wc -> 1.5k warnings -> pseudo incest. unprotected sex. maybe slight coercion? but not really? creampie. cursing. nsfw -> mdni. dead dove. do not eat.

all your boyfriends ever do is cheat on you, lie to you, and take you for granted. you're so tired of giving them everything— every part of yourself— only for them to make a fool out of you.

after your most recent breakup, you came to realize that the only man you can truly rely on is your step brother.

ever since you were children, he's taken care of you, he's listened to you cry, he's made sure you know you're his number one priority.

so when you come home to the apartment the two of you share and find him sitting on the couch, you really can't help yourself.

it doesn't necessarily catch him off guard when you crawl into his lap, your thighs situated on either side of his frame. the two of you have always cuddled.

you're wearing a dress, so your cotton panties and his sweatpants are the only thing separating you from one another. the thought makes you feel dizzy.

he presses a kiss to the top of your head absentmindedly. "you okay?"

you make a small noise and bury your face into the crook of his neck.

you can't see the concerned frown that graces his features. "what's wrong?"

when you don't answer, his hand slides up your thigh before coming to rest on your hip. he gives it a gentle squeeze. "c'mon, talk to me princess."

"wan' you," you finally mumble against his skin.

this makes him chuckle. "you've got me."

"no, cho."

"what d'ya mean? 'm all yours, you know that."

you so desperately want to experience what it's like to be with someone you trust. who won't hurt you. who actually loves you.

but you can't bring yourself to say that. you can't admit to your step brother that you've been dreaming about his cock all day.

so you opt to grind yourself against him instead, and while the movement is short and apprehensive, you still feel his body stiffen beneath you.

"...what are you doing?"

your hands move to grab the fabric of his t-shirt weakly. "want you so bad."

he swallows thickly at your confession, finally understanding the intention behind your words, but he doesn't move a single muscle.

your eyes sting, interpreting his silence as rejection, and you're filled with shame.

however, when you pull back just enough to look at his face, you're surprised by the expression you find there.

his eyes are dark, lust and desire swimming in his purple irises. his hand reaches up, and he uses his thumb to wipe away the single tear that slides down your cheek.

"we can't," he murmurs.

another tear escapes your eye and it's like you've plunged a knife through his heart. he hates seeing you sad, and he'd do anything to stop it.

his hand curls around the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his. it's painfully brief, your lips just barely brushing against one another's.

"we can't," he repeats, his breath fanning across your face. "'m sorry."

"why not?" you sniffle. "i love you. love you so much. love you more than anyone—"

choso can't help it when he presses his lips to yours. you grind yourself against him once more, guiding his free hand to rest on your other hip.

he mumbles your name lowly, and it sounds something like a warning.

though, his body seems to be at odds with his words because you can feel him hardening beneath you.

"p-please, cho," you whimper. "need you so bad."

god, how is he supposed to think straight when you're talking to him like that?

you're so fucking needy. always have been.

and he's spent years scolding himself for the way his dick twitches whenever you give him that pouty look, or whenever you whine his name.

his grip on your hips tightens and you almost expect him to push you away, but he pulls you against himself further, his hips bucking up almost imperceptibly.

the gasp it pulls from your lips melts whatever remains of his resolve.

"you can only sit on it, 'kay? can you be a good girl and do that for me?"

"y-yes!"

he's trying desperately to rationalize the situation, like that will somehow make it less disgusting. it's not that bad if he lets his step sister warm his cock. it's not like he's actually fucking you.

his hand wanders, shifting your panties to the side and running a finger up your slit. honestly, he'd wonder if this was some cruel joke if not for what he finds there.

"so messy," he groans. "this all for me, sweetheart?"

you hide your face in his neck, suddenly feeling shy, and offer him a nod in response.

and while he thinks it's cute, he won't let you off the hook that easy. "use your words."

"y-yes, cho. all for you."

"good." he hooks a finger beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging at it before letting it snap back against your skin. "take these off."

when you stand up and quickly slide them down your legs, he pushes his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock.

it slaps against his stomach. he's so thick that if you wrapped your hand around him, your fingers would struggle to meet.

straddling him eagerly, your hands find his shoulders to steady yourself.

when you lower yourself onto his cock, a pressure begins to build in your stomach, and it gets worse with every inch.

"so big," you cry. "h-hurts—"

"shhhh. it's okay, baby. you're doing so good."

you look down to where the two of you are connected, letting out a shaky breath once you reach the hilt.

"see? i told you. such a good girl."

his praise makes you feel hot. it makes you crave more friction, even though you feel so impossibly full already.

you lift yourself up an inch or so before slowly sliding back down on his cock.

he groans your name. "don't."

"want more," you whine. "wanna make you feel good."

"shit, princess. you already are."

you pepper his face with a few kisses, starting at the corner of his mouth, then moving to his cheek and the spot below his ear.

"nii-chan," you murmur, clenching around his cock. "please."

it's not something you call him that frequently now that you're older, and you can tell it has the effect you intended when his eyes gloss over.

you lift yourself a few inches, then drop back down into his lap.

he tries to say your name, but he chokes on the first syllable when you repeat the action.

his hands fly to your hips after the third time. "stop it. we can't."

and you try to do as he asks, you try to stop, but he doesn't realize that his hands are guiding your movements now, ensuring that you don't stop riding him in spite of his words.

his head falls back against the couch, his mouth parted in miserable ecstasy.

"fuck. fuck." his own hips are moving now, thrusting up desperately. "this pussy is perfect. so fucking tight."

his eyes shift down to where he's buried inside you.

"look at that messy cunt swallowing my cock, princess," he grunts. "you were made for me, you know that?"

you hum in response, his words making the coil in your stomach grow taut. he picks up the pace when he feels you clamp down on him.

"y-yeah," you answer breathlessly. "just for you."

"i wanna feel you cum around this cock, can you do that for me?"

"close," you squeak out, your eyes screwed shut.

his hand reaches between your bodies to toy with your clit and that's all it takes to push you over the edge.

the orgasm that crashes through is so intense that your legs tremble and your vision goes white. choso's name falls from your lips over and over like a broken prayer.

you can't bring yourself to move, so he holds your hips in place and fucks up into you. when his thrusts grow sloppy, you claw at his biceps in anticipation.

"please don't pull out. please."

"sweetheart, you know i have to—"

"please," you cry again. "need it so bad. love you s'much nii-chan, just wanna be stuffed full of your cum—"

even if he really did want to pull out, he doesn't get the chance because your words make your step brother blow his load right then and there.

a strangled moan erupts from somewhere deep in his chest and you fall forward against his body, resting your chin on his shoulder.

his arms move to wrap around your frame and you're so blissfully fucked out, you're sure you've never been this content in your life.

"i love you," you murmur again.

suddenly, choso doesn't care if he goes to hell for this. this moment is the only slice of heaven he'll ever need.

"i love you too, baby." his lips find the top of your head. "so much."

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso x reader #choso smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #choso imagines #choso kamo imagines

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frickinsleepdeprived · 10 months ago

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Ride or Die Part 1

Sanemi x Fem! Reader - Motorcycle Club AU

Word Count: 9.4K

TW: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT - READ THE DAMN WARNINGS BEFORE READING P L E A S E: Mentions of violence ● school fights ● blood ● so much fucking blood ● mentions of domestic violence ● hospitals ● alcohol ● marijuana ● vaping/smoking ● reader being a stubborn bitch ● Sanemi being even more of a stubborn bitch ● so much fucking angst ● Sanemi has unpleasant memories of a lost loved one ● readers going through some shit-

CW: MINORS DNI - Reader has a wet dream and gets herself off in her sleep in Sanemi’s room (and Sanemi hopelessly watches, therefore by extension, voyeurism.)

A/N: HOLY FUCKING SHIT ITS ABOUT DAMN TIME- After promising this *checks calendar and cringes* New Years of this year and April of this year, I’m finally done with the first part of this multipart fic! No explicit smut in this part unfortunately, this is mostly about the opening dynamics between Sanemi and Reader. Smut, however, will definitely come in the next part hehehe- enjoy! I hope I didn’t disappoint with this lol

...

The moment she opened her eyes, she couldn't register anything. It was dark, darker than the abyss of her mind as her mind slowly manifested into consciousness.

Though (Y/N)’s head was still foggy, she was able to figure out where she was. She was in a car, an SUV at that. Two women hunched over here trying to keep her bleeding at bay and her mind focused on something else. Her immediate thoughts were simple.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Hey, can you hear me? Are you awake?” One female voice called out, it sounds like she's crying, more than likely she was worried. Another female voice scolded the other.

“Are you blind?! Of course she's awake! She's just not able to comprehend anything right now, Suma. And if she is, it's a damn miracle.” The voice, deadpan and flat, was from another woman. “Besides, it's not like she's in any position to answer questions anyway.”

“No no, ask all the questions you can. Get as much information as possible, Makio. The more the better.” Another female voice called out from the front passenger seat. Her voice soothing and calm, one could only assume she had the patience of a saint. “Tengen, love, can you make this go any faster?”

“There's a problem with that, Hinatsuru. Last time I was speeding with Kyojuro in the back after he got in a fight with Seis Lunas, I got pulled over for doing forty over the speed limit. Like, yeah, the cop was cool and all, let me off with a warning. But still, not risking it.”

That name…

That fucking name.

“Wh-what?! What the hell?! Where am I?!” (Y/N) sat up immediately. That name, Seis Lunas, wasn't something to be taken lightly. That name was the very foundation of her pain. The catalyst for her suffering and the only reason why she's in the situation she's in now. “WHERE IS HE?! WHERE'S THAT FUCKING BASTARD?!” her mind turned to one thing; fight or flight. And it looks like she chose to fight. The two women in the backseat holding her down to the seat and trying to calm her down as best as they can.

“Makio do something!” Suma cried out, struggling to keep (Y/N) from not only injuring herself more, but from trying to keep herself and her sister-wife from getting punched in the face

“HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO ANYTHING SUMA SHES FREAKING THE FUCK OUT!” Makio screamed, restraining both of the injured girl’s wrists and holding them down. (Y/N)’s tears making her feel a hint of remorse.

“Well try something!” Suma retorted, feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt as she pressed hard on (Y/N)’s thigh, causing the poor woman to yelp in pain. “Aaaaaahhhh I’m sorry-!”

Their bickering and arguing only caused (Y/N)’s state of mind to worsen. The tears streaming out of her eyes proved that she was not only trying to keep her screams of pain at bay, but she was also terrified- no, she was mortified.

“EVERYONE SHUT THE HELL UP!” The male shouted, both of the women quieting at a moment's notice. “Alright, here's what the fuck we're doing. Makio, Suma, keep the lady's bleeding stable. Hina, start asking questions, and you,” He pointed to (Y/N) in the backseat, his voice turning calm, yet still stern as ever. “Don't worry, everything is gonna be fine. We're taking you to a hospital.” (Y/N)’s eyes widened at that. The last place she needed to be, of all places, was a damn hospital. “No, you don't get a say. No, you don't get to just fight us on this. This is happening, because it'll be hell or high water if we don't get you some help.” His tone was final, as if no one could argue with him.

Going to a hospital meant many things; healthcare, security, stability, and of course, a chance to get better in peace. But this?

This would be anything but peaceful.

“No… no no no please-” (Y/N) protested softly. Sweat began to collect on her brow and her hands started to shake. Makio kept a hand on her forehead while Suma suppressed the bleeding.

“Whoa whoa, hey. It's okay, you're going to be fine. The doctors and nurses at Saint Tamayo are amazing, Hina would know, she works there. You've got nothing to worry about.” Makio tried to soothe her.

“No! You don't understand, if I go, he'll find me. He's got eyes everywhere, there's no way I can stay under the radar.” (Y/N) started to panic. She never went to hospitals for that reason. She was used to treating her wounds on her own, let alone fighting for her life.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Tengen commented.

“Sure?” Her head tilted to the side as (Y/N) gave him an unsure confirmation.

“Does this have anything to do with Seis Lunas?” The albino man asked, his maroon eyes flashing in the rear view mirror at her. The mere name alone sent her into a state of panic, but it was a silent panic. The kind where one would freeze, then look away. The one where it would make someone unsure of what to say, but their body language and expressions said it all. “Hinatsuru-”

“I'm calling Windbreaker and Ouroboros right now.” Windbreaker? Ouroboros? If these people are who (Y/N) thinks it is, then she's in for a lot more than she bargained for. “Hey, we're stepping on the gas. Seems like this girl is involved with some sort of domestic situation with the Kizuki, and it doesn't look good either… yeah,” she looked to Tengen “Step on the fucking gas, we have to get there before the Kizuki do.”

“Where to?” Tengen replied, his voice unsure and worried. (Y/N) speaking up before Hinatsuru could.

“I told you guys once, and I'll say it again, if I go to a hospital, he will find me and I will be dead!” Her voice was hoarse, the pain becoming too much to bear. One more moment in this car and she'll more than likely die from stress alone than the actual blood loss. Hinatsuru gave her a sympathetic look in the rearview mirror. “I… I get you guys are trying to help and I get that it's important I get the proper medical care but I'm fine-”

“You are anything but fine! You’re going to a goddamn hospital and that is final!” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, picking up speed and rushing towards Saint Tamayo hospital. “Do you know what kind of condition we found you in? You were covered in sweat and vomit, you went into shock. You're not fine and you're going to the hospital. And I swear to God if you try and back out of this again, I'll personally see to it that you're restrained to the fucking gurney once we get there. Got it?”

“That's unsettling!” (Y/N) shrieked, her voice strained with tears and horror. Makio sighed and held her close, pressing a reassuring kiss to her temple, all platonic.

And that's when everything got faster, and everything turned dark.

…

A young albino man sped on his motorcycle on the highway. A determined, seemingly menacing look on his face as he rode alongside a fellow biker- a group of them, actually.

It was times like this when he was more focused than he was with his own day job. Going ninety on the highway when he knew the speed limit was sixty-five. He could easily get pulled over by one of those state troopers if he and his fellow riders aren’t careful. Yet, that doesn’t stop him, because this is personal for him.

Needless to say, he doesn’t like to hear about domestic violence. Not that he doesn’t care, because he does, deeply. But the thought of a woman being beaten by a man. He was raised better than that.

And by God if he doesn’t do something about it now, it’ll be the end of his pride.

Skidding and drifting on the asphalt of the highway, he took an exit and slowed to a halt at the light. Finding the time to open his helmet shield and take a hit off of his vape. The strong, raspberry and pineapple scented smoke wafting in the chill of the fall night, causing him to sigh as he quickly put the cancerous device back into his pocket and closed his shield. Revving his engine, he sped off as the light turned green, making his way to Saint Tamayo with the rest of the group riding with him.

Maybe this time, he’d be able to save someone. Albeit it’s someone he doesn’t know, but at least it's a life saved… hopefully.

…

Her kicks and screams resounded at the entrance of the emergency room. Her fighting was rough, and unfair.

(Y/N) was a scrapper, a dirty one at that. Even through the blood loss and the injuries she had, she could still put up one hell of a fight despite seeing black. Not red, black.

“Dammit! You’re going to injure yourself more if you keep fighting!” Makio struggled to get her out of the SUV. Holding onto (Y/N)’s underarms as Hinatsuru and Suma took hold of her legs. Tengen’s hands gently restraining the injured woman’s wrists as they loaded her into a wheelchair.

Though, (Y/N)’s efforts proved to be vain and futile; becoming far too stressed. Nurses and doctors rushed out to see what was wrong, and upon seeing the state of her injuries, they had no choice but to take the poor soul in. (Y/N) kicked, punched, writhed and squirmed the entire time the hospital staff took her to the back. A group of motorcycles pulled up in the parking lot and walked briskly to the quartet waiting at the entrance of the emergency room.

“About damn time you showed up Windbreaker. Where the hell were you?” Tengen sighed deeply, running a hand through his silken white hair. Windbreaker took off his helmet, exposing his scarred face to the bitter chill of the night. His leather jacket is not doing much to shield him from the cold either. The rest of the riders took off their helmets as well, most of them male, but two of them female.

“Well, trafficks fucking horrendous. Not to mention, state troopers are everywhere tonight. I’m surprised that me and the rest of us didn’t get pulled over. But that's neither here nor there.” Windbreaker spoke casually, watching the taller albino and three ladies in front of him light a cigarette. “And you get onto me for vaping, hypocrite.”

“Hey, this is stressful, cut me and the ladies some damn slack.” Tengen sighed, taking a heavy drag and exhaling deeply. “How’d you even come across her anyways? Were you and Ouroboros just out riding around or something?”

“Man, we watched the poor girl crash.” A ravenette cut in, his short hair tied into a small ponytail at the dead middle of the back of his head and a mask concealing his nose and mouth. A pink haired cutie in a pair of denim short-shorts, a white crop top, a pair of riding boots, and a leather vest attached to his hip. “We don’t know where the black eye, bruised knuckles, and the cut on her thigh came from though. However, we’re thinking it’s some sort of domestic from what we all heard over the phone.” He spoke grimly, a cold and distant look in his eyes as he spoke of (Y/N), gripping his female companion tighter by the hip as he sighed.

“Well, the way she spoke of Seis Lunas earlier makes it seem like it is domestic. She was practically hollering and begging us to not take her here. Like, yeah, she acknowledged she needs the attention for her wounds, but she did mention something about how Sies will come around at some point, he’ll find her and kill her is what she said.” Makio chimed in, throwing her cigarette butt on the pavement and stomping it out. “Woman’s so stubborn that she started fighting us in the backseat, but she was too weak to get any real licks in.”

“Well, that comes as part of being involved with the Kizuki, I guess.” Windbreaker spoke with a snort, taking another drag from his vape as a few of the other riders went into the waiting room of the ER. “But regardless, the priority here is this chick and what the hell happened to her. I’m betting she has a concussion too, she wasn’t really smart with the way she was riding earlier. No helmet, no protective gear.”

“Maybe she was in a rush?” The pink haired girl spoke up, “I mean, if it's a domestic like we’re suspecting, then chances are she was just trying to get away from her aggressor quickly regardless of any implicated consequences.” The men nodded in agreement, they had to admit, despite her being a bit of a bubbly, happy-go-lucky girl, she’s got her wits about her. “Not to mention, no one would ride like that if it wasn’t serious.”

“That much is true… anyways, we should probably head in with the rest. I’m sure they’re getting the rundown on her injuries right now.” Windbreaker spoke up, watching the others put out their cigarettes and hide away their vapes. Some of them had flasks, making him shake his head in disapproval.

Maybe this time he can save the poor soul he found on the side of the road. But from the looks of it right now, (Y/N) won’t be recovering anytime soon.

After all, extensive injuries like that don’t just heal overnight.

…

About a week had passed and (Y/N) was, arguably, in worse shape than she was before. Eye still blue and black- slowly turning yellow, her scars stitched up and wrapped heavily. A few broken ribs and a concussion, but expected to make a full recovery. Still and unconscious in an ICU room, Windbreaker stood by her bedside, and not once did he want to leave. Doctor or nurse came in to check on (Y/N)? He was right in the corner watching silently. Anytime anyone else was in the room, he made sure he was there so that way nothing would go south- and god forbid anything happen, lest someone wanted to face the lilac eyed man’s wrath.

(Y/N), on the other hand, was oblivious to the man’s presence. When she came to, she gave him a look of confusion. “Wh- who?-” she was cut short by his quick interjection.

“Eh, just the guy that saved your life. You’re lucky I caught you in time, well, me and the others did.” The albino spoke softly, yet something in his voice sounded stern. “You’re also lucky you didn’t die.”

“Well excuse me macho, but I didn’t need saving.” (Y/N)’s curt response stirred a slight annoyance in him, though, he couldn’t help but be strangely amused at her sharp tongue and cold words. “If anything, he’s-” once again, (Y/N) was cut off.

“He’s gonna find you and he’s gonna kill you? Yeah, I heard that whole rant on the phone sweetcheeks.”

“...Sweetcheeks?” The disdain in her voice was palpable, dripping with scorn and offense, yet she couldn’t help but blush at the thought of being called such an endearing name. Yet she knew such sweet words could be laced with the most bitter of intentions. “I- I’m not sweet, dammit!”

“Well, maybe not sweet, but definitely helpless, at least for the moment.” He spoke candidly, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair by the woman’s bedside. “Your bikes totaled too, I’m not sure if it can be salvaged either.”

“Goddammit- okay, who are you? Name, please, I can’t be talking to strangers right now, my psyche can’t handle it.” (Y/N)’s voice sounded hoarse, likely from the screaming she was doing last night. The man sighed, running his hand through the mess of silver locks on his head, he was losing himself in his mind. Plagued with thoughts the last time something like this happened… the last time he couldn’t save someone like her.

“Name’s Windbreaker.” he spoke with finality, “I ride with the Hashira, as if the patches on my vest weren’t a dead give away already. You crashed last night, like I said, your bikes totaled and more than likely scrap at this point. You’re extremely lucky to be alive, but you’re also kinda dumb for driving the way you were.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes at his comments, scoffing slightly as she rubbed her sore eyes, wincing slightly when she touched them.

“Well, Windbreaker, when you’re trying to get away from an abusive ex like Seis Lunas, you don’t have a choice but to ride fast. Whether I ended up dead or alive is a different story.” The last of her strength was used to hoist herself up, but only to fail when she tried with all her might to use her upper body strength. Flopping back onto the mattress, her head hitting the pillow, letting out a defeated sigh as she looked over at him. She drank in the sight of him, her eyes narrowing in recognition, but she wouldn’t dare say anything about it, at least not yet. The real question is why the hell he looked so familiar. “Anyways, why did you decide to “save” my sorry ass?”

“Because I was raised better than the scum of the earth that decided to do this to you. Besides, why the hell would I just let you die anyways? That’s blatant negligence on my end.” He crossed his arms, sighing in exasperation. Did she really think she wasn’t worth saving, that she wasn’t worth anyone’s time? It only made him wonder how much Seis Lunas had broken her down and rebuilt her in his image. “Did I mention that you’re also quite the fighter?”

“Yeah, you kinda have to be in this cruel world.” (Y/N) sighed as she spoke, looking at the IV that’s lodged into her hand. “As soon as I get out of here, it's back into hiding.”

“Hiding? Where?” His eyebrows raised in intrigue, but his concern outweighed his curiosity, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “This town isn’t exactly big, you know.” He sighed softly, tilting his head.

“Wherever the hell is farthest from town. Might go two counties over if I’m honest.” She spoke with yet another resigned sigh. It was as if she was giving into whatever her circumstances threw at her. Which honestly, was quite sad in his eyes.

“Well, yeah, but… don’t you have a place to go? Family? Friends?” His voice grew solemn.

“Family lives out of state, as far as friends go, I have none of them. Seis asserted his “dominance” and drove all of them away. Now I’m just out of touch with all of them.” This… this hurt Windbreaker, hard. It was like someone put him in her place. At this rate, he hurt for her.

He might just bleed for her.

…

Weeks followed, then about a month and a half. After (Y/N) had been discharged from the hospital and started physical therapy, he hadn’t heard anything from her since. With every passing night, the bitter chill seemed to get even colder as Windbreaker thought about her. He would stay up at night, haunted by the things she told him about Seis Lunas.

“Anyways, why did you decide to “save” my sorry ass?”

That one stung the most, if anything, it tore his heart in two. And though he probably shouldn’t be thinking about her, because she was only saved out of what he felt was obligation, he couldn’t help it. After all, a woman’s safety, to him, was probably the most precious thing he keeps close to himself. But a snap of someone’s fingers alerted his senses elsewhere. A certain masked ravenette staring down at him with cold eyes.

“You’re thinking about her again.” He spoke, his eyebrow raised as he stood in the doorway of the silverette’s room within the confines of the Hashira clubhouse. With a heavy sigh, Ouroboros leaned on the doorframe of Windbreaker's room. “Let her go, man, she likely doesn't want to see any of us again. I mean, unless you want to be a creep and go find her.”

“It's not being a creep if it's a welfare check. I know you'd do the same for L'Amour if she was in that girl's position.” Windbreaker sighed, sitting up shirtless from where he was laying on his bed. Picking up a black muscle shirt and slipping it on. “Where are we meeting for church?”

“Dive bar downtown, it's usually pretty empty on Sundays so everything we're gonna talk about should be safe and sound.” The ravenette took his hair down to re-tie it. “And after all is said and done, I'm getting L'Amour to cut my hair.” Ouroboros sighed and crossed his arms, one gold eye and the other blue looking at Windbreakers lilac ones. “If you happen to come across that girl, though, offer the clubhouse to her or something. I'm sure Mariposa wouldn't mind feeding her or anything.”

“She likely needs it, god knows where she is now.” The silverette rubbed the sleep from his eyes, putting on a pair of riding pants. “Matter of fact, I think I might go out now. Do a scan throughout town and see if I can find her.”

“You're really hellbent over this, aren't you? Isn't this what happened with-” Ouroboros was cut off by Windbreakers cold stare. “Nevermind… anyways, church is at seven at the dive bar downtown, don't be late.'' With that, Ouroboros walked out. Not a care in the ravenettes eyes as his footsteps thundered on the carpeted floor of the clubhouse. Windbreaker sighed deeply, setting out to ride around town for the girl he saved a few weeks back.

But he came up empty.

…

Stepping into the establishment, clad in a pair of dark jeans and an equally dark shirt with a pair of sunglasses, (Y/N) hoped no one would recognize her.

Many clubs, including the Kizuki and the Hashira, come to this particular bar for church. (Y/N) has always been to these meetings, but never allowed a chance to voice anything thanks to the Kizuki being a one-percenter club. Always left in the background, or attached to Seis Lunas’ hip with a drink in hand. (Y/N)’s car keys attached to one of her belt loops as she sat on a stool at the bar counter. The doctor told her not to drink, but it was her only hope at forgetting that horrible and damn near fatal night.

Part of her, however, winced as the bartender poured the amber brown, poisonous liquid into a glass with whiskey stones. Yet the other part was screaming “DRINK DRINK DRINK DRINK DRINK-” As the young woman brought the glass to her lips, a bitter euphoria overwhelmed her senses. The grainy, caramel scent comforted her mind as she downed the whole glass in one singular swig, not a damn given about the consequences. Over in the left of her peripheral vision stood the Hashira motorcycle club. Perhaps they were having church, or maybe they all decided to get out of the clubhouse for an evening. Either way, (Y/N) kept her head low, making sure it wasn’t obvious that she may or may not be eavesdropping, even if it were a breach of privacy.

“Come on man, get over her. She’s likely out of the hospital and doing better. Besides, she’s probably far out of town anyways.” Tengen patted Windbreaker on the back, passing him a pint of whatever draft beer was in the glass. The silverette shook his head and pushed the glass away. “Still don’t drink? Man, you’re twenty-one goddamn years old! Live a little!”

“You know me, I don’t drink, and I won’t drink until Genya’s out of high school.” Windbreaker sighed, his silver hair unruly and a mess from the ride around town. Though, Tengen did have a point; he’s a grown man, what’s stopping him from drinking? Besides, his younger brother is old enough to take care of himself. But then he remembered what his brother had been through, and that was enough to make the lilac eyed man turn down alcohol, regardless of the occasion.

It was like that for three hours; three hours of Windbreaker turning down drinks and of (Y/N) actively avoiding the temptation to turn her gaze to the group of bikers. Of course, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she had been sipping on her third drink for a while now, lost deep in thought of where to go from here, until she got a call. “Hello? Yes, this is her… I’m sorry? Ah, I see, I’m on my way.” Stepping down from the barstool, (Y/N) quickly makes her way out of the bar, her movements quick and fluid- amid the pain of her injuries. It seems like someone was following her out, yet she paid no mind. Slipping into her car, she speeds off towards Kimetsu High, where she’s supposed to pick up two troublemakers that got into a fight. Of course she had to be the one the school called, Jim Jones was too neglectful to even do anything. Reyes was too busy- as was Seis Lunas. Spinjutsu, well, Spinjutsu just doesn’t want anything to do with that. So it’s up to (Y/N) to make sure the bullshit gets settled.

Only God knows what kind of trouble they’ve caused this time.

…

“I’m sorry you did what?!” The two kids in front of her; a girl with long platinum, green tipped hair and caked makeup and a boy with a scrawny, lean build, rolled their eyes and sighed deeply. “How many damn times do I have to tell you guys?! Stop. Getting. Into. Fights! You will be suspended or expelled, or at worst, arrested!” (Y/N) groaned at the thought, rubbing her sore eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh. “Where are the kids you beat up? And don’t tell me they’re in the nurse's office.” The girl had a guilty look on her face. “Isis, what the fuck did you guys do?”

“Well, we had to teach them a lesson somehow.” The boy spoke up, crossing his arms and leaning back on the chair, as if all of this was just normal. “And hell yeah, they’re in the nurse's office, and I bet that those hashira bastards are on their way to come pick them up now.” He had an almost proud look on his face, as did his female companion. The two siblings had always found a way to get themselves into trouble, whether it be minor or major things. They’ve always been troublemakers, even before (Y/N) came around.

A distinct voice came in through the door of the front office; male, gruff, and definitely pissed off. (Y/N) looked up from the two to face who it was, lo and behold it was Windbreaker. “Yes, I’m Genya Shinazugawa’s older brother. Now where is he?” He was practically interrogating the front desk clerk, who basically had no answers to his questions, and that only pissed him off more.

“The nurses office. I’m talking with the assailants right now, actually. Also, nice to see you again, I guess.” (Y/N) spoke up, her voice tired and frustrated, just like his. Windbreaker looked up at her, making a beeline in her direction. The look of rage in his eyes was palpable, but she knew it wasn’t for her. “Look, I know that this is unexpected, but I’ve got this.”

“Oh no, no no no. Your siblings or whatever the hell those two are, they’re gonna pay. They’re gonna pay double. Because no one, and I mean no one lays a damn finger on my brother.” He spoke sternly. “And by God if I have anything to say about it, I’d say lock those two the hell up if they’re not going to alternative school.” (Y/N) sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. This situation, on top of her injuries and meeting Windbreaker in unforeseen circumstances, was too much.

“I… I understand that. Believe me, if they were my blood siblings, I’d definitely make a decision on their behalf. But unfortunately, I’m not, so there’s very little that I could do legally. Rest assured though, I have all of this under control.” She winced at the pain in her black eye, a headache looming in her skull. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to talk to the principal and see what the hell those two will be going through as far as a punishment goes.” (Y/N) stepped into the principal’s office, shutting the door behind her and leaving the silverette out in the lobby.

The conversation didn’t last long, it was only a matter of time before (Y/N) learned that the two siblings wouldn’t be receiving a punishment at all, considering this was the first incident of the year. With a frustrated sigh, she snapped her fingers at the two siblings and motioned for them to follow her. But before she left, she passed Windbreaker a piece of paper. “If these two assholes cause you any other issues, call me.”

Windbreaker stared at the piece of paper and sighed deeply, nodding solemnly. “Will do, thanks.” He looked down at the contact information. “(Y/N) (L/N): (***) ***-****”

He would make sure to remember this.

…

It had been a while since that encounter, (Y/N) would receive calls here and there from Windbreaker, who’s contact name came up as “Sanemi”. She had assumed that was his real name, as if the name “Windbreaker” wasn’t enough evidence to it being an alias. “Look, all I’m saying is that Isis and Osiris are just… troubled. But that’s still no excuse for what they’ve done. And what's more, I’m not even their legal guardian, Jim Jones is.” Sanemi, on the other end, let out a scoff.

“Well, that explains a lot. He just lets those kids just run around and do whatever?” he asked, scrunching his face up in confusion. “Moreover, why the hell does Jim Jones of all people have custody of two teens anyways? That guy’s an internet cult leader and everyone knows it.”

“Alleged cult leader, but I have my suspicions also. No one really knows how he got custody of those two in the first place, but that’s neither here nor there right now. Where are you anyways? I hear something in the background.” (Y/N) spoke up, which caught Sanemi off guard, why is she so interested in him all of a sudden?

“Oh, uh, I’m at the Hashira clubhouse. One of the members wanted me to offer it to you at the hospital once you got out. But you kinda went off the grid for a while afterwards, so I never got the chance. Where are you though? You sound like you’re outside or something.” He asked softly, concern lacing his voice despite not knowing her well enough to truly have the right to be truly worried.

“... weeeeellllllllll-” her voice trailed off, awkward and nervous before she was cut off by the silverette.

“Location, now.” He demanded, his voice stern and cold.

“And if I don’t?” (Y/N) scoffed, not taking him seriously.

“I’ll scour this entire town looking for you.” Sanemi concluded.

“I’d love to see you try.” She spoke confidently, as if challenging him to even try to get near her. She hung up, and just to humor him, gave him her location. There's no way he’d actually show up, right? But he only called her back, just to spite her in turn. With a scoff, (Y/N) picked up, continuing her commentary. “Not to mention, that's an awfully mighty claim for someone that barely knows me. What makes you think I’d go to someone else’s house when I barely know them?” Sanemi scoffed on the other end of the phone.

“Well, for one, rude. Two, I don’t have a house, at least not yet, working on that.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now, will you please drop your damn location so I don’t have a heart attack?” (Y/N) groaned softly at that… something about that noise roused something within Sanemi. It was wrong, so devastatingly wrong, he barely knows her. Why is he feeling so warm inside at the prospect of bringing her back with him?

“What has you so concerned, Sanemi? You only brought me to the hospital once, besides, it’s not like we’re dating. Unless I need to clarify that for you?” The woman’s tone was annoyed, and definitely not the warmest. “Look, I appreciate your concern and interest in me, that is if there’s any sort of interest or concern in the first place, but I’m okay-”

“You’re not fine, you hear me?! You’re still injured, you’re still being hunted by the Kizuki!” Sanemi snapped, sighing deeply as he threw on some sweatpants and a shirt. “Look, I’m not gonna let you be out there alone. So do me a favor, drop me your location so I can at least get you somewhere safer. You don’t have to come anywhere with me if you don’t want to. I get that I don’t know you very well and that's fine, but at least let me make sure you’re okay. Please?” There was something about his voice… it was desperate, that much (Y/N) could tell. But there was a hint of something else.

Was… was that longing she heard?

“I- you know what, fine. But don’t expect anything to come of this, because that’d be entirely by coincidence.” She sent him her precise location this time, which was a park on the other side of town.

“Are… are you fucking kidding me- That's it. Stay put, stay on the phone, I’m on my way. If one of those Kizuki fucks comes around then start running towards downtown, got it?” His voice was stern, a little too stern. It made (Y/N) roll her eyes again, but hearing him so riled up opened up her mind to other things also. She knew they were wrong, but dammit if it wasn't enticing.

“Sanemi I-” Her protests were in vain as Sanemi’s voice cut through.

“Got it?” The sound of a door slamming and a car starting made (Y/N)’s heart drop. His voice was demanding- almost too demanding as she heard his car speeding out of a parking lot. Of course there was no convincing this man otherwise, he’s far too stubborn, far too set in his ways to listen to anyone else’s opinion.

“... Alright, just uh, get here quick, I guess.” Her voice was unsure, but her mind was already seemingly made up, not by her own choice of course. With the way Sanemi spoke to her, it’s almost as if he cares. It’s eerily similar to the way Seis Lunas would talk to her, but this is different somehow. It has no malicious intention, at least she hopes it wouldn’t. He’s definitely hard to read, well, that's a lie. His intentions are obvious- painfully obvious. But (Y/N) just can’t shake the feeling of an ulterior motive, especially after everything Seis Lunas put her through; the rat bastard broke her, that much was evident. With a heavy sigh, she sits on a curb and sparks a blunt, inhaling on the Lord’s lettuce and exhaling in the same manner it went in- deep, sharp, and heavenly. The sangria flavored cigarillo wrap made it a little easier to smoke, though she had it in the back of her mind that she probably should’ve gotten a real tobacco leaf to smoke out of; but that's neither here nor there right now.

As she awaited the hot tempered silverette’s arrival, she contemplated her next move. Would she stay in town? Would she leave and never come back? Where would she go, knowing that her family is far away and friends were out of touch because of her association with the Kizuki, even if it is now former? (Y/N)’s mind raced, her heart heavy as the stress became too much to bear. The heartstrings were pulling, the tears pooled in her eyes- which she quickly wiped away. Reminding herself that she's a grown woman and capable of handling herself. She didn’t need a man, despite how she had to accustom herself to the lifestyle synonymous to that of a housewife. A degrading thought, really, because she never figured she’d find herself at the mercy of someone who is pretty much a stranger, and a member of a rival motorcycle club to boot. “How could I have let myself fall so hard from where I was?” was her immediate thought. Though even her thoughts didn’t quench the sweltering fire that were the burning questions of her uncertain future.

Sanemi, on the other hand, was occupied with other thoughts. Why was (Y/N) out in a park on the other side of town at one o’clock in the morning? What happened to the beat up pontiac grand prix she owned; the one that had a missing front bumper and chipped dark blue paint? Whatever happened the night she was taken to the hospital by Tengen and his wives? He remembered her mentioning something about Seis Lunas being her ex, but that was the extent of it. But the mention of Seis Lunas raised even more questions in his mind. Why was (Y/N) even affiliated with the brutal one-percenter club in the first place? How did she come to meet Seis Lunas? Why was she Osiris and Isis’ emergency contact at the very same school that Genya, along with other Hashira prospects, go to?

As both of their minds were caught up in a slew of questions and thoughts, Sanemi had reached her location faster than he had anticipated. He hung up the call and got out of the black sedan he drives, looking around and spotting (Y/N) almost immediately. Her condition seemingly improved; the black eye was nearly gone and she didn’t look as lethargic as before. Though, there was no mistaking the fatigue in her body language as he stepped closer and closer to her. His movements slow, cautious, and weary as if he were moving towards an injured dog. “Hey…” those were his immediate words. She looked up at him, an involuntary breath of relief escaping her lungs as she took another hit off of the blunt. He sat beside her on the curb, lighting his own cigarette and taking a drag. “You alright?” She looked over at him, trying her hardest to keep her tears at bay, but to no avail, seeing as how they just couldn’t stop falling.

“Depends on what your definition of “okay” is.” (Y/N) spoke softly, her sigh heavy and tired as she took another hit from the blunt. “Car broke down, and I've been walking ever since. Just kinda left it there, it was a piece of shit anyways. Payments were overdue, tags were no good and it had no insurance. If anything if I was caught riding around in it I’d get arrested, maybe it’s a blessing in disguise or something.” Was she ranting now? She’s never done that before, especially not in front of Sanemi. Like, yeah, they’ve had their fair share of long talks over the phone, but never about personal struggles. She was far too prideful to want to admit she needed help, so why do so now? Sanemi sighed and nodded in acknowledgement, taking another drag off of his cigarette and running a hand through his hair.

“I getcha, it's hard to figure out your priorities, especially in a situation like yours. Hell, maybe it really was a blessing in disguise, considering the Kizuki would know what your car looks like. I’d have definitely ditched the car if it meant your safety.” He took another drag from his cigarette and looked at her. “But I guess you’re not really one to worry about things like that huh?” (Y/N) looked his way with a sneer.

“Really? You’re seriously asking me that? My bike is totaled, my car is gone, all of my shit is at the Kizuki hideout. I doubt Seis Lunas would give it back to me anyways, hell, he probably already burned most of my clothes and broke a lot of my valuables.” She shook her head and took another heavy drag from the blunt. “I don’t even think he wants to see me anyways.” Tears filled her eyes, but she was quick to blink them away. Though this didn’t escape Sanemi, seeing the tears in her eyes broke his own heart. He knew it was wrong, he shouldn’t feel something for her, but he couldn’t help it.

What’s more, (Y/N) feels something for him also, and it’s definitely not what she’s supposed to be feeling. It’s not contempt she feels, but pure and utter infatuation for someone who’s basically a stranger. They barely know each other, hell, they don’t even know the most basic information about one another. They don’t know each other's hopes, dreams, aspirations- not even what the other person’s favorite food is. Why the hell are they so hellbent on feeling this way? This isn’t supposed to be happening, this shouldn’t be happening. But (Y/N) knew that maybe it was just the overwhelming wave of emotions clouding her judgment; that it was simply the blunt she was smoking that was altering her state of mind. But weed doesn’t affect her like that, at least not when it comes to her self control; she's been smoking it for so long that she knows its just all in her head- at least it should all be in her head. Sanemi could smell the whiskey on her breath, the weed in her blunt, the pure and utter despair she was experiencing.

He had enough of this, enough of watching her suffer. Without even thinking, he put out his cigarette and took her hand, gently guiding her up into a standing position and to his car. What the hell was he doing, taking a stranger into his car and offering help when he knew she’d probably deny it in the first place? What about (Y/N) was so enticing to him that he just had to do this? “Your hands are freezing, what the hell are you doing out here without the proper clothes? This thin hoodie of yours isn’t going to keep you warm.” He spoke sternly as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders, damning the consequences of his own actions in his mind. “At this rate, you’ll catch pneumonia if you’re not careful.”

“Then let me get sick.” (Y/N) spat, a defiant huff escaping her lungs as she sniffled from the bitter chill of the otherwise clear night. Her breath came out in the form of white mist, visible in the blue-violet glow of the street lamps. “Why do you care so much about me? You’re a stranger! Why do you want to help me when you know I’m bound to suffer anyway?” Once again, Sanemi’s heart shattered, feeling his heartstrings pull as he wrapped her up in his arms, trying his hardest to keep her warm. “S-stop, just… don’t, please.” Her pleas fell on deaf ears; gone were the worries of her refusing his help. Sanemi would make sure she was safe, no matter what it took. If the other Hashiras didn’t agree, or even if the Kizuki went after him, he didn’t care. “Sanemi enough!-”

“Stop. Stop talking, just shut up.” He looked her in the eyes, nothing but care and tenderness within his lilac gaze. “Do you not realize how fucked up your situation is, (Y/N)?” Sanemi spoke softly, wiping errant tears from her cold cheeks. Her skin felt like ice under his calloused, warm hands. “I met someone like you before, she… she meant the world to me, but…" He took a moment to himself, steeling his voice to not falter but ultimately deciding against telling (Y/N) what he had to say. "That's a story for another time. For now, let's just get your shit from the Kizuki. You’re not staying outside tonight, or any other night for that matter. Alright?” Her eyes narrowed, what the hell was he talking about?

“Who is this we? If you step foot near the Kizuki they’re going to kill you. I’ve seen it happen before, they don’t care who comes around, friend or not. If they don’t want you there, they’re going to hurt you.” Why was she even giving him this warning in the first place? It’s not like she cared about what happened to him or anything, he's a Hashira. She’s supposed to hate him, to want nothing to do with him, to loathe him with her entire being because she was supposed to want nothing to do with him. But his touch felt warm, so comforting and so warm that she couldn’t help but lean into his scarred hands that rested on the skin of her face. His gaze was kind and caring, making a foreign feeling swell in her heart and bubble in her gut.

It was never supposed to be this way.

Sanemi shook his head slowly, a soft sigh escaping him as he thought about the girl in front of him now, how she’s so eerily similar to the one he knew as Flora, at least, that's what her road name was. “Sanemi answer me!” (Y/N)’s voice brought him back to reality, his eyes narrowing as he regarded her. She’s stubborn, but so was he, and he was determined to help her regardless of whatever protest he gave.

“The “we” is us, (Y/N). I’m not letting you face your ex alone. Not after what he did to you.” Sanemi’s hands ran through her hair, his touch gentle, a far cry from his usually harsh demeanor. “You were put into the ICU for weeks, doll. Who’s to say Seis wouldn’t do it again? If anything, the backup from me should be enough, and if it’s not, you’ve got a whole slew of people ready to back you up at a moment's notice.” Doll… (Y/N)’s never been called that before. “I’ll be goddamned if something like that happens to you again. I… I can’t stand to see you like that again, or like the mess you are right now. So for the love of Christ, stop being so fucking stubborn and just let me help you.” He’s conflicted now, he’s not supposed to be pining over her like this, yet, here he is. Fawning over a woman he barely knows and she’s obviously not having it- or so he thinks.

“Sanemi, be honest with me, are you just looking for a fuck?” (Y/N) spoke softly, her gaze meeting his in an almost intimidating manner. Her vulnerability causes her to feel weak, and that's the last thing she wants right now. After all, being weak is what almost got her killed in the first place.

“You honestly think I’m that shallow?” Sanemi scoffed, sounding almost offended as he opened his passenger side door for her as it started to snow. Getting in on the driver's side, he slipped the key into the ignition and started the car. “But if you really need to know, no, I’m not looking for a fuck. That's the last thing I’d look for, especially in someone who’s in a situation like yours. You’re still recovering from your injuries, don’t act like I didn’t see you limping.” He put the car in drive and headed further into town, towards the area of the Kizuki hideout. (Y/N) felt her heart drop at the thought of it, knowing that she’d have to go in there and get her stuff, even if it was just the bare minimum of her clothes. She quickly hopped on the phone and made a call.

“Do you honestly think it’s a good idea to make a call?” Sanemi questioned, raising a curious eyebrow, but his eyes gave away concern. (Y/N) looked at him with a deadpan expression, a deep sigh escaping her as she rolled her eyes.

“Would you rather die? Because that’s what's gonna happen to the both of us if I don’t call ahead of time. It’s for both of our sakes.” She redirected her attention to the conversation on the phone. “Hey, you burn my shit or is it still in your room?.. Excuse me? Donated? I mean, did you at least keep my underwear and stuff?.. You’re fucking kidding me- alright, fine… yeah, yeah, whatever… don’t get smart with me, dipshit… hey, last time I checked, I wasn’t the one that swung first, and I certainly wasn’t the one that left a gash in my leg- shut your goddamn trap, Seis- you know what, fuck you.” Sanemi’s eyes widened at her harsh language, watching her not only hang up, but completely turn off her phone also startled him as well. He let out a low whistle, cringing at the mere thought of what was said on the other line, that is, until (Y/N) spoke up again. “Just take me to the next town over, I’ll manage.”

“No.” It was an immediate response from him, as if it were easy for him to say such a thing. As if (Y/N) meant something to him, and deep down, he knew it was just utterly and horribly wrong. “I can't let you go off the grid, not after what you said to the vice president of the Kizuki. If you're with the Hashira, it'll be like having bodyguards-” He was cut off yet again by her protests.

“I don't need bodyguards, Sanemi! I just need time! Time away from this godforsaken, dusty old town where there is nothing for me here!” Sanemi slammed his hand on the steering wheel, a frustrated groan ripping from his throat, pulling over on a deserted road and putting the car in park.

“Goddammit (Y/N) what the hell do you not get?! Going off the grid isn't doing you any favors! It's just a show of cowardice! That you're letting Seis, your fucking ex boyfriend win! If you go, he wins, you understand me?!” His voice raised, but never harsh, Sanemi tried his hardest to make his point known. There was a beat of silence as Sanemi collected himself. Clearing his throat with a sigh, he spoke up again. “I will not sit here and watch you destroy yourself. You know I had to pose as your boyfriend for the hospital to give me visitation rights? You know that I made sure you were getting the proper medicine in that hospital? You may not think I care but the reality is that I do! I won't just fucking stand by and watch you suffer alone!-” He was cut off yet again by one of (Y/N)’s frustrated groans.

“Just take me to wherever we're going then, since you won't give me a choice!” (Y/N) snapped, her arms crossed as defiant, solemn tears ran down her face. Her shivering form igniting a fire within Sanemi, making him swear a silent vow to himself.

He would keep her safe, no matter what.

Without another word, he started the car once more, and sped off to the hashira clubhouse. Blasting the speakers with rock and rap. Not a word exchanged as they drove fast and dangerous.

…

As she sleeps in Sanemi’s room, his eyes lock with Ouroboros’. “You… you actually brought her back?” The shorter man spoke incredulously, hitting his vape like it was the one thing keeping him grounded to reality. Sanemi sighed, his clothes snow-soaked and eyes tired. “Man, you're either insane, or you just lucked out.”

Sanemi scoffed, addressing his jet black haired companion by his government name. “She fell asleep in the car, Obanai. She was exhausted, god knows the last time she even slept properly.” A sigh escaped the silverette, tired and anxious, he took a hit from his own vape. “I don't even know when the last time she ate was. I mean, look at her, she's practically skin and bones.”

“Skin and bones is an exaggeration, Sanemi. She's not emaciated, she's just underweight. I'll see if we have anything, but try to fill her up with fluids for now.” Obanai deadpanned, earning himself a glare from his lilac eyed friend.

“Fluids? Really? You say that like it'll do anything beneficial for her." Sanemi deadpanned, crossing his arms as he looked at (Y/N)'s sleeping face, which was partially covered by the sheets. "We'll start her off small, see where it goes. If anything we can always have Mariposa or Hinasturu make sure she's okay.” Sanemi suggested, pinching the bridge of his nose while Obanai snorted with contempt.

“Does she even have the basics? Clothes? A place of her own? Hell, does she even have a job?” The ravenette looked at (Y/N) with a scrutinizing, appraising stare, hitting his vape once more as Sanemi shot him another cold glare.

“She's working on it, dude, don't push it so hard. The more you do the more pissed off she's gonna get.” The silverette whispered to his companion. Of course she was working on it, or at least, he hoped she was working on it.

“And how do you know that? She could've lied straight to your face. Also, she's asleep, she's not going to hear us-” Obanai was cut off by a female voice, one that resounded from behind them, not from the bed where (Y/N) laid asleep.

“Can a girl get any sleep around here without having to listen to yalls bitching and arguing?” They looked behind them, finding a pink and green haired, pale skinned, green eyed girl. She looked like she had just woken up- and was clearly irritated. “It's two in the morning, get some goddamn sleep. And you,” she pointed to Obanai, “why are you still awake? I thought you said you'd come to bed an hour ago?” Her voice turned soft, and so did Obanai's gaze. The ravenette wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I'll be in bed soon, love, just go back to sleep. I'll be there in a moment, okay?” His whispers soothed the pinkette, who nodded softly and went back to her own room with tentative, quiet steps. Sanemi scoffed with a smirk, taking another hit from his vape.

“You might wanna do that now before your wife gets pissed again.” Obanai casted him a sharp look, heterochromic eyes meeting Sanemi’s lilac ones.

“Mitsuri is not my wife.” Obanai spat.

“Well, you guys certainly act like a married couple, just saying.” Sanemi snickered, earning a groan from the jet black haired man. “But anyways, go sleep with Mitsuri. I got this from here.” With that, Obanai simply nodded and walked back to his own room to be with his lover. Sanemi looked at (Y/N), who was still sleeping, walking over to her and laying next to her. “I… I hope you're okay.” He whispered softly, memories of the former flower Hashira enraptured his mind, flooding his heart with waves of melancholy and bitterness.

But this time it would be different, this time it would be-

“H-hah…” the soft gasp cuts through the air like a cleaver. Sanemi hoped it came from the other room where Obanai and Mitsuri resided. Or maybe that insufferable long haired ravenette's room- Giyuu's room, where he stayed with Shinobu- road name being Mariposa. “Ah…!” Yeah, nope, that's coming from his room. Right where the wounded woman laid in his bed asleep, the slight shuffling of her body under the covers indicated some sort of dream. Whether it was a nightmare or otherwise, Sanemi couldn't tell. However, (Y/N)’s blissed out expression gave evidence to all signs pointing to anything but a nightmare.

He knew better than to disturb her, taking the cold, carpeted floor where concrete resided underneath. Using a bunched up hoodie as a pillow, he knew he had to get some sleep. Yet all he heard was the sounds of her voice; breathless and wanton as she gave into the bidding of her dreams. Her gasps and moans, hitched and hushed, as she gave into the pleasure of her subconscious mind. He knew it was dirty, he knew it was wrong to just sit there and watch her please herself; yet despite himself, his reservations, he couldn't help but to sit and listen.

Soon enough, the cold hard floor of the room proved to be useless in aiding Sanemi's battle against insomnia. Although it was against his better judgment, he gently scooped (Y/N)’s body up, and laid beside her in bed. Gently pulling the sheets over the both of them, he allows the siren call of sleep to consume him.

...

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puppetgame · 3 months ago

Text

Casualty

TF141 x fem!foreign correspondent!reader

A/n: I've been reading fics by @391780 and once I read all of those, I found @livecrow. And damn- suddenly I wanted to write something myself after.. well, 3-4 years? Uni kept me busy and burnt out lol.

Warnings: none for this chapter, but this story will get dark so maybe stop ahead now. War, MDNI, dead dove do not eat, it'll all come up later so I'll tag it appropriately then. For now- too much exposition? Feeling self-conscious about writing for the first time in years.

It had started with a single, deafening blast in the middle of the night. The kind that shook the windows and made the earth tremble beneath your bedframe. It had dragged you from sleep in an instant, heart hammering as the aftershock rattled the walls of your small apartment.

And then, barely moments later, gunfire.

Sharp, sporadic bursts that gradually turned into a cacophony, filling the air like the rolling of a war drum. It was distant enough that it wasn’t on your street, but close enough to make your stomach turn to lead.

Your journalist instincts had kicked in immediately. You had dragged yourself to your feet, grabbing your camera, recorder, and phone. It didn’t take long to get to your building’s rooftop. From there, the city stretched out below you, and it didn’t take long to spot the thick, billowing smoke curling into the sky from the industrial district.

Your hands trembled slightly as you brought your camera up, zooming in. Buildings were ablaze. You could see silhouettes of men moving between alleys, some in the dark, others lit up by flames. No uniforms. No clear markings.

This wasn’t a localized explosion. This was war.

And war was news.

The morning had brought only confusion.

The government issued a weak, barely-put-together statement. By noon, rumors were running rampant, but with no official updates, no foreign forces claiming responsibility, and no one in charge willing to give more than an empty platitude, everything was murky.

Your camera set up on a rooftop with the view of the chaos of the city behind you, you waited for the connection to the TV station back home. Your earpiece crackled with the familiar voice of the anchor back home, their tone polished, professional- unshaken by the kind of chaos that had kept you awake all night.

"We go now to our foreign correspondent, reporting live from the capital. [Your Name], what can you tell us about the situation on the ground?"

You took a measured breath, keeping your expression composed despite the scent of smoke still thick in the air. Behind you, the city stretched out- familiar, but changed. Streets that had been busy with vendors and commuters only yesterday were now eerily empty, save for the occasional distant figure moving cautiously through the wreckage.

"At this moment, the government is calling this a 'terrorist incident, currently being handled by officials.'" You let that hang in the air for a moment, then continued, tone level but pointed. "However, the reality on the ground tells a far more complicated story. There are reports of coordinated attacks in multiple parts of the city, as well as heavy weaponry that suggests this was more than just an isolated act of terror. Eyewitnesses claim to have seen groups of foreign operatives moving through the streets overnight—highly trained, well-equipped, and not affiliated with any local force."

A brief pause, the anchor coming in.

"Do we have any confirmation of who these forces might be?"

You shook your head slightly.

"No official confirmation as of yet. No foreign government or military organization has claimed involvement, and the local administration has remained tight-lipped. What we do know is that this was not an accident, nor was it a random act of violence. The level of coordination here suggests something far more strategic."

The anchor hummed in thought before pressing on.

"And what is the situation like now? Are residents safe?"

That was the real question, wasn’t it?

"At this moment, the streets are tense. Many civilians have chosen to shelter in place, and those who can are trying to leave the city entirely. The local government insists they have control of the situation, but after last night's violence, there's little trust in those assurances. The airspace is restricted, the borders are under tighter scrutiny, and communication networks are still experiencing intermittent blackouts. People here are afraid, and with no clear answers, speculation is spreading quickly."

A beat of silence from the studio.

Then: "Concerning developments, to say the least. Before we let you go, what should we be looking out for in the coming hours?"

You exhaled, glancing briefly at the ruins of a collapsed building in the distance before returning your focus to the camera.

"The key things to watch will be any shift in government messaging- whether they continue to insist this is an isolated incident, or if they’re forced to acknowledge the scale of what’s happening. Additionally, if any foreign governments make a statement, particularly those with geopolitical interests in the region, that may give us an idea of who’s involved behind the scenes." You hesitated for a fraction of a second before adding, "And most importantly, we need to keep an eye on the ground. Because whatever happened last night, it doesn’t feel like it’s over."

The anchor gave the usual nod, professional and distant, as if this were just another passing segment.

"Thank you for your reporting. Stay safe, and we’ll be in touch as the situation develops."

"Thank you."

And with that, the feed cut.

You exhaled slowly, rolling the tension out of your shoulders before reaching to shut off the camera. Right now, they would be reporting on weather, maybe sport. People back home only rattled by your report for a few minutes before they're brought back to their little safe haven far away from any conflict.

The reality of the situation set in as you spent your day doing what you did best- asking around, keeping an ear to the ground, checking sources. The general feeling in the air was that something big was happening, something that hadn’t yet fully revealed itself.

And that? That was dangerous.

You've never been in an active conflict- hell- You had spent the last four years stationed in this country. You were the kind of journalist who got 90 seconds of airtime back home when something happened. A nothing nobody in a nothing country, reporting on small-time corruption, local elections, and the occasional protests that never amounted to much. A little country that nobody really cared about outside of its borders.

Talking with the station back home, you debated messaging them you're not a trained war reporter. That they will have to send a specialist.

Of course, being “put to work” didn't bother you- in a weird sense of way you're feeling more motivated and determined than ever, compared to writing articles all the time, or reporting on elections- but the pressure is high.

But instead the conversation was about safety, if you need to evacuate (you told them your area isn't in immediate danger), and keeping an eye out on updates.

Looking out the window, it seems like you'll have to ask for some protective gear soon.

Most of the officials you spoke to either gave you the runaround or flat-out refused to talk. Some wouldn’t even answer their phones. The ones who did? They were scared—tired, their voices stretched thin with something between exhaustion and quiet panic. “Off the record?” One had muttered over a rushed call, voice tight with barely restrained nerves. “Nobody knows what the fuck is happening. We were told it was under control. It isn’t.”

Not the most reassuring sentiment.

You had covered protests before, minor riots that made headlines for a week before disappearing into the cycle of news churn. But this was different. This wasn’t civilians throwing bricks or clashing with police. This was military. Organized.

And it was happening in a place that should have never been a battleground.

The streets told their own story. Businesses shuttered early, roads were emptier than they had been even in the worst of the country’s economic downturns. The scent of smoke still clung to the air, despite the clear sky. People were waiting—for more gunfire, for another explosion, for an official announcement that wouldn’t come.

The evening air carried a strange weight to it, thick with something unspoken. Anticipation. Fear. You weren’t the only one who felt it.

By the time the sun dipped below the skyline, the city felt different. More people were on the streets now- not in protest, not in anger, but in transit. Families packed into cars, scooters overloaded with belongings, even pedestrians carrying suitcases or plastic bags filled with whatever they could grab. It wasn’t panic. Not yet.

Just… preparation.

And that was almost worse.

You had spent the last few hours bouncing between contacts, but even the usual sources- the ones who loved to talk, who always wanted their name in an article- were unusually tight-lipped. Fear made people cautious. Fear made people silent.

What little you did manage to dig up painted a grim picture. Government forces had pulled back from several key areas, leaving a patchwork of security measures in place. Some districts were bracing for clashes. Others had already fallen into someone else’s hands—though no one could agree on whose hands, exactly.

Rumors spread faster than facts. Foreign mercenaries. A coup. A deep-state operation. A proxy war unfolding in real time.

The only thing everyone agreed on? This wasn’t over.

_________

You found yourself in a small café- one of the few that hadn’t shut its doors yet- nursing a cup of rapidly cooling coffee and waiting for a promised meeting with a source.

The man who slid into the seat across from you wasn’t one of your usual contacts. Older, government-issued suit that had seen better days, a face you recognized from press briefings but never spoke to directly. He looked tired. More than tired. Worn down.

"You didn’t get this from me," he muttered before you even had a chance to greet him.

You didn’t answer, just picked up your recorder and set it down—off, for now. A silent agreement.

His hands curled around his own coffee, fingers tapping absently against the ceramic.

"The military is pulling out of the industrial district completely," he said. "By morning, there won’t be a single government presence there. Do you understand what I’m saying?"

Your stomach twisted. "They’re surrendering it?"

"They’re ceding it. There’s a difference." He exhaled sharply, looking toward the window as if expecting someone to be watching. "They know they can’t hold it. Whoever’s moving in- whether it’s foreign-backed or just a well-funded group of lunatics- they’re better armed. Better trained. Government forces aren’t trained for this kind of urban engagement. They’re cutting their losses."

You swallowed. That meant something very specific.

That meant the fighting wasn’t just between local factions anymore. That meant someone big was involved.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. "Who are they handing it to?"

His jaw tightened. "If I had that answer, I wouldn’t be here talking to you."

A beat of silence.

Then, he muttered, almost to himself:

"Some of them aren’t even speaking the local language."

___________

The streets weren’t safe anymore. That much was obvious.

By the time you made it back to your apartment, the city had transformed again. The government’s feeble attempts to maintain order had crumbled. Official channels still insisted that things were under control, but you didn’t need a press statement to tell you the truth. The truth was on the streets- the growing silence, the checkpoints that had appeared overnight, the way people moved faster, heads down, as if they could feel the noose tightening.

You locked the door behind you, throwing the deadbolt, before moving straight to your desk. The small living room was dimly lit, the glow of your laptop screen illuminating the cluttered space- papers, notebooks, a half-empty cup of tea you hadn’t touched in hours. You ran a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply before tapping at your keyboard.

The news was worse than you’d expected.

The local government had lost control of at least three districts, ceding them to an armed force that nobody seemed willing to name. No official statements, no claims of responsibility. Just territory, shifting hands in real-time.

The state broadcaster still played its usual programming- morning news, weather, the kind of soft, palatable updates that told civilians to stay indoors and wait for everything to blow over. But the independent outlets? The ones that weren’t completely muzzled? They were reporting something different.

<<Paramilitary groups had taken control of critical infrastructure.>>

<<Roadblocks had been set up at all major exits from the capital.>>

<<Curfew no longer a suggestion. Now enforced.>>

You scrolled through the headlines, one after another, until you found a grainy video embedded in a local news site. It was shaky, filmed on a phone, but clear enough. Armed men patrolling the industrial district- some in scavenged uniforms, others in tactical gear that looked too expensive to belong to any ragtag militia.

Then you heard it.

A voice- distorted, commanding- barking orders in a language that wasn’t local. As a foreign correspondent, you speak your native language, the local language of the country you're in, and English. This wasn't either.

You hit replay. Again. And again.

They were clearly establishing control, unafraid of being seen.

Your stomach twisted.

___________

You had spent the afternoon pulling together a report for the station back home, trying to tread the careful line between fact and speculation.

The curfew had been announced on the evening news. A strict one. No movement after dark. No exceptions. You had been through protest crackdowns before, but this wasn’t the same. There were no riot police, no water cannons or tear gas. Just silence, creeping in like a thick fog, broken only by the occasional sound of boots on pavement.

You set up your camera by the window, adjusting the angle slightly before checking your earpiece.

"We go now to our foreign correspondent, reporting live from the capital. [Your Name], what can you tell us about the situation?"

You took a breath, keeping your voice steady.

"As of tonight, the city is under strict curfew. Local authorities have officially stated that this measure is to maintain public safety, but what we are seeing on the ground suggests that power has already shifted. Multiple districts are now under the control of unidentified armed forces, and government agencies are struggling to maintain order. There have been reports of military withdrawals from key areas, leaving gaps that are quickly being filled by these groups."

A pause. The anchor’s voice was measured, but there was an edge to it now. "Do we know who these groups are?"

"No official claims of responsibility have been made, but there are indications that this is not a local movement. Eyewitness accounts suggest that some of the operatives seen in the streets are foreign, depending on who you ask you get reports of Arabic or Russian-speaking forces coordinating movements in the city’s industrial district. While we cannot confirm the exact nature of their presence, this development raises serious concerns about outside influence in what is quickly becoming an escalating conflict."

Silence from the other end. Then, a carefully chosen question. "And what does this mean for the people still in the city?"

You exhaled, glancing out the window at the empty streets below.

"It means that whatever is happening here is bigger than we were led to believe. And for the civilians caught in the middle? It means they’re on their own."

The broadcast wrapped up soon after.

You shut off the camera.

Outside, the city had gone eerily quiet.

#tf 141 x reader #price x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #cod x reader #gaz x reader #chubby reader

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 4 months ago

Text

Chains of bones: Chapter 3 full version

DARKGODAEMOND X READER/OCISH READER

Tags: DARK AEMOND, GREEK MYTHOLOGY INSPIRED AU

🔷Summary: You are a servant working for the goddess Rhaenyra and the God Daemon. You are tasked with protecting the flowers and one day, you find yourself captured by rhaenyra's greatest enemy: Aemond.

🔷Author's note: Dark af.

WARNINGS: Misogny, (no kidding) emotional manpulation, dubcon, body betrayl, vaginal sex (f recv) oral sex (f recev) rough sex, mentions of loss of virginty, emotional gaslighting and gore, blood, and a lot of...BONES. (Blood licking for this chapter) Blood drinking too...(where is this going???)

This is a dead dove

Do not eat it.

(a+ warning)

wordcount:11189 (SWEET CAROLINE OH OH OH)

Rhaenyra's pov (3th person)

Time has not been on her side. Not now, not ever.

She is standing in front of green great pillars, doors made of emeralds and watches a tired but young woman sit a throne entrusted with red shining stones and dark deep emeralds. The young woman brushes her own hair with her fingers, likely perfecting herself before Rhaenyra's arrival.

Rhaenyra remembers how they were once girls, playing tag in a garden. She remembers how she and Alicent stole cookies from the kitchens and would dress up to pretend to be princesses. Alicent wore green, she wore black. Ironic. Even in their childhoods, the gods before them played and toyed. Now they are gods themselves. And played and toyed they did. With mortals, and each other, most of all.

When she enters the throne room of Alicents mansion, she is met with a cruel reality. The reality of her own actions, or rather the absence of it. The fact that she never truly cared about one certain event in their shared confusing lives. An event not so long ago, yet not so earlier either. An assassination of a child, barely old enough to understand the powers his father had granted him.

Alicent is wearing a dark green dress, covering her cleavage. The dress reminds Rhaeyra of the play dresses they used to wear. Except this dress isn’t freely following Alicent’s movements around. That dress was freedom. This dress is a prison made of fabric. She can barely move in it, Rhaenyra can tell from the distance. The dress goes all the way to her chin. A star necklace can be seen dangling from a golden necklace and in her hands rests the scepter of truth.

A simple eying wooden broom which could pass for any simple household broom. But only the Gods can feel the true power radiating from it. Alicent finally notices her former friend, and wields the scepter at once, summoning guards from thin air. She doesn’t speak. She doesn't have to. The hatred and disdain are enough. But the disappointment, the pure utter heartbreak that is mirrored in Alicent’s eyes? That is enough to make the Goddess of Realms and delight stand down, staring at the green with grey tiles that cover the throne room floor.

Rhaenyra shows her empty hands. She means no harm to her friend. No matter how much they might have changed. She still carries love for Alicent.

Alicent, however, has gone through some changes. “You dare show your smug face here after the crimes you committed?” Her voice is a thin needle, poking painful holes in Rhaenyra's disillusion that this could be her path to redemption and forgiveness. To a solution, to stop Aemond from killing the girl.

The Queen of Delight lifts her head regardless, easily adjusting to the new hostile situation. “I don't recall the crimes you accuse me of. Daemon hired the assassins and replaced the boy's godhood.” She says, and even though it is the truth, she can feel the sting and burn of the lie.

Alicent’s hands briefly touch the curves of the wooden staff. She clasps it, as if it's her safety net in this sea where she is clearly drowning in, swallowed by waves they once faced together. “Boy,” she mutters, laughing. “Can't you even remember his name? Jaehaerys. That was his name.” She bites out, bitterly.

Rhaenyra did in fact, not recall his name on her own. She sighs. She did not come here for the murdered child, no matter how gruesome. She came here to avoid another tragedy.

“Alicent, whatever happened between us in the past-” She sets one step closer, and the moment that she does, big bright green flames erupt from the floor, swallowing the tiles, forming a barrier between the two friends.

Alicent’s voice rings out over the flames, over the noise of confused guards and disturbed servants. “You never took accountability. Daemon killed my grandson, in his bed, because you felt weak. Because you felt threatened. Because you were suffering, we all had to suffer too!”

Even before her godhood, Alicent had this great sense of justice and could read Rhaenyra as an open book. After her godhood, the two girls grew apart, but Alicent’s abilities only became stronger and more astute. The way that Rhaenyra balls her fists, steps forwards to the flame barrier and how an unintended lighting bolt shoots from her fist, confirms it all. She hit the sensitive spot. The truth. “That's a lie! Daemon never acted on my orders!” Rhaenyra shouts. But Daemon is not entirely to blame. It would have been easier if Jaehaerys had died. And she did allow him to find a solution. The God of Dragons. What else could Daemon think of for a ‘’solution?’’ Murder is how he has gotten everything in life, even her.

Alicent lets out a hollow laugh as the lighting bolt is redirected by her left tiny finger, and takes down a green shimmering chandelier, almost crushing Rhaenyra. She hates how good it felt to watch the fear on her former friend’s face. But she hates most of all that she felt relieved when Rhaenyra stopped the chandelier on time. She cared. Despite it all.

“You claim to be Queen yet you never learned the most important lesson of ruling.” It is why she supported Aegon at the council. Not this, irresponsible, young and uneducated woman that still is a child at heart.

Rhaenyra pretends that she is unharmed by her friend's cruel words. ‘’What lesson would that be?”

The fire dies out, disappearing. Alicent crosses the now clean floor to Rhaenyra to face her. She studies her friend’s expression “The truth, your intentions? They don't matter, Rhaenyra. The truth is what the people see. Your intentions are as good as your actions. You sat by and did nothing when my grandson got murdered. You sat by and did nothing but parade Daemon around, praising him, awarding him-”

Rhaenyra feels cornered, trapped, endangered and attacked. She wields her weapon, the weapon she always wielded so well in front of Daemon, her father, everyone who dared to stand in her way; playing the clueless, dumb, victim. What people expect of her. “My son was killed first.” Alicent surprises Rhaenyra with a cruel snort after hearing her outburst, trying to find sorrow for something that happened so long ago. Yes, she misses Lucerys everyday, but not as much as she did when he was just gone. Life went on, as did she. She found peace. Because there was balance.

Alicent, Alicent never had that balance. “Your son, yes. Who took my son's eye. Who did gods knows what to torment my poor son.” Rhaenyras eyes hurt briefly as she rolls them a bit too long. They teased him a bit, they didn’t lock him in a room to die. “Lucerys wasn't innocent. He was a bully and got what he deserved.” Since Alicent assented to her godhood, she has become a great judge of character. Rhaenyra knows it from her spies. Alicent is fair and good. She plays the role of Goddess of Justice very well….

Just not with her children, her flesh, her blood. Rhaenrya chuckles in disbelief, hearing how her friend defends her own murderous, dark and twisted son that is known to kill, betray and lie. “Aemond is innocent? Is that what you are saying?” Rhaenyra makes it a bit of an ill-tempered joke, making her voice light and jumpy. But Alicent takes great offense.

She points in Rhaenyra’s face, screaming at her as her face becomes red with frustration. Years of frustration and pain unleashed. “He was before your sons ruined his life!”

Rhaenyra, now offended too, laughs, scoffing as she turns away, ready to take her leave.

Alicent continues to rant, her arms movements becoming wider as she recalls the anger and hurt of that very dark day. “He only defended himself. And it wasn't enough for your sons. They had to take his eye. Maybe if you weren't around Harwin all day, you could've taught your children some decency!”

The Queen of Delight feels the blood drain from her face, as her entire body becomes a cold vase of water carrying her skeleton. She turns around so fast, that another lightning blast hits where Alicent is standing. Alicent reacts by counter-casting the spell to a nearby potted plant, who lights up in flames, burning the moment it hits. "Decency?!" Aemond killed my son!” Rhaenyra shouts, and breaks into tears. ‘’Aemond killed him!’’

Alicent’s response makes her heart break. “It was justice, Rhaenyra. I don't expect you to understand it.” Justice.

Rhaenyra shakes her head, ignoring her own pain for the good of the realm. She needs Alicent to sneak into the Underworld. Aemond will never let her in. But he would allow Alicent in. For the first time in her life, Rhaenyra is speechless as she recalls all that has happened since Driftmark.

Alicent cries, silently. “My poor boy, trapped in his own darkness. Forever. He used to call upon me. Write me letters so long they could pass for small books. No more. I don't recall the last time I've seen him or Aegon. I only recall the boys they were, once. And how those boys were taken from me. They might be alive but they might as well be dead. What good is loving someone, holding them dear to your heart, if they won't return your love?” It is as if living with ghosts, memories of people already gone. Rhaenyra knows all too well what that is like.

Alicent points the staff in Rhaenyra’s direction, who raises her hands ready to defend herself. Alicent’s brown eyes are full of questions. ‘’I am a terrible hostess. You came here to see me, Rhaenyra? Did you perhaps came here for something important?’’ Rhaenyra is dumbstruck by her sudden peaceful mindset. ‘’I, I got so angry I didn’t realize, you wouldn’t set foot inside this mansion if it wasn’t urgent. So, for the sake of the mortals we all protect: How can I help you?’’ Alicent waves the staff, creating a comfortable table with two long chairs, one for each lady.

The servant brings tea and biscuits. Rhaenyra recalls how Alicent loved biscuits even as a little girl. When the two of them grew up together, she'd remember pages full of information and whenever she recited it right, her mother gave her and Rhaenyra biscuits. She found it odd. She felt like a dog. But Alicent said it was an act of love. She remembers holding Alicent all night when her mother died, eventually. And Alicent did the same for her.

Her mother was a kind but strict woman. She never dared say it out loud but Rhaenyra always had the impression that Alerie wasn't comfortable around the gods. She wanted to Send Alicent back to Old Town, where she would be safe. Alicent clicks her fingers and the teapot rises from the table, pouring tea for the two goddesses.

“I am here to discuss your child.” Rhaenyra says, giving a crude summary.

Alicent doesn't even seem to hear her. She is too busy adjusting the biscuits on the silver plate. When they are to her liking at long last, Rhaenyra has gone silent. “I have mothered three sons, and one daughter, Rhaenyra. Which one of my children offended you now?” She asks, and there is that venom again.

“Aemond.” Judging by Alicent’s face, she knows something is up with him. She didn’t seem shocked or surprised that Rhaenyra came here for him.

Alicent chuckles softly to herself, breaking a biscuit into pieces. “Ah. He was such a sweet boy growing up. I know we aren't allowed as mothers to have any, but he was my favourite. Aegon never did what we wanted and after they took Daeron from me, I always enjoyed spending time with him.” She tells her friend. ‘’He caught me crying, the day Daeron was sent away. He promised me he’d find a way to cheer me up. He caught a firefly for me.’’

‘’You never told me that story.’’ Rhaenyra remarks, softly. ‘’Lucerys did something for me too, when I lost Visenya. He and Jace made a lovely cake for me. With help of the servants, of course.’’ The boy was an angel but he shouldn’t be left alone near any fires or cakes.

Alicent stares into the distance. ‘’He was sweet. He was gentle, kind, good.’’ She finishes. Her gaze sharpenes. “That was until your boy stabbed his eye out, blinding him half for the remainder of his life, however. It is ironic. Aemond would forever see darkness and I would forever see darkness in Aemond. All thanks to your bastard.”

Rhaenyra sighs, hoping to finish this endless discourse.

“Aemond took his revenge.”

Alicent laughs.

“No. Not even slightly.”

Rhaenyra adjusts her posture. “Lucerys is dead.” She says hiding her emotions very well. Alicent laughs again, touching the scar she gave Rhaenyra years ago.

“You think it was about him?” She cackles at her stunned expression. “Yes you do. You always think it's about you and your perfect little family. Hah!”

She continues laughing for some time. “You aren't nearly as important as you think you are, you know?’

And with that, her final patience is gone. “Alicent, Aemond kidnapped a girl. An innocent girl. You are the goddess of Justice, you need to call him to halt and get her back.’’

She had hoped that Alicent would bristle with disgust and stand up, her chair falling as she rushed off to the Underworld to give the adult Aemond a smack across his face for what he inflicted on that poor scared mortal girl. But all Alicent does is smile, sip tea and nibble on her biscuit. It is infuriating. “Aemond has never been interested in girls. Not after….Well you know, don't you?”

"It's the truth. Daemon gave her away and he plans on marrying her.” She will have another conversation about that later tonight.

Alicent shrugs. “It sounds as if Aemond has found happiness. I won't interfere in his love Life and neither will you if you know what's good for you.” Rhaenyra is startled.

“You dare threaten me? I am the goddess of light.” Rhaenyra reminds her with a smug grin.

But Alicent is not so impressed. She never has been. She sees Rhaenyra for what she is. “Light is so useless without intent. Without meaning. It just shines. I haven't forgotten what you did to my sons, to my daughter and most of all my poor grandson. How you clawed and lied, deceived and even killed So that your side is remembered as the good.”

“My side is good!” The table shakes as Rhaenyra slams her hands on it, her frustration getting the better of her.

Alicent eats her biscuits, ignoring her outburst. “Is that why you slain my grandson? In his bed in front of his mother? Is that why you so eagerly took his godhood he was granted just that day?” Rhaenyra opens her mouth to object, but unwillingly, Alicent reminds her of a way to stop Aemond.

Rhaenyra makes sure her face is calm and collected. She knows how to get Alicent to help her. “He's going to make her a mother.” Alicent tries hard to keep her shield up but the words hit deep as roots clawing out of the earth. Rhaenyra knows all too well what Alicent would think of a young girl imprisoned to have Aemond's children.

At first, Alicent tries to deny it. She raises her hand and opens her mouth but Rhaenyra is faster. “We found blood in the garden. It's hers. Tell me, Alicent. How can you know what is happening to that girl and call it justice?” Alicent drops her biscuit, distraught as her hands go to the star necklace she carries, nervously playing with it.

She opens her mouth, ready to argue. Rhaenyra grabs her friend's hands, now cold with sweat and fear. “You know what that's like. She's forced to take his seed and she'll be squeezing out his sons soon. We know what that's like.” Rhaenyra touches Alicents arms.

Alicent cries silently, breaking down at long last. Rhaenyra joins her, trying to comfort her friend. “I couldn't save you, Alicent. I couldn't do anything to save you. But we are powerful now. Together you and me, we can save this girl.”

Alicent agrees, at long last, to at least talk to Aemond. She does not make any promises about portals or killing Aemond or saving the girl. Rhaenyra tells the news to her council, smiling as she leaves the mansion. Alicent follows her out, shadowing her wherever she goes. Her voice kills the silence. “There's one thing I don't quite understand, Rhaenyra.” Alicent stares at her friend. “Why do you care so much about what happens to this Girl?”

Rhaenyra picks her words very carefully. “She was under my protection when she was stolen. I take that as a great offense.”

Alicent hums but doesn't reply.

She could always tell very well when Rhaenyra was honest.

And much better when she was lying. Like she did just now.

READER/PETAL/UNKNOWN FIRST NAME.

You slept more than you allowed yourself to. You blame your lack of training at first, but with a bed that soft, that big, and that warm anyone could fall asleep. You stare at the ceiling, where dragons look back to you. The diamond chandeliers shimmer peacefully and you hate all of it. He put so much effort into this room for you. You can save a hungry family with one of those chandeliers. You don’t deserve any of it. It reminds you of the nights you spent on the street, in the cold, begging for food to selfish strangers who all feared they would end up like you; an unwanted orphan.

You are overwhelmed. Absolutely overwhelmed. Your senses are tested, your skin is burning and aching and you are close to crying. You slap yourself. You need to pull it together. Now. You rise from the bed, instantly regretting it the moment you are actually on your feet. Your feet hurt. You hiss, ignoring your own pain as you walk to the vanity. There must be something here. Some cream, some lotion…Anything. To get rid of your…

“Bloody horns.” You don’t care that he’s King of the Underworld, if Aemond had something to do with those horns growing out of your necklace, and into your own damn skin, he will be suffering.You pass by the large balcony and are taken back by the fact that you are watching a sunrise. A sunrise in the Underworld. It takes your breath away. The light, the way the entire room fills with sunshine is almost magical.

‘’Ahum, do you wish me to close the curtains, my Queen?’’ You should be used to people sneaking up to you by now, but no, you aren’t. You turn around, facing a girl around your own age, wearing a black servant gown. You don’t trust her. The memory of the witch who tried to kill you is all too fresh in your mind.

You reach for anything that can serve you as a deadly weapon. Can you even kill undead people? You will find out, you suppose… “I am so sorry for startling you, my Queen.” Lies, likely. Lies and deceit. You grab the perfume bottle, ready to smash it on her head.

She holds up her arms. “I am Ann. Your handmaiden.” She tells you, when slowly lowering your perfume bottle. “His grace assigned me about two weeks ago. He wants to make sure you are content, your Grace.” Content? There are horns growing out of your body! You do hear something interesting. The kidnapping was planned at least two weeks ago. So he planned this quite for a bit.

Ann grabs the small, golden hairbrush with sapphires. You roll your eyes at the expensive, excessive and unneeded fancy brush. “Shall I brush your hair? Perhaps you'd like to have a nice bath? I can prepare it for you.” She says. You don’t trust her just yet, but do agree on following her to the bathroom. You rip one of the lights on the wall, taking a sharp diamond with you in case you need it.

You follow her into the lavious bathroom, another insane monstrosity. There are mirrors covering the walls, golden tiles under your feet and the tiles have letters written in them. You can clearly spot an A. A golden, A curved into the stones. You deliberately shove your feet over the A, trying to erase it.

‘’Your highness?’’ Ann’s voice makes you realize you must look silly. You watch Ann, prepare your bath by filling a golden bathtub big enough to fit two people with water. The water comes from a demonic statue in the corner, and seems to be hot right away. Dark magic, no doubt. “Roses or lavender, my Queen?” She asks as she takes two bottles of leaves from a cabinet you didn’t even notice. She knows where everything is.

You bathed before, of course. Just not with roses or lavender. Just with water and a bar of soap that grew smaller every time. “Roses are fine.” You say, not paying too much mind to it. Lavender has such a strong scent, roses are more subtle.

“May I help you?” She asks, gesturing to the Nightgown that Aemond put you in. You nod, putting the diamond aside. She looks at it, a little distraught. You put your arms up, allowing her to undress you and to do her job.

She helps you into the warm but nice water. She begins to brush your hair. “Do you like it here, my Queen?’’ She asks, gently brushing your hairs as you eye a golden bath duck with sapphires for its eyes. You don’t. You were captured here and you don’t like how pretentious Aemond is, nor how he sometimes loses control of his own powers. You will be looking to escape. But you can’t tell Ann that. She will tell Aemond, likely.

So you lie, crawling into the skin of someone else, pretending to care about golden bathtubs and diamonds. ‘’It’s such a dreaming life. I never suspected it would be happening.’’ Sometimes the best lie is just the truth. You did not expect it to be happening, and you did not expect to ever meet Aemond at all. Life would have been perfect, had he stayed far, far away in fact.

Ann chuckles, softly. ‘’I can imagine, my Queen. My mother always told me that destiny is something that we least expect. Like, how a man had the destiny to become rich. He kept waiting for riches but he took his wife, his children and his health for granted. He already was rich, in a way.’’

Her words nestle inside your brain, working their magic. You sit up, considering her words. Dread fills your chest as you glance at your own reflection, staring at your new horns. What if she’s right? What if this is your destiny? What if somehow, Aemond is right about all this? ‘’Interesting.’’ You comment, enjoying the warm water and the scent of roses.

Ann stops brushing your hair, looking flushed and embarrassed. ‘’I shouldn’t bore you with senseless stories. I am sorry, my Queen.’’ She says.

You chuckle, but roll your eyes. The way she addresses you is obviously Aemond’s doing. You want Ann to treat you as a normal being. ‘’You should stop with the ‘’My Queen’’ thing. It makes me uncomfortable.’’ You tell her, and you steal the brush from her and give your scalp a good scratching with it. You groan, as your horns interfere with most of that idea.

Ann is a beautiful young lady and could easily impress many people, but her eyes have become as big as a bunny who is facing the huntsman. You scared her. ‘’His grace said I wasn’t supposed to address you in any other way.’’ Ann confesses, her voice small. ‘’I don’t know what to do now. The King wants you to feel at home here, and I should obey your every command. But his command was to address you properly. I feel conflicted, truth be told, your Highness.’’ You understand she is terrified of Aemond. Who wouldn’t be, in truth? You hear a soft sniffle. You sit up, reaching for Ann’s hands. You feel horrible for making her cry.

You won’t tell Aemond anything. He doesn’t deserve to know after all he did to you. And besides, even in the best marriages there are secrets. You scoff a bit at your own poor joke. Marriage. To him.‘’I won’t tell the King. You can address me how you like. I am sorry for upsetting you.’’ You say. Ann looks up, her eyes puffy.

You hope you made it a bit better.

But you only made it so far worse.

Ann snaps, throwing the brush on the tiles in frustration, tears bursting from her eyes as she falls to the ground, hugging her knees. Shocked, you try to get to her, awkwardly hanging half out of the bathtub. ‘’You shouldn’t feel bad! Not over me or my feelings!’’ The way she talks scares you. It is terrifying. You stare at this poor, tortured and tormented soul. Ann sighs, continuing. ‘’You shouldn’t be bothered about me at all. I am just a mere servant, you, you are the Queen. You should worry about other things-’’ You stop her rambling, instantly grabbing her hands, this time you manage to hold them, without slipping on the painful marble floors.

‘’Who should a Queen care for, if not her people?’’ You ask, genuinely. Not that you see yourself as a Queen. Ann smiles through her tears. You smile back, carefully. Ann returns to brushing your hair, now much more comfortable and less stiff around your presence.

She clears her throat, embarrassed. She shouldn't be. She is under a lot of pressure. Perhaps you can find some way to lighten her burdens. Make her happier before leaving the castle. Or she can come with you. ‘’Me and the servants heard rumours. Is it true the King gave you thousand roses and had a gilded carriage with seven unicorns all in a different colour to bring you here?’’

You wonder if the roses aren't secretly enchanted to cause hallucinations. Unicorns? Roses? Gifts? A carriage? Also, you didn't know Unicorns exist?

You recall a hole in the ground, and darkness. But you decide to humor her and feed the propaganda Aemond spoonfed her. If she corrects him one day, it could cost her her head. ‘’No, there were eight unicorns and two dancing polar bears.’’ You say, making the lie even less believable. Ann nods, however, buying it, to her it's the ultimate love gesture.

She sighs, dreamily. ‘’I wish someone would do all this for me. The King must love you so deeply. I shouldn’t mention, but I noticed, he seems…different since your arrival.’’ You frown. Different how?

‘’Did he get rid of that stick up his ass?’’ You ask. Ann gasps, laughing but hides her laugh behind her hands. She shakes her head, smiling as she tries her best to summarize it.

‘’Changes are happening. Let’s leave it at that.’’ What kind of changes, you wonder.

A cloud of roses appears, signaling Aemond’s dramatic arrival. You roll your eyes, sighing deeply as Aemond takes his sweet time appearing in front of you, roses surrounding him as he spawns. You look beside the bathtub for Ann, and are shocked to find her kneeling on the floor, for Aemond. You feel horrified.

There is kneeling and there is whatever Ann is doing. You assumed a curtsy would be enough to please his ego. But no. She is covering the floor, making herself as lowly as possible. It's dehumanising in any way and you want her to stand up right away.

Aemond smiles at you, admiring your naked body. “Ah. There is my beautiful wife.” He claps his hands and the candles surrounding the bathtub light up, spreading a gentle rose scent. You cover your chest with your arms. He left you here. Where did he expect you to find, somewhere with another one of his skeletons that wants to kill you?

Ann returns to brushing your hair, but can barely reach it from this angle. She keeps her eyes on Aemond at all cost. She fears him, clearly. But luckily he pays her no mind. It's like she doesn't exist to him at all. A shadow haunting a castle. You realize, she doesn’t exist for him. He sees her as a servant. A tool to dispose of when she’s no longer useful. You shudder at that thought, horrified and sick to your stomach.

His thin and gentle smile dies. He stares at you full of disbelief as if you challenged him. “Is that needed? I've seen your beautiful body two times before.’’ He has. You won't do his bidding until he tells you the truth. You want to know why you have horns now and what you are doing here.

“It's a matter of consent.” You say.

You expect him to throw a tantrum or to kill Ann for revenge or just drown you in the golden tub. But he does something else. “Ah,” he says nodding as he turns around granting you your privacy at long last. “Tell me when I can gaze upon the most beautiful creature that ever graced my presence, yes?” You wonder if he's truly in love. If he is pretending he puts too much effort into his act. But the way that he's so silly and so awkward around you almost confirms it to you that he is not acting.

You roll your eyes now his back is turned. Ann gently smiles too, helping you in a soft robe.

“When I'm dressed.” You announce, making your way to the bedroom with Ann.

You can hear him scoffing from afar. “Hah.” He comments but he does not turn around at all nor tries to steal peeks from the mirror walls. He remains where he stands, arms crossed but faithful to your command.

Ann escorts you to a chair, makes sure you sit comfortably and goes off to fetch you a dress and underwear. You wait patiently and see her return with a dark red sleeveless poofy gown that could easily save your life should you decide to jump down the balcony. It would protect you from the fall.

It's a walking statement. A walking attention catcher. It's a beautiful dress but you don't feel beautiful. You fear it'll look ugly on you. So you hate it. It's safer to hate the unknown than to try it.

Ann smiles, twirling it, making it only worse as she presents it to you as a proud mother, offering her daughter her wedding dress. “I…don't we have something less extravagant?” You ask. Ann drops the ball gown, staring as if she too sees it for the first time now. She gives a soft, almost shadow of a nod, that vanishes when Aemond comes over. He gives her an obvious glare, and you can see her tremble.

It was his choice, clearly.

Not Ann's.

The poor girl shakes, before vanishing off to the closet, getting another dress. This one is green and she looks now directly to Aemond for his approval, rather than your own. ‘’This is the dress you approved for the dinner, my King. But maybe her g-grace could wear it now?’’ You laugh, uncomfortable.

You turn to Aemond, knowing he will do anything to make you feel at home. Ann said so.. “I'm used to wearing pants.” You admit. “Easier to move around in and fight in if need be. And I look much better in pants than in a poofy dress.” You nod to the dress, allowing him to use his demonic powers on it.

Aemond nods and smiles but doesn't do anything. “Mhm.” He says, instead of turning the dress into a hope of ashes like you had hoped. “You'll adjust. I'm certain of it.” He looks at your horns full of admiration and excitement.

His answer is infuriating on its own but that he looks at you so patronizing that makes your blood really boil. “I think you misunderstand me.” You say, trying to be civil and the bigger person. You don't want to wear this monstrosity. You don't want to wear dresses. You aren't even sure how to sit in this thing or how to walk in it. You'd only trip and make a fool of yourself.

The king of the underworld lets out the most boyish annoyed groan, as a little boy being told he can't have another stuffed animal. “Petal, don't be difficult. Let me rephrase…I think you clearly have issues.” Your brows raise so far you are convinced they are in your hair. You? You are the one with the issues?

“Me?” You must have heard wrong.

He nods, solely as if he regrets it deeply. “You have never been in a ballgown before. You feel guilty and shy. But there's truly no need for it, my love. You'll look so beautiful,” his lips curl into an unintended smile picturing it. “This dress was made for you. The seamstress worked days on it. I didn't even allow her to rest. Luckily there was someone present to wake her up with cold water whenever she passed out. ” He tells you with a sweet smile. He laughs, warmly, thinking hearing such an awful thing will make you overjoyed. ‘’You see, that’s how much I care for you, my love. Everything, from your toes to your beautiful horns, it all needs to be perfect. I won’t tolerate anything less.’’

He thinks you are just being reassured but unaware he gave you again crucial information. He had a dress made for you, by what sounds like someone human. Judging the skirt and the details on the dress, that too had taken quite a while. You never made anything before so you wouldn't know just how long, but that it took that poor woman long you can understand. Days, Aemond said. But you doubt that. Weeks, likely. Months, perhaps.

You try your best to hide your disgust. You must charm him somehow. “I just think pants are practical. If I need to run-”

There is an audible gasp from Ann followed by the uttering deafening silence. Aemond nods, almost to himself, faking a smile when he slowly gets in front of you again. He crosses his arms and you focus on the bone crown on his head to avoid staring at his eye. That one, beautiful eye that is judging you, berating you and even hating you for what you just dared to mutter. That you are in fact not here to stay.

The candles stop burning one by one. You hear rattling chandeliers and the sun disappears outside the castle. Outside clouds gather, and thunder rumbles. He does not raise his voice or shout at you. But truth be told, he doesn’t have to. He is terrifying all on his own, simply by existing. “Why would you need to run?” He must be lying about his band with you. His soulmate is someone else you are certain of. Whatever reason Aemond has to keep you here, it has nothing to do with love. You can't imagine yourself being that important.

Deceit comes naturally to you. But not now. Not in front of him. When you need it, it fails you. “I…an example.” He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly, clearly noticing you lied. He takes your hands into his own, muttering Valyrian words. You don't know what he's doing but you are afraid. You watch Ann, worried he'll hurt her.

When he talks he becomes the King again and you are nothing but a mortal girl at his mercy. He scolds you as if he is talking to a child. “We talked about this. You are not going anywhere. You are my Queen and my love. You are right where you belong. The only running your legs will be doing is when I allow it.” He chuckles, clearly nervous. He pretends to care what you think of him. He pretends like he doesn’t want to scare you away.

You cross your arms, annoyed by the turn of the conversation. “Can we talk about the horns sticking out of my neck and forehead now?’’

Aemond looks at your horns, as if seeing them just now. He smirks, and his smirk tells you all you need to know. It's the smirk of a satisfied child that got his way. Again. He did this to you. “Mhm. I thought there was something different about you.” He chuckles delighted at his own joke. You are tempted to hit him, but instead you just groan under your breath.

You can't break the necklace. So you doubt you can break the horns. Maybe you can tear them from your skin. But you won't risk it.

The way you looked must have been miserable because Aemond grabs your hands, feeling your burned and damaged skin, instantly kissing your fingers and surprising you with a soft, gentle kiss that heals your burned fingers. You stare at his lips, confused. “It's nothing serious. When a wife and a husband wed, she takes his cloak. You know this. See this, little bit of …decoration as my cloak. The world will tremble and gawk. You simply are wearing your husband's cloak instead of your maiden one.” You didn't consent to any marriage and you sure aren't wearing a cloak let alone horns.

“Can you undo it?” You ask, instantly.

He avoids eye contact for a moment, clearly hurt by your words. Then he pretends he's fine again. He chuckles once more, much shallower than the first time.

“Yes, but why would I? Like I said; it's incredibly romantic.” He kisses your neck, careful to mind the new horns. “You look so beautiful with it. You look ravishing, my love.”

You don't. You never looked ravishing. You never felt uglier than now. Being an orphan, people had enough to say to you. Now, with horns and a god king for a husband, what will they say now? And how will you wield words that will root deep inside of your soul, eating away your so rare confidence? You are strong, but not invincible. “What will people say when they see me with horns?” You whisper, horrified. You look into the mirror.

Aemond grabs you tighter forcing you to meet your image. Forcing you to accept this horrible truth. “They won't even glance at you. Every tongue that dares to insult you, I will cut from their mouths. No one insults my Queen. They won't laugh. They won't point. They will stand up for you and they will bow until their knees break.” You try to imagine it. Crowds of people falling to their knees for you. You, wearing crowns decorated with bones and everyone who ever challenged you, on their knees in the dirt, bowing down for you.

There's a soft kiss on your head that awakens you from the daydream. “It's alright to like it, my little Petal. Remember that.” he whispers, reminding you of how good he can make you feel. You recall how whole you felt when he was inside of you, and need to remind yourself too of the burns and scars he gave you. How he keeps burning you somehow. Maybe he likes hurting you. Some people get turned on by it. But you aren't sure yet if Aemond is one of those people.

You hear his words again. ‘’It’s alright to like it.’’ What if he did not refer to the times you two have been together, but something else? Something so much darker, so much worse? You see him smile, as a proud boyfriend who just taught you how to do something terrible. You realize what the horns mean. Aemond didn’t do anything. You did it. By corrupting your soul.

“You did well, last night.” He adds, unaware of your realisation..He takes a look at the places he kissed last night when you two made love. He gently touches your burned skin, by your lips and your neck. “Come love. It's time I healed you.” He announces, taking you by the hand.

But that comes too soon after your horrifying realization.

“Why am I truly here?’ you ask, breaking free. He freezes and turns around, caught in his lie. He quickly smiles.

He makes himself a bit taller, adjusting his posture. “I want to heal you.” He says with that little oh so scared chuckle. You rip yourself free, not listening anymore. He is not touching you until he tells you what he’s hiding or when you are finally home again.

“No. You wont get your way until you tell me all there is.” You say. The King laughs, as his pupil darkens. You try not to be afraid, but the truth is that is easier said than done. With one snap of his little finger he can break your neck, you are certain of that.

His soft but rough voice softly rings out. “I don't think you understand how things work.” He bends his fingers slightly, as if making claws. At his command, your necklace begins to close tighter around your throat, slightly choking you. “I will heal you.”

You gasp for air as Ann rushes out of her hiding spot, her eyes full of worry. She does not help you, however. You don’t blame her. “You can after you tell me the truth.” You manage to croak out to Aemond. ‘’You can heal me, just…tell me.’’

He only laughs harder, choking you to the point where your vision blurs.

“Don't be difficult now, Petal. I would have preferred making you breathless another way, but I will keep you close. I can’t afford losing you.’’

Ann steps in front of you, protecting you. “My king, her royal highness, the Queen hasn't eaten anything yet. Mayhaps we should let her eat a bit, and you can heal her after? Women are known to be frustrated easily if not well fed.” She tries to laugh it off but she is afraid. She knows who she is defying. For you of all people.

Ann actually stood up for you. It is a clear attempt to give you some time alone, away from Aemond and his desires. He stares at you, giving you finally more space to breathe and releases you.

You gasp for air, eagerly filling your lungs. But he does not stop. He simply switches targets. He picks up Ann now, holding her in the air and choking her, much harder than he ever choked you. “Do not make me turn you into a pile of ashes. I entrust you with my most valuable possession but I won't hesitate to kill you.” He warns her, his voice becoming darker and rougher.

“My king, forgive me! I meant no offense!” Ann begins to cry, struggling to say anything else.

He growls. ‘’Yet you do. You dared to question my authority and dared to order me around! I am not your dog, I am your King, your God! She is mine and mine to do with as I please-’’ That is enough for you. You run in his direction, surprising him. You jump on top of him, tackling him to the ground. His hands stop the spell, interrupted. You pin him to the floors and stare into his eye, heavily breathing because of the adrenaline.

‘’Do not hurt Ann.’’You tell him, warning him. ‘’You want me to give you a chance and all of this madness? Stop killing people and stop treating me like your whore. You have one chance. I don’t care that you are immortal, I will find a way to kill you, Aemond.’’

“One day around you and she thinks she can order me around like I'm a dog!” He rages, but calms when he notices your hands on his clothed chest. Your hands feel the familiar hole that sits right by where his heart would be.

Ann shakes her head, falling to her knees. “No, your grace, please, my good King! No I didn't. I only had your best interest in mind. The servants know of her Grace's…” You curse as it all makes sense. You get off from Aemond. He remains on the floor, perfectly fine and even puts his arms behind his head, enjoying the show that is about to unfold. He even dares to adjust himself, so he is more comfortable.

Ann never cared about you not having eaten.

His eye is following you around, clearly lusting and feeding on your darkness as you approach Ann. “Of what?” You ask, just to clarify.

She shakes as a leaf. But you need to know this truth. You had fears and you want to know if you were right. The darkest fear of all. That you could be with child. His child. “That you and the King consummated your marriage earlier.” You turn your head to Aemond. A consummation would make any marriage legal and binding. Did he truly lie to you? Are you two married, in some secret demon pact? Is that why he took you so quickly?

Aemond rises from the ground, not paying much attention to his surroundings and ends up on a low hanging shelf with bottles. “It is true me and the Queen were…overcome with emotions,’’ You scratch your head, staring at the ground. You scoff, tears stinging. He played you. He lied to you. He married you. If he truly felt anything for you, he wouldn’t have done that. He would have been honest. About at least something.

Aemond’s words were first addressed to Ann, but they changed target. His voice becomes softer as his hands glide into your own, and you notice he somehow clings to you. As if you can save him. ‘’- but I want to wed her in a proper ceremony with proper guests and attire. She should be crowned for all to see. She deserves a wonderful wedding and that's what she'll get. No, we didn't consummate our marriage. We aren’t married, just yet.’’ You feel relief. But that doesn’t answer your other question. “But we did have a special time getting to know one another.” Aemond adds, making the story more spectaculair than it needs to be. You roll your eyes.

Ann chuckles, still terrified but carefully tries to make conversation to avoid your anger or Aemond's. “The dancing polar bears must have been quite the view.” she says, remembering the lies you told her.

You see Aemond's good eye narrow in confusion. “The what?”

She stares at the two of you. “I don't judge, my Queen, my King. I simply wanted the Queen fed in case there's…Something inside her belly.” You glare at Aemond, asking him directly with your emotions and eyes if he knows that you are with child. He turns his head away.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, clearly avoiding you at all costs suddenly. “That's quite the disturbing thought process.” He says. ‘’I think you should take your leave. Me and the Queen need to talk.’’ Ann makes a curtsy and leaves quickly after Aemond orders her, likely very happy to be granted leave at all.

He smirks as she leaves. ‘’I had no idea there was such a feisty side to that girl. The way she stood up for you, I never imagined in a million years that humans were capable of that. She is a interesting pet, don’t you agree?’’

You aren’t sure what you feel stirring up. Is it disgust or jealousy? “She's a person not your pet.” you bite out offended regardless. To your surprise, to your horror even, you added something you had no control over. An arm that tries to hit the King of the Underworld. You gasp as Aemond captures your arm quickly, smirking broadly as he leans in, caressing your face with his long blood red and white nails.

You stare at your arms, shocked and confused. Why did you do that? ‘’There is no need to be jealous, my Queen. You think I’m interested in her, when I have you, right where I want you?’’ He presses his nose to your own, kissing your lips when softly nibbling on your under lip. You hear him exhale deeply, and you taste your own blood. He bit you. He kisses deeper and longer, tasting your blood. It should feel so bad, but it feels so good. You should hate every touch, every kiss but you only seem to want more and more of him. You need to stop him.

You break the kiss.

‘’You should stop pestering Ann.’’

He grins, but doesn’t nod or agree. “She made you uncomfortable.” He responds, grabbing you by your hips. He stares into your eyes again, slowly opening your bathrobe. ‘’It’s a crime that you tried to hide all of this from my eyes. You should be punished.’’ He whispers, staring at your naked body. You try to fight your desires for him.

She only tried to stop someone from getting choked. “She means well. She wants the best for me and for you.” Or for the innocent unborn child she thought you were carrying around.

He rolls his eye, annoyed at you bringing up Ann when he is clearly trying to seduce you.

“All based on one conversation. And you are not with child. Not mine, not anyone's. ’’ He sighs dramatically. ‘’May I now heal you?’’ He's impatient. You stare at your burned finger tops that you burned when touching him.

‘’Can you at least tell me how to avoid burning myself in the future?’’ You would like to know that. There must be some way to stop yourself from burning your skin.

‘’You can’t, Petal.’’ His answer shocks and surprises you. You thought he had something to protect you from it. ‘’I apologize.’’ He adds, in a tone unlike himself. He truly regrets that he can't tell you another answer. He regrets it. ‘’I can heal you.’’ He adds. “But I can't teach you how to become immune. Nor can I cast spells that protect you against my own magic. It would not work.”

You decide to humor him. Your burns hurt and so do your bruises. You might seduce him into taking your horns away again. You nod, handing yourself over. Aemond deeply exhales, sensing your surrender and he grins as his pupil slightly widens, and briefly dark shadows dance around his fingertips.

‘’Lay on the bed.’’ He says. You raise a brow, but obey, skeptical. ‘’And get rid of the robe.’’ You do what he asks. Aemond joins you on the bed, having used his dark powers to appear right next to you, startling you. He looks at your burned fingertips, softly brushing them with his own. He begins to softly kiss your fingertips. You watch, as your skin heals right before your eyes. He is truly powerful, healing burned ruined skin with his own well mouth.

Aemond sadly only appears to use his powers for bad things. But this proves he can do great things. He could heal wounds and cure the sick. If only he wanted.

Aemond moves on to your legs, which he also injured when taking you. Scratches and bruises and even small cuts are healed when he kisses your legs, softly caressing your legs. You are trying your best to remain stubbornly in a stiff position, but Aemond simply flips you over, reaching your belly and kissing your neck, healing the sensitive skin where your horns and necklace crawled inside of. You try to suppress a moan and a curse as he begins to suck there too, making the pain go away briefly and replace it with an addictive sharp and powerful delicious feeling. ‘’Inflicting the pain can be fun, but so can be the aftercare.’’ You hear him whisper in your ear, as his fingers softly tap against your legs. ‘’I want you to understand that if we are to lay together more oftenly, this too will happen more often. I don’t want you walking around my castle with burns and scars. Not when I can so easily take your pain away.’’

You allow him to kiss and heal you, wondering how the same lips that did you so much pain now bring you pleasure and healing. ‘’I thought you liked it when I wore the scars?’’ You refer to the bones sticking out of your body. The horns and the necklace.

He pauses, caught off guard. His voice is a rough but quiet groan. ‘’No. I don’t.’’

He moves on to your belly, kissing your stomach lovingly as he takes in your breasts likely already picturing himself closer to you. But before he even touches your breasts, he kisses your forehead, healing the sensitive skin, staring in your eyes.

He then leans over your chest and begins.

He cools the burned flesh when softly sucking on your tit, causing you to feel conflicting emotions. He grins as you begin to turn your head away to avoid looking into his eyes or seeing your breast into his mouth. “Do you like your handmaiden? Is she kind and does she address you properly?” Ann is perfect. But why did he get you a handmaiden? Is she to assist and help you look pretty or is she just a way for Aemond to watch and control you?

You don't like the way he said it properly. He scared poor Ann into doing his bidding and now she won't ever stop calling you ‘’My Queen’’. As if you are somehow above her. Ann is so far a better human than you would ever be. She's kind and selfless. Brave too.

“I can wash myself.” You inform him with a slight push against his chest.

Aemond captures your wrists, holding your hand tight but soft. “A Queen should have servants. Handmaidens are more than that. You will build a life here, Petal. I want you to have female trusted friends. Having only me is not healthy.” He discovers another wound on your fingertips and brings your fingers to his mouth, kissing them and healing them.

He wants you to have friends. You are first, shocked. He does not seem like the type to have any friends himself, so why should he care that you are friendless? Then you are enraged. Because if he had not kidnapped you you would actually be around people who are your friends: Daemon and Rhaenyra. And the way how he treated you, there is nothing healthy about that.

You wait until he is done healing you. “Now you care about what's healthy? Do you remember the bench you fucked me sore and bloody on? Do you remember how scared I was in the throne room and disoriented and all you did was chain me and leave me to go Gods knows where? And when you left last night when you had-” You feel sadness stir.

Aemond doesn't laugh or deny your accusations. He seems sorrowful and full of regret. “I partly regret it. The garden was too harsh. I regret hurting you. I don’t regret making love to you. I don't regret making you lose control and having you finish. I don't regret hearing you cry in my ear how badly you wanted me. I don't regret kidnapping you either. I don't regret it now, nor ever. As for leaving you, I was merely Making the final preparations. I didn't want you to arrive in an unsuited room.” He huffs.

You feel guilt washing over you. You don't deserve any of this luxury. You don't deserve it at all. He is softly circling your skin, distraught as he finally manages to gather his courage. His voice is a strained whisper. “Would you rather I had stayed, Petal? After our …intimacy? Would that have …caused less hurt?” You don't think so. He takes your hands into his own. “When we marry, you can move into my rooms or have your own rooms. I don't mind, truly. Whatever makes you feel at home the most.” You know that is a generous offer not many Queens are gifted by their kings. You wonder if it's sincere.

He continues, nervously scratching his nails against his scalp. “I do wish to see you at least once a day, to know you are well and cared for. Once a week, I hope you'll grant me the privilege to take you somewhere fun.” You picture a festival somewhere in the Underworld and scoff. Somewhere fun. Where would that even be? He will never take you to the other world again.

“What is your idea of fun, an execution?” You remark, grumpy at this proposal.

“Sometimes.’’ He blurts out, unaware. You see him tense up and quickly try to defend himself. ‘’ I mean, no! Mayhaps a romantic dinner by candlelight or spending time in the library. I have a beautiful collection. You like to read don't you?” He knows so much about you. You read years ago for the last time.

“You know so much.” You remark, suspicious.

He continues to heal you with his mouth, and his fingertips, touching burned, bruised and injured areas of your body. He drops your hands. He does so in silence. When he speaks, your faces are close and he is touching your lips. His voice is a whisper. “I had to. For your own safety. Darker forces than myself are conspiring. I can't risk you falling into the wrong hands.”

You laugh, ignoring his warnings, thinking it is just propaganda or lies. “You make me sound like a weapon.” You say with a roll of your eyes. You aren't powerful. You aren't a weapon.

He grabs your hands again, this time pressing them to his own chest. His voice is so serious, so solid and unmoving that it makes you gulp. “Not a weapon. A solution. An answer. Hope.” He declares.

Confusing emotions fight inside of you. You never had been anyone’s hope or answer. Or a solution. “For who?” You wonder.

Aemond’s lips carefully bend into a smile. ‘’Me.’’

The answer takes you back and makes you feel unlike anything you felt before. He thinks you are his solution. His answer to his question. You doubt it. You can barely love yourself. How could anyone else, let alone the King of death manage? “How is the Handmaiden? Is she to your liking? If not we can whip her or peel off her skin.” He chuckles until he sees your glare.

“The handmaid is fine.” You say a bit indifferent. Aemond is not satisfied with your answer, eager to know what you think of your new “pet”.

“Fine? Fine? Define fine,” he chuckles as the words rhyme. “I need only the best for my Queen.” You are kissed again. He continues as you try your best to not argue with him. He grins. “She's a lucky woman, to even attend to your needs. All your staff is so lucky to have you. As am I.” His smile is soft and almost believable. You want to believe that someone can love you. But you can't.

The insecurity is too big consuming your soul.

“When she brushes your hair, is she gentle with it? Does she understand her role here? That you are her Goddess and that she is a mere ant living in the shade you cast, doomed every moment of the day to be squashed to nothing beneath your eternal heel?” You mutter a prayer at his words.

You would almost laugh at how terribly smitten he sounds. As some schoolboy that has a one sided crush on some girl that never Noticed him. But you know its not love. Its something darker than that. It's obsession

“You sound as crazy as Ann. Like how she was thinking that I'm pregnant with your baby.” You say, laughing.

You thought he'd appreciate that comment. You aren't sure why you called Ann crazy. She isn't crazy. She is terrified. And terrified people do crazy things. But it's not her fault. If anything it's yours. Aemond can't appreciate your humor. “Why is that so crazy? That is our end goal.” He reveals, staring at your belly as if he's already picturing it swelling with his own seed, your womb quickening with his child with a glare.

“Our?” You remark, unsure where he got that idea that you want any child, let alone his child. Not only is Aemond a selfish monster but he's also cruel and vengeful. You wouldn't want to squeeze out any child, and definitely not a half God. You fear for your own safety and the child's should you get pregnant after these many adventures you and Aemond share.

He ignores your hesitation, already picturing it. “Well, when we have settled and conquered our foes and danced in their blood, crushed their bones to dust, surely there's no better victory than making an heir?” He doesn't wink or wiggle his brows but instead caresses your knuckles so he can feel your warmth.

There is a silence.

You understand he's waiting for your answer. You allow him to caress and hold you. It's different from what he did before. This is no claiming and fucking. No hunger or rush. Just patience and gentleness. You enjoy it.

You don't want A child. You hope he understands. You can't risk getting pregnant. You must tell him that you fear that. “You know im a orphan.” You begin, trying to be honest about your feelings despite your mind warning you to not trust Aemond.

He nods, happy that you trust him.

“I do.” He admits.

You avoid eye contact as you look at his pale bone decorated fingers. You reach out to feel the flesh of his skin, to feel how warm he is. He's as cold as a dead corpse. “Can you promise me something, Aemond?”

He becomes tense, unsure where the conversation is going. “I don't know.” He confesses and you don't doubt that some things are beyond his control. But he is the King of the underworld. He can do more than he admits. And so can you.

“Can you promise me; that until I am ready for it, we won't have a baby?” He seems relieved at this, imagining a worse question.

“That's quite the promise to make.” He says, however playing with you and bargaining. He wouldn't give you anything for free. Not truly. He wants you to be the mother of his children. He said so plenty of times.

You sigh. Aemond warned you of a great danger. You can't escape the castle regardless and outside there is danger and darkness and forces conspiring whatever that might mean. You are good at telling when people are lying. But you can't read Aemond. You can't tell if he's lying. You aren't sure you can't tell because he's so good at hiding or because he is not lying at all. “In exchange I won't try to run.” Aemond's mouth Slowly opens at your proposal, clearly approving.

You need to know more anyway before you run. You need to know if Aemond made the forces up or if there's truly something out there lurking on you. After that you can leave. Hopefully.

He doesn't need a moment to think about it.

“Agreed.” He Nearly shouts in eagerness, smiling broadly, while kissing you.

That concerns you greatly. He is way too eager. He didn't need a single moment. “That's fast. I expected you to think about it a bit more.” You admit, wary and suspicious.

“Why, it's an amazing deal.” He smirks knowingly. “You accepted your place as my Queen, my Love and my Lady. That is all I asked for. All I wished for and all I desired. So soon too. I never expected you to yield and submit so quickly. I know I can be charming, but you surprise me.” He places a greedy kiss close to a mark on your neck, feeling your breasts with his hands as he puts you up so he can touch you properly, desire driving him. You want him to touch you. You long for it.

He kisses your neck coming closer to your collarbones as his hands disappear between your legs, touching you there. You release a gasp and accept his fingers entering your body, penetrating you as he holds you, fucking you on his fingers. You are gasping louder and louder close to moaning. He chuckles. “Just in case my little young new Queen thought to run; You can't break a deal with me. No one can. You are now doomed to stay here. Forever.” The fingers go only faster as if he arouses himself by your moans and eager cries, and his own obsessive behaviour.

You open your mouth to protest but Aemond forces more fingers inside of you, filling you up. You are penetrated much rougher and quicker and judging by his smirk he wants to keep you quiet. This is all part of some dark fantasy. “I wont fuck you today. Not with my cock. But as a young mortal Queen it's important you get your daily dose of arousal. And plenty of preparation for our wedding night.” You are disappointed, truth be told. You love how good it can feel to have him inside you and to feel him take you the way a wife is taken by her husband. You enjoy the fingers but the cock would be better. It would be rougher and harder for one. “You can try tricking me as often as you'd like but at the end of the day we both know who will be superior.”

“W-what?” you hate how pathetic you sound. You clear your throat and repeat your question without whimpering.

He just smiles, petting your hair. “Oh, darling. You should know better by now. I am the King. You can try to run away, but from now on, thanks to your own deal, you won't make it very far. Which saves me tons of headaches.” You don't understand how. But you know one for sure….

He tricked you.

He is now preventing you from leaving. Forever maybe. “You-” That bastard.

Aemond smirks and continues to send you down your path of Pleasure. You roll your eyes in your head as you finish on his fingers with a cry of need and desperation. He watches you closely enjoying your undoing. He removes his fingers from your wet cunt and smirks when he sees the damage.

His fingers are wet. He brings his fingers to his own lips and begins to lick them off. “Soon you'll be my wife. I want you prepared for that roll.” You won't be his anything.

“You tricked me!” You hiss angrily.

“Well you tried tricking me first.” He chuckles, not offended at all. He saw through your scheme and boops your nose, kissing your forehead. “My little dark Petal has sprouted. You think you can trick me after just a taste of darkness? My darling…” He laughs as if you are an adorable little animal that tried to bite him. “Not that running away without the deal would've been…I didn't lie about you being chained to me. You can't leave my side. Ever.” You wonder what would happen if you did. Would you be pulled back or killed?

“Yet I slept here. When you went off to-” You don't even know where he was off to. With who. Where. Or what he was doing.

Aemond sighs but unveils his plans.

“Collect souls.” That makes sense and the way his bored voice tells you it is true and apparently much less exciting than you imagined.

“-whatever, I slept here. Alone.” You point that out.

He exhales deeply, touching your horns gently with great care. “The chain allows us some freedom. But you can't leave the Underworld or the castle without my authority.” So that is how far the chain reaches. You could spend your time hiding away from him. But he'd find you. And so would his servants who are all except Ann eager to cut your limbs off and to slit your throat.

“I thought the Underworld was the castle?” You thought it ended there. That the castle itself was the Underworld. That there was no true roamable outside.

His eye lights up when he smiles sincerely, He takes you by the hand and drags you to the big balcony, showing you the now clear skies and big Fields. He proudly shows it to you, studying your reaction and eager to know what you think of his kingdom. “No, my dear. There’s an entire world. Rivers in every Colour. Stones and rocks and grass. It's as much alive as the world above. Just a bit different.”

You look at the colorful picture in a place full of darkness. “How is this possible? This place is supposed to be the worst isn't it? It is supposed to be death?” It doesn't make sense.

Aemond however has an answer prepared.

“Where death dances, life often comes to watch. You can't have life without death and you can't have death without life. It's a scale. The two must remain in perfect harmony. In balance.” That makes sense. In a way. It makes perfect sense.

“Why keep me in the castle, then?” You stare at the beautiful horned animals outside eating grass near a river that has a pure blue colour. Aemond sighs, clearly dreading answering that question.

“For your own protection. I have many enemies who want to hurt you. And the Underworld is not like the one above. It looks beautiful but plants and stones and even grass itself can be dangerous.” Grass can be dangerous? You do remember a Dothkraki friend who told you the same in the orphanage. You found it strange then. But now? Now you believe it.

Aemond dresses you in your robe again. “I'll have Ann arrange breakfast for you. Try to make peace with your destiny. Try to find balance. Because without balance, it will feed on you. On yourself, on your soul, on all there is.” He is preparing to leave you. You would like that. You need some time alone to think.

“Welcome home, my love. That we may spend the entirety together.” He walks to the doors as if he's a normal person. He walks out, closing the doors behind him gently. You remain near the balcony staring outside with more questions than answers and two new horns.

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mochiroreo · 1 year ago

Text

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

Dark!reader x Rafe Cameron

TW: M18+ NON-CON, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, implied heavy smut at the end, degradation, non-consensual use of drugs, mentions of rape and domestic violence, mean!rafe, psycho!dark!reader, non-consensual recording (sorry not sorry rafe lol)

Author’s note: I am back just to post this blurb cause I love dark!Rafe but I also want to read something about the reader being the unhinged, pyscho one 🤭 . Also, this is unedited so if you see some wrong grammar or wrong spelling.. no you didn’t.

“Hmm..” a dull, throbbing pain made him tightly closed his eyes. His body feeling heavy and sluggish. He felt like he slept in a wrong position for two days, with how his muscles are aching. He was about to stretch and move his arms when he felt a tug that restricted his movements.

“Wait.. wha—?” The sensation made Rafe open his eyes, his baby blues scanning the room in utter confusion. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the low light, looking up at his wrists tied together above him, and his legs tied to the bed frame. “What the fuck..?” He mumbled in a slurred manner, his baby blues darting around the room before feeling the bed dipped beside him.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Rafe immediately looked up, his breath slightly hitching with how close your face is.

“A-angel?” He whispered his nickname for you, confusion more evident on his face now with his brows scrunched up. “How— why—“ Rafe’s questions were cut off by your giggle, airy and as if the whole situation is amusing, making his jaw tick in irritation.

For him, maybe it’s not as amusing. For you, however, it is definitely the highlight of your life.

“What are you doing? You think this is funny?” He asked, voice low and threatening, as if he is not the one tied down tightly on your bed right now. You just looked at him with a soft smile, a soft hand landing on his forehead to smooth the creases between his eyebrows before affectionately running your hand through his buzzed hair.

“Oh no, Rafey. I just think this suits you..” you words hanged onto the air, making him anticipate what’s next. “After all, isn’t this what you had planned for me? I just switched up who will be the victim.” You answered, ignoring the slight widening of his eyes with your answer.

His heart was thumping loudly inside his chest now, feeling the rope’s roughness that bound both his wrists and ankles. “W-what? I don’t— I don’t fucking know what you’re talking about.” Rafe looked straight into your eyes, trying to convince you. Yet your smile sent a chill down his spine.

“What do you mean? I know your plan silly!” You giggled, biting your bottom lip which made the boy gulp. “I am very much aware of the Kook king’s personal life and the rumours surrounding you, you know. The rape allegations at the parties after slipping some drugs on their drinks. Or maybe asking them to drink a bit too much. I have also heard how much you have punched and kicked your previous girlfriends.. lucky that your daddy knows how to bail you out!”

Your eyes travelled down Rafe’s disheveled state, the buttons of his white shirt undone, revealing a slither of tan skin underneath. His taut muscles evident as he squirms to move. While you were distracted, Rafe tried to free himself, struggling as the rope got tighter and tighter the more he tried to escape.

“Where was I? Oh! And so— I have heard from Topper how it’s now my “time” apparently. Then there you were! In front of my house, asking me to drink with you cause you were feeling lonely. I knew you slipped a drug on my drink,, so I have beat you to it and knocked you out.” You admitted with a shrug, moving away to stand up while still watching Rafe closely.

“You’re fucking crazy. I-I didn’t even— wasn’t planning to do anything!” Rafe tried to reason out, gritting his teeth when the rope wouldn’t budge.

“Really? Cause the rope that I used was from the back of your truck. I even found some little baggies.” You inserted your hand inside your bra, the action making Rafe stare straight to your chest and take in what you are wearing.

You wore white lacy set of lingerie, hugging the swell of your breasts and thighs, accentuating every dips and curves as if you were carves by the gods to look like a literal angel on earth.

Except, you are holding every variety of drugs that Rafe owns with a big smile.

Each bag has some different sized pills and powders, which you were sure were party drugs and coke from his drug dealer best friend, Barry.

“Now come on, Angel. Don’t you know that you shouldn’t touch what’s not yours? You don’t even know shit about drugs or-or how expensive those are!” He groaned, unable to do anything. Rafe is at his limit, his patience running thin as he think of the things he will do once he breaks free from the ropes, promising to himself that he will definitely fuck you to the point that you’ll beg him to stop plowing your abused cunt. Your appearance and his imagination making his thick cock hard despite his anger.

“Hmm.. I know which drugs is which. I think I stalked you enough to know which one is your favourite other than coke.” Moving closer, you brushed your hair away from your face. “And to be honest. I thought you would have more.” You grabbed a bottle of water on the bedside table before straddling Rafe’s chest.

The action made Rafe’s shorts tighter with how painfully hard he is, his point of view accentuating your breasts, seeing your nipples perky from the cold air inside the room. Once again, he struggled with the intention of trying to free himself to grab you and slap the shit out of you while drilling his cock to your wet pussy, he gritted his teeth and whispered menacingly.

“Now now, Angel. We can do this without the rope.. you know? If I have known you were a little freaky.. I would have asked you properly instead of what I was planning to do.” His words made chuckle, raking your manicured nails on his chest, making him let out a low groan.

“But where’s the fun in that?! Besides it would be unfair to just let you do that.. knowing how much you’ve been a bad boy here in Outer banks..” leaning forward, you balanced yourself and gripped his arms, slightly rutting your clothed core on his stomach. The action made Rafe groan, his anger disappearing as he thinks that you are just a closeted little freak that is now removing your disguise to fuck him. Rafe’s hips were bucking slightly, loving the hazy look in your eyes as he lets you to revel on the power you have over him right now.

“This is exciting, but I want to make it wayyy more pleasurable for us two.” Dragging your tongue on his collarbone, you moved away to grab one of the baggies containing some neon pink and green pills making Rafe eye you suspiciouslly. As far as he remember, he did not order some odd looking pills from Barry.

Grinning at him like the devil, you took two from the bag before going back to your position, your left hand tracing the bottom of his lips as you bite your own. Rafe’s lips parted, his pink tongue slightly peeking, urging you to lean down and finally kiss him.

The kiss was hot and messy, and Rafe kissed you like a man starved. His tongue immediately invading your mouth, savouring the slight dominance that he has knowing that he cannot escape your bed to flip you over. Rafe was so into the kiss that he did not feel both of your hands wrap around his neck.

Your hands were getting tighter and tighter, making him pull back with wide eyes that is staring right straight to your in panic.

“A-angel— hey hey..!” He tried to fully scream at you, nails slowly digging into the flesh of his neck. Rafe was slowly running out of air, his vision swimming in the dark while looking at you smiling so gently to him as if you aren’t choking him to death right now. His lips parted in a silent scream, before you let go to forcefully shove the pills down his throat which almost made him puke.

You let go once the pills were stuck down his throat, Rafe immediately heaving and gasping for air, making the pills slide down with his spit. He didn’t waste any time to steady his breathing, immediately screaming at your face.

“ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?! YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH, I WILL FUCKING RIP YOUR HEAD OFF AND YOUR FUCKING PUSSY IF I GET OUT OF HERE! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!” His neck was red, veins popping out from him screaming directly on your face. You faked a sniffle, eyes slightly watering before you broke into a laugh.

“Woah calm down, pretty boy!” You managed to squeeze out as you continue to laugh, making Rafe jolt with the want to punch you down and force himself on you. “I just want to make sure you drink the pill candy without a fight.” You stated, offering a water bottle pointed at his lips. His breathing was erratic with anger, nudging the bottle away from his face before it dawned on him.

“Fuck—“ he mumbled. “What the fuck are those pills?!” You just shrugged, shaking your head as you so. “I have enough of your bitchy brat games, you fucking psycho! What the fuck are those pills!” Wiping down the spit that landed on your chest, you sighed giving him a faux pout.

“It’s just something to relax you.. and maybe give you more strength as I use you the whole night?” As if on cue, his cock that went soft with the stunt that you pulled suddenly hardened, blood immediately rushing down south. Rafe’s body slowly started to feel hot, he feels so lightheaded that his eyelids were almost closing on him while he tries not to pant and control his breathing. “Shit shit shit” he mumbled in panic, mind swimming with all the possibilities what the pill might be and what it might do to him.

You cut his thoughts short when you swiftly undressed him, his eyes wide and watery as you blow air on his clothed cock that was immediately weeping before letting it spring free. You thumbed the continuous flow of his pre-cum, making him buck his hips for more. Your touch was cold on his burning skin, a soft whine passing by his lips when you gave his leaking tip one kitten lick.

“Fuck please— what— what did you do to me..?” Rafe whispered softly, slowly losing his mind with the need and desire to feel your mouth, cunt, or your ass on his dick that is now standing proudly against his stomach.

“Nothing really. I told you I’ll make sure to make this more pleasurable for us, didn’t I? Must have been frustrating to be on the receiving end, huh?” Straddling his waist, you move your lacy panties aside to rut it on his cock, his pre-cum making it slide easier on your sopping wet pussy. You continued your actions, ignoring Rafe’s please to let him put his cock in you.

“You know.. I’ve heard how much you wanted me.. how much you think you can ruin me, to manipulate me into your ‘slut’. But I don’t want to be one of those girls that you took advantage of, Rafey. I want to be special, I want something more.” Your body was slowly getting covered with a light sheen of sweat, lips so close besides Rafe’s ear as you lick and tease his ear lobe. Soft whines and gasps escaping your lips before smirking as Rafe tried his best to listen to you despite him slowly losing his mind.

“So I decided to just show you, decided that maybe I’m the one that can break you..” Rafe lets out a deep strangled cry as he cums, body vibrating with the intensity of his ejaculation while he shut his eyes close. “Oh my, you just cummed but you’re still hard, Rafey!” Your statement made Rafe open his eyes weakly, vision slightly blurry with unshed tears, his cock more sensitive that ever.

Your left hand encircled his thick shaft, slowly dragging your palm up and down, making Rafe choked out a sob “‘s too much— please— fuck— ‘s too much” Rafe rambled, making you stop playing with his cock; giving him soft kisses on his cheeks, kissing his tears away. “Oh shush, don’t cry Rafey. I will make you feel good, make you feel so so good.” You whispered against his flushed skin, licking the lone tear that slid down while you console him.

You grabbed the water bottle and popped a pill on your tongue, Rafe watching you with blown out, unfocused eyes. “See? I took one as well!” You stated, slowly getting rid of your lingerie which made Rafe’s cock bob up and down, pre-cum once again leaking out of him despite coming just seconds ago.

“Gonna show you how special I can be, Rafey.” Whispering on his skin while you trail wet kissed down his chest, Rafe sobbed when you lightly bit his nipple, the action making him cum once again. You felt his warm load spatter on your ass, making you giggle.

“ ‘m gonna show you how I can make you feel like a god.” You eyed his drowsy state, drool sloppily pooling on the side of his mouth. Lightly tapping his cheeks, he opened his eyes before you pointed at the red dot on the corner of your room, which he eyed for a moment.

“Don’t forget to smile.”

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 6 months ago

Text

Paradise Lost

Pairing: Eden x reader

Description: You weren't gonna give Bailey any of your hard earned money, not this week. Thinking you'll fare better in the woods than town this time of night, you head there. Your plan was to stay in the caves by the lake, and figure out a better situation in the morning. You don't make it that far.

Rating: Not sfw

Content Warning: fem reader with fem parts, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Guns, chasing, kidnapping, restraints, dub con/non con, first time, yandere , predator/prey, a disgusting amount of pet names honestly, as always ask to tag

Word Count: 5282

Notes: I wanted to get this out by Halloween, obviously that didn't happen. I've had this idea for a while and the draft since *checks* August 2023, apparently. It's not even the oldest one I just live like this! Eden may seem ooc but I was having a lot of fun so I just ran with it.

Bailey was out of his fucking mind if he thought he was gonna get any of your hard earned cash. You work your ass off every day, foraging in the woods and growing anything in that pitiful little garden by the orphanage, and he thinks he can just take your money now? As if. You wouldn’t let that happen.

Today was the promised day for the money. You couldn’t even remember how much it was, only that it was too much and you wouldn’t let him bully you into complacency. However… that did leave you out, alone, as darkness was slowly closing over the town. You didn’t exactly have a place to crash, either, so as you slowly walk down Domus street you try to consider your options.

You could walk down to the hospital and stay in the waiting room? They might shoo you out if you were caught sleeping though… Maybe you could try calling Sydney? But he was probably still at the church… and it wouldn’t be right to bother him. He probably wouldn’t have the heart to say no. You could break into the massage parlor and rest there as long you were out before they opened. But you had been hoping to pick up some shifts in the future, so that probably wasn’t the best idea…

Where did that leave you, though? Even if the summer air was balmy and warm, there wasn’t a chance in hell you were waiting on the streets tonight. And there wasn’t much you could do with your time and you weren’t quite scared enough yet to hit up the strip club for work. All that was left for you were the woods that had already given you so much. You fancied yourself better in a fight versus a wolf than another person anyways.

So with mind made up and confidence in your step, you head from Domus street into the woods, passing by Gwylyn’s shop and further into the welcoming trees. You always did feel more at home here anyways. You can’t help but smile as you pass by some of your favorite foraging spots and there’s a part of you that kind of wants to do a little now but you push that aside.

In the forest proper there wasn’t that many fantastic spots to rest. But then you recall the set of caves by the lake. Hopefully this late at night your schoolmates were done messing around out there. Plus, you knew a shortcut there to! It would be no problem, especially since you don’t have school tomorrow. So with new hop in your step, you begin to move that way, unbothered by the new darkness around you as the forest seems to come alive.

The sounds of insects and birds comforts you, even when you can hear the occasional wolf call in the distance. You’re already close to the lake when you pause in your step. You can hear rustling ahead, so you duck down to see… a foxboy, looking to and fro as he digs up some bird eggs. You don’t fancy yourself as someone super sneaky but you can’t help yourself, carefully sneaking forward; eyes not on the precious bird eggs but his fluffy tail. You never wanted to pet a tail more than this one…!

The foxboys ears perk up at a sound, and you stiffen. You were so close! But as he quickly turns his gaze to you, he frowns and speaks. “Trying to catch me off guard and steal?”

“N-no!” You sputter, surprised he’s even bothering to speak to you when he easily could have taken his goods and ran. “I um… you looked very soft, I was sneaking to see if I could manage to pet you a little…” You admit sheepishly to him. The foxboy changes in demeanor, turning to you with a grin.

“So you just wanted to get close to me?” You don’t like how you can see the glint of his fangs when he grins. You try to back up away but with you still crouching, the fox is able to leap on you and pin your prone form to the forest floor. “You should have just said so human, I’m unmated…” He murmurs leaning in close to you. Panic starts to seize you as you struggle in his grip.

“Not what I meant! Let me go please please…!” You try to raise your knees to shove him off you but this foxboy is stronger than you anticipated. Your every move seems futile as the foxboy quickly works to take off your clothing. You can’t help the scream you let out, desperation passing by your lips. You’re too far out for Gwylyn to hear you, though. No one could save you from this…

The foxboy digs his nails into your soft skin as he rips away your pants. You close your eyes as tears start to prick at them from the pain. You take a deep, shuddering breath to stop yourself from crying before a thundering nose rings out, blinding the dark forest a moment and clearing your running thoughts for a long moment.

As everything seems to settle, you realize it’s the unmistakable noise of a gun shot, and it has the foxboy skittering off faster than you can even open your eyes. You’re shaking, struggling to sit up and pull up your pants at the same time. In the dying light, you can make out the vague figure of a person, shotgun still smoking in their hands.

For a moment, neither of you speak. You aren’t sure if you should thank them, or start running yourself. The air is thick and uncertain, and you swallow lump forming in your throat as you look up at the person who saved you. Would they prove to be an actual savior, or just as bad as the beast before them?

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing out in the woods so late at night?” His voice is low, gruff. Even as he lowers his weapon, there’s an undeniable edge to him. Something that demands to be respected.

“Trying to stay out of trouble,” You start, eyeing his dark figure carefully. Thankfully, your pants aren’t entirely destroyed and you’re able to wear them properly, to stand tall and wary in front of your new company. “What has you saving strange girls in the middle of the woods so late?” You ask back, dusting forest debris off yourself. Trying to stay calm, casual. Hoping for the best in him.

“Was hoping to do some hunting tonight.” You don’t like the way he smirks, the way he shifts his weight from one leg to another and cracks his knuckles in his hands. “Think I’ve found the best prey these woods have to offer, anyhow.” Your throat seizes as he says this. You don’t think-- can’t think you just move.

But where is there to run? Your wellies hold up under thundering footfall but you can hear him behind you, hear him laughing as he follows suit. You can’t help but wonder if he would follow you towards town. Or if it would even be safe? There’s so much to consider, so much to avoid, the world around you quickly growing darker and darker in betrayal.

You’re coming across the river, you can hear the rushing water promising you freedom just ahead. If you could swim across, hell even jump in and just let the water take you, you’re sure your pursuer wouldn’t follow. You just had to push a little further, want it a little more, to run, run, run!

That is, until, you feel his weight crashing into you, feel your body crumple under his as he grabs you from behind. The sound of rushing water is so distant now, behind the sound of your own running blood, of your labored breathing and drumming heartbeat.

“Aren’t you smart,” He coos, grunting as you try to wriggle out from under him. But he’s stronger than you, happy to pin you down in the dirt and whisper his victories in your ear. “Trying to lose me in the river, eh? If only you were a little faster…” He tuts softly. Gods, even through your clothing, he could feel how warm you were. How soft. A prize well worth the chase, no matter how short the hunt was.

“Pl, please.” It’s difficult to cough up the word, not when he’s still leaning down on you, applying pressure directly on your overworked lungs. “I, I just…!” Oh goodness, were you crying? “I, I never… I haven’t…!” You can’t even finish your sentence, hiccups threatening your words until a sob racks your body and cuts you off entirely.

“Oh darling,” He almost pities you, but the rush of blood that went straight to his dick makes it hard to think. “Saving yourself for me?” He can’t help but growl as he leans in closer to your neck, taking a moment to truly take all of you in. He had been looking for someone like you. Someone soft and sweet and innocent, someone he could make into his perfect partner. Someone who didn’t know how to fight back.

“...S’pose least I can do is make it special. We’re close to home as it is.” You feel your stomach drop as you hear a belt being undone. You can’t help but close your eyes and whimper, expecting to feel the heat of his body that much closer to you. Instead, you feel warm leather wrap around your wrists and gasp out as you’re unceremoniously lifted and tossed over his shoulders.

Held over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, you have to give your mind a moment to catch up. You could see his shotgun bouncing along his back as he walked, unbothered by your weight. You could feel the ache beginning to start in your shoulders and elbows, forced at an awkward angle where your arms are tied behind your back. You feel your lungs start to settle into normalcy as you can finally breathe again. When you find your voice again, you can only ask “...Home?” The word feels hollow on your tongue. You don’t even know if you have it in you to fight back against him. It all felt inevitable at this point.

“Your new home.” He corrects with a smile to his tone. “Our home now, I reckon.” You decide to continue on in blissful silence as you he takes you farther into the dark of the forest. Not much time seems to have passed as the forest begins to clear out. As he moves forward, you can see dark shapes that aren’t trees or bushes, nothing you can make out now. Your not left long to wonder as you’re brought indoors, and placed down roughly on a bed.

The cabin is well lit, but sparely decorated. You can’t hardly take it in before your yanked closer to the man. Holding you by your bound wrists in one hand, he places another binding on you with his other; a collar, complete with a leash, that he wastes no time wrapping around the wrought iron frame of the bed. You were truly trapped and at his whim now. When he finally speaks again, it seems to spark you out of your stupor. When had you begun to cry so much? You could hardly see his face through the blur of them.

“I’m gonna release your hands now.” The look on his face is stern. There’s a deep crease between the lines of his eyes, and you don’t know if this man has ever worn something other than a frown on his face. “If you’re a good girl for me, this can be nice for both of us.” He places his large, calloused hands over the tie on your wrists. “Can you be a good girl?” His whisper might have meant to been seductive or calming, but it sounded grating in your ears. His deep tone promised nothing good for you.

“I’ll... be a good girl for you.” You dare not raise your voice above a whisper; you don’t move as you see him grin slightly, see a flush come to his face. You don’t even move as one of his hands comes to cup your cheek, wiping away stray tears.

“Good girls get to feel good.” He slowly unbinds the worn leather belt. He’s watching you closely, but you still don’t move, even as your wrists are freed. He looks you over as the belt is tossed aside. “Why don’t you lay down for me, sweetheart?” His pet names make you feel sick. He rubs your sore wrists, even as you move roboticly into place on the bed for him. His hands pet along your soft body, ogling you through your torn shirt and moving to look you in the eyes again. “You really are a sight for sore eyes.” he sighs, so content. You wonder if you’re the first person he’s shared this bed with. Wonder if you’ll be the last.

“Why are you doing this?” Your words seem to surprise him. They surprised you too; he was already getting ready to tear your shirt the rest of the way off your body, but your words stop his movement. “Y-you don’t have to. I-I can still be good for you, but we can… we can…” Your words die down as you take in the darkening look on his face. One last, pathetic attempt for mercy. One that is quickly quashed.

“Oh, darling.” He looks at you; looks at you all soft and sweet, and at his mercy. “You’re gonna be good for me, or you’re gonna see what happens to bad girls.” He frowns at you, as if it were obvious. “And don’t you want me to be good to you for your first time?” He looks at you expectantly, an eyebrow raised. You blink once, confused. But soon you realize; he wants you to play along. You could be pathetic, you could be weak and scared. All the more excuse to comfort and coddle you; you had to play your part right, or he would play his wrong too.

“P-please be nice to me. I’ll be good, I promise.” He likes it when you beg. He likes it when tears spring to your eyes and you go all soft and pathetic for him. Wanted to be the predator to your prey. “Just don’t hurt me.” Wanted to be the one to protect you, too. The best of both worlds, it seemed.

“And I won’t, honey.” He coos, leaning in close to your face. “Just as long as you take everything I give to you.” You find yourself nodding, too scared to speak when he’s nose to nose with you. At that, he smiles; it’s ill fitting on his face. He looks too calm, too serene.

Its worse, perhaps, that he wants to talk you through it. “I gotta get you out of these ruined clothes now, baby.” He’s starting to breath heavy, eyes growing darker with desire. You can only nod and watch as he uses his brute strength to rip open your shirt, tossing it to the side. Your bra is thankfully, treated much more gently, slid from your body until your breasts are bared open to the hungry gaze of the man before you.

He takes his time admiring them. His touch is soft, almost reverent. Far too gentle for what this is; the pads of his rough fingers catch on your soft skin, but it doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t keep him from palming your flesh, and watching with wide, breathless gaze as your nipples harden under him. “You’re such a treat.” You think you might just be, from the way he’s all but drooling over you.

Perhaps you were made to be consumed.

And God, does he ever savor; his touch moves south, ever slow. You wish he would get it over with. Wish he wasn’t so careful, that he would take what he had obviously won already. But he doesn’t; he traces formless designs along the soft dip and curves of your body, reaching the hem of your barely together pants. He lets out a heavy breath through his nose, catching your eyes. “You’re lucky I got to you in time. Gonna treat you so much better than that beast could have.” Would he, though?

The foxboy would have had the decency to make it quick. Would leave you alone after abusing you. Wouldn’t force you to look at him through it all. He wouldn’t pull down your pants with such reverence, with some sort of sick look of love in his gaze.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good.” His voice had taken on a husky tone, gravel and desire taking up space in his throat as he sees the dark spot on your panties. “And look at you, already bein’ good for me and getting nice and wet.” He pets your pussy, running his fingers over the soft cotton, taking in the shiver that passes through your body. He has his eyes on his prize now, though, and with it so close he can’t help but move fast, tearing your panties off you in one quick motion.

Laying before him, wide eyed, naked, and so, so afraid, you finally find it in you to speak again. “W-what’s your name?” It’s stupid. You shouldn’t care. You should be finding a place far away in your mind to hide while you let this happen. But you can’t run from this. Can’t run from his thumb rubbing circles on the top of your thigh, can’t hide from the drumming of his fingers on your hips. If he’s going to do this to you, if he’s going to keep you here and do so much more… You deserve that much.

“Eden.” Its entirely out of place-- for here, for him. If this was anything, it was paradise lost.

Eden is much quicker in removing his own clothing. A small mercy, perhaps; you felt suffocated in the anticipation of it all. But all too soon, the both of you were naked; Eden, hard and wanting over you, small and trembling.

“Shh, darling. I know…” He coos, scooting in close to you to pull you in a kiss. Its wrong; soft, wanting. Why does he bother with the theatrics? Why won’t he just take what he wants from you, and get it over with? Instead, he goes so achingly slow; tender touches that drive heat down where his fingers lay. His kiss is so full of longing your teeth ache from the feeling of it. “I’ll take such good care of you.” He pulls your legs apart, pushing his knees between them. The starting of a home between your very ribs.

“Protect you,” His fingers glide over your bare cunt, barely there. Were you with a man, or a ghost? What had happened to the bravado of the strong hunter that caught you? “Provide for you…” He teases your entrance with two fingers, collecting your arousal and swirling oh so gently. “Let me take care of you.” Again, he leans in to kiss you.

This time, you kiss back. It can’t have been good; your eyes are closed, screwed tight so you don’t see that love struck awe on his face and you can still feel yourself trembling, trying to move your lips against his in a way you think might please him. You have to be good for him. You have to.

“You are taking care of me,” Your voice is still soft, so afraid to speak up when you can feel him knuckle deep in you, fingering you in a careful, controlled way.

“Then relax for me,” he laughs softly, eyes moving from your face two the way your pussy clenches to his fingers. “You’re so tight, baby. You gotta relax if you want it to feel good.” He coos, those rough pads of his fingers rubbing at your g spot and having your gasping.

“I-I just…” You take a deep, fortifying breath. In. Out. In. Out. Could you manage to relax? You open your eyes to look at him, but he has the same look on his face. Obsessive, full of desire and something you can’t quite read.

“I got ya, pretty girl. You’re okay with me.” An airy chuckle leaves him as he looks to your face. “You can relax with me.” He promises. You try to. You really, really do.

You close your eyes and just try to focus on the feeling of it; lazy movements of his fingers, in and out of you. His big, warm, hand, resting on your thigh, sneaking over to your pussy to brush against your clit. It sends a jolt through you, has you gasping and clenching on his fingers and opening your eyes to look at him.

“That feel good?” He laughs, the sound almost cruel. You nod slightly, unsure if you even wanted it to feel good. You just wanted it to be over with.

“Use your words, sweet girl. You gotta tell me when it feels good.” You can’t help but whimper when he pumps his fingers and rubs your clit in tandem. You keen and chase the friction by bucking your hips, but he suddenly stops. “Told you, good girls speak when spoken too.” His warning is light, mirthful. It was a game right now but that could very quickly change. You swallow thickly.

“M-more, please.” You look up with big, wet eyes. He smiles, pleased with your quick compliance, and continues at the same pace as before. “Faster, Eden.” Your hands had remained glued to your side most this entire time, but now you’re tempted to grab his wrist, to grind against him for some sort of relief.

“That’s a good girl.” His voice is a growl, the tone deep with his desire. You feel him scissor inside you, pushing his long fingers in and thrusting quickly. You just had to focus on that motion. Focus on the electric feeling welling up inside you and chase it. Grind against the delicious feeling of his deft fingers rubbing your clit and just let go--

“I think you’re good and ready now.” It’s a near full system shock as he retreats his hands from you. You hear yourself whine loudly, before sensations come back to you and you open your eyes. Eden has a shit eating grin, even as he brings his fingers up to his mouth to taste of you. As you take deep breaths you dare a look between his legs. His fingers were nothing like what he was packing between his legs-- it was too big. He was too big.

Towering above you, as he traps you between his wide knees. He pushes your legs open wide, wider to accommodate him. “Relax just like I told ya too honey. It’ll be okay.” He reaches to grab your hand and you might had puked if you weren’t so scared. He wanted it to be romantic in every sense of the word, fitting his big fingers through yours with one hand, and holding his cock in the other. “It’s gonna feel a little uncomfortable at first, and I know you don’t like talkin much,” he chuckles, his head flush with your entrance. He looks into your eyes, making sure you hear him. “but you gotta tell me your okay, or if I need to stop.”

Why did it have to be him? Someone so accommodating. You might have had a shred of dignity left to argue with him (to fight back) if he had been mean. If he had hurt you, if he had just taken you by the river like the beast he was trying so hard not to be. But it had to be special. You, had to be special.

“Okay.” You know he won’t move until you tell him too. Perhaps he could hear how fast your heart was beating, or maybe see how your chest was rising and falling in your labored breathing. “Y-you can put it in.” Stupid girl who couldn’t even speak without stuttering. Of course he was going to treat you like a doll.

Somehow, he finds it in him to go slow; he sinks into your welcoming heat with a loud hiss. “Fuck, baby. You’re gonna be the death of me.” You don’t how far in he is, don’t dare to look as you seize up and scrunch your face. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it might but it was still uncomfortable. “Oh baby, you gotta relax.” He laughs as he sees your face. He squeezes the hand he holds again, his free one now coming up to cup your cheeks. “Let me see your eyes, pretty girl.” Like the obedient thing you are, you open them.

“Feels weird,… Eden.” You shift uncomfortably under him. Its not enough to deter him, nothing would be at this point, but it does soften him. He likes it when you call him by his name. Must make him feel closer than the two of you really are.

“I know baby, it’ll feel good soon though. D’you feel like you could take more?” He lets out a heavy breath through his nose. How much he was holding back for you, you couldn’t be certain. You bite your lip, and decide it would be better to get it over with.

“Slow, please.” You had never felt so small as you do now. But as he pushes more of his length into you, you both gasp. You grasp on to his forearm, clench his hand as he pushes. You don’t tell him to stop.

It’s uncomfortable, the feeling of being so full. He must have bottomed out, from the way he’s panting heavy and looking down at you with half lidded eyes. “Honey baby,” You open your eyes again, looking into his. “You feel like heaven, pretty girl. Please, tell me to move.” He grunts out the words, looking for any sign from you.

“I still need, need a second.” You take a deep breath, whimpering as you shift a little. He hisses again, gripping your hip tight a moment before lessening his grip.

“Let me make it better, baby.” He’s quick to move his hand from your hip back over to your clit, rubbing small, quick, circles on it. The sudden friction has you gasping and involuntarily clenching around him, the both of you groaning at the sudden feeling. “Shh, I know honey.”

“S-slow, please. Slow down.” You keen and stress again, until Eden slows his movements, circling your poor clit with more deliberate movements. At this you take a deep breath, and close your eyes.

“Aww, my poor girl.” He coos, watching you. “I think you’re ready, aren’t you?” God, he sounds desperate. He probably is. Even if you aren’t quite ready, Eden was pretending to give you the choice.

“O...okay,” You grip the bed, taking a big intake of breath as he starts to pull out of you. Slowly, until just his head sits you than back in. You just had to focus on the sensation; of his fingers, starting to pick up pace on your clit. Of his cock, dragging against your pussy in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant. You just couldn’t look at him. At the way he held you like someone precious, how his eyes held such tenderness and concern and desire.

“Look at me, darling. Need to see you’re okay.” He pants and you unscrunch your face. When had you gotten all wound up? “Oh there’s my pretty girl.” He grins and laughs softly when you look to him. He’s picked up the pace, hand leaving your clit to hold your hip in place as he finally takes his prize. “So wet for me, so good.”

He’s starting to lose himself, like the beast he is. Thoughts of gentleness are all but abandoned as he takes and takes from you. You can’t help the soft noises and moans you make; if you were good, this would be over soon. He would take what he wanted from you and it would be over.

Until the next time, of course.

“E-Eden, I’m close.” You had been focusing so hard on that little bundle of feel good in you, you failed to realize just how brutal Eden had gotten. Slamming into your hips, bullying his cock into your virgin hole again and again. Struggling to maintain his pace, eager to feel you.

“Me too darlin’, it’s okay. You can cum when ever you want.” He was out of breath, leaning over you and looking down at you before devouring your lips. This time, he is consuming; he steals your lips, your breath, your very thoughts with the want and hunger in his kiss.

You gasp in surprise as your orgasm hits you, moaning into Eden’s mouth and clenching your legs around his waist. At this, he groans, barely pulling from your lips to stutter his hips once, twice, into your welcoming heat and cumming into your poor pussy.

You want to stay in that blissful moment. You grind against his spent cock, eager to chase the little after waves and hide from the upcoming moment. But Eden merely lets out a soft groan, pulling from you slowly and carefully, to your chagrin.

“Shh baby, there’ll be more to come.” He chuckles at your little whine. You come back to yourself, breathing heavy and looking up at him with big, wide eyes. You were covered in a cold sweat, could feel his cum in you and cooling on your inner thighs.

God, that really happened. He was still there, looking at you. You could feel the weight of the collar around your next, his eyes watching you. You were stuck here with Eden. You didn’t even have it in you to question him as he settles down into the bed next to you, happily pulling you into his arms. He seems to tire quick, sighing in content as he wraps his arms around your waist, and rests his chin in the gap between your head and shoulder.

“You’re gonna like it here, promise.” He seems to grow softer before rest. “Just have to get you use to life out here. It’ll be rough-- but we’ve got each other.” You close your eyes and try to ignore him. Rest would be your respite-- tomorrow, you could face this growing problem.

Tomorrow, you would face the trauma of being kidnapped. Tomorrow, you would deal with the consequences of losing your virginity. Tomorrow, you would see Eden’s face in the light of day and you wouldn’t even be able to hate him. Yes, tomorrow, it would be so much worse.

But tonight, you are tired. Tonight, you can pretend he’s someone you love. Tonight, it was all okay. Because you were good, you were sweet and cute and pathetic and everything he liked. And if you could continue to be just that, you would find a way out of this fine mess.

“Oh, and darling?” He hums the words in your ear, as close to a whisper as his gruff voice can make. “Don’t think I ever got your name…”

You pretend you’ve fallen asleep. Perhaps the only thing worse than his deep voice calling you those pet names, would be him calling your name as he looks at you with that lovesick gaze. No, you are already asleep; Eden sighs but doesn’t try to wake you. He readjusts against you once, and than mutters.

“Guess I’ll see in the morning…”

#Eden x reader #dol x reader #dol eden x reader #m eden x reader #degrees of lewdity #Eden the hunter #once again being outed as gross #this is fine though #not sfw #dead dove do not eat

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kivino · 2 years ago

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CALL OF DUTY MASTERLIST

Requests are open!! Make sure to read the rules for requests in my pinned post before requesting!!

Number of requests currently: 5 (whoa wtf)

Everything is (sort of) arranged in chronological order of posting.

Personal favorites are in bold!

If you wish to see my other works, here's a link to my jjk masterlist and to my ao3 profile.

You can also support me on kofi.

Created - 26.08.2023

Last updated - 05.03.2025

HEADCANONS

Fantasy AU with Valeria! - Fluff, SFW

Platonic!TF141 x Eastern European!Reader - Fluff, SFW

Roommate!John ‘Soap’ Mactavish x Reader - Fluff, SFW

FICS

Night time bonding || Simon ��Ghost’ Riley x Gn!Reader - Fluff, SFW

sum. You have a hard time falling asleep. Ghost has the same problem.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader smut drabble - NSFW

sum. The title is pretty self-explanatory.

Hush || Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gn!Reader - Slight angst, fluff, SFW (requested)

sum. Different situations where reader and Ghost hug because he’s too afraid to say “i love you” at the moment, but both of you know what his hugs mean.

Take us back || Zombie AU || Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Gn!Reader - Angst, gore, mcd

sum. The new world was rotten, and you rotted away with it.

Every time, I fall for you || Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Gn!Reader - Fluff, suggestive

sum. Kyle fell for you hard, but he doesn’t know if it’s mutual.

Double vision || John ‘Bravo 0-6’ Price x Paramedic!Gn!Reader (requested) - Fluff, SFW

sum. John gets into a car crash on his leave and meets you - a cute paramedic who instantly attracts his attention.

I don't care what's in your hair || Roommate!John 'Soap' Mactavish x Gn!Reader - SFW, Fluff, Teasing, Friendly banter

sum. Your roommate Johnny comes back after his deployment and his hair looks like it needs a little trimming.

Big guy || Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gn!Reader - SFW, fluff

sum. Ghost takes a liking to the nickname you give him, but struggles to understand just how much he likes it.

Closer || Slasher!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x M!Reader - Dark themes, kidnapping, dead dove do not eat (requested)

sum. You hear various dark rumors from your colleagues and you don’t believe them, until there is one particular ghost looking you right in the eye.

Lost and found || Zombie AU || Parental figure!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Kid!Reader - Platonic, Found family, Hurt/Comfort, Parenting

sum. You both were lost in this new world, but at least you had each other to lean on. Or tales of how Simon Riley deals wit being a parental figure during the zombie apocalypse.

Something for your mind || Platonic!John ‘Bravo 0-6’ Price x Reader (requested) - Angst

sum. Task Force 141 mourned your loss when you went MIA during one of the missions, however eventually you come back, but not in the way one would think of.

Gentle || Roommate!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader - SFW, Fluff

sum. You’ve been having a rough week, but your roommate Simon is there to help you through it.

Promise kept || Zombie AU || Parental figure!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Kid!Reader (requested) - SFW, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

sum. Among blood and whispering ghosts of the past, you would never dream that your caretaker Simon to keep a spur-of-the-moment promise to forever stay with you. Yet he did.

SERIES

Out of the shadows || Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Shadow!Gn!Reader - Slight angst, action, SFW

sum. After the betrayal of Task Force 141 and the slaughter of civilians in Las Almas you decide to leave Shadow Company on the spot, which works out sideways, leaving you with simmering hate towards the man whom you used to look up to and new interesting figures in your life.

First step. - Where you cut ties with Shadows.

Second step. - WIP

Third step. - WIP

Meant for each other || Zombie AU || König x Reader - Stalking, paranoia, unhealthy obsession

sum. A deep-seated paranoia takes ahold of you. Every hour of the day, you feel like you’re being watched. Followed. And you’re not wrong. So observant, so beautiful and perfect, but always dismissed by your group, left behind, not paid even a sliver of attention. How tragic. It’s okay though. König is here to do right by you. F̶̖̓͆̕͝o̷̢͚̲̬̍͠r̶͖̝̾̊̍̾e̸͔͇̣̓̈̊̾v̶̛͚͕́͗͝e̷̤̻͔͎̅̑̽r̴̝̬̩̘͒̒̃ ̴͔͆͋̈͝ȃ̷̢̭̯n̶̡̜̫͚̉̌̊̒ḍ̷̩̲̹͝ ̷̖̔͌͘ả̶̡̬̥͊l̶͕̇̓̄w̴̺̥̋̂͠ä̷̢̢̝́̒͗y̴̳̦̙̕ŝ̶͕̋̀.̵̝̱͒̌̅̆

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four - wip

RANDOM THOUGHTS

Price, who’s down bad for his spouse

What if there was a cure to the zombie virus? (“Take us back” fic related)

Slasher!Ghost

WIPS

Watching her fade away || Hanahaki AU || Platonic!Task Force 141 x F!Reader (requested) - SFW, Angst

Ticklish || Poly!Task Force 141 x F!Reader (requested) - NSFW

Rotten roots || Platonic!Task Force 141 x Reader (requested) - SFW, Hurt/Comfort

With you for the last time || Task Force 141 x Reader (requested) - SFW, Angst, Hurt/No comfort

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electric-guillotines · 2 months ago

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Mousetrap 🔪🐁

Rating: E Relationship: Celia Lede x F!OC Warnings: Graphic violence Tags of note: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Murder, Corruption, Collaring, Choking, Dom/Sub, Mommy Kink, and more

____________________

While I work on larger projects, I also have some spicy offerings from The Price of Flesh, because the sapphics are fighting for our lives and Celia deserves more attention.

____________________

“High flying businessman killed by kidnapping victim in corporate torture sex dungeon.”

It was the kind of thing headlines were made of, a scandal that no news publication could resist from the most prestigious and self-serious outlets to the salacious bottom-feeders in the tabloids.

Celia knew exactly which members of the house staff were all too willing to speak on Harold’s advances, his temper and need for control, cementing the idea of him as a perverse sadist. The irony wasn’t lost on her, but Harold was dead and she wasn’t, so the pig could be remembered for his worst qualities and rot.

Lying was as easy as breathing, she only needed the same smooth charm that let her survive a corporate boardroom. What rankled her pride and nearly tripped her up was playing the part of the abused wife, small and weepy and horrified, playing up her reliance on alcohol and shining a light on that thorny tangle of vulnerability–Celia almost preferred the prospect of death to exposing a weakness. Almost. But she reminded herself it was necessary to sell the deception and support Eden’s “emotional” testimony to the police.

Part of her expected it to all come tumbling down the moment Eden was separated from her, out of sight, out of reach–out of her control. If Eden wanted to escape she could have, bringing Celia directly to the police was just a bonus, and the thought of being played because an especially endearing mouse convinced her to put the noose around her own neck…

It gripped her with a furious, icy panic–a feeling that melted the moment Eden walked out of the police interview and smiled at her.

It took a little time to sort everything out, but with seemingly nothing more to investigate, the case was closed in short order, allowing them to slip away from the entire situation without the prolonged scrutiny of a criminal trial.

The police loved easy answers, it made them look competent. The perpetrator was dead and the victim was alive to tell her side of the tale.

Which was how they ended up on the other side of the country in Vancouver. Familiar enough to start again while legal necessities were sorted through by a trusted lawyer.

Celia had contingencies in case things went nuclear with Harold, she’d always known they would eventually, that level of resentment and volatility couldn’t be sustained forever, she just hadn’t expected to do it so soon, and she had expected to do it alone.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about any of it other than surprised, maybe on edge, still waiting for the guillotine to drop, to be caught in the lie. For right now she–no, they seemed to have gotten away with it…

It was in this state of reflection that Celia found herself watching Eden shower through the half open door, lying on a plush hotel bed. She’d long since taken off her shoes and jacket. A five hour flight wasn’t exactly tiring, everything else leading up to it, however, the back and forth with the police, waiting with a pit of nerves in her stomach every time Eden left to sort out her own affairs, finally making plans to leave–she didn’t want to think about it anymore so she focused on Eden instead.

She wasn’t being creepy, Celia told herself, the fogged up glass made details fuzzy anyway, but it struck her that she didn’t really know what the other woman looked like outside the masculine office wear. Even the times they met to speak with the police and corroborate their story it seemed Eden preferred masculine clothing in general, a lot of blacks, leather, and silver.

It was never important before. Her mice were passing amusements, mannequins to dress up and break under heel—she hadn’t planned for one getting under her skin and nesting behind her ribs. Not to mention that her previous “guests” were men.

Men were always obstacles, ignorant overbearing pigs and smug self-important weasels who had never listened to the word “no.” But women—that was complicated. Other women were dangerous, jostling for the same limited space at the top, waiting for a chance to strike–women were threats.

Sex with men was an expectation, a tool to leverage if need be and rarely something Celia found herself enjoying but her enjoyment wasn’t the point. Men rarely bothered to even check, confident that just bestowing a woman with the “gift” of his cock was more than enough to get her going. Women had never crossed Celia’s mind in that context, not for any repulsion on her part but simply because it wasn’t a path that felt open to her.

The way Eden’s tongue felt against her, however…

She chewed her lip. She hadn’t been prepared for how good it felt. Even the way Eden screamed did something different to her, sending a hot flash of roaring hunger through her body.

Harold’s dying face crossed her mind again. Too white teeth turning pink, then red, eyes bulging as he pawed helplessly at the wet chasm where his Adam’s apple used to be. And Eden above him, face frozen in a wild rictus grin, eyes bright and piercing, and looking directly at her, asking so many silent questions at once.

‘ Do you like this? Have I been good? Are you happy with me?’

Taking another human’s life and all Eden could focus on was if she approved.

A tingling ripple of warmth rolled through her gut and sank lower, smouldering.

If her rational mind hadn’t kicked in Celia could have ridden Eden’s grinning face right then and there. Probably would have gotten Harold’s blood all over her thighs in the process as Eden dug her nails in…

Of course, it had occurred to her that Eden’s clever little trap wasn’t meant for Harold. Eden had no idea Harold would be there, that he even knew where they were–thus, the only logical answer was that she had fully expected to catch Celia .

The thought of Eden getting the wire around her neck elicited a somewhat bewildering response. A cold spike of dreadful realisation, yes, and a shivering upswell of heat as she imagined herself struggling against Eden’s strong body, soft lips and hard teeth at her neck, the wire constricting her breath yet not cutting into her skin–Celia shoved the thought away.

Harold walked through the door first. Whatever Eden planned, the pig was dead and she was free to carry on with her life, she could overlook the intent when the result was so obviously in her favour.

The water shut off and Eden stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to start drying off. She paced by the door, arms raised to get the water out of her hair and leaving the rest of her body completely exposed to Celia’s curious stare.

She was pale like someone who worked night shift, with the build of a CrossFit enthusiast who didn’t care about fad diets. She clearly wasn’t trying to fit a standard set by the leering dogs in charge of everything, but she did fit nicely into a suit. Her ears had multiple piercings and the shoulder length mop of wavy hair on her head was dyed a pale violet.

Her nipples were pierced too and a scattering of gruesome scars across her body implied some kind of accident in her past—she wore them well.

What did Eden say she was before they met? A nurse? No, she mentioned driving a lot, always doing nights, responding to emergencies–a paramedic. That made sense, always on the go, rarely out in the sun.

Celia found herself lingering on Eden’s face, on soft lips, a Roman nose and deep green eyes…

Eyes.

Eden had caught her staring.

Celia pointedly ignored the way her cunt throbbed, turning away from the bathroom door with a scowl and embarrassingly hot cheeks like some flustered schoolgirl. She grit her teeth, pushing that girlish sensation down and away.

She needed to see how her Mouse behaved now that everything with Harold and their less than conventional meeting was behind them. Eden wasn’t her captive, freedom was there for the taking, had been for weeks now, and she’d already done more than any sane person would expect from her–Celia still wasn’t sure she understood why Eden did what she did.

But if this was how things were going to be, if Eden really was set on being with her going forward…

Another throb. She pressed her thighs together.

One step at a time.

[Continue Reading on AO3]

#tpof #the price of flesh #celia lede #tpof oc #lesbian #sapphic #evil lesbians #Eden Tremblay

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mermaids-and-robots · 19 days ago

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Title: The Executioner's Handywork Summary: Reader finds herself in Silent Hill, unaware what events unfolded that brought her here. She wanders around the town looking for anything that could help her out. She finds herself in a labyrinth within this hellish nightmare, only to be met with someone, or something, that she remembers from a long time ago. Word count: 5,354 Fandom: Silent Hill Pairing: Pyramid Head x Female Reader Warnings/Additional tags: 18+, smut/lemon, horror, body horror, rape/non-con elements, dubious consent, vaginal fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, monster fucking, tentacles, exophilia, blood mention, death mention, abuse mention, suicide mention, memory loss, swearing, paranoia, being lost, kidnapping, dacryphilia, size kink, language barrier, choking, dead dove do not eat. Originally posted to AO3 on June 27, 2024. AO3 link

You walk the dreary road that leads to a town which is heavily enveloped in fog. The air is cool and damp, and your surroundings are eerily quiet. You keep looking over your shoulder, expecting something to be there lurking behind you, hardly in the distance, but there's nothing there. The odd shadow or dark figure lurches out of your sight every now and again, but you muster it up to it being your mind playing tricks on you.

The last thing you recall is... well, nothing. You can't remember anything. You don't know how you got here or when, and you don't know why you're here. Though, it feels like you're looking for something and it's here, in this strange town. What it is, however, you're unsure.

There has been no trace of another person or living being here, and you don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. You don't know if you'd be thankful or terrified to see someone else here. The town may be silent, overly so, but there's a strange echo within the air, surrounding you and everything else in its reach. It's like a low hum with a deep dragging sound, almost like something metallic and heavy is being drug. It sounds both distant and nearby, closing in on you as you try to maintain a safe feeling distance.

Your skin is clammy and you curse yourself for wearing a dress. If you knew you'd be in this situation, you would have stuck with your regular jeans and t-shirt combo. But, this town nor its weather were on your docket. Right, you recall, I put a dress on today because back home, it's sunny and warm. You were going for a stroll in your small town. Still, how you ended up here alludes you. A knee length dress and tennis shoes isn't the ideal outfit for such a scenario.

You arrive at the town itself, having been on the outskirts of it for some time now. You haven't seen a sign yet, and if you've passed by any, the fog has made it impossible to see. Old style buildings line the streets. Mom and Pop shops, a small family owned barber, a candy store, and a simple pharmacy to start. You try the door to the pharmacy, telling yourself perhaps there's something in there you could use. It doesn't budge, though. "Fuck!" you curse to yourself. You turn around and continue on down the sidewalk, keeping a sharp eye out.

A block later and you come across a pet store. Its door is propped open, looking broken and it's stayed that way since. You go inside. The sunlight is dimmed by the fog, and any light that does make it inside only makes it a few feet before being consumed by the dark. You dare not go any further than the light allows. You don't find anything of use.

You walk some more, block after block passing you by with houses, shops, and a bar on the corner. You try the knob and it's unlocked, so you welcome yourself in. It's dim in here as well, but you're still able to see just enough. On the counter top of the bar, you see a paper splayed out. It's a map. You look over it, and it's already been marked. There's a few circles and X's, apparently marking important spots. Writing on the right side of it gets your attention. It's old and aged, the marker smudged, and you can only make out bits and pieces of said note. It reads, "---y -s -o--. Y-u --d t--s, James. --O DI- THI-. K--L Y--RS--F -O-." You scrunch your forehead at the odd note and conclude that none of this is meant for you. "Weird..." you say, looking to your right, and sitting on the bar top is a flashlight. You perk up, as it's just what you could use right now. Flicking the switch does nothing, and giving it a few jolts still doesn't light it up. It's of no use to you.

As you walk past the map to leave, you notice a detail you didn't before - the name at the top. 'Silent Hill.' You must've missed it due to the lighting and curiosity to see what else the map had on it.

You leave the bar, perhaps more confused now than when you first arrived. Sure, you know where you are now... sort of. Silent Hill isn't any place you've been to or heard of before. The name makes your head hurt and it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You ignore the feeling and continue walking, hoping to find another open door that leads to something more useful.

There's no way to tell the time. Your phone isn't on you, you have no watch, and there hasn't been a clock in sight anywhere. The sun doesn't penetrate the thick clouds, and the lighting simply doesn't change. Therefore, you have not even an estimation on the time of day.

You walk and wander with little to go off of. Still no being has been seen and at this point, if you did see someone, you'd jump out of your skin. It would feel foreign and cursed to see someone here after being alone for so long.

At the end of a long stretch of road, you see something through the haze in the distance. Right now, it's nothing more than a lump on the ground. It could be nothing, or it could be a huge find for you. Either way, you make your way to it, nerves growing more uneasy the closer you get. You squint, attempting to make out what it might be, but the fog still frustrates your vision.

Some long moments later and you're able to see what it is. It's a body. A dead body. It's slumped over, almost folded in half. You can tell that it's a woman, but you don't take any initiative to prod around and find out. It makes you uncomfortable, but the feeling is caused by more than it being a dead body. You look around with quick eyes to see if there's a long, sturdy object you can use to move her. Against a nearby fence is a steel pipe, about three feet long. It's definitely strong enough to move her and, just in case, hold her if she slips towards you.

You pick it up and it's weighty, as to be expected, but you lift it anyway to get accustomed to how it moves and feels. You approach the woman again, that creeping disturbed feeling upon you once more. Using the pipe, you shimmy it carefully under the front of her shoulders and you try to lift, rather pry, her from herself. The body is well past dead, stiff as a rock, and it doesn't budge. You try and you try to no avail, and you edge on hopelessness. But, you muster up what feels like the last of your strength and you give it one more try. This time adding all of your weight onto your end as a counter balance. She cracks and almost whines, it sounds like, and it squicks you out but you power through, ignoring all of the gut feelings and odd sensations you're getting.

Her body unhinges, flinging open as if she were a door that needed prying to open. She lands on her back, and you're momentarily impressed that she's laying so flat. Her arms are by her sides, running parallel to her body. Your eyes go to her face and you scream out, dropping the pipe out of sheer terror.

She is you. She has the same face, body type, hair length and color, and everything else as you. Compared to you, other than being dead, she's not that different. That is, until you examine her further and see that her eyes have been gouged out, leaving nothing but black holes with blood running down her face. Her mouth hangs open, crooked, and all of the teeth are gone.

Dread overcomes you and your blood runs cold. A voice in the back of your mind is alarming you to get out of here now. You look down to her, this corpse of yourself, one more time, and it gasps in harshly, chest twitching as if it's in pain. You shout and jump back, then begin to sprint away as you hear it shuffling behind you.

Do you look over your shoulder? Or, do you keep your eyes forward and keep going? Which fate would be worse?

You have no idea which direction you started to run, and it doesn't matter. All you know right now is that you have to get away from whatever that thing was, and to safety. But nothing is safe here, you realize, and no amount of shelter, light, food and water, or prayer will save you. No matter how much you run or where you try to hide, whatever is chasing you down will find you.

Your body slams into a set of doors, opening them with a loud bang and they shut just as loud behind you. It's pitch black in this building, and you've got no idea where you are. You grope around on the walls for a light switch or a bulletin board in hopes of a map. The walls are bare and cold.

Your breathing is heavy and uneven and your sweat is making you chilly. You feel your way around and hope that your eyes will adjust quickly. You round a corner and continue to feel your way around, wondering if you've just wandered into a labyrinth. Seconds feel like minutes, and minutes feel like hours until your hand finally combs across a door knob. A good jiggle and it opens. Your left hand instinctively goes to the wall and lands on a switch. Flicking it up causes the lights to slowly hum to life. You stand there for a while, catching your breath and letting your eyes adjust as much as they can. The lights are dull and they flicker every so often, giving you a scare that they'll die at any given moment.

Once you've collected yourself and your eyes are comfortable, you take in your current surroundings. You're at the top of a stairwell, and it goes down, down, down... You can't see the depths of it since it appears to go on forever. The lights stop at the false end of it. The situation makes your stomach drop, but you decide to push forward, admitting to yourself that there's no other way. Being in here is better than being outside, where your corpse was trying to get you. Who knows if there's more of them.

You begin to make your way down the never ending staircase, one step at a time. Your pace stays slow but consistent, as you're afraid to go further, not knowing what lurks down there. The strange echoing that you heard outside earlier can be heard in the staircase. It's echoing up towards you, a bit louder now, and every minute it becomes louder, beckoning you.

Along with the echo, you hear voices. They're faint at first, but once you put your focus on them, you're able to hear them clearly. It's mom and yourself, arguing over boyfriends, finances, and family members. The memories play in your mind with crystal clear vision. It's almost like you're watching it being projected as you walk down the stairs. Seeing and hearing her so vividly makes you sick to your stomach. Interrupting, it's now your dad. He's screaming at you as you try to defend yourself, but he's not listening. He's cursing at you and blaming you for everything. He's calling your mother a bitch and yelling that you're a liar. Mom gets involved, and you can hear him strike her. It flashes to another moment where he stands before you with a knife. A twinge of fear shoots through your chest, causing you physical pain.

Many other voices from your life can be heard, all from people you've known for a very long time or for only but a moment. Every scenario is one that was difficult to deal with then, and is hard to relive now. The thoughts flood your mind of what could have happened versus what did happen, and how many of those situations could have been avoided if you didn't say or do what you did. The guilt overwhelms your body and it makes you want to vomit.

If there was a way out of this hell, you would take it right now. You'd end it all just to be free of these feelings. It's beginning to give you a migraine and you're about ready to rip your damn hair out. This is making you miserable.

Your feet stumble off of the last step onto a dirt floor. The doorway that led you here from the extensive stairway disappears. The voices and vivid memories have stopped, but the echoing can still be heard. You spin around only to realize that you're trapped in a solid room. It's just you and the noise now. You have nothing you can do but wait, so you do, not moving from the spot you landed in.

An unknown amount of times passes and the once dark room suddenly has a dim light in it, as well as a doorway ahead of you. You make your way to it, oddly relieved to have another destination. It brings you into a hallway of what looks like either a hotel or an apartment building. You sigh, not sure what to make of this. You tell yourself that it's better than being miles underground. But by how much? You accept your fate, as you can't go back, and nor do you want to, and begin walking.

The echoing noise goes on, not sounding any further or closer than before. It's become your only solace.

You meander the halls with no rhyme or reason. The building speaks to you through creaks and moans of the aged wooden floorboards and squeaky door hinges. The draft brushes against your clammy flesh, each one causing a shiver.

You turn yet another corner and come within an inch of bumping into the only live being you've seen thus far. Your brain doesn't give you any time to process who, or what, it is, as you turn around rapidly and make an attempt to run. This fails, however, as a huge, meaty hand grabs onto you carelessly. The being picks you up within its hand, that's just as clammy as you are, and carries you elsewhere. It takes you down into the bowels of the building, where the echo grows deeper, groaning in your ears.

Any attempt to fight or yell gets you squeezed, which causes immense pain. This being could easily snap you in half and you'd rather not piss it off. You hate it here in Silent Hill, but you're not ready to die yet.

Whoever or whatever is carrying you has a giant sword in the other hand, dragging on the ground. That's when you realize what that noise was. That strange echo was the sword all along, and it's only louder now because you've found the source.

The being places you down and, out of fear, you don't move a muscle. Knowing they could snap you in half scares you, but now you know about the great sword, which could swiftly put an end to you. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness of Silent Hill, and you see that it walks around the area it brought you to. You're unaware what it's doing, if anything.

Finally, it drives its great sword into a specific part of the wall nearby, shaking the entire room. Dust falls and wood chips crumble to the floor. The wall where the sword is wedged into has deep marks in the wood, clearly having been consistently driven into.

The figure emerges forward, towards you, and you stand still. He towers over you at seven feet tall. Muscles shape his form from head to toe, or at least the parts you can see. He wears a strange pyramid helmet, hiding the entirety of his face. A nightmare you had as a child flashes in your mind, and he was in it. It scared you to death as a kid, and you had it on multiple occasions. You never truly got to defeat him, and now you're asking yourself if that's why you're in Silent Hill. How in the world would you be able to defeat him? He has every advantage against you and you have nothing to fight with. The only thing you could do is plead for your life, but you don't think that will save you with a being that has a presence like he does.

You take a deep breath in to build up your courage and to find your words. You don't know if he can speak or if he would understand the words you say. A strange thought crosses your mind, and you ask yourself if he knows you. Such a thing isn't impossible, but definitely strange. You wonder, since you had that recurring dream with him in it many years ago, if he somehow knows you because of it.

You gulp down your fear and speak. "I'm not sure if you know me, but I know you." You stand, unmoving, and all he does is look at you observantly. "I had a dream with you in it years ago. I was a child then. I had the same dream a few times, but I never got to the end of it." Still the same response from him. "I don't know if I was sent here to defeat you or something else, but you don't have to hurt me. Okay?"

He looks at you, still observing, almost curious, and he tilts his head ever so slightly. He takes a step toward you and you tense up, horrified, but stand firm.

"Can you understand me? Are you able to say anything?" You ask these questions, still not moving even as he inches closer to you. "Am I here because of you?" You try to get another word out but can't, as his strong hand has snaked its entire girth around your neck. He picks you up, choking you, and you tell yourself that this is it, this is how it ends. Your finger nails dig into his hand but it doesn't affect him whatsoever.

A long, black, eel like tongue creeps out from under his helmet and closes the distance between you. Squirming in his grip, your feet off the floor, you attempt to wiggle away but it's of no use. His hand on your neck isn't squeezing like it was and you can breathe, as he's just holding you now. He doesn't need to threaten or hurt you for you to obey him. His tongue replaces his hand, wrapping itself around your neck, and you begin to choke again. You want to scream and fight, but nothing you do will help you. You have two options: let him do what he's going to do, or die in an attempt to fight. Still, you err on the side of caution and assume that he won't kill you as long as you go with it.

You're gasping for air now and he stops, dropping you to the ground. It's not that you expected him to be a good host in such a place, but that fall hurt, and the least he could've done is put you down gently or try to catch you.

Before you can compose yourself, he picks you up in his hand and holds you tightly. This time, you notice, he's not holding you to the point of it hurting. Was he being careful with you now? That couldn't be the case.

His tongue wiggles out once more, this time making its way for your face. You, again, try to get away from it but fail. It slicks against your lips and it's slimy and cool to the touch. The feeling of it grosses you out and you try not to gag. You throw your head side to side, aiming to avoid this creatures tendril. He over powers you though and with a quick, tough squeeze, he puts you in your place, warning you to stop messing around. It was more than enough and it made you stop avoiding him.

He forces his tongue into your mouth and slithers it down into your throat, making you gag and choke on him. Your hands reach up to stop him, but his free hand grabs both of your hands with ease and keeps them away from his tongue. You writhe in his grasp and, for the first time, he makes a noise. It's a deep and guttural groan, and it sounds like he's pleased to be making you squirm. His moan reverberates within the walls of the room and makes your insides feel a certain way.

He stops assaulting your throat and pulls his tongue out and it returns to under his helmet. When it does, he lets out another noise, this time quieter than the last, but it's still just as bassy. He holds onto your hands still, now dangling your form before him. He does nothing but look at you, or so you assume. He takes in the shape of your body and how your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He takes in how your eyes look at him, sometimes darting around the area for a possible escape. There's no escape for you, and you both know it.

He places you onto the ground and motions his hand toward you in a vague manner. You don't do anything, clueless as to what he wants. He does it again, this time more fervently. "I don't know what that means," you tell him. You roll over possibilities in your head quickly, as to not anger him. You've got nothing on you but your clothes. "Do you... do you want my clothes off?" He doesn't say anything or move, and nothing but the sudden heavy, loud breathing under his mask gives you an answer. That's all he could possibly mean, right? You do as he told you to and remove your clothing, and now you stand completely naked before him. You want to cover your chest but he doesn't let you, picking you up with one hand.

He dangles you by your hands and uses his other hand to spread your legs, your cunt now exposed to the cold, damp air of Silent Hill. He lets out a low moan, a small one compared to the last couple. You hate to admit it, but his noises are doing things to you. He places you onto the ground again and motions towards the wall. You stand with your back against the wall now and he makes you spread your legs again for him. He has his hands on your thighs, but he lets you do the action yourself. You're hoping he doesn't notice your arousal, as it's going to give you away at some point.

His uses a single finger to touch you, and you're much warmer than he was expecting. It delights him. Your wet lips caress his finger as he slides through you, feeling you, and he moves it up to your clitoris. He stops when you breathe in sharply, again making you wonder if he's being careful with you. A second later when he notices it wasn't a whine of pain, but rather of pleasure, he keeps going. He continues to slide his finger over your clit and back through your folds, then back up to your nub again just to repeat the process.

He delves his finger into you and reaches your depths. Just his finger alone is almost more than enough for you to take, but he keeps going deeper, stretching you out more. He toys with you, wiggling and jerking his finger in every which direction to see what you like the most. Your pussy takes him in, your arousal leaking down his finger, glistening in the pale light. He removes himself much to your disappointment.

His black tongue comes back out to play, this time going down to where his finger was. He gets his body closer to you and places a hand around your waist, pinning you to the wall. There's no escape. His tongue flicks at your clit and you gasp, looking up to him. You wear an expression that shows him how desperate you are, how you'll take whatever he gives to you. His creepy tongue does magical things to you, tracing around your clit, alternating between harsh and lazy licks.

He tires of this and needs to taste your insides, so he wastes no time with diving his tongue into your pussy. Your juices squelch around him and you let out a moan, which spurs him to tongue fuck you faster. Directly, it's too much pleasure for your body to handle and you cum, constricting around his tongue inside of you. He lets out one of those guttural groans again and it does things to you as your orgasm keeps on. Before you can comprehend what's going on, and before your orgasm is even over, he pulls his tongue out and it recedes back under his mask. He turns you around and pushes you against the wall, forcing your legs apart. He takes a step closer to you and his body dominates yours. The size difference makes you that much wetter.

Next, he presses something warm and hard against your center, soaking whatever it is between your pussy lips. "Holy shit..." you whisper, now knowing what it is and what he's doing. His cock is massive and he's about to absolutely destroy you. "I-" you breathe out, extremely aroused, "I'm not sure if it'll fit." He grunts at you, as if it's a demand that it will fit.

He sticks the tip in and you moan out, still trying to get over your ruined orgasm. Much to your surprise, he goes slow, but you're not sure if he's doing it for you or himself. He breaths are super heavy, bassy in your ears, and he drives himself deeper and lets out another deep noise. With each inch that he puts into you, each movement he makes, you and him moan in unison. He wants to help himself and use you as he wants, but he's reveling in the feeling of taking his time with you and how you react. He doesn't want to hurt you, even if you don't know it.

After an eternity, he's buried to the hilt in your soaking cunt, dripping down his length and onto his lower half. He places his hands on your hips and begins to move you up and down on his shaft. He starts with a reasonable pace at first, but he picks up speed once he feels that you've accommodated to him well enough. Even if you didn't, no amount of fighting him would make him stop. He wants you to take him, all of him.

He's got you bouncing on his cock now. Even though his hands are still on your hips, he's let you take control and you've been riding him on your own for a while now. He watches you bounce on him and enjoys the sight as your ass jiggles whenever your center meets his. Your pussy takes his length so easy and you feel so good wrapped around him. Warm and tight, just for him. His dick brushes against your favorite spots and slams into your insides, causing you a pleasurable pain. You pant and moan, whining at the feelings.

You're chasing your high now, you're not far from it. You curse and mewl, ready for your release. Just as you're about to burst, he stops and pulls out of you completely, laying down on the ground and bringing you down on top of him. "That's twice now that you've ruined it for me!" you let out, joking about the situation. He pays no attention to your complaint and sinks you down onto his cock, hands on your waist, and he uses your body for himself. The action stuns you and shuts you up, immediately making you chase that high once more.

Your eyes close and you focus on your impending orgasm. He's reaching new depths inside of you, tickling the perfect places, all of it causing you to feel that warm, tight coil in your stomach become more pronounced. You place your hands on his chest, his skin now warm and sweaty, the muscles moving under your fingers. You feel how thick and veiny he is. His hands clench onto you and force you to pound onto him harder. It causes that wonderful pain again. All of the sensations he's giving to you, over and over, it's too much for your body to take.

Your orgasm washes over you and your eyes shoot open and you take in the sight of him, making your walls squeeze him tighter. He lets out his infamous groan which only spurs your climax to keep its pace. His fingertips dig into you, causing that sweet sensation he gives you - hurt, but it's mostly unintentional.

He still makes your hips roll against his as he's not finished with you yet. His tongue makes a final appearance, slinking for your lips and this time you welcome him. The sensation it caused the first time initially disgusted you, but deep down you enjoyed it. Something about not being able to say no or fight back made it erotic for you, and he loved seeing you struggle, both to avoid him and gain composure.

His tongue now in your mouth, you suck on it as if it were his dick and you welcome however much he feeds to you. He gives you more and you continue your ministrations as he snakes it down your throat, gagging you. You still manage to moan around him, his hands holding you tighter. Your pussy is sensitive now after having such an intense orgasm, but he's not done. Once he thinks you've had enough of his tongue prodding at your insides, he pulls it out, only for it to retreat to your clit. He licks you vehemently and doesn't slow down, no matter how much you wriggle and whine. He disregards your over-sensitivity and uses it to his advantage, knowing that you like it - and you do. He keeps at it, causing you to squeal and shout.

He feels his hard member inside of you begin to throb as his climax gets closer. He continues tickling over your clit to taste you, and your legs spasm on either side of him. He knows that he's giving you too much to handle right now, and it draws a noise out of him. But, he can't help but keep teasing you, knowing you can't and won't stop him.

"Please!" you let out, "It's too much. Please stop, I'm begging you!" You cry out, and some tears fall down your cheeks. He persists, but puts more pressure on your clit with his tongue, which unleashes your final orgasm. It's so intense and overwhelming that you shake around him. Your pussy grips him tighter than before, causing him to spill his cum inside of you. This grunt is the deepest, most monster-like one he's let out yet. He pumps you full of cum, the hot, white liquid spilling where you meet. His tongue laps at your clit a few more times before retreating back to its home inside of his helmet. He continues to let out his noises, groaning loudly and breathing heavily. Your walls only flutter around him now, no longer gripping him for dear life.

You still don't have any idea how you got here, but perhaps the nightmare has just begun.

#original post #silent hill fanfic #pyramid head x female reader

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