#if you wanna come rape me yourself you can!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nereidprinc3ss · 1 month ago

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do you believe me now? | 9

in which we find out how the morning after went for fem!reader. you finally share with spencer after unanticipated anxieties come up. you're continually shocked by his affection for you.

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this series is 18+ (angst, fluff) warnings/tags: (preface none of the bad stuff is done by spencer) sexual harassment, slut shaming, non consensual voyeurism of sorts, blood + pain from losing virginity, talk of rape (nothing like that actually happens), implied nonspecific age gap (someone says he looks slightly older than you) non sexual nudity, showering together, intimacy, ewww being in love is embarrassing a/n: I honestly was not gonna post this today but I decided to bc it's just Tumblr its not that deep also you can probably tell I am just creating problems bc I don't wanna let go of them...... ik this is supposed to be a smutty series btw and trust good things come to those who wait!!!but anyways idk what I'm doing and I kinda hate this!! lolol!!!

Friday morning

The air is thick when you wake up—the angle of the sun through the window is lower than usual, and the binding weight of your limbs as you struggle to stretch in place all suggest that you’ve slept in.

But you don’t check the time quite yet—for a moment, you simply lie there, studying the pattern on your ceiling, downloading the events of the previous night.

Flashes of skin on skin, lips, breaths, whispers, promises. Phantom sensations.

Was it even real?

Your apartment is deafeningly silent, you realize. And you have that sinking sense, which you can’t quite explain but know to be true—that you are alone. Spencer is gone. You can’t feel him like you’d be able to if he were simply on the couch or in the kitchen. He’s definitely not in bed with you, and the sheets have long gone cold.

The truth of it renders about as slowly as your sluggish consciousness does, and you frown, not quite sure what to do with that information. Should you be angry? Should you cry?

Mostly you’re confused.

As soon as you sit up, sore thighs and abs and a strange ache between your legs confirm that last night was not a dream nor a figment of your imagination. You’ll figure out what to do about your twinging body in a moment—for now you rub your eyes and blindly reach for the bedside table, knocking several things to the ground in your quest for your phone.

It’s not there, you realize, once you actually try to use your eyes. It’s not in bed with you either as you pat the sheets, and it doesn’t materialize as you sit on your knees and shake out the comforter.

From this venture, however, you learn two things. First, Spencer must’ve taken it upon himself to get you dressed last night, which you have no recollection of, but you doubt you sleepwalked your way into underwear and a big t-shirt; and second—you bled.

It wasn’t something you were thinking about in the moment, but now, faced with all the evidence and none of the pleasure of last night’s activities, it’s jarring. A stark, unforgiving archipelago of red on a pristine sea of white.

People say, at its best, sex brings couples closer. Spencer once told you it could facilitate feelings of deeper connection. But here you are, no longer a virgin, and what do you have to show for it? A stronger bond with your boyfriend? He’s not even here.

All you have is this glaring red stain marring perfectly good sheets. It mocks you, like something you’ve dropped and can’t pick back up. You can’t think looking at it, and you need to think, and so in a fit of frustration you’re pulling the comforter onto the floor, leaning over your mattress and yanking the fitted sheet free. You ball it up in your hands, breathing heavily—and realize you bled through to the mattress.

Wonderful.

Spencer’s just at work, you tell yourself, grabbing the first pair of shorts you see and pulling them on before gathering the ruined sheet once more and stomping on aching legs through your apartment to the hallway, not even bothering with shoes. He can’t just play hooky because his clingy girlfriend lost her virginity and needs to be comforted like some previously celibate high school cheerleader.

But you miss him so much it’s making you angry, so much your eyes are stinging and welling with tears of frustration as you shove your bed linens down the trash chute at the end of your floor’s hallway. You’re supposed to be independent. That’s how you’ve always been. Since when does it bother you to wake up alone? It’s just sex. It’s not as big a deal for him as it is for you. Or for anyone. You’re the one overreacting, you’re the one who expects too much. He works for the FBI, for god’s sake. There are people dying, and here you are—

“What’chya got there?”

The gruff voice makes you jump, and you turn around just as the bundle is disappearing down into the hole in the wall. It’s your neighbor, Jerry—the one in the unit right next to you. You’re not happy to see him, especially like this. He’s got a blue 5 o’clock shadow despite the hour, and is clad in ill-fitting gray sweats and a pair of ratty slippers. His distended belly strains at the confines of an oil-stained white shirt, tied with a dingy checkered robe. You barely meet his drooping eyes before looking longingly back at your cracked door down the hall.

“Just… garbage.” You shift your weight, hiding a wince as you try to find a comfortable position to stand in. Jerry notices this, and you wish his eyes wouldn’t linger on your bare legs like that.

“Huh. Looks like someone had a late night.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s just noon and you’re still in your PJ’s.”

Disgusting. And who the fuck is he to judge? At least your pajamas are clean.

You shrug. “Yeah.”

He scratches his bald head.

“So that boy tired you out pretty good, huh?”

Your stomach drops. Your brain freezes.

When you don’t reply, he takes the liberty of continuing on.

“Saw him sneaking out of your apartment in the middle of the night. He looked a little older ’n you. You like ’em older?” His laugh is a cruel bark. “Yeah… He’s a lucky man. You know, it’s natural for a man to like a younger girl. Fresh meat, ’n all.” You try to speak and can only swallow a gag. Jerry adjusts his stance, hands in pockets like he’s telling you a local news story. “Heard some of it. Sounded like you were putting on quite the show. And sure, a young pretty thing like you? Hell, I would if I could. But I’ll tell you right now, you don’t wanna end up like my daughter. She wasn’t as pretty as you, but still—three kids with three men by the time she was 24. She should'a kept her damn legs closed. You know, she loved to cry rape, but you gotta ask yourself, if your legs are open all the damn time, what do you expect? Back in the day we all knew girls like that—” he bats the air dismissively. “Guess you can’t call ’em sluts anymore—they get what they’re asking for one way or another. See, I think everyone still knows it and they’re just too afraid to say it. So my advice: don’t let yourself get used up, you hear me? Not by men who are gonna ride you hard and put you away wet. So to speak. Men can smell a girl like that from a mile away, and they’ll take it as an open invitation. It’s just human nature.”

When he finally stops talking, the hallway fills with a vacuous silence. It makes your ears ring. Several moments pass, but you’re frozen. Your whole body feels intolerably hot but your blood is freezing. How are you supposed to react?

“Hello?” He says, voice loud enough to hurt your ears as it echoes.

Get out of here, your more rational self says to the rest of you, and you mumble something, you don’t even know what, excusing yourself to hurry on stiff legs back down the hall to your door.

Once inside, you do up every lock on your door, and face your apartment, shoulders tensed practically to your ears and fists clenched so tight your arms are trembling. On autopilot you look around for something to do, but there’s nothing. More importantly, nobody.

I’ll call Spencer. He’ll know what to do.

No, you won’t, your higher self reminds you. You lost your phone. And besides, it’s clearly not like he wanted to stick around last night. Maybe he doesn’t even like you anymore.

So you’re stuck here. Stranded. Sharks can smell blood.

Processing that information, you walk back to your bedroom and close the door behind you—before promptly sinking to the ground and burying your face in the duvet with a deep, silent sob.

That goes on for a few minutes until you realize you’re too achy and you can’t breathe and you’re forced onto your side, curling up in your blanket on the floor like it’s a nest and not a burial plot.

You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. A relationship can’t implode twice in 24 hours. You don’t have your phone. Maybe he’s texted you.

But is that really all you’re worth? A text sent after the fact? He couldn’t sacrifice a few hours to sleep by your side? Couldn’t even wake you up to say goodbye? You think about the sweet things he’d said afterward—the way he held you, fingers dancing down your spine. Promises he made when you were half asleep in his arms, so sure he’d be there when you woke up.

Even fucking Jerry the neighbor—who you think might have just sexually harassed you in the hallway—said Spencer should’ve stuck around.

Fuck.

No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t even matter. They were just words.

Heard some of it. Sounded like you put on quite the show.

Your skin crawls and your stomach turns as you hold yourself tighter. Something that was supposed to be private and special—and some random man not only had a front row seat to your deflowering but felt comfortable talking about it with you. It feels like a violation. Like he crashed a really important party. If you had known you had an audience last night, you never would’ve done it.

The way he looked at you, tracing your legs with his eyes like he was touching you—

You scramble up from the floor and walk heavily on your knees to the dresser, digging up a pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. You should be showering, but you don’t want to deal with your body right now. You just want to hide.

Friday evening—present

After your conversation, Spencer seems eager to make sure the car ride to his apartment is not reminiscent of the car ride to yours last night—he holds your hand, resting in your lap, bringing your knuckles to his lips at a red light. Every few moments he glances over at you, maybe to appreciate the view (though you doubt it’s especially scenic at the moment) or perhaps to gauge your mood. The further away you get from your apartment building the better you feel, and you try to focus on that. Sure—maybe you had a shit day, but Spencer’s here now, and he didn’t leave you after all. In fact, since finding your phone, you’ve seen the series of very sweet and highly concerned messages he sent over the course of a few hours. They almost make your stomach hurt. It would’ve been really nice to have those earlier.

He doesn’t ask you any more of the hard questions, but you sense an inquisition in the works and getting closer with every curious glance he gives you. It’s like he’s unwrapping you, layer by layer, using his impressive cognitive faculties to drill through your skull into your brain and deeper still into your soul.

Back in his apartment you sit awkwardly on the bed. Last time you’d been here, things hadn’t gone so well for you.

The shower starts in the adjoined bathroom, and Spencer comes out a moment later, warm light seeping into the darkened bedroom. Purple and dark blue mixing with yellow, like a bruise.

“Hey. Water’s warm.”

You hum, smoothing the material of his neatly made bed with your palm and watching the way it flattens. That had been your doing. You may have thought he was on the verge of breaking up with you last time you slept here, but you didn’t want to leave his home a mess. Didn’t want to leave any evidence of your having been here.

A moment passes. You thumb at a thread and don’t look up.

Spencer crosses the space without a word and crouches in front of you, hands coming up to cup the back of your legs, running knee to ankle and up again.

“Can you tell me what’s going on? Please?” He asks softly. His voice wrings your heart out. Now that you’re in a completely different space, and you’re not so alone anymore, you’re struggling to sort out your feelings. It should be fine. You’re with Spencer. Presumably he still loves you.

And you still feel terrible.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, just as quietly.

Spencer doesn’t say anything else. I know you don’t want to—and yet. Your lips twist to the side. He’s persistent. Even in his kindness. It’s not the kind of care that falters or buckles when you try turning it away.

“My neighbor said he c—”

You’re forced to stop, frowning by how overcome you are. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. Worse things have happened to you.

“He said he could hear us. Last night.”

Spencer’s hands stop on your legs. You can’t meet his eyes. You’re afraid whatever you find there won’t be the right thing.

“He’s in the unit next to you?”

You nod. “We share a wall.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation and your stomach sinks. He doesn’t understand.

“What did he say?”

“Just… dumb shit,” you scoff, fiercely wiping away a stray tear. “He said he listened and it sounded like I was putting on quite the show. And then he—and then he told me not to let you… use me up, whatever that means. He called me fresh meat, and said I shouldn’t let you ride me hard and put me away wet, and bad things happen to sluts who can’t keep their legs closed.”

You finish with a sharp inhale, briefly leaning down and covering your face with your hands when you realize how upset you really are. You want to hide it.

A fraught moment passes. Spencer reaches for your hands, no doubt to try and pull them away from your face. You spare him the trouble, sitting up with a cavalier sniff before he can touch you and brushing your hair behind your ears.

His voice is uncomfortably quiet. You can’t look at him. “Baby…”

“Don’t. It’s fine. I only told you because you asked.”

It’s not his fault, but you’re mad at him anyway, and so you avoid eye-contact like it’s the plague. Maybe it’s just safe to be mad at him. Maybe he knows that.

Regardless, you’re not in the mood for coddling. It’s borderline repulsive—like trying to mix oil and water. Anything good slides right off of you because maybe you’re not designed to be able to absorb good things.

Nothing changes for a minute—and then he’s standing, offering you a moment alone as he goes to crank the shower off.

As soon as he’s gone all the air is vacuumed from your lungs and you crumple, heaving it back in silently as your head spins and your heart races. It’s like your mind is split in two—half is primal, overwhelming panic, and the other a cold observatory eye, full of disdain and scorn for what it deems a severe overreaction to a few nasty comments made hours ago. You’re so tangled up as you curl in on yourself on your side that you can’t even cry. You’re just trying to remember how to breathe, ignoring the crawling feeling up your spine and the tingling heat at the back of your neck. The shower stops on the downbeat of your staggered breath, and then it’s silent. He’ll come back at any minute and see what a mess you’ve become.

You’ve ruined everything. If only you could’ve kept it to yourself.

When Spencer reappears in the doorway, and sees you collapsed and curling like paper burnt at the edges, he’s quick to return to you.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, trying and failing to brush away hair from your cheek, which is wet—so you were crying—and Spencer shushes you, pushing it away for you as he kneels.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m being dramatic, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Of course, at the end of that declaration, a sob wrenches its way from the depths of you, so bright and cleaving you half expect the smell of ozone to follow. You follow it with a blisteringly self-deprecating laugh.

“Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t minimize it.”

His hand is warm where it rests over your cheek, affectionate, but he sounds frustrated. You frown and sniffle.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell me his name.”

It’s a quiet request, made as gently as his hand cards through the hair at your temple like it’s woven with fragile threads of gold.

“No, Spencer,” you beg, anxiety pooling in your gut and rising in your throat, “please, I don’t want to make it a thing, I don’t want you to talk to him. You’ll just make it worse, it’s fine.”

You look at him imploringly, eyes wide and still welling, hoping to god the gravity of your plead will sink in. His are a bed of coals—somewhere between furious and sympathetic, and you try to appeal to the sympathy.

“It is not fine. Saying sluts get what’s coming to them is not fine, that is a threat, and I’m not going to talk to him. I’m going to have him fucking arrested.”

You scoff.

“For talking to me? Yeah, good luck with that. Cops are really known for being helpful when it comes to sexual harassment.”

“Baby. Men who are comfortable violating your boundaries like that are exponentially more likely to commit an actual violent crime. That is not a safe person for you to be around.”

“He’s not gonna rape me, Spencer! He’s just a gross old man! This is why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d make it a bigger deal than it is! You did it last night and you’re doing it now—you think everyone is out to get me!”

To his credit, he doesn’t so much as raise his voice.

“Of course it’s a big deal. You’re upset.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my own fault.”

Maybe it’s the wrong thing to say. Spencer goes silent for a moment.

“It’s your fault?”

“Yes. It’s my fault because… because now everyone knows that I’m…”

His voice goes impossibly soft again. “Knows that you’re what?”

“I mean, what did I expect?” You sniffle. “It’s an apartment. If I didn’t want to deal with the consequences, I shouldn’t’ve done it.”

He says your name like it’s a ring he twists around his finger as he tries to think—to gather the right words.

“The consequences for having sex do not involve punishment or sexual harassment.”

“It’s the result of my actions, so—”

“No, it’s the result of your neighbor being disgusting. I don’t care what he heard, he doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”

“He—”

“If you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear would you bring it up to the person the next day?”

“Stop interrupting me,” you plead. Spencer looks like he has something to say to that, too, but he swallows it. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I… understand that he shouldn’t have said those things to me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he did, and it was really, really uncomfortable and I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna go back now. Maybe that’s dramatic, but…”

You trail off, studying the ceiling as a fresh wash of tears dampen your cheeks. Spencer’s hand slides down your waist as you wipe your face. “I don’t regret the fact that we slept together. I just regret everything that’s happened since, and if I didn’t do it last night, none of this would’ve happened. I feel like he ruined everything.”

The words end on another cry and you put your hand over your eyes like you could stop it all from coming out. You sniffle. Spencer is quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually whispers, his own voice threaded with emotion. “I…”

He sighs. You push your hair back and look at him.

“What?”

He studies you, chewing on his lip like a nervous tick you’ve never seen before. You sit up again, feet balanced on the edge of the bed frame. Spencer’s eyes remain stuck on you. Again, you ask, “What?”

“I didn’t think about it until you brought it up earlier, but—I did see someone. Him, I think, when I went out to my car to get my bag. He was smoking when I came out, and when I got back into the lobby he was waiting for the elevator. We took it up together, he—he said something to me, so I know he saw me going back to you. I don’t know why he made it sound like I left.”

You frown. “What did he say?”

Spencer hesitates.

“He asked if I had a long night. He was obviously commenting on the fact that I was basically half-dressed and getting an overnight bag from my car at one in the morning, so he could probably gather from context what was going on, but… my point is, he knew I came back and it seems like he was almost trying to make you think I didn’t. So for whatever reason, maybe he was lying about being able to hear you, too. Maybe he just wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s a long shot, Spencer.”

“I know, but… it’s not that long. He obviously gets off on it—and besides, he said you were putting on a show, but you weren’t… you weren’t loud, last night.”

Heats blossoms in your cheeks and you look down at your lap. “Thin walls.”

“Have you ever heard your neighbors before?”

You have to seriously think about it.

“I’ve heard them yelling…”

“Nothing else?”

Again, you consider it. The answer comes as a surprise.

“No.”

“Okay, so… does that maybe help a little bit? I really, really don’t want you to feel like last night was a mistake in any way, or let anyone ruin it for you.”

You breathe deeply. “I know. It… it kinda helps, yeah.”

His hands come to the top of your legs. There’s so much genuine care and concern in his eyes. “Yeah?”

Only when you nod does he relax some. His hands skim your thighs, and you set yours on top of his own. For a few breaths, it’s quiet. And then you laugh.

“What?” Spencer asks, a tentative smile curling his own lips like he doesn’t know if he should be concerned or participate in your mirth.

“I—I don’t know how to say it without being cheesy,” you admit, sniffling the last of your tears away and smiling softly down at him.

“I think you should say it.”

You link your fingers with his on your lap, watching the way they twine like it’s what they were meant to do.

“I was just thinking about how I had, like, the worst day ever. And how much worse it would’ve gotten if you didn’t show up when you did—I would’ve completely spiraled. But you did show up. And how easy it is to kind of compartmentalize, because I have you, and when I’m with you… nothing feels as hard. You make the bad things feel smaller, I guess.”

By the end, it got a lot more real than you’d intended, and your face feels warm, and your stomach is sort of floaty—but you don’t look away from Spencer. You hold his gaze, though it makes you a little nervous, because you want him to know you mean it.

He inhales, like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t—only looks at you, like you’re beautiful and impossible and a defiance of everything he thought he knew, which was almost everything. To him, you’re expansive. A gorgeous anomaly.

And then he stands, holding his hands out for you. Without question you take them, and he pulls you to your feet, absorbing the momentum that threatens to topple you, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. So tight you have to laugh.

“I love you,” he says against your shoulder, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head.

Your humor softens, but doesn’t become inflexible—still tinges your words with the perfect amount of euphoria and relief. “I love you.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and your laughter flares again.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“But I’m grateful. I… I feel lucky.”

Always so earnest, so vulnerable, when you’re least expecting it—which should be always, you’re learning. You pull back to look up at him. You don’t want that concession to go unrewarded.

“Me too,” you say softly. He’s doing that fond thing with his eyes, where they’re all soft and it’s like he’s trying to take in every millimeter of your face. This time when he goes to touch your hair, you have the wherewithal to dodge it.

“You’re really brave for trying to touch my hair right now.”

“Why?” He asks, utterly bewildered, and the softness of the moment falls away easily, but not without leaving everything smudged and fuzzy around the edges. Everything is still okay. It’s still good.

“Because it’s dirty,” you laugh, dodging him again and eventually ducking from the circle of his arms entirely.

“Oh, your hair is dirty? Should we breakup?”

“Hm. I don’t really like when you take on that tone with me.” You’re still half-laughing, dipping and weaving past him toward the bathroom as he tries to get you in his arms again. And then you stop, toes just short of the tile.

“What is it?” He asks after another moment. You blink, looking at the shower head as it drips.

“Um—would it be okay if I had a five minute headstart in the shower?”

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. I just… I need a minute.”

His hand skims your waist as he passes by you through the open door. “Okay. Why don’t you grab your stuff and I’ll get the water going again?”

Soon enough, you’re remembering how much better his water pressure is than yours as you stand under the torrent, eyes closed as if in prayer. You definitely could’ve stood to shower earlier in the day. But you had other concerns, earlier, and besides—you were afraid of what you might find.

And you were right to be. The sex was nice. The aftermath isn’t quite as pretty.

When Spencer taps on the bathroom door, you’re nervous.

“You can come in,” you call.

“You sure? If you want it all to yourself, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

The door creaks open, and gently clicks into place again, and fabric rustles as he undresses, and soon the shower curtain is sliding aside and he’s stepping in. Unsurprisingly, the space feels smaller with him in it—but not small in a bad way. It feels warmer. Again you’re awash in that safe feeling, which you didn’t realize you’d been missing so much today.

“Hi,” he smiles, a teasing sliver of what you know to be the most brilliant light in the world, and stunning like the rest of him as you watch the water begin to darken his hair.

“Hello.”

His smile flickers briefly wider like you’re his favorite thing and he just can’t contain his joy, and then it’s easing again, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

In this alien context the idea has your heart pounding—you don’t really understand the concept of casual nudity yet, but you know he’ll respect your earlier wishes to keep it chaste and so you nod.

Spencer doesn’t take you immediately in his arms like you’d expected—instead his hands find a rest at your collarbones and carefully push your wet hair back over your shoulders—but his eyes aren’t cast quite low enough to be indecent. They connect dots over your chest and neck, and he thumbs at one just over your pulse point.

“Oh, man,” he laughs, and you think you detect a hint of self-deprecation. “That’s… wow, I didn’t realize I… sorry. They don’t hurt, do they?”

It’s your turn to smile as he’s suddenly over-concerned.

“No, they don’t hurt.”

“Good.” He looks relieved, but it doesn’t last as his eyes trace lower—though you don’t sense any hunger in it. He’s just taking you in. “How about everywhere else?”

“Um… it’s not bad. Kind of, like… I don’t know. Sore. But it’s not bad.”

“Still?” He frowns, clearly unfazed by your evident embarrassment on the subject. You shrug and avert your eyes.

“It’s fine. it was worse earlier, so.”

That does not have the calming effect you’d intended.

“Worse? 1-10, how—”

“Spencer, it’s fine, I promise. It’s only when I—when I move certain ways, I notice. Honestly the… blood… was way more disconcerting to me.”

“Yeah, I saw your bed… sorry for ruining your sheets. I’ll buy you new ones.”

You shrug, watching the water run in rivulets down your arm and branch off into tributaries and waterfalls from your fingers. “You don’t have to do that. It was a collaborative effort.”

Normally this conversation would have you melting into an embarrassed puddle, but something about the tile cocoon of the shower, the humid fog, the proximity, feels safe. The white noise of water on porcelain, the warmth. You go to him at the same time as he comes to you—his arms around your waist, yours slung over his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. Falling asleep standing up has never seemed so plausible until now.

He presses a kiss to your head. You sigh.

“Ugh. I don’t want to deal with washing my hair.”

“I can do it,” Spencer immediately offers. You frown.

“I was—you don’t have to. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was asking.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“It’s a process.”

“I understand.”

“You would have to do it exactly how I say.”

“I am willing to learn. I like taking care of you.”

You’re glad for the hot water, then, and as he washes your hair. You’re not sure if you’re crying at the tenderness of his touch, or the way he loves you like you’re easy to love. You’re too tired to explain it.

He doesn’t push you, because he never pushes you.

He just washes your hair.

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localkiss · 4 months ago

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Pray to Leon, He's Your God

pairing: kidnapper!leon x f!reader

cw: creampies, afab terms used, pet names galore, ooc leon, mean and desperate leon, power abuse, degrading, praising, god complex, religion, praying during sex, ddlg dynamics, daddy kink, dumbification, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, mentions of stalking, implied drugging, nipple play, somno, rape, hickey's, squirting, aftercare, las plagas mentions, control freak Leon lol, absolutely nasty dirty talk, spit kink, oral fixation, Ashley/Spain mission mentions...lmk if I missed anything >_< !

wc: 3.5k! hehehee a shorter fic for rn !

tags: @rigorwhoring @adiorxia @angelstargel @leonkennedygvrl @dilfstar @leonsdolly @dollfacefantasy @bonnibuckets @bunnyclaire @bwruisedkiss (tagging some moots :3 sry if u don't wanna be tagged gahhhh)

a/n: i didn't proof read much .. didn't edit much .. so um ignore anything weird. If it's messy n awkward uhhh GO WITH IT OK. 😮‍💨

“Baby,” he coos in your ear. Soft and sweet like he loves you. “open up.” Coaxing your mouth open for his thumb to slip inside.

The strange man dotes on you like a long-lost lover. Your brain is too foggy to even remember where you had met him if you did that. Tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you roll your head to the side, blinking extremely slowly, taking in the room around you.

A desk with a computer, two monitors and a gun lays on it. A couple of knives and a pack of gum too. You swear you can make out your panties and bra that went missing a few weeks ago on his desk as well. Makes you frown slightly.

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth and wipes the saliva on your lips, dragging it across your cheek. Like he's dragging his cock and tapping it all over your face. Get you all messy.

You swallow thickly, head swirling, body feeling heavy and numb all at once. Tears pricking your eyes as you lay beneath the dirty blonde in confusion.

“Who..” is all you can croak out, blinking the water down your cheeks.

“Shh baby… relax. I'm here to take care of you like you should be taken care of. Mkay?” He murmurs soft and sweet. Wiping away the tears.

Only then do you realize you're naked and he's only adorned in his boxers. How long has he been waiting for you to wake up? You don't even know what day it is or the time.

Weird as it is, you find yourself relaxing under his guidance, mimicking his steady breathing.

“Want some water, honey? Just stay here and be a good girl for me, alright?” He kisses your forehead, getting up and grabbing a water bottle from his fridge. Coming back with long, quick strides. “Here, sit up and open your mouth.” Helping you sit up against the pillows.

Slowly pouring the water into your mouth. Pulling away as soon as it fills up, watching you drink it. Repeating this step a few times before he sets it next to his bed.

“Good girl.” The man hums, patting your head like you're a dog.

“Mm… who are you?” You look up at him through your eyelashes, asking the question hesitantly.

“My name's Leon, baby. Do you not remember me?’

Shaking your head, he sighs. It's not like he expected you to remember him. The two of you met briefly at some sort of party and once the both of you were drunk, you got all handsy. Wanting him to fuck you in his car.

That was like right after he got back from his mission in Spain too. He swears Ashley didn't fully kill off the plagas in his body with the machine. It's whatever. What doesn't kill him only makes him stronger, he thinks. Unless this possessive, obsessive, need for you is something else. But then he doesn't want to end up like Major Krauser, all mutated and weird. He hopes it's something else.

“S’okay. We met a couple of times at a few parties. Got to know each other a little bit and slept with each other. And you gave me your phone number… here we are.” Maybe he's lying. Maybe he's not. You'd never know the difference as it feels like it's mostly true. Which it is. But he certainly didn't get your number through legal ways.

“Okay, Leon.” You mumble, limbs barely moving as you try to turn to your side. Wanting to rest a little bit.

“Wanna sleep, baby? Cuddle up with daddy?” He coos down at you, warm hands shifting you around and pulling the blanket over the both of you. His warm toned body is behind yours as he cradles you like a baby.

Soft kisses planted on your cheeks and one on your neck. You feel your face get red hot as you nuzzle into the pillow. “Mmh,” replying to his first question with a soft grunt.

Leon hums, “Goodnight baby girl. Sweet dreams.”

You don't even bother replying. Not like you could as you find yourself instantly asleep. Feeling his warmth behind you lulls you to your dreamscape.

Not long after you fall asleep, Leon kisses his way down your body. Maneuvering you to lay on your back. You sigh and open your legs, rolling your head to the side.

He sucks on your nipples, not biting down hard enough to wake you. Just to tease your unconscious body. Swapping between the two and massaging the other one he doesn't have his mouth on. God forgive him, for he cannot wait any longer.

Trailing a wet path down to your pussy, he moves the blankets up over you both. Making sure you're nice and warm as he feasts on you. He's not going to deprive you of your rest and warmth. Leon's not that big of an asshole.

“So pretty. Pretty fucking juicy pussy. All mine.” Kissing and nipping the skin around your vulva. Leaving light marks for him to enjoy later on.

Leon kitten licks your clit, groaning as he tastes you on his tongue. Tangy but so fucking good. Heaven. God created you for him, he's sure. Kissing all over your pussy, tonguing around your opening as he feels your body automatically flutter.

It's like she knows who owns her already. That got him smiling as he licks you open slowly and teasingly. Eyes fluttering shut as he immerses himself in the feeling and warmth of your body wrapped around his head.

He sucks on your clit, gently biting down on it. Wearing it down as he takes turns licking into you and sucking on your clit like a hard candy. If you were a flavor, he'd always buy your flavor. Make it his cologne, his soap, his detergent. So he can always be enveloped in you. And only you.

Slurping up your juices as he pulls away. Kissing each thigh tenderly, as his hips rock against the bed. Tasting you makes him harder than obsidian.

That night when he got your panties and bra after you guys fucked in his car drunkenly. He held them up to his nose and sniffed them so much, that people would've thought there were cocaine remnants in them.

But no, he was just addicted to the way you smelled and tasted. The way you cried on his tongue and begged him to just fuck you already. To stop teasing you.

Did he fuck you until you saw white? Yes, very much so. Until you squirted and made his arms bleed? Yep! He even went so far as to make you cum so much you couldn't even remember his name, just, “daddy, daddy, daddyyy!” Until you became a sobbing mess for him.

Of course, he gave you what you wanted the most though! His cum deep inside of your cunt. Multiple creampies. You truly emptied his balls. Couldn't get hard for the next couple of days. Truly washed over his libido to a much calmer state of mind.

He hovers over you, making sure to bring the blankets over his broad shoulders. Shifting his boxers down low enough to get his cock and balls free. Slowly rubbing up and down your slit with his tip. He lets out a soft groan, pushing into you and gritting his teeth to not wake you up from how loud he wants to be.

“Hail Mary, full of grace…” he begins slowly, “The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Fuck.. Holy Mary, mother of—fucking—God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death.” Leaning his head down into the crook of your neck. Repeating it again and again in his mind, louder and louder each time. Drowning out all the white noise in his ears.

Maybe it's just tinnitus but he thinks it's the plagas trying to invade his mind once more. He justifies his actions by blaming it on a virus infection. Your pussy is his fix. Only if you were just a bit more submissive like you were when you were drunk, maybe he would think of you as somebody he should kneel to. To worship.

“Amen. Amen, God fucking damn.” Leon rocks in and out, matching the pace of your breathing. He moans into your ear, gripping the fat of your hips before moving his hands to push your legs up to your chest. Immediately putting you into a mating press.

Licking and nibbling on each part of your neck that is exposed to his eyes, he mumbles sweet praises to your sleeping body.

“Yeah, good girl. Taking this cock so well, hm? Yeah?”

“Fuck baby, pussy squeezin' me like she doesn't wanna let go of me.”

“Mmm.. shit. Wanna make you mine. My wife. I'll get to do this to you every day. All y’gotta do is just lay there and be pretty f’me princess.”

“Yeah, yeah… take it. So fucking cute seeing your expressions and feeling your body enjoy me while you're asleep. You thinking about me baby? Dreaming about me ruining you in your sleep while I do it in real life?”

You try to shift around in your sleep and furrow your eyebrows. Letting out a low whine as your eyes roll around before opening hesitantly. “Mmph.. Leon?”

“Awwh, good afternoon sleepyhead.” He coos down at you, peppering your cheeks in kisses, rubbing up and down your sides. “Did daddy's dick wake you up?”

“Yeah,” you flutter around his length, barely processing what's happening. Only feeling full of him and his warm body pressing you into the blankets. Hands clutching onto his firm biceps weakly, digging your blunt nails into his pale skin.

Leon laughs cruelly, his hips rabbiting into your squelching heat with vigor. Half moaning into your ear, his hot breath tickling you faintly. “Shit. Look at me, baby. Who owns you? Let me fucking know who owns this pussy.”

Whimpering, your toes curl as a heat wave of embarrassment rolls down your spine. “Unhh… you do.”

He clicks his tongue at you and stops his hips, fully deep inside of you. “That's not who I am, princess. Now say it again or I won't fuck you.”

“Daddy…”

“Yeah, that's me. Now, use your big girl words and tell me who owns this pussy baby.”

“Daddy owns this pussy. Daddy owns me…” you squeeze your legs against his sides. Impossibly tight around his cock, earning a groan from him. Nails were almost close enough to draw blood from his arms.

“Good girl. Such a smart cookie, yeah? All it took was daddy having to be a bit firm with his baby.” He presses his lips to yours, capturing you in a messy, feverish kiss. Teeth clashing as he starts to thrust in and out. Tongue swiping all across your mouth, letting you suck on it briefly before he pulls away.

One hand holding up his weight, the other one squeezing your lips together. Dipping down to spit into your mouth. Smirking as he hears your little noises of pleasure.

“Knew my baby would like that. So dirty.” He moves your face up and down, forcing you to nod. “Look, you're agreeing with me. Such a slut, eager for her daddy. Mhmm…”

Leon's lips are the only thing you can focus on. Besides his dick, of course. “Daddy,” you spread your fingers around his face. Like you're in awe of him, putting them into his mouth curiously. “please?”

He gently bites down, licking and sucking on your fingers playfully. Dark oceanic eyes narrowing and analyzing you. “Baby wants my fingers in her mouth?”

Bingo. You don't even have to respond, just the look of surprise in your eyes is enough for him. He presses a wet kiss to your palm and wrist. Slipping his thumb into your mouth as he speeds up his hips.

Cock jumps inside of you as you close your eyes. Sucking on it with fervor makes him swallow a whine of his own. God, you'll bring out the desperate whiny side of him someday.

He'll still dominate you through the whines and whimpers, of course. Can't let his precious baby try to top him. It'd be so cute.

Watching you fail and beg for daddy to take over. He'd let you try though, but he'd know he'll forever be in charge. Just lending you the ‘power’ for the moment.

“Mmhhf baby. Don't do that. Daddy's gonna shoot his load inside you early. We wouldn't want that. Ain't that right pumpkin?” Leon hums, pushing down on your tongue with his thumb. Enjoying the way you drool around it and bite on it like he's some sort of oral stress relieving toy. Or gum. Not that he minds being your fix to your oral issue.

You loosely have a grip on his arm, sort of not wanting him to leave your mouth. Fluttering your eyelashes up at him, he presses his forehead against yours. Lowering his body so that he can barely pull out of you.

“Sweetheart, let daddy hold himself up with his other hand. Wanna play with your cute cunt. Make you cream all over this dick.” He pry’s himself out of your mouth, replacing it with his lips on yours. As he brings his other hand down to press tight and fast circles against your clit.

Lifting up so he can watch you fall apart on him. “Good girl. Such a sweet girl, letting her daddy do whatever he wants. Hmm? Isn't that right? Yeah,” he kisses your forehead tenderly.

At this point, you're babbling out nonsense. In your mind, you are agreeing with him. Out loud, you're saying, “daddy please.” As your walls squeeze around him tight like a vice.

He doesn't want to be too much of an asshole and make you use your dumb puppy brain, but there's a part of him that needs you to beg him to let you cum. Make you call him a God.

‘Please god, let me cum, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.’ Something along those lines will do it for him. Fill that womb up with his sticky white cum.

“Want daddy to let you cum?” Leon's gonna slowly fade into it. Have you wrapped around his little finger. Just as he is wrapped around your body like a snake does to its victim. To its food.

“Uhuh, please daddy. Wanna cum,” you mewl out shamelessly. Tears gathering up in your pretty beady eyes. Goddamn, you look gorgeous.

“C'mon puppy. Use that pretty little brain and beg daddy correctly. Daddy'll even give you a hint, baby doll. Beg for God, because aren't I the owner of you? The one who fulfills your dreams, needs, and wants? Hmm?” There's this crazy look in his eyes. Black little veins popping up in his skin, looking similarly to a dead person. But it's also fucking hot how he looks so psychotic and desperate for you. And only you.

“Daddy—God, mmmph… please let me cum. Please!” Can't help the moans escape as he smacks his fingers against your swollen, sensitive bud. Your fingernails attach themselves to his chest, dragging red welts down to his abs. Feeling them flex as he groans in pain.

“That's right bunny, that's right. Cum for me. Cream all over this fat dick,” he purrs as he spanks your clit extra hard, in time with a deeper and harder thrust.

Watching you as your eyes roll into the back of your head and your mouth going slack. Holding you still as you tremble as you thrash around, orgasm still ringing around your body hard. Seeing you like this beneath him has his own climax running up on him. But he wants to make you watch as he fucks his cum into your womb.

“Baby,” Leon shushes, pressing faint kisses around your temples. “Look at me. Watch daddy's cock go in and out of your pretty pussy. Look at how daddy's stretching you out, baby girl. There's even a little bump from daddy.” He lifts up so you can look down between the two of you comfortably.

Still pulsing around him, he pushes down on the bulge. Listening to your cute little squeals of overstimulation. “God's gonna give you a baby now. Say, thank you, God. Thank you Leon for blessing me with your seed.” He half moans half chuckles, giving your cheek a couple of soft slaps.

“T-thank you God—Leon please… bless me with your cum…!” You sort of get it right. It's not like he's a stickler for how you say things or actually, repeat them back to him. Leon likes the control. So all is well.

He chants your name, rabbiting his hips even harder now. Eyes closed and forehead against yours. Whining as he gets closer and closer.

Leon groans as he feels your pussy greedily sucking him in. His hand immediately starts to rub your swollen nerves. “Gonna make you cum again and then I'll pump you full of it.”

You cry out, kicking and scratching at him. “S’too much! Can't cum again!” Lies. All lies.

“You can take it and you will take it. C'mon puppy. Know you can do it for me,” he coaxes another one out of you. Albeit slower this time.

Syrupy goodness coats your brain as you hiccup his name, going frigid beneath him. Oh, there you have it. Sprung a leak around his cock. You can't help but scream and hold onto him tightly. Cunt practically pushing him out because of how intense this one is.

The sight of you squirting uncontrollably has his cock kicking and spurting his hot, thick semen in your insides. Slowing his movements down he moans.

It's like it's never ending. Maybe Leon was backed up for a while and is gonna get you pregnant with triplets. Feels like it with the way he keeps pumping you full.

“Good girl. Good job. So good for me, mhmm… gonna keep you plugged up. Make sure it takes, yeah?” He coos soft and sweet, whining pathetically as his dick softens. All sensitive now.

Leon sounds so good, you think. All desperate for you.

You hum, blearily watching him maneuver the two of you around. Slumping against his chest, his warm hands soothe your sides. Giving him a soft kiss on his chest in reply. Too fuzzy-headed and dumb to even form an actual response. Not like he wanted one, it was probably more of a rhetorical question.

“That's it, baby. Rest on my chest. I'll clean us up once you're ready.” Giving the apex of your head a long kiss, he wraps his muscular arms around your frail, trembling figure.

Slowly pulling you into a deep slumber. With rainbows and sunshine.

Possibly an hour or two goes by and you wake up to warm water soothing your aching muscles. A soapy sponge rubbing your front side. Leaning back into him, you relax and let him do his thing.

“So pretty baby,” he sighs, grabbing a cup and slowly pouring it over your soapy body. Being careful not to get your face wet. “Does this feel nice?”

You nod immediately, scratching your scalp for a moment. Scooting away from him, grabbing your hair and giving him a good view of your back. Silently asking him to wash it.

The soapy sponge gently runs into your skin, over your shoulders and arms. Dipping down to your lower back before carefully going around your neck. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your head once more. Washing it all off before he lets you lay there against him.

Can't help but yawn and stretch. This is going to make you fall asleep again! “Daddy. Want to go to bed.”

“Hmm.. okay. Let's get you out of here. Daddy'll put you in the cutest outfit.” He grabs the towel and wraps it around you. Drying you off before he dries himself off. “Lift your arms for me.”

You close your eyes sleepily and lift your arms, feeling him tug a loose shirt over your head. And you instinctively lift your foot, allowing him to put panties on you and pajama pants.

Opening your eyes you see that it's Hello Kitty. Biting your lip, you watch Leon get dressed. Quietly zoning out on his chest.

Leon picks you up bridal style with ease. Despite you being a little chubby, he acts like you weigh like nothing.

“Snuggle close to daddy, sweetheart.” He sets you down, pulling the covers over the both of you. Reaching down to grab a stuffed animal he had under his bed. One he bought in advance. Thinking you'd like it.

It's a cute little shark! Leon puts it next to you as he wraps his arms around you securely. “Sweet dreams baby.”

“Sweet dreams daddy.” You mumble in return, putting the shark in your arms as you snuggle into his warm chest with a huff.

Maybe next time he'll force you on your knees and make you worship him. And if you don't do it right, he'll baptize you with his special white liquid until you immediately submit to him. To praise him as a higher being. But, first and foremost, he's your daddy, before he's your God.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon smut #leon x reader #resident evil x reader #re4 leon #leon resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #re leon #localkiss

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the-californicationist · 2 months ago

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Cali's Kinktober: Day 03

Kinktober Masterlist in absentia lucis - "in the absence of light" John Price x f!reader Kinks > rape, torture, sensory deprivation Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

You are a new recruit to the CIA, and Kate Laswell sends you to some remote blacksite for your interrogation training. Your temporary commander, Captain John Price, gives you a safeword, but as your training begins, you realize that you feel everything except for safe.

Hey, did you see where the tags said RAPE? Okay, just making sure.

It was three flights and a cab. It was airport food and cold coffee. It was forgetting whether the date ended in a three or a four. It was paperwork and passports and finally a cold office. It was a long trip, and you were running on empty.

“What are your expectations, here, Katie? I don’t wanna do another Warsaw situ–” The man complained.

“This is nothing like Warsaw. She can handle it. Trust me.” Your boss replied, her voice crackling over the video call.

The man who complained squared his jaw and fixed his eyes on you again, looking at you fresh now that your handler, Kate Laswell, had vouched for you. You tried not to fidget in your seat. You didn’t sit up any straighter. You weren’t here to advertise yourself as the bravest or the toughest of anything. You knew you still needed a lot of training, and if he wanted to draw his own conclusions about you, then that was his business, not yours.

“Her scores are high. She beat your exam?”

“She did. Her field test and her ‘chute certifications were performed at a DF site here in the states.”

There was a long pause before Laswell spoke again,

“Do me this favor and maybe I’ll even let you borrow her for a recon mission or two. I know none of your boys are pretty enough to pass for party girls, but mine is.”

“That she is,” you heard his tone darken, thickening in his mouth like sticky sap from a tree, borderline inappropriate. When he saw your reaction to his comment, he turned back to the screen and said, “Alright, Katie. You got a deal. I’ll send her back once she’s out of recovery.”

“Thanks, John. Don’t go easy on her, or she’ll make you pay for it.”

“Is that so?” His wry smile sent a jolt somewhere in your belly that you didn’t appreciate.

She laughed and hung up the call. You waited, trying not to let the jitters or the exhaustion win out, battling both but feeling pulled in either direction just the same.

“So,” he turned his attention to you at last, “Did you lay in your fuckin’ pink princess bed when you were a little girl and dream about becoming a bloody spy, or is this some sort of complex I should know about?”

You shrugged,

“A man does what he must…”

“Careful, girl. Quoting Kennedy can’t be good for your health if you’re working in Katie’s office, hm?”

“You don’t need to know why I’m here, sir.” You used his title like a knife, flashing it right in front of his eyes and watching them ignite with his smoldering, quiet fury.

“No, but I bet I’ll find out during our time together,” he promised, making your heart clench with stress and anxiety, “What’s your safeword?”

“Red.”

“Red,” he repeated it to you as if he wanted to see how it felt in his mouth. Then, after a long pause, he explained, “I will also stop before the point of emergent damage. But, I will push you past the point of pain. You will sustain injuries. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, love?”

He seemed to be under the misconception that this was your first rodeo. You knew what you had come here for, and it wasn’t some drill sergeant to yell you into shape. You had already been through Delta Force’s operator training center - the parts they allowed CIA operatives through, anyway - and you’d surpassed what Williamsburg had to offer. You were aiming to serve as a Special Skills operative, the blackest of the black ops groups, and although you lacked the physical strength to be of any use in most field positions, you had one key factor that your fellow recruits didn’t have.

Men never expected a woman to be a threat.

Laswell had plans for you. She’d tracked down two high value targets, but they were well-guarded. However, there were usually strippers and dancers and prostitutes as far as the eye could see, always partying and coming and going at all hours of the night. You were her way in. But, it was your job to get back out. If you could survive, you’d be a hero. If you didn’t, well, she had more pawns on the board. Not to mention, you had a mission of your own to complete..

So, you worked harder than anyone. You jumped at every field training exercise, you took martial arts classes in every different format you could find, and you lived at the shooting range. You didn’t have a social life. Usually, if you were alone in a room with a man, your fists were connecting with each other’s faces.

You looked back across the wooden desk in front of you, over his nameplate - Captain Price - and into his startlingly blue eyes,

“I understand.”

He came out of his chair like a fucking demon, lunging for you without warning. As you stumbled backward, wielding your own chair over your shoulder, you sighed inwardly. You’d at least expected a more civilized initiation, maybe even a moment for a coffee, before he started in on his training. But, alas, that was not to be.

You crashed the wooden chair against his head, neck, and shoulder as he rounded the desk, keeping hold of the broken armrest as a weapon. You stabbed downward, aiming for his throat and not holding back. He blocked you, cracking your wrist against the rigid wood. You stepped into his space, kicking his heel out from under him and following him to the floor. His head hit the concrete with a bang, and you used that moment to pin the armrest against his throat, bearing down on him with all your weight, dislodging his trachea enough to cut his air supply.

He flung you off of him like a ragdoll, and your back slammed into the leg of the desk. You twisted underneath it, staying just out of his reach, small enough to fit through the gap. He scrambled up on all fours, cackling at you with a gravelly, menacing laugh before leaping up and over the desk to pull you out by your ankles.

You kicked up and over, making contact with his nose, and when he dropped your other foot, you launched your heel into his balls, making sure to aim as deeply as you could.

He coughed, and it was your turn to laugh.

Your victory was short-lived. He launched his body at you, shoving your back down on the desk. You felt the familiar bite of his nameplate digging into your skull, so you dragged it out and swung it at him, cutting him across his cheek. He hissed, yanking it out of your hand and tossing it to the ground.

The captain forced himself between your legs, pressing his body down on yours, and wrapped his hand across your throat. You fought like hell to get him off, twisting his pinky until you thought it might break, but he caught your wrists in his other hand, holding them at a terrible angle, choking you until you saw rainbow spots discolor your vision.

“Well,” he said, breathless and bleeding, “Christmas came early, dinn’it?”

Just making sure you read the tag that said this fic has RAPE IN IT. I'm just checking in again. Just want you to know. Okay, thanks.

When you woke up, you weren’t completely sure of it, at first. It was as if you were still asleep. You opened your eyes, but all you saw was an endless blackness. You couldn’t hear anything, you couldn’t smell anything, and you couldn’t move your jaw. But you could feel everything.

Your whole body screamed in pain. One of your hands was wrenched above your head, and the weight of your body hung from your broken wrist, making you cry out in whatever muffled way you could.

Then, something was removed from your ears, and you could hear again. It was still quiet, but the sound of the aircon and the noise of another person’s breath were like blaring sirens compared to the silence you had been steeped in.

“Look who’s awake,” John’s purr of a voice washed over you.

You tried to reply, tried to beg for him to cut you down, but you couldn’t speak. Your mouth was holding something round and pliant.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he patted your flank, and you were suddenly aware of your nakedness. He’d taken your clothes? You could hear him scooting a metal chair across the room towards you, and his pants rustled as he sat down, “Can’t have you talkin’ your way out of this one. Based on the three stitches in my cheek, I was wrong to underestimate you, darlin’. Shoulda listened to Katie, this time. But, look at you. Just a whisper of a thing.”

His rolling chuckle made your bones itch.

“Hard to use a safeword when you’ve got a gag on, yeah?”

You nodded, acknowledging the irony.

Price moved in the chair again. No, he stood. You could hear his boots sliding around you in a half-circle. He kept talking to you, his tone as casual as ever,

“Yeah, thought so. But, this isn’t one of those trainings, pretty girl. You won’t be needing one. I will stop when you’re ready to stop, not when you want to stop. You need to learn that, sometimes, your body…” His hand snaked its way around your thigh and you tried to kick out at him, discovering your ankles were tied together and anchored to the floor, “... is capable of so much more than you give it credit for.”

Your heart began to slam against your chest, and your breathing became labored. You were having a panic attack. If you could only see…

“Hey,” his tone shifted, becoming the instructor again, “Breathe slowly. In. Hold it. Out. All the way. In. Out. Tha’s it. Good.”

There was a long pause. You could smell him now. It was cigars and fire and gunpowder and smoke. It filled your senses, replacing your sight with scent.

“I’m gonna put your ears back on, and we’ll see what you can do.”

The world fell away again, and all you had was the smell of him. Then, he started his training.

It wasn’t the pain that upset you, not really. Pain was something you could move past. It was the surprise. You never knew when it was coming, nor where he was going to hit you next. Sometimes it was his fist. Sometimes it was a belt. Sometimes it was an electric shock. Legs, ribs, foot, arm, neck, belly… there was no pattern.

You also had no idea of the passage of time. You were infinite and you existed in the darkness of infinity. It was just pain forever with no reprieve.

Until it wasn’t.

The first time you felt his fingers pinching the tender peaks of your breasts, your whole body jolted. You hadn’t really responded to the pain in the same way, but to pleasure? It was unexpected in a different way. You didn’t think he would violate you. That wasn’t even something they’d tried to do when you were with the DF.

You bucked, hoping that your displeasure was noted for the record.

But, perhaps, your mind teased you, the lady doth protest too much? You had wanted him to touch you when he’d picked you up from the airport. When he shook your hand, hadn’t you measured his fingers and started wanting? Weren’t you eager for training to be over so you could be invited back to his flat for the after-work romp you knew would be on offer?

Hanging there like a slab of meat had changed things a bit, but it had not quelled your desire, unfortunately.

You wondered if he had reacted. You imagined him laughing at you. Was he enjoying himself? Or was this all apart of his brand of training?

I bet you choke out all the pretty girls… you sneered inwardly.

More pain. This time, your ass cheeks were the targets. The snapping bite of what felt like a belt hit you repeatedly and without mercy. You found yourself breathless from silently screaming, your tongue pressing against the gag for some sort of relief and finding none.

Then, pleasure again. His thick fingers fondled your pussy from behind, digging into your flesh and discovering the wetness hidden inside of your unused hole. There was no romance to his movements, but forcing an orgasm from you did seem to be his goal. And fuck, you lamented, he was good at it.

He doubled up, twisting two fingers deep inside of you, pounding them into your body all the way to the knuckle, fast and hard, dragging you towards the edge. Your legs began to tremble, and you knew your face must’ve looked a mess, because you were in total shock.

It felt like he was going to vibrate you right out of your skin, and still he moved faster. He wrapped his other hand around your belly, holding you in place, and you thrashed against it, fighting the mounting urge to come.

You were doing pretty well, you thought, given the conditions. Until…

His soft lips pressed themselves down onto your spine. It was just a chaste kiss, but it unfurled you like a ripcord. You exploded, your whole body convulsing in bliss, and although you were wearing a blindfold, you could see white streaks and stars dancing across your vision. You came alive.

Price pulled out of you, and you felt the stream of slick drip down your legs. He’d forced you to squirt, something you thought was completely faked, only for pornos. But, there it was, proof of its reality smearing down your thighs and onto the concrete floor.

Pain, again.

The searing sting of a taser in the sensitive flesh of your belly.

Fists and harsh palms.

The bite of a chain.

A sharp ache from a needle or a knife.

His fist closing around your index finger and snapping it cleanly in two.

You wanted to puke, but there was nothing to come up. Your belly bulged and hollowed, letting you gag and choke around nothing, going through the motions and yet giving you nothing to move.

Then, pleasure.

His hands were back on your pussy, finding your clit and teasing you until you jerked forward. But, his hand remained, insisting. And insisting. And insisting.

You lost track of how many times you’d toppled over the edge of your orgasm. There were no borders, not anymore. Your pleasure was bleeding and smearing all around you in one great wave, blinding you to the starts and stops from coming and not. You were drowning in it.

Just when you thought you might pass out, you felt the prod of his prick between your legs, entering you from behind. You couldn’t feel a condom. You tried to twist yourself away, rocking your hips to no avail.

This was definitely not protocol.

Those lips returned to the same spot on your spine, and you melted onto him, covering him like hot wax, sealing your body onto his cock like a brass signet, letting him leave his mark on you.

His hands found your breasts, squeezing them roughly, holding your body to him in a vicious embrace.

Then, he dug around inside of your mouth and yanked out the gag. You felt yourself make a terrible noise, but you couldn’t hear the sound that came out. You knew he could, though, because when he heard you, his cock throbbed at your entrance, and it made him push forward, dipping into you even deeper.

Wait… Captain Price. Please. Wait. Wait.

You wondered if you were as loud as you tried to be. In fact, you wondered if he could hear you at all because he did not stop. If anything, he went onward with even more fervor.

His mouth kissed its way across your back, and you could feel his stubble and the coarse hairs of his beard raking their way along your skin. His warm tongue leaving little wet stamps as it laved across you, tasting your sweat.

The way his fat prick was stretching you out made you question if he was using himself or the armrest of the chair that you had tried to kill him with. You hissed from the ache, but he didn’t halt his advance. Didn’t retreat. He just pressed further inside of you.

How much cock did this jerk have?

Finally, you felt his hairy base tickle the skin under your ass cheeks, and you knew there was an end to his incredible length.

What… why are you doing this? Why…

He pulled himself out in the same way he had pressed in, slowly and with a fierce persistence.

Then, he began to pound himself into you.

You were at the perfect height for him, and it made you sick to your stomach to know that it was deliberate. This had been his plan all along. And although most of you felt completely indignant, there was a nasty little demon in your heart that celebrated in it. He’d wanted you from the start, even after you’d made him bleed, maybe even because of it.

And that thought brought you no small amount of joy.

His hands had returned to your breasts, playing with them too roughly. John was pinching your nipples and craning his neck around to suckle from them, nipping at them with his teeth until you screamed from the pain of being bitten. Even then, your screams were a poor deterrent. It didn’t stop him from returning to them, crushing the stiff tips as he worked his cock inside of you, fucking himself up into you at a punishing pace.

He only pulled away to stick his tongue inside of your armpit, licking you over and over in a place where no one had ever even thought to lick, and you wished you could say, honestly, that it had disgusted you. But, it didn’t. If anything, it made you gasp with a new brand of pleasure. He had awakened something fresh and bright in you that you never meant to discover.

Then, he got brave. He shoved two fingers right into your slack mouth, and you immediately bit down, hard. You could taste blood, and you fought against his flesh, trying to crack the bone. But, he shoved them down your throat, and all you had to chew on was a fat fist that wouldn’t even allow your jaw to close much less to bite.

You could feel his fingers in your throat, deep down in a place where fingers were never supposed to go, and all you could do was swallow around them, trying your best to keep from drooling into your airway.

His cheek pressed into your shoulder blade. He was enjoying you.

The way his gentle kiss or the softness of his cheek ripped orgasms from you was concerning, to say the least. You hoped you could remember this moment, of how the way he rested himself against you as he was taking you against your vocal will was throwing your body down a deep well of dark, forbidden pleasure. How your vision burned white and gold and formed spots of colors that had no names as he fucked you into a different plane of existence. How you thought, if you got a late night text, written in his smoky, raspy Scouse accent, you would crawl your way back across the pond just so he could give it to you again.

Oh, my God… You screamed from the pit of your belly.

His thrusts never slowed. He was like a machine. All those muscles were being put to work, and you were the mission.

Had it been hours?

Days?

Did the world still exist outside of this concrete cube that you suspected you were in?

Would you starve to death in here?

The demon that apparently lived in your cunt rolled its eyes and said, who cares? I wanna come again and again and again…

And you did. You were so overstimulated that you thought even someone looking at you the right way would make you come. It had become painful, at one point, and now you were not numb… Numb wasn’t the right word. You were soft. Your mind and your pussy were just murky, oily, cock-filled vessels, happy they were full and unwilling to question what it meant.

When he finally pulled out of you, you were limp. You didn’t thrash or fight. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to.

You felt his fingers again, drawing out your foaming, frothy come into his hand. He used it to smear it along the rim of your asshole. Then, he began to fuck your tight hole with his fingers, one. Over and over. One. One. One. Then, he added a second. Two. Two. A thousand times, two. Three was a bit of a challenge, but he pushed through. Three. Two. Three. Two. Three. Three. Three. And then, none.

None.

Where did he go?

Pain. A heavy hand slapping across your bruised tits. Again. Again.

You were screaming, surely. You wanted to be, at least.

The flat of his palm beat itself against your breast over and over without mercy.

Then, his cockhead rested at the entrance of your asshole.

You didn’t beg this time. If anything, he should be the one begging, you thought. If you lived, you were going to make him remember you.

Price shoved himself inside of you with some force, but you took it. You waited until he was fully sheathed inside, and when he took a breath, when those lips rested themselves on the back of your neck, you beared down on him, hard.

You felt his breath catch as it skittered across your skin.

The demon in you chuckled in triumph.

C’mon, Captain. Is that all you got? You made the words come out of your throat, and you hoped he could hear you.

The way that his hand fisted itself in your hair told you that he had.

If you thought he had fucked your pussy like an animal, you had been mistaken. He took your ass like he owned it. Like it was his toy. There was no pleasure-seeking rhythm, no careful pacing or grinding movements. He was fucking you because he wanted to come. So, you made him.

Every time he dragged himself out, you let him go, but every time he pressed himself in, you fought him the whole way. Squeezing and pushing, squeezing and pushing, making your tight hole even tighter, rocking your hips to drive him mad with want.

You felt him lose control, his hot spend filling your ass and bursting out of his swollen head, soaking your hole. You pulsed around him, and you felt that soft cheek return to your shoulder.

Come for me, baby. Good boy. You giggled out loud.

He slapped you across the mouth, and you laughed harder, feeling his cock slip out of you, spent.

You can’t hurt me in a way that matters, John Price. Do your fuckin’ worst.

You felt him step around you, smelling his breath as he held you face to face. Then, the noise of the room came back and you could hear him panting, ragged and desperate. You felt the blindfold fall away and you could see him, your eyes shrinking in the dim light of the cell, hurt by even the smallest glow of light.

You were back, but you were not yourself. Not anymore. You were a different you. Someone he had made. He had crafted you with his own hands.

“Why? Why didn’t you beg me to stop?”

His eyes were burning into yours as he stared down at you, questioning what he had done, what you had done with him. You had used him like a sharpener, honing yourself to a high shine, and he didn’t understand.

When you heard your voice for the first time, you mourned it a bit, but you knew it would come back eventually. It was raspy, muddled, and barely audible, but you said it with your whole chest,

“I was made for this, and I could go all fuckin’ day.”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long did he keep you prisoner?”

Kate Laswell, you fucking bitch.

He’d read your file. The real one. Not the one on your tagline, but the one that you and Laswell had hidden away.

“Five months,” you told him, a sick smile on your face, “But, you already knew that.”

He sighed, his hands on his hips, just as naked as you, which you found a little funny.

“Why’d you come here? Why would she…”

You watched him wrestle with the betrayal in his head, knowing he’d been manipulated. He’d walked right into her trap. You basked in his confusion, having almost as much fun as you’d had while he was railing you into oblivion.

“Laswell said you needed a way into the Ikon, some strip club on the border between Russia and Urzikstan. So, I said I would help.”

“And she knew I’d say no…”

“Unless you knew I could handle it.”

It was his turn to be in pain. You could see the fire of it creeping through his belly, knowing he’d just tortured a girl who’d written the book in torture. The surgeries and the psych consults were long, long behind you, but your run in with the Russian mob was not something you were ever going to forget. But, now, John Price was going to give you a chance at revenge. You were his gun, and you just needed him to point you in the right direction.

Suddenly, he cut you down, freeing you from your hanging place. You crumpled into his arms, letting him hold you as you collapsed. You used your hands to pet the worry out of his eyes, and he fought you for it, trying to stop you from comforting him. So, you grabbed him with what little strength you could muster, and you pulled his face to yours, pressing your mouths together, making him taste your blood from where he had cut your cheek against your teeth. He yanked his head back, furrowing his brow,

“No, stop…”

“Shut up,” you said, kissing him again and feeling his surrender as he held you tighter, pulling you into his chest even though he was ridden with guilt.

“We shouldn’t, love. I’m so sor–”

“Where’d you put that gag?” You pretended to look around for it, earning a slight smile and an exasperated huff.

You knew you’d made the cut, because when he fucked you this time, he didn’t hold back.

Whelp. Kinktober!

215 notes · View notes

thewinchestah · 5 months ago

Text

"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it.

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form.

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion.

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old.

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance.

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory.

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made. A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you.

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?”

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done.

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred.

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least.

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized.

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far.

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination.

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table. Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many.

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you.

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information.

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia.

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move.

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work.

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless.

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now?

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power.

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm.

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality.

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely.

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes.

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care?

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter.

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face.

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret.

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip.

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face.

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it”

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist.

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved”

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed. Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands.

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen.

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building.

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out.

Mutual destruction assured.

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?”

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words.

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve.

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out.

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too.

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love.

And now he is here.

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you.

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises.

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you. You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble.

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory.

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter.

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks.

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now.

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved.

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do”

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words.

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover.

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld.

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

“Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt.

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.” his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him.

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side.

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you, inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming.

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice.

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand.

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness.

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials.

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through.

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage.

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it.

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make”

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him”

a wrong type of static pricks your lips

“This won’t hurt”

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it.

Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain.

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison.

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal.

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing.

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him.

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought.

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him.

And then he stops.

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret”

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast?

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.”

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance, playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word.

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him.

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you.

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you.

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears.

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

But their machinations are all meaningless.

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

#HEY BUNNY ANON THIS ONE IS FOR YOU I NEVER FORGET A REQUEST I TAKE 5 MONTHS BUT I DONT FORGET IT #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #alastor fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon x you #im insaneeeeeeeee #baixaria #im sorry everyone #alastor #the radio demon #hazbin hotel fic

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rotten-pomegranate · 7 months ago

Note

Can you write headcanons of Chrollo taking one of the Kurta prisoner and keeping her as his pleasure pet cause he gets turned on by her eyes.

Chrollo keeping kurta reader as a sex slave

YES OMG THANK YOU I LOVE THIS WTF

this is very dark

Warnings: rape, abuse, threats, threats of torture, genocide, death(the Kurtas), degradation, reader is terrified of Chrollo and he uses that against her, bad spelling

/|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\

He’s so cruel, he threatens you all the time, “come ride me or I’ll take those pretty eyes of your dearest”

He doesn’t give you the most basic human rights, oh you wanna use the bathroom, well then you better get on your knees and show him you deserve using the same bathroom as him

Your sleep schedule is nonexistent, he gets home at 4:00am horny, come look at these eyes that could very well be your friends and then show him pretty eyes of your own while you suck him off

He hits you all the time, he thinks the pretty purple spots go well with your crimson orbs, especially when they are filled with tears

If you ever get the courage to go against him he’s gonna call in Feitan to put you back in your place

He Constantly tells you all the gory details of his job just to see your pretty eyes well in tears

When he’s fucking you he holds your hair or throat to further remind you he has power over you, even when your on top your not in control and he makes sure you know that

If he’s feeling especially sadistic he’ll have you sleep on the floor next to his bed and will make a point to step on you when he gets out of his nice big cozy bed

But some days he just wants to spoil you, not let you be in control but give you pleasure, he will have to terrorize you a bit to see your eyes but other then that it’s good you like and constant orgasms

If you ever try escaping he will use his nen to make you think he took your eyes away even though he would never do that

He makes sure to keep a friend or family member of yours eyes on stand by just in case he needs to scare you into submission

Hes gonna beat the fuck out of you if you try to hurt your eyes, and when he’s done he’s gonna chain you to the wall and just use you like a fleshlight for days, you will get just enough water to survive because food is a privilege and you don’t have it, your also gonna have to piss on yourself if you wanna piss at all during this time

It’s a horrible way to live and it will be a horrible way to die because your never getting away from him

#hxh #hunter x hunter #chrollo hxh #hxh chrollo #chrollo hot #chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo fanart #chrollo hunter x hunter #chrollo x Kurta reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #chrollo smut #chrollo headcanons #chrollo lucifer x reader #chrollo x you #chrollo kurta reader smut

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cassidyandonlycassidy · 6 months ago

Text

no one man should have all that power

miguel o'hara x reader

words: 2k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut, NONCON!, RAPE!, size difference (canon, miguel just big as hell), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dark!miguel, p in v sex, threats, mentions of anal, cleaning lady!reader, attempted rape by not miguel/attempted mugging

your focus is half on your phone playing the local news through your headphones, and half on scrubbing down the sink in front of you.

you don't move on until it's spotless. perfectly clean. you're willing to use every tool in your arsenal considering this is your pickiest client.

you are about to spray down the shower and allow the chemicals to soak and do part of the work for you, when the news anchor shifts the conversation.

“and to discuss the issue of spiderman, please welcome nypd captain charleston and queens resident andrea roberts.”

your attention shifts fully to your phone. andrea begins, a sweet looking older lady who explains that spiderman saved her from being mugged. you feel your heart beat faster when they flash images of him on screen, his wide shoulders, dark black and red suit hugging his body and abs.

“and what happens when spiderman begins to ask for something in return? he saves you from being mugged, but then demands a payment. what happens when he starts to use his powers for evil instead of good? we must focus on unmasking him and stopping his crusade of the city. no one man should have all that power.”

you have to reach quickly to shut your phone off, powering down the screen and turning off the captains words as your client enters the bathroom.

“almost done?” she asks, a frown on her overfilled lips, shining with a lipgloss to distract from the fact that her skin is almost painfully stretched.

“yes ma’am.” you nod. “just the shower is left.”

“hmm…” you wait for her to find a critique, even the tiniest speck of dust that you missed, but she's unable to as she sighs dramatically. “i have a party to get to. see yourself out, the door will lock behind you.”

“and payment?” you hate having to ask just from the way her eyes turn dark, clearly annoyed with your questions, and while she may be one of your worst clients, she's also one of your best paying.

“on the kitchen counter.” she says before turning on her bright red heels and stomping away.

you sigh and turn your phone back on, frowning when you realize the spiderman coverage is already over before turning your attention to the shower.

you're whistling to yourself as you head home, needing the music to keep you from deciding to just pass out on the nearest bench, and you don't dare put your headphones in after the sun has set.

a full day of cleaning apartments from the elite of the city, and now you have to head back to your tiny one.

you clutch your tote bag further into your side, knowing there's cash from the few clients who refuse to prepay with a credit card until they see the work you've done, despite never leaving a client unsatisfied.

“hey pretty lady.” you're used to the cat calls, so you just keep walking past the man, not acknowledging him even when you hear him push off the wall and follow you, footsteps heavy and far too close for your liking.

“i said hey!” he shouts, voice turning aggressive. you look around, but there's no one else on the empty street but a few distant cars. “bitch, you gonna be nice and say hello back?”

the man grips your shoulder and forces your feet to stop. your eyes widen as you come face to face with him, his eyes furious and breath smelling of alcohol.

“hello.” you whisper out, hoping that's all it will take for him to leave you alone, but of course it's not as he shoves you into the dark alley between two apartment buildings.

“since you wanna be a bitch, you can get on your knees and suck my dick.” he's too strong as he shoves you down onto your knees, roughly hitting the pavement as you cry out, hoping someone hears you.

“and you can give me all your money too, whore.”

“now that's not a way to talk to a woman.”

the voice makes both of you jump as you turn to see spiderman emerge out of the shadows, even taller than you pictured him.

the drunk man scatters before spiderman can get any closer.

“th-thank you, spiderman.” you know you must sound pathetic right now, voice breathy and still on your knees as he steps closer.

when his hand reaches down, you don't hesitate to place your hand in his and allow him to pull you to your feet.

“are you alright?” his voice is soft and smooth like butter and it makes you swoon even more.

“thanks to you.” you know you're blushing as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, one hand still clasped in his.

“and what about thanks?” spiderman leans down. “would you give me a kiss to thank me?”

“i-yes.” you don't think about what it means as the area around his mouth and chin disintegrates, showing off his strong jaw and plump lips.

despite him being almost bent over, you still have to raise yourself onto your tiptoes to press your lips against his.

the kiss that you meant to be soft and sweet is quickly intensified as he pulls you up, arms wrapping around you to hold you effortlessly in the air as his mouth devours yours.

“wait!” you pull away, eyes widening when you realize that at some point the rest of the disguise covering his face has also been pulled away.

he's even more handsome than you could have imagined. perfect cheekbones leading to a strong nose, his eyes big and brown, showing all the intensity behind them.

“what?” he huffs out, annoyed that the kiss ended so soon.

“i-i don't even know your name.” you admit shyly. while you're alright with giving spiderman a soft kiss as a thank you, you're not sure how you feel about the hot and heavy make out session.

“im spiderman, isn't that enough?” he frowns at you, wishing you would just shut up so he can do as he pleases.

“i-”

spiderman leans back in, attacking your lips with his. you don't know what to do, your feet are so far off the ground, and his arms are holding you so tight to his defined chest.

you relax and just allow it to happen, allow his mouth to press kiss after kiss against yours.

you let out a gasp when spidermans hand grips your chest, shifting your weight to one arm around your waist.

the open mouth allows his tongue to push inside, dominating the kiss in a whole new way as his palm rubs against your boobs.

“i-” you try to pull away, but to no avail as he's not willing to let you out of the kiss.

spiderman moves until your back is pressed against the brick wall, his other hand dropping to your ass, holding you up that way instead.

his hand is so big, fingers stretching so far that he only has to press a bit more between your thighs to be against your pussy.

“how else are you gonna thank me, pretty?” he asks, finally letting you take a deep breath, his hand still squeezing your tits over your shirt.

“i don't want to do this anymore!” you squeal out now that you're able to talk.

“what?” his voice turns dark. “i saved you and you don't want to thank me?”

“i just want to go home!” you plead. you know there's no point in screaming or trying to run.

“not until you give me a proper thank you.” he growls out. “but since im feeling nice tonight, ill let you choose. should i fuck you or settle just for you sucking me off?”

“you can't do this!” you try to wiggle out of his hold, but he's too strong.

“i can. who is gonna stop me?” the chuckle that escapes his mouth sounds like pure evil.

“i know what you look like! ill tell everyone. ill go to the news, to the police-”

“you think they'll believe you? im spiderman. i rule this city.” he shakes his head like he's disappointed in you for even mentioning it.

“but-” he continues on. “since you've taken so long to answer, ill just have to fuck you.”

you manage to get out one yell, one shout, one plead for no before spidermans mouth is back on yours.

his hand does move to cup your pussy, thick fingers sliding against your core. you feel your pussy wetten from the movements, traitorous and betraying your true intentions.

you whimper against his lips as your pants are ripped away along with your underwear, literally tearing them easily off your body.

he must have disintegrated or called back part of his suit, you have no idea how the technology works, and you certainly have no interest in figuring it out now as you feel his cock slide through your folds.

spiderman has to pull away to slide you lower, your back moving down the brick wall as his strong hands guide your hips until his cock is against your entrance, poking in.

“you're- you're too big.” you try again to plead with him. “you'll tear me in half.”

he just shrugs, a smirk even twitching at the corner of his lips as he pushes you down, hips rising up to sink you down onto his cock.

you cry out, head falling back as he continues to move, feeling like it's never ending as he continues to split your insides to make room for him.

“shit!” spiderman shouts out. “you're so tight.”

you want to say it's because you're not turned on, that you don't truly want this, but you don't want to anger him even more as his hips begin to thrust up into you.

you cry out, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. it's not as painful after a minute, your pussy adjusting to his length and girth as he fucks you without abandon.

spiderman steps away from the wall and switches so his back is pressed against it as he begins to move you up and down, using you as he would a toy to pleasure himself, but instead of thrusting into plastic, he's pushing repeatedly into your cunt.

you lean forward, hands balancing against his defined chest, needing the stability as your body is forced into taking his cock.

“please!” you cry out.

“quit crying or it'll get worse.” you're not sure how it could get worse until the hand on his hip moves, moving between your ass cheeks and pressing a finger against your other hole.

“im sorry.” you quickly say, looking up in fear that just spews spiderman faster, pumping you up and down without even breaking a sweat.

“so warm and wet.” he smiles down. “are you sure you don't want this?”

you stay silent, hoping the experience ends soon as you feel his cock swelling inside of you, pushing against your walls.

“you gonna cum with me?” he asks, other hand reaching to swirl around your clit. you wish his rough fingertip didn't feel so good against your sensitive bud.

“i don't want to.” you whimper out, entire body slumping forward as you struggle to remain in control, feeling your hips begin to shake and the way your cunt clenches around his length.

“you're gonna. come on.” the bouncing, the movement of your body up and down and the way you're practically speared onto his cock is all too much as you let out a squeal, cumming hard just as spiderman does as well, shooting his seed inside of you, feeling like it's right into your womb from how deep it is.

“oh, fuck.” he moans out. “now that was a good thank you.”

he pulls you off his cock and places you back onto the ground where your legs instantly crumple, landing in a heap against the concrete.

“don't forget your bag.” spiderman kicks your tote bag that had fallen off your shoulder towards you, spewing the cash all over the ground.

you look up at him, fear no longer in your eyes, replaced with anger and disgust. you know nothing will happen to him, but from this moment on, taking down spiderman will be your only goal.

no one man should have all that power.

196 notes · View notes

chuulyssa · 7 months ago

Text

🇾🇴🇺 ❜ 🇷🇪 🇸🇴 🇵🇷🇪🇹🇹🇾 , 🇾🇴🇺 ❜ 🇷🇪 🇸🇴 🇵🇴🇵🇺🇱🇦🇷.

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ !

↷ A/N ─ first songfic! I TRIED OKAY??? love this song btw. also i tried to make this as less slutty and more angsty as i could.

★ COUNT ─ 2.1k

!! TAGS ─ f!reader x pm!dazai, reader is in the port mafia, fantasization, dubcon (only kissing), mentions of rape and stuff in the song, angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort, reader is down bad for dazai

this isn't outright smut but there are a few mentions of it in the reader's thoughts, so im putting the mdni sign

★ PROLOGUE ─ he was everything you ever wanted. but would he ever see that?

♬ SONG ─ ecstasy

SMUT, 18+, MDNI

READ ON AO3

You couldn't believe the first time Dazai had kissed you. It felt so unreal, so distant. Your lips had locked in a perfect embrace as if they had been carved just for each other. And then he had pulled away ever so slightly and rested his forehead against yours, telling you how much he loves you.

It had felt like a dream come true. Although you had joined the Port Mafia earlier than him, you wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life with him.

What was it? A crush? Love? A fantasy? You didn't know, and you didn't care to. All you believed was that you were made for Dazai, and how could you not? His hair would move along with the wind when he would look at you for a bit too long - or so you would think, deluding yourself into the deception of a world where you woke up and fell asleep with his kisses.

I just wanna be your sweetheart Fucking come here, give me your heart

On several occasions you had tried giving him signals - letting him know that you wanted him. That you loved him. That you would listen to him blabber about in bars till dusk. That you would stroke his hair and tell him that he was perfect in every way possible if you had the courage. That you would be with him even if you were the only one standing.

"Earth to Y/N?" Dazai snaps his fingers in front of you, yanking you away from your thoughts.

"Yeah?" you said, slightly flustered.

"As I was saying, we have to first infiltrate the organization from the inside. It will be a bit difficult since it's just the two of us-"

The two of us.

Us.

Your mind began to slip away from Dazai again as you thought about the possibility of you and Osamu Dazai becoming "us" and "we". It was blissful. Your eyes began looking glossy, and he probably noticed, because he sighed and shook his head before ruffling your hair.

You came crashing down to earth again.

Just you and me to infinity I can't fucking breathe, too much ecstasy

On your way to the mission, your eyes kept glancing at him. He looked so pretty, with his hair cascading down in front of his eye in the most perfect manner, and his bandaged hands making your knees wobbly as you imagined how they would feel on your thighs, slowly inching towards your core.

The thought made you shiver, and you stumbled slightly. Dazai spared you a look of concern.

"Are you sure you're okay? I could handle them alone if you want."

"I'm alright. I can do this," you smiled softly at him. Yes, I can do this, you thought, I can do this because I'm with you.

He was your motivation, your burning desire. He was your ray of happiness in the cruel world. He was everything you had ever wanted in life.

The two of you made it to the front of the organization's immaculate house, where a party was being held. The mission was simple; get into the party in disguise and kill a few easy targets. You hadn't paid much attention to Mori's instructions anyway, for your eyes had looked at nothing other than Dazai, heart leaping with joy at the thought of being partnered with him again.

Dazai put a hand on the small of your back, and you felt goosebumps arise. He guided you into the party after giving you a small nod, and you interlocked your arms with his.

You met a few people here and there; none that you cared about. All you focused on tonight - and probably every night since you had first met him - was him. His face. His body. His voice. His laughter. His expressions. His jokes. Him. He was perfect.

Kiss me on the lips, choke me on the floor Drag me around, and push me right against your door

The night continued on, and there was only Dazai in your mind. You couldn't get him out at all, not when he was right in front of you, forehead against yours and about to kiss you. You felt as though the entire world had faded away, leaving only you and Dazai in a bubble of your own.

You held your breath as you waited for all your dreams to finally come true.

His lips hovered just inches from yours, and you felt dizzy from anticipation. Time seemed to stand still as you forced your eyes to be on his. Your heart raced in your chest, matching the frantic beat of the music pulsing in the distance from the party you had left to complete your mission.

Oh. Right. Mission.

How could you forget? How foolish of you to think that this was real. The targets you were designated to kill wouldn't want Port Mafia members in the corridor you were currently in. This was all just a show to maintain your cover.

The realization hit you like a sledgehammer, shattering all your anticipation from before. You tore your gaze away from him, and his fingers immediately went up to clutch your jaw.

"Do you trust me?"

You were silent.

"Close your eyes."

You did, and he put his lips on yours tenderly, as if you were made of glass and could break by the slightest pressure. You felt like crying. You had wanted him to kiss you for so long, and here he was, kissing you as if you weren't supposed to catch feelings for him right then and there - as if he was completely okay if you were ruined because of him.

Dazai's fingers slid from your jaw to your neck, caressing it softly before changing the pace of his kisses. They felt more passionate, but were they, really? This was all a facade. This didn't mean anything to him. Anything at all.

I'm your little doll, come and play with me Dyeing all my hair, we could be in the scene

The car ride back home was silent. Dazai had a few stains of blood on the black collar of his coat - none his, thankfully - yet he drove like he hadn't just murdered some people.

You sighed. Yes, the Port Mafia wasn't a place for feelings, and Dazai knew that perfectly well. You had finally realized that Dazai was nothing but a cold person who had no remorse, no guilt, no emotions at all while he toyed with others.

You had given away nearly half of the life you had lived up till now for him. You had given away all of yourself. You had changed yourself as much as you could. You had listened to everything he would tell you. You had done everything you could yet here you were, eyes burning as you struggled to keep them open so you didn't end up breaking down in front of the very person who was breaking you every second of this long ride.

When you reached the door to your house, you gave him a little wave, and he looked hesitant.

"Can I stay over for tonight?"

Every muscle in your body screamed at you to say no, to tell him to fuck off, maybe even punch him and shatter a few bones so he knows what it's like to be broken. Instead, you resorted to nodding lowly, not a word escaping your lips as you unlocked the door, kicked off your shoes and walked into your room, locking it from inside.

How dare he after what he did to you? How could he? Was he that heartless? Was he really how people had described him to be? Cold, ruthless and merciless? You thought you knew better, but did you?

Your legs gave in and you sunk to the floor, your back against the door. Why did he have to kiss you? Why did you agree to this stupid mission? Why did you ever fall for this man?

Lights out, you don't tap out You're so crazy, manipulate me

"Y/N?"

You immediately wiped your face on your pillow and got up to go to the living room where he sat. Tonight, for the first time in your life, Dazai was nothing but a guest to you. Not a crush. Not your love at first sight. Nothing. Just a colleague.

"I heard you. I thought you might need a drink," he offered you one, and you slowly took it from him.

You stared at the bottle of wine on the table. He had probably ordered it just now. It was an expensive one, not one you usually drank. Well, you weren't much of a drinker anyway. But tonight, maybe you could drink a little, to drown your sorrows with the very man who caused them.

The room was dimly lit, and faint moonlight formed a few odd shapes on the floor. The two of you sat drinking, and while Dazai seemed sober enough, you were already almost wasted.

"Listen," Dazai said suddenly as if he had finally made up his mind to say something. "I wanted to ask. Did that kiss mean anything to you?"

"What kiss?" you acted dumb. You didn't need to be reminded of that, not right now in your most vulnerable state.

"Don't play dumb with me, Y/N," he said sternly. "You know exactly what I mean."

You pursed your lips. "Yeah, I do. Answer that question yourself first."

"It did. A lot."

What?

You stared at him. Was this another way to break your heart even more? Was he toying with you again? Yes, this had to be another one of his manipulation tricks. But somewhere, in the corner of your heart, a tiny voice said, the Dazai I know isn't like that. He would never do something like that.

And you felt your defences crumbling all over again. You didn't care if he manipulated you and left you heartbroken as long as you got to be with him for some part of your life. You loved him. Loved.

Fucking chase me, fucking break me You're my everything, please just rape me

For the second time that night, Dazai's hands were on you. Only this time, you were happy. You wanted him. You needed him. And so you kissed him back with all your might.

You couldn't think straight at all. You couldn't feel him stand up and carry you to your bed. You couldn't see him covering the two of you with blankets to kiss you under its privacy. All you knew was that you were in his arms, and wanted to stay that way forever.

Osamu Dazai was kissing you. The Osamu Dazai. Osamu the-Youngest-Executive-in-the-History-of-the-Port-Mafia Dazai. Was this real? You didn't know. All you wanted was for the moment to go on forever.

You pulled away once more to catch your breath. On top of you, Dazai was panting too, brushing away hair from your eyes and blowing air on your face gently. You were sweating from the heat of the moment. His breath felt cool and cold, but his touch was warm, just like you had fantasized it to be.

"What are we?" you asked.

"Everything."

I just wanna be your sweetheart Fucking come here, give me your heart

You woke up as curtained sunlight hit your face, blinking at the sensation to try and keep your eyes open. A slight shift in your position made you feel Dazai against your chest, his face buried sideways and lips in a small pout.

Your eyes widened as you realized the events of the previous night. It was real. You two were official. You were dating Osamu Dazai.

Your movement had caused Dazai to purr lightly, his voice making your brain numb. Assuming he was tired, you patted his head, still in disbelief over your fortune and merely resorted to staring at the ceiling. You didn't want to wake him up. The feeling of him getting so cozy and vulnerable with you made you want to stay still like that forever.

How could someone be so pretty? So endearing? What must it be like to be that beautiful? To be someone's will to live? To be someone's first laugh and smile? How was it that someone could capture your heart this way? You felt a whirlwind of emotions; pathetic, romantic, love, disbelief. You felt everything as you stared at his sleeping figure, chest heaving up and down to match his heart beat.

You could almost feel him take your breath away. God, you loved him so bad.

Just you and me to infinity I can't fucking breathe, too much ecstasy

289 notes · View notes

gauloiseblue · 8 months ago

Text

Medic!Reader × Poly!141

Part I | Part II | Part III

[TW: attempted rape, a little bit of violence]

A/N: I'm gonna highlight the TW part so you can scroll down to skip it

It'd be thrilling for you to be on your first mission, if not for the fact that Graves himself requested it

You have the ideas, but not getting the ideas on why at the same time

You could see why he recruited you to the field, but you're not among the best medic out there, you're just a new recruit so you're basically unqualified for such missions.

If his intention is to get into your pants, well… you won't know what to do

If he's the type who likes to chase women around, then it's easier for you to be the 'easy target' for him. But at the same time, you shudder at the possibility of having to sleep with him

On the flight to the field, you mull over the choices you have

"Johnny."

"Hm?"

"Would you be…. Would you…. Hm," Your face scrunched, "... No, that sounds wrong."

"Wha' is it? Spill it out."

"... Would you be my fake boyfriend for a while? Okay, let me explain first."

Still, he wears the bewildered face, even after you explain everything

"I don't mind, but is it really necessary?" He furrows his brows

"I know it doesn't make sense, but hear me out. You knew what kind of letters he sent to me, you said it yourself that he's getting bolder each day, and trust me when I said that I have known this kind of man my whole life. They won't stop until they get what they want."

"Seems like yer an asshole magnet." He chuckled, "On a serious note, don't ye think he'll get more aggressive after knowin' that you 've a 'boyfriend'?"

"You're right." You rub your face in frustration, "But I don't have a choice, I don't wanna sleep with him."

He thought for a second. "I'll see what I do." He then wraps his arm around your neck, tugging on you in a joking manner, "But don't you think I could misunderstand your request?"

"No, you're just not the type." You laugh, "Besides, I can't see anyone in the team who would be willing to help me, for this kind of stuff…"

"... Now tha' I think 'bout it, yer right."

Upon arrival, the soldier tells the team to move immediately to the base. You're only given 5 minutes to settle down before briefing

To say that the briefing is unpleasant… is an understatement

While the commander gives an introduction for the team, you feel an uncomfortable gaze on you

You don't have to guess it, because when you lift your head, you can see Graves' been eyeing you

It feels like an eternity before it's over

Even then, it's not really over. Because once the commander is done with his speech, Graves casually mentions that he need to talk to Price in private, while not looking away from you

Thankfully, Price dismissed you from accompanying him

Back at the new base, you notice that your room is quite separated from the rest of the team, and that Price's room is farthest away from you

The closest one from your quarter is Ghost, and you can't see yourself asking him for help

That is, until 3 days have passed, and you find two cockroaches under the bed

You scream and jump, and sprint out of the room

And somehow you bump into him in the hallway before you can even acknowledge who's there

(If you knew who it was, you'd rather stay in your room, even with those cockroaches)

He's slightly annoyed by the incident, but asks you what's wrong. You swallow your pride and tell him that you saw cockroaches

"You can just step on it."

"... I'm too afraid to do that."

Seems like your scream attracted more attention, as you saw Gaz and Soap getting out from their room as well, asking if something's up

Ghost gives him a brief explanation, making Soap laughs out loud

"Jeesus, I thought we were under attack or something."

"We should kill them then." Gaz suggested

"Don't kill them." You said

"What'd ye wanna do then? Lettin' them be and hopin' that they'll politely leave yer room?"

"No, just… put them outside or something."

"Ya think they won't come back again?"

While you're busy bickering with Soap, Ghost slips into your room and takes care of it. You only realize it when he comes back with 2 cockroaches dangling in his hand, still wiggling

You almost screamed the second time if you didn't immediately hide behind Gaz

"You still wanna let these things loose?"

"Yes—yes, put them outside—"

And he obeys it without question

Which is surprising, to say the least

While you're grateful that your problem was solved, it actually creates more problems in the future. Because Soap would literally chase you around with a cockroach in his hand (and you have no idea where he gets it)

He'll get scolded by either Price or Ghost though

Anyway, besides the bugs and hot weather, you get used to your new en pretty quickly, as well as your job

Treating minor wounds, talking to injured soldiers, writing and sorting documents, all the usual stuff

You already knew that it wouldn't be easy to treat soldiers in the active warzone, but your team clearly been spoiling you

Most of the soldiers would either scream in pain, or scream at you, and sometimes even both. You attempt to use "You can complain about it later when we finish." but it doesn't work

You could bear it for a few weeks, before you got fed up and straight up running your mouth

"Look, if you wanna get uneven stitches and unnecessary infections, you can keep going. Go on and stress me out, so I will fuck it up."

And when they're still mad at you, you hit them with "I'm gonna report all of your complaints to Captain Price, he's my superior after all. State your name and complain to me, I'll tell him myself."

You felt bad borrowing Price's name, but that's the only thing that made them shut up

Sometimes you hear them muttering "Price's whore" under their breath, but you could care less

You also help other medics when the soldiers straight up humiliate them, by saying that you'll send your report to Graves. It works wonder as well

That is, until the man itself shows up in front of your room when you're just about to call it a day

"I see you've been conducting your survey in the field for me. What was it again? The 'soldier's satisfaction on medic's service'?"

You're actually taken aback by it, but you kept your composure

"I just thought that it's best for the upper rank to hear their complaints, for a reason that they're the one who decides what's the best course of action for the medic."

He chuckles at your explanation, "You're smart, I like that." He then says, "But y'know, borrowing my name for it isn't very wise of you. I can just punish you for that, but I'll let it slide this time."

"Thank you sir, I won't do it again."

"Oh, no. Keep doing it." He put his hand on your shoulder, giving enough weight to emphasize his point, "But keep Price's name out of it. If they complain about you, you should tell them that I would like to request their presence immediately."

After your encounter with him, you feel a sense of dread inside your chest, as if you've been opening a pandora box

Because the next day, Graves decides to oversee the medics' work by himself

Not only that, he'd ask the soldier if they need anything more from the medic, as if he's doing an inspection

His presence gives everyone in the room a tension

One soldier quietly murmurs "This is a warzone, and not a whorehouse for God's sake."

You pretended you didn't hear him

The news about him reach to your own team, and Soap is the first one who confront you about it

"What were ya thinking? Using his name as if you knew him personally?"

"I had to, if not, they're gonna harass the other medics and slow us down."

"Did'ya even think about the consequences? Did it ever cross your mind?"

You want to object him, but you know he's right

"... Sorry, I didn't mean ta shout. It's just that," He presses his hand on his chin, "It's more serious than I thought. Graves wouldn't even bother checking his deputy."

"What should I do then? Should I just… go along with it or ignore him?"

"Don't ever think about ignoring him, it'll only make him excited."

"Then, if I go along with him…?"

"Don't do that either."

He proceeded to explain the probability of him using you for a selfish reason, and it's likely for him to keep you to himself via blackmail

"Okay, then what should I do exactly?"

"Let's see." He thought for a moment, "You could keep doing what you do… no, he'll just prolong your contract." He hummed, forehead creased, "... I think you have to have a rival."

His suggestion causes you to frown, "A rival? Where can I find her? Are there any girls who like him?"

"There's a lot, actually."

He starts to tell you a few names that have caught Graves' attention, from the korean soldier, to the senior in your work

"I don't know…" You bit your lip, "It seems wrong to use my own senior."

"Ye don't have a lot of choice." He shrugs, "They a'ready 've a feelin' for him anyway, ye just need to create the spark between them. Though it'll be hard for ya to do since ye rarely met her, moreover the two of 'em."

"... Okay, we'll see about that."

Several days have passed, and for the first time after your arrival that the fortune goddess smiles at you

You're on your way to Price's office when you spot a brunette girl talking with Graves, and you realize that she's one of the girls Soap talked about

For a split second, your brain decides to prepare a trap, which he falls into without struggle

You've known jealousy for half of your life, mainly from the men you've dated before, so it's easy for you to replicate

And it worked. He really thinks you are, and riles you up by pulling the girl close by her waist

He tugs a smile of satisfaction when you freeze, before passing them with your head down

You continued doing it for 3 to 4 times, while successfully avoiding him in the process. You begin to see him less and less, to the point that you're so sure you're free from him

Until you receive an invitation to a party, hosted by the suspected "businessman" in the neighboring country, delivered by Graves himself

"You're the perfect girl for this mission." He smirks, "It'll be a good time for us to be together, to make up for the time we've lost."

"Uh…." You stare at the invitation on his hand, unable to think, "I… don't think I'm the right person for it, sir. I'm just a medic, I haven't even completed my self-defense training yet."

"I certainly don't mind it if you become a damsel in distress." He teased, which irked you so badly, you almost broke your charade, "Trust me, I know you'll do a great job on it. You'll fit right in with the riches, just like me."

"Well, thank you for the compliment, but really, I'm not cut out of this job. I'm sure Gillian from the intelligent team is more suitable for it."

He let out a sigh, not even hiding the impatience in his breath, "So you'll deny the order from your superior?"

It's enough to shut you up immediately, and you reluctantly shake your head. "No, sir. I'm sorry."

"Good girl." He smiles at you, satisfied, "We'll depart by tomorrow morning, make sure you come on time."

Turns out, Gaz and Ghost are also on the mission. Gaz lights up when he sees you, although a little puzzled because you're not supposed to be on this kind of mission. You have no time to explain to him because Graves already pulls you to the cockpit, separating you with 2 other men

Fast forward, after the disastrous preparation and changing the dress at the last minute (because Graves picked up the most revealing dress that didn't suit you at all), you settle with a long slitted dress and simple makeup.

The party is decent, (you've been to bigger, more extravagant parties, that's why) there's champagne, free buffet, and a chatty host

Graves immediately approaches the man, exchanging greetings and all, while you stick to your role as an arm candy

Before the party, all the members got a briefing about their assignments. Graves would be the one who observes the situation and gives commands, Gaz would be the sniper and distraction so Ghost could sneak in to get the files and the man himself. You didn't get anything, so you assumed you're just an arm candy, until the man offered you a tour to his wine cellar, and you immediately knew that you're the bait

You don't like him one bit, and the fact that you're being used as bait makes you hate him more. He makes a lot of inappropriate jokes and touches, as well as a racist statement when Gaz is captured (he gets the news from the phone)

You try to grin and bear it, until he grabs your ass and presses himself against you. You struggle against him, and he doesn't take it too kindly as he punches your face with his fist full of rings

It hurts a lot that your ear is ringing from the impact. By the time you gain your senses, he's already on top of you, ripping your dress open

"Graves is a good friend of mine, he wouldn't mind if I play with his girls for a while."

You should've taken the self-defense class

It feels like eternity before you hear the door open, and a heavy step comes in. It takes around 3 seconds before the man collapses, with a small arrow on his back

You turn around to see Ghost with black tactical suit, and a different mask, which is just a plain black mask

You quickly cover yourself, fumbling with the remaining of your dress before you hear him calling your name. He calls you with a hushed tone, almost as if he's calling a wounded dog, which is quite accurate, since you don't realize you've been hyperventilating

"Look at me." He commanded, "Take a deep breath… and breathe out. Good, keep it going."

He asks you if you can stand up, and you slowly nod. But as you try to do so, the dress keeps slipping away from your body. Seeing you struggle, he decides to lend you his vest

"Cover yourself with it, and then we leave."

You and him leave the room, with the man on his shoulder, deep in slumber

Back at the makeshift base, they tie the man up on a chair

While Graves and Ghost take care of him, you go to the other room to take care of your swollen cheek. By the time you look in the mirror, it's already blooming red

You make a cold compress for your face, and you hiss at the sharp pain. You sit on the edge of the bed for a while, before you hear people walk in

"What's u— Oh no, what happened to your face?"

You look at Gaz, it seems like he escaped without hassle. "Nothing, just got punched by the package."

"Let me see… Damn, you got a cut."

"No wonder it stings."

He then helps you cleaning the wound, and when he pours the alcohol on the cotton, you stop him

"Let it be."

"Won't it get infected?"

"No, it's a shallow cut. See? The bleeding has stopped."

He chuckles, "I'll trust the medic then."

You both talk for a bit, before Ghost comes in

"We'll be leaving at dawn, make sure you get everything ready."

At dawn, as you and the crew enter the aircraft, you take a glance at the abandoned warehouse to see the man on the chair, unmoving. Graves seems to take notice of it, before he leans in and whispers, "Don't be sorry, he took it upon himself. He shouldn't have touched what's mine."

For a moment, you're filled with so much rage, that you forgot all of your play pretend. "I'm not an object you can play with, Graves." You retorted, words were filled with poison, "I'm not yours, and I will never be."

Which was a mistake, because the minute you said that, his eyes changed almost immediately. And you didn't like it at all

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #price x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #platonic relationships #price cod #soap cod #ghost cod #gaz cod #graves cod #graves is an asshole in here

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hiskillingjar · 20 days ago

Text

pretty rave girl

Relationship: Ren Hana/MC Rating: Explicit Includes: Dubious Consent, Coerced Consent, Date Rape, Drugging, Intoxication, Hypnotism (sort of), Anime Conventions Length: 6200+ words

an rehash and extension of my hypnotism kinktober fic, very kindly requested by @frawgsie! thank you so much for your support <3

if you'd like a commission of your own, feel free to check out my post and shoot me a message!

Part One

"Can I get a Monster, please?"

"Original, Ultra White, or-"

"Pipeline Punch, obviously!” You said with an exaggerated ‘ugh!’, flicking the plastic fibres of your wig out of your eyes, heavily made up and caked in pink glitter. “Is there any other?"

The girl behind the bar rolled her eyes, probably wishing she was also partying in the ball room instead of serving you. She turned away, fetching a tall pink can from the set of fridges behind her, readily stocked for the messy nerds the hotel was reluctantly hosting over the convention weekend.

"You're such a bitch."

Ren giggled, a little tipsy in his own right, as he pressed to your side, lolling and lazing against your shoulder. His chest hit your sweaty back, skin sticking to the thin material of his shirt, and his tail swayed cool air against your thighs as it wagged.

"She was just asking you a question. No need to bite her head off."

"Come on, it's a dumb question!” You said, eyes flitting towards him as the girl cracked open the can and slid it towards you (lest you try and sneak anything closed into the ballroom). “How can you look at me,” You gestured downwards at the tacky Chibi Moon cosplay you were wearing, thigh highs, a short skirt and a bikini sporting a comically large bow between the cups. “And think I'll ask for anything but Pipeline Punch?"

"You have no taste.” He continued to giggle, snaking his arms around your waist and nuzzling into the fibres of your pink pigtails.“Ultra White is peak."

"Maybe if you have an eating disorder," You rolled your eyes, paying the exorbitant five dollars for the can with a tap of your phone. "Something you wanna tell me, Ren?~"

“Shut up,” He rebuked with an irked huff, a small growl escaping his throat as he squeezed you around the waist, pressing you flush against the line of his slender body and nipping at your pierced earlobe, a quasi-punishment for being ‘such a bitch’. “And drink your Monster, before you piss me off.”

"Mm, not so close,” You complained with a lip-gloss lacquered pout, taking a long initial sip from the can and smacking your lips. “It's so hot in there. I swear, I can feel sweat dripping down my crack-"

“Well, let’s stop wasting time already,” He cut you off with an exaggerated sigh, taking your free hand and dragging you towards the double doors of the hotel ballroom. “I don’t wanna miss anything good!”

"Okay, okay!" You laughed in spite of yourself, taking another swig from your can, the fruity chemicals bubbling over your tongue and satisfying your thirst, before you thrust it towards him. "Can you hold this for a second? I need to adjust my bra."

"Oh, so you're calling those two triangles a bra now?" He said with a good-natured eye roll, as you turned around and adjusted the strings of your bikini top, tightening them slightly and breathing in as they cut into the soft flesh of your chest, pushing your breasts together (and making them look fucking awesome, thank you very much). “You’re so high maintenance, I swear.”

"Now who's the bitch!" You said with an exaggerated gasp before grinning, leaning in to kiss his cheek (leaving behind a pink lip gloss print) and take your can back. "Thank youuuu~"

"Pff," He rolled his eyes again, though he couldn’t hold back a dumb smile, his hand reaching for yours once more as he pulled you back inside the crowded ballroom, the pounding music instantly loud and throbbing through every inch of your body as soon as you stepped inside, like you could feel it in your bones. "You're such a tease, y'know that?"

"I don't think you can call me a tease when you're gonna get laid at the end of the night." You commented with a cattish smirk, following behind him obediently.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, you slut~" Ren said with a mischievous smirk, his ears tilting forward with a shake of his head.

He led you through the sea of dancing people and closer towards the front of the ballroom, where a DJ (donned with a neon green furry wolf head that you guessed was probably drenched in sweat) was spinning the tracks for the night, all while a matching set of monitors were projecting visuals for the set; sped-up anime openings, well-cropped hentai and constant, flashing lights.

It made the rave's energy feel much more manic, and you loved it.

You were grinning like an idiot by the time the two of you got to the front, squeezed tight between the other dancers (some couples, some groups, some going solo), soaking up the atmosphere like a sponge, and your body was already moving in time with the music, your hips swaying, your chest bouncing and your shoulders bobbing up and down.

Ren turned to look at you, his amber eyes lecherously raking over your body from top to bottom, admiring the cheap cosplay that barely covered you, a clear lust behind his gaze.

Not like you minded. You knew you were hot, and his validation just made you feel hotter.

"God, you look good tonight," He said loudly over the music, matching your dance moves the best he could (without a bouncing chest).

You somehow smiled even more and stroked down the length of your pigtails, before tossing them over your shoulder, your eyes half-lidded and a seductive pout on your lips.

"How good do I look, hm?" You crooned, pressing closer to him so he could hear you.

"Good enough for me to want to fuck you on the dance floor." He admitted with a brazen, fanged grin, closing the space between the two of you, his hot body pressed against yours, making it all too easy for him to roll his hips against your own, in time with the pounding bassline.

You could feel how hard he was through his jeans.

Already. You had barely done a thing and you were already driving him crazy.

He was so fucking easy.

"You're such a nerd," You laughed, but you didn't stop yourself from pressing against him too, the back of your skirt riding up high as he slotted his groin against your backside, his hands bracketing your full hips and holding on tightly. "Seriously? I just gotta dress like an anime girl to get you going?"

"What can I say?" He hummed airily, his hands wandering up and down your thighs and groping your ass through the thin fabric of the cosplay. “I’m very weak against a very specific type of girl. It’s not my fault you fit it perfectly.”

You bit your lip to hide another big, dumb smile, feeling his hand slide higher up your skirt and toy with the elastic hem of your bicycle shorts (you had to retain some modesty, after all), like he was threatening to pull them down, and really fuck you, right there on the dancefloor, in front of everyone.

The very idea of that made you feel lightheaded.

Or was it something else?

"Fuck, it's so hot in here," You breathed out and stood up straight after the song finished, feeling a bead of sweat run down your inner thighs and make the spandex shorts start to chafe painfully against your skin. You sighed and took another swig of Monster, before pushing your wrist against your forehead, wiping up more sweat with a grimace. “I think I might actually have to go outside, it’s a little too much.”

Instead of pulling you out of the ballroom to get some air (which you wouldn’t have expected from him anyway), Ren reached around and grabbed your wrist, tight, before guiding your hand upwards, the cool metal of the Monster can pressed back against your gasping lips.

"You don’t need to do that. Just finish your drink, baby," He ordered softly (in a tone you knew you couldn’t argue with), hooking his chin over your shoulder and tracing his soft lips over your ear, whispering sweet words under the pounding music. "It'll help you cool down, won’t it?"

"Mmf-!"

You spluttered in muffled (if slightly coerced) agreement as the drink hit your lips again and filled your mouth, the overwhelming sweetness making your brain pound (an after-effect of the caffeine and nothing else, surely, you had barely drank anything that night), more than the music had, more than the flashing lights and swirling colours had.

Sticky pink fluid ran down your chin as he poured more down your throat, too fast for you to swallow, and trickled over your chest, soaking into the costume.

When you glanced down (as much as you could, as much as he let you), you saw your nipples (gradually hardening to firm little buds) slowly becoming visible under the wet fabric, dusky pink beneath the soaked, white polyester, and it made something inside you throb painfully.

"Oh, look at you," Ren tutted condescendingly as he looked down at your body, keening forward so his tongue could run over the side of your chin to collect the droplets of sticky Monster. His eyes were smouldering as his free hand then pulled your hips against his once more, pushing your skirt up completely. "Such a mess. You just always need me to take care of you, don’t you?"

Hhhhh…"

You breathed out unsteadily through your nose, heavy eyes blinking slowly (dumbly), as he poured another mouthful of energy drink down your throat, your head spinning even more.

The crowd of bodies around you were packed in so tight, the small ballroom hot and humid (stinking of weeaboo sweat and fruity-scented vape smoke), and filled to the brim with the manic energy of a thousand nerds on their first night out, hopped up on Monster Energy and vodka, listening to nightcore remixes of their favourite anime.

It was an infectious energy that made your heavy head pound even more.

And you didn't know if it was the caffeine and the sugar from the drink, or if it was the pounding music and flashing lights, or if it was something else entirely making you feel so...strange all of a sudden, but you knew you liked it, whatever it was.

"Oh, fuck,"

You breathed out as a new song started playing, speakers practically throbbing with droning sirens, drawled vocals and pounding bass. This was all while the twin monitors played sensorily overwhelming visuals, flashing lights, swirling spirals (pink and purple, blurred text overlaying it), half-naked anime girls and candy-sweet gore, fake blood tinged almost pink and making your mouth water.

"This song is...really fucking good..."

"Oh yeah?" Ren chuckled, watching the way your chest heaved as he pulled the pink can away from your lips, the sugar-sweet liquid staining your chin and pooling in the valley of your heaving breasts, almost glistening against your pale skin under the harsh lights of the room. "Maybe you should...pay attention to it, hm? If it's that good~"

You barely managed to slur a meek "okay" as he pressed his free hand between your shoulder blades, suddenly forcing your chest forward and bending your body in two, before pressing his hips squarely against your backside. His hand then curled into your ‘hair’ (the shitty wig, sliding atop your head and showing off some of your real hair) and pushed your head forward, so your eyes would focus on nothing but the flashing lights and visuals on screen, and he could keep you still and stimulated.

"That's a good girl," He said as the lower half of your body moved to the beat of the music, swaying and jerking against his crotch. "Just focus on the beat. That’s it."

Your hazy eyes locked forward, almost (entirely) involuntarily (though maybe there was something a little hot about that), widening slightly as the lights sped up to match the sped-up beats-per-minute, black and white imprinted on your lids and blurring your vision.

The rest of the clubgoers blurred, too, into a muddy and abject sea of multicoloured wigs, cheap AliExpress cosplay and fursuits.

None of them mattered. Nobody mattered here.

All that mattered were those monitors, now showing censored hentai and those overlays of pink and purple spirals, making your heart pound and your brain throb in your skull.

What little brain you still had.

Ren pressed closer to you, arching his body over your bent back, the solid weight of his body an anchor against the increasingly dizzying effect of the music and the lights.

“Y’know, you really do look good tonight, baby…”

"Heh," You laughed, breathing out unsteadily as you tried to stand up straight again. He kept you still with the hand in your hair, claws threateningly digging into your scalp (if you got any blood on this wig, you’d kill him). "Hehehe…mm…” Your hair lolled forward even more. “My head feels funny, Ren~"

Your voice was soft, sweet, almost simpering, nowhere close to the ‘bitchy tone’ he occasionally took issue with.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, a hidden smirk playing on his lips as he took in your dazed expression and the needy look in your eyes, pulling your hips closer to his crotch, so you could feel the stirrings of his arousal against the ‘gusset’ of your bike shorts. "That's reeeeally interesting, sweetheart..."

"Hhhhehehe, did you druuug me?" You laughed again as he pushed you forward, the small if persisting amount of fear barely audible in your voice over the pounding music.

"Now, why would I do something like that, hm?" He asked, his tone almost innocent, the cock to his head and the smirk on his voice audible through his facade of guiltlessness.

"I...don't know," You breathed out, licking your lips again to quell your nervousness and tasting the overwhelming sweetness of the Monster and the aftertaste of something…chalky. "I just feel so hot...and...hahhh...l-like I can’t even keep my head up. Heh," A shaky smile came to your face as you panted a little more. “I think you put something in my drink…”

"Aw, I don’t think so, baby. I think you might just be overheating…don’t you?" He asked with feigned sympathy and ignorance at your accusation, his hands then wandering across the planes of your body, the tips of his fingers trailing over the sweat-sticky bare skin of your back, your hips, your thighs. "Oh, you really do feel hot! Ah, I thought you were exaggerating! You poor thing."

"Hhhh,"

You wheezed uselessly as he pulled your shoulders upwards and trotted to your front, a little dribble of pink-tinged spittle running down your sticky chin. The music felt like it was only getting louder, though, despite him pushing you back, away from the heaving crowds of people (who were only getting more excited) and towards the corner of the ballroom.

Ren just chuckled at the sight of you, as you pressed your back against the cool metal wall of the ballroom, sliding downwards slightly, barely able to keep yourself upright.

"God, you're pathetic," He laughed in your ear as his chest pressed against yours, your face flushed from the heat and the drugged drink, your lax body swaying to beats and lights, even when you were pinned to the wall. "You look so out of it, baby."

"Heh heh," You giggled brainlessly, trying to shut your mouth. You couldn’t stop drooling. "I...y-yeah...I guess I am."

"Yeahhhh, you're just a mess, aren’t you?" He continued to tease cruelly, his hands roaming your sides, your hips, again, thumbs hooking over the waistband of your bike shorts, threatening to pull them down completely. "But you love it, don't you? Feeling all brainless and all dizzy and needy. I bet you’re addicted to it, like you’re addicted to those fucking energy drinks~"

You couldn't say anything, your brain was only able to focus on those fucking flashing lights and the fucking pounding music, and how fucking good it was making you feel.

You had a sense that it wasn’t just sweat and Monster making you feel so wet.

"You're such a good girl, baby," He then said, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, his tongue running down to your exposed collar, tasting salt and sweet on your skin as his lips reached the sticky valley of Monster between your breasts. "And good girls get rewards, don't they?” He pulled back and eyed you with a fanged smile. “You want a reward, don't you, baby?"

"Mm," You moaned mindlessly, nodding in time with the music.

"Good girl, asking for what you want," He growled in satisfaction, his tongue tracing back up the side of your neck and to your ear as he pulled you closer. "I think you're going to enjoy it, too~"

Your hazy mind didn't catch his hand going into the pocket of his jeans (he hadn’t even dressed up, not like you had, you always made such a fucking effort to impress him), but you knew immediately what he had done when you felt a familiar device buzz to life inside your panties.

"OH!"

You had forgotten about the bullet when you got dressed that morning.

Have you been walking around with a sex toy in your underwear all day, even when you were at the convention?

The idea of it made your cunt twinge a little.

Well, a little more.

"Mmm," Ren hummed happily, the vibrations rocking through your body to the beat of the music (it must have had a special sensor built-in or something, how much had this cost him?), just making your brain slur even more as the bass pounded on and on. "You are a naughty girl, aren’t you? Letting me do something like this to you in public?"

"I-I didn't...ohhhh~" You moaned helplessly, tipping your head back against the wall as your thighs clenched together tightly, trying to contain all the pleasure within yourself.

Your eyes stayed open, though, half-lidded and staring ahead at those pink graphics.

"But you don't hate it, do you?" He asked, nipping at your ear, tugging at the hoop through it and pressing his fingers against the front of your shorts, forcing the small device a little harder against you, right where it needed to be. "It feels good, doesn't it? And you look so hot like this, baby, all needy and mindless. Everyone here is going to know you're my girl and be so jealous."

Of course, you didn’t hate this.

Your full lips were slack and drooling a sticky mix of spit and energy drink down your chin and making your nipples show through your shitty costume. Your eyes were locked ahead, practically pinned in place, and your entire body was positively thrumming with pleasure, both from the vibrator in your panties and the enthralling trance you’d be put under, both only made worse by a sped-up and bass-boosted version of the Ouran High School Host Club theme song.

How could you possibly hate even a moment of this?

Hate wasn't an option you could choose, anymore.

Just gleeful happiness.

"That's what I thought," Ren praised your non-answer with a triumphant smile, his lips trailing back to the crook of your neck and sucking at the skin, leaving a small mark (which you barely reacted to, you were so gone) before his voice dropped even lower in your ear. "And you're going to stay like this for me, all needy and pretty, all night, until everyone here can see just how filthy my baby is for me, aren't you?"

"Yessss," You drawled out with another mindless moan, the vibrator in your panties building in intensity as the droning bridge dropped and the bass began to pound. "God, yes..."

"Suuuuch a good girl," He whispered, his fangs finding the edge of your ear and biting down hungrily, his chest rising and falling against your front in time with the beat. Maybe this was exciting him as much as it was exciting you. "I want you to look at the stage, baby. I want you to watch what's on the screen for me."

You hadn’t looked away all this time, but found all the more reason not to when he was ordering you around like this.

"You don't need anything, do you, baby? You don't need to think or worry about anything, hm?" He murmured, his soft voice somehow permeating each rise and fall of the music. "All you need is to focus on is how good the music feels, how good I make you feel, and how desperately you want more…”

"Y-Yeah," You murmured softly, your hazy eyes half-lidded again as your lips went slack with another desperate wheeze of breath. "Hhhh..."

“And only good girls get to feel like this, don’t they?" He then asked, somehow turning up the bullet another notch and listening to you moan, pink spirals reflected in your glassy, doll-like eyes. “Only good girls get to feel this happy and free.”

"I'm a good girl," You smiled brainlessly, your head tilting back. "Ngh, I’m a good girl..."

"That's right," He whispered with a proud smile, nuzzling against you, the soft whisps of his hair and fur of his ears damp with sweat. "You're my good girl. Soooo, you're going to keep dancing for me, all mindless and dumb, so that everyone here knows you’re mine, and there’s nothing they can do about it. Sound good?”

"Uh huh~"

“So pathetic. Hmm, no wonder I like you so much~”

Part Two

"Thank you so much for your help!"

The elevator doors slid open with a low ‘ding’.

You looked up in silent alarm with an exhausted murmur, drunken and dazed and still drooling down your front, your gaze switching from one arm, which Ren had thrown over his shoulder, and the other, where a random guy (in a pretty decent Leon Kennedy cosplay) was supporting you, helping the younger man carry your slack body back up to your hotel room.

He couldn’t have done it himself, after all.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do to help?” He asked, scraping the fibres of his blonde wig from his eyes. “She looks pretty out of it, man."

"Yeah, totally,” Ren smiled, his tail wagging behind you as he held onto you a little tighter, his other arm slung around your waist, protectively, possessively holding you against his smaller body, like the good boyfriend he was trying to be. “She's just a little drunk after the rave, is all. She’ll be totally fine after I’ve gotten her to lie down. Isn’t that right, sweetie?"

He squeezed your hip hard, making you groan and lean into him a little more, playing the perfect role of a drunken girlfriend (reacting to his squeezes like a toy would).

"You know how it is,” He added with an appreciative smile towards the stranger. “Her first con, getting excited and all..."

"Oh yeah, for sure.” ‘Leon’ nodded empathetically, following Ren as they both dragged you down the hall and towards your room. “My boyfriend is the same, totally..."

After a few more moments of polite chatter and you stumbling along with them, (the vibrator thankfully at rest in your panties, you wouldn’t have been able to walk if it was still going like it was), Ren reluctantly let go of your waist for a second to retrieve the room’s key card from his jean pocket.

"This is us!” He said, producing the card and holding you tighter. “Thanks again for your help."

"For sure.” ‘Leon’ smiled as Ren tapped the key to the door and opened it up, helping you through the door frame with a sheepishness in his posture (possibly cluing into the dynamic between the two of you, who knew). “Um, have a good rest of your night. And, uh,” He smiled again, a little awkwardly, and gestured to the space above his head. “Love your ears by the way. Super realistic!"

Ren’s tail swayed a little more as he waved the guy off happily.

"You too! Enjoy the rave!"

‘Leon’ left you to it and Ren waited patiently until he had walked down the corridor, back to the elevator, before he shut the door behind the two of you. He took your shoulder in hand and jerked you towards the hotel’s bed with an authoritative kind of promptness, like he couldn’t wait to do…whatever he had planned next.

"Makes you feel good, doesn't it?” He asked, his voice airy and casual, as you slumped on the edge of the bed with a tired moan. “Someone helping like that. People are so nice."

"Mmh..." You nodded lazily in agreement, trying to keep your head up.

Ren just chuckled watching you try to stay alert (stay guarded from whatever he had planned) and started to pace around the room, his arms crossed as he assessed the bags and boxes of figures, plushies, art prints, and…well, whatever else you saw in the convention centre that attracted your attention.

You had so little of your own. Could you be blamed for going a little ham with this stuff?

"You really spent a lot of my money, didn't you, sweetie?” He asked, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head, as if he was scolding you for something. “I think you brought half the artist alley back up here! Mm, that's okay, though.” He smiled, a subdued sort of cruelty touching his eyes and making you shiver, his tail continuing to sway. “I have a sense that you're gonna make it up to me."

“Ren,” You murmured softly as he approached you, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving you a swift shove backwards, your back hitting the overstuffed mattress and stained blankets with a quiet ‘oof’. “I-I don’t feel so good…can we take it slow tonight? Please?”

“I don’t think so,” Ren crooned lowly with an indulgent smirk, moving his knee between your legs and pushing them apart, your skirt having completely ridden up and your bike shorts concealing next to nothing."God, this outfit really is hot.” He said, leaning over you then, his hands bracketing your full hips. “I'm sorry my costume didn't come in time, we would have looked so cool matching tonight…"

"What did you give me?" You slurred, letting out an unsteady breath as he reached up your skirt and pulled down your shorts, past your thigh highs and boots, and tossed them to the side. “Ren, seriously…hh, my head is fucking killing me…”

“Hm?” He looked up, his ears moving forward in alarm, before he tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "What’s that? Are you coming down, baby?” He grinned at your sudden discomfort, exposing wet fangs and eyes gleaming with malice. “Aw, don't worry, I have some more where that came from."

“More of what?” You asked, making an attempt to sit up on the bed.

He ignored your question and quickly stepped away from you then, pacing back across the hotel room to fetch another tall can of Monster from the television stand (adorned with make-up products and discarded underwear from the previous night).

"See, it’s even in your favourite flavour~" Ren teased with another grin, cracking open the can and kneeling back on the bed, looming over you, as he shoved you back down. “Open wide!”

“MMH-!”

He poured out the first spill of Monster liberally, covering your flushed face and heaving chest with the sticky, carbonated liquid all over again, and making the blankets beneath your slack body sodden and very cold.

"You really are addicted to this stuff, aren’t you? I should just keep you fed on this…” He mused with a dirty, little titter, before reaching forward and taking your cheeks in hand, squeezing them together and forcing your mouth open in a demeaning pout. “I could just pour it into a dog bowl and leave it out for you all day.”

He poured out another spill of it, and you had to open your mouth wide (as much as you could in his grip) to catch the majority of it, lest you be covered in even more.

“Wffh,” You breathed out a spray of the sticky fluid, covering your chin as you tried to shake your head out of his grip. “What did you give me…hhh…”

He sat himself down on your thighs then, balancing the can on your heaving chest, nestled between your sticky breasts, dusky nipples hard from the cold fluid and pressed, pornographically tight, against your bikini top.

"It's kind of funny that you're so clueless about it, you know.” He said, reaching to his back pocket and producing a plastic baggie of white powder. “Didn't you ever get a DARE class about date rape drugs, when you were still in school?” He drew his words deliberately slow as he opened the baggie, carefully pouring a small amount of the powder into the can, making it fizz and overflow across your stomach.

He tilted his head condescendingly as he tucked the baggie away, and took hold of your face again, claws digging into your sticky skin.

"Or did you get one, and you were too much of a dumb idiot to pay attention to it, hm?"

You swallowed another mouthful of energy drink as it poured onto your face again, the chalky aftertaste familiar from when he had drugged you before, back at the rave.

Ketamine.

Fuck, you always had bad reactions to ketamine.

"I mean, I know they call them date rape drugs and all. But..." Ren shrugged as he poured another mouthful of the tainted Monster into your mouth, not caring when you spluttered and choked on it. "I think that sort of suggests that you're not desperate for it. When I know you totally are!"

He licked his lips hungrily, watching as you sucked in a hard breath, just trying to breathe while you were waterboarded with fucking Monster Energy.

"Maybe they should just call them 'date' drugs, hm? Cus they make you all...loose and ready for it, right?"

He set the half-finished can on the bedside table and pushed himself back, completely between your legs, before pressing the persisting bulge in his jeans (little pervert that he was, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been hard all this time) against the front of your panties, seeing just how wet you had gotten from his teasing back at the rave.

"Rennn..." You whined needily through a wet splutter of energy drink, raising your hips with shaky calves to meet his needy thrusts. “Gh, please-”

"Shhh, I'm right here, baby." He cooed, pulling himself back enough so he could pull the sides of your panties down your legs and enjoy you bare and vulnerable underneath him. "Mm, look at you, all wet and needy for me.” He murmured with another indulgent smirk. “Well, I guess I have an advantage in that sense, don't I?"

"NHH!"

The bullet inside of you (because it had been pushed against enough to slide in there) buzzed to life again.

When had he even gotten his phone out?

You whined loudly the second it started buzzing again, breathing hard as you squeezed your eyes shut, hips tilting upwards just trying to find even more of the sinful vibrations.

"I reeeally thought you were gonna cum down there, you know. When we were in the rave.” Ren smirked, sitting up on his knees and unbuckling his belt with dextrous hands. “Or in the elevator, in front of that strange guy.” He then reached down to unzip and unbutton his jeans, shifting forward again to rub against your buzzing opening again, his tail wagging as the vibrations clearly had an effect on him too. “Heh, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

“Mmm…ah,” You breathed out, shivering with pleasure as his hand slid up your (sticky) stomach and to your damp bikini top, teasing your nipple through the wet fabric.

"Like how you like showing off in your slutty, little bikini.” He breathed out with a little chuckle. “I'm not mad…mmh," He shifted down his boxers then, pushing your thighs open even more and giving himself a bigger space to slot his cock into. "The exact opposite, actually. It's really, reeeally hot how much you enjoy being a huge slut. Most girls don't have your sense, you know~"

You took in another sharp inhale when you felt the head of his cock rub against your cunt, teasing, threatening you with more.

"Nhhh…” You squeezed your eyes shut, your arms laying slack at your side as the drug pulsed through your veins again, just making your head spin even more. “No, no…”

“Don’t say no to me, baby. I know you don’t really mean it, after all.” He chided lightly, the claws of his free hand digging into your thigh as he tried to push himself closer, push himself inside of you. "You know, I don't think girls like you can even get raped,” He added with another airy, aroused titter. “Mm, at least not by guys like me."

"AH!" You gasped, your eyes shooting wide and your head absolutely swimming with drugged lust as he pushed deeper into you, the length of his hard cock filling you up completely and the initial swellings of his knot pressed against your slit, wet and open and hungry. “Oh, fuck, Ren-!”

"God, you're so wet, already,” He breathed out, shoving himself closer towards you, building up an initial momentum of pounding thrusts as his chest heaved in time with each of your whines and whimpers. “I barely have any friction at all. I can just..."

You grit your teeth, eyes squeezing shut again as he pushed deeper inside of you.

"Slide in, knot first.” He grinned, half delirious with his own pleasure, a string of drool clinging to his wet teeth and dripping across your chest, breasts bouncing each time he thrust deeper inside of you, looking all the more pornographic and ridiculous. “Haha, I bet you won't even be able to cling onto my knot like this, you know. You're just so wound up and wet~"

He slapped your hip sharply, seeking some kind of physical reaction, and making you shriek and tighten up around him.

Or, well, attempt to tighten up.

You were sort of too far gone to try doing that now.

"Fuck, why is even that getting me hot?” He breathed out, his heavy body sinking down against yours to pin you against the bed, rutting harder against you, each wet slap of flesh against flesh pushing you that much closer to your limit (whatever that limit was, you weren’t so sure anymore). “You really bring out the worst in me, baby."

“Ohhh,” You moaned loudly, unable to hold anything back with so many drugs in your system, the concoction of caffeine and ketamine (and a little booze) making you feel that much more disorientated and totally out of it. “Ren, Ren, Ren!”

“I’m right here, shhh, I’m here just for you,” He murmured, nestling close to you, his sharp cannibal teeth against your sticky neck and his tongue drawing wet lines up your skin. “I mean, hah,” He breathed hard, scenting you, intimate and sweet, contradicting his harsher actions. “I was already pretty bad. But ohhh, you just make me want to be even worse…mm,”

You felt the cold press of his teeth against your neck, and your pelvis tightened even more.

“But I don’t need to be.” Ren pulled back from the bite, smoothing his tongue over the sore flesh (as if he was apologising for it, something he would never do with words alone) as his hips drived harder and faster against yours, pushing you into a state of quasi delirium that felt just so good. “You’re just suuuuch a gooood girl, so I don’t need to force you to do anything at all, do I? …mmmh~”

“Hah-hah-hah,” You breathed out, wrapping an arm around his neck as you felt his touch descend to the soft folds of your pelvis, trying to push you open and give himself enough space to work his knot into. “T-Too much, ngh-!”

“See, you’re saying that…” He breathed out with an unsteady exhale, pulling back enough to look you in the eye, a broad, dirty grin on his face as his thrusting resumed, never pausing for even a second of respite. “But I’m hearing that I should do more. You just like to challenge me so much, don’t you?”

You suddenly cried out as he pressed into you completely, working his knot all the way inside of your cunt, his forehead pressed to yours as you grit your teeth from the painful stretch.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He praised you with another long exhale, smiling down at you, serenely, like you were doing something truly worthy of pride. “Just like that. Fuck, you’re clenching so hard,” His eyelids fluttered (the same as yours always did) as you tightened up around him, again, only forcing him to try and thrust deeper, push his knot even more inside of you. “That’s so good, baby, so good-!”

“Oh, Ren, Ren, fuck!” You cried out, digging your nails into his shoulders. “Yes, yes!”

“Yesss, you’re so good, you like that so much, don’t you?”

“I LOVE IT!!!”

#ren btd #ren hana #ren x mc #ren x reader #fics #commission

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crazyunsexycool · 9 months ago

Text

Heart’s Munition

Chapter 7

Pairing: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x Maid!reader

Word count: 6.3k

Warning: mention of blood/blood splatter, gun use, gunshot, knife use, non-con touching (not Steve), SA, attempted rape, bruises, beating, angst, protective Steve

A/N: I really liked writing this chapter. Here we have a situation in which reader knows that Steve is in the mob but has never been in direct contact with any type of violence or anything until she is… We also find out who the woman that broke Steve's heart is (Are we surprised who it is?) We'll find out why later on so here we go....

Series Masterlist

“One more piece of tape.” You said as you held your hand out.

“Here you go.”

You place the tape on the last corner and then smooth it out to make sure it stays in place.

“Mom are you done?” Eli pops his head into the room you’re in. “They’re downstairs.”

“Yes, come on.”

You and Eli were two balls of energy. Everything was in place and Regina was more than supportive in your excitement. For the last two days you had been working on getting a room ready for Peter. He was finally being released from the hospital and considering how things were going Steve thought it would be better if Peter stayed for a while.

There’s voices coming from the hallway so you and Eli stand together and wait for the door to open. Steve smiles as he opens the door and steps inside. Peter is right behind him.

“Welcome home.” You and Eli yell at the same time. Peter, still being medicated, is startled before he starts laughing.

“Thanks guys. Did you help decorate?” He asks Eli who walked up to Peter and hugged him gently.

“Yeah. Do you wanna watch a movie?”

“That sounds like a great idea bud.”

“Eli, let Peter get settled first. Why don’t you go help Dom make some snacks for the two of you?”

“Ok ma. I’ll be right back.” Eli says before he’s running out the door.

“It’s good to see you’re back.” You said as you gave Peter a hug of your own.

“Glad to be back too.”

You smile as you help him get comfortable in bed. Regina helps by getting his bags from Sam and sorting out the items.

“Who’s she?” Peter nods in her direction.

“This is Regina, the newest member of our staff.”

Peter gives her an awkward smile and his eyes dart to Steve. He thought he’d find the boss checking her out but his eyes were only on you. Peter knew from the first moment Steve liked you but he was stubborn. He wouldn’t let emotions cloud his judgment. Steve had warned him to keep a level head and to keep feelings out of the business. But seeing him now it would seem as if his boss was going against his own advice.

“Nice to meet you. Let me know if you need anything.” Regina offers. “I’m going to get back to work.”

“Thanks.” Steve says as he moves so that she can reach the door.

You stay for a few more minutes catching up with Peter before you excuse yourself too. Bucky and Sam walk out with you.

“We’ll let you get settled but we do have to talk about what happened at some point.” Steve says.

“Of course boss.” Peter nods. “I’m glad you brought them here. Y/N and Eli I mean. It was just the two of them and with Eli as sick as he is Y/N needs all the support she can get.”

“And she has it now. Why didn’t you tell me about her and her son?”

Peter looks down at his hands.

“You’re not in trouble.”

“She asked me not to. Simple as that. Eli is her priority and I respected that.”

“You’re loyal, I like that about you kid.” Steve says. “You’re not keeping any other secrets from me are you?”

“No sir. Eli is the only thing I’ve ever kept a secret.”

“Good. Now get some rest.”

Steve flexed his hand, assessing the damage on his knuckles from the interrogation he’d been a part of. He hissed when the cold alcohol swab touched the open skin on his other hand.

“Don’t be a baby.” You murmur as you throw away the used alcohol pad.

You turn away from Steve to grab some ointment and when you turn back he’s lighting a cigarette.

“Hey.” Steve protests when you snatch the unlit cigarette from his mouth. “What the hell, I need a smoke. I'm stressed.”

“No smoking in the house.”

“It’s my house.” Steve argues back.

“Elijah can’t inhale smoke so either quit or go outside to the other end of the yard where he doesn’t play.”

“So now I can’t do whatever I want in my own house?” Steve glares at you but you aren’t intimidated by it.

You roll your eyes before taking his hand again and finish cleaning it up before moving around to the next one.

“I didn’t ask you to move in. You brought me here and told me this place was safe for me and my kid. Now if you go and trigger an asthma attack it won't be good for him.”

Steve huffs but agrees. He sits silently for a moment as he watches you.

“You know maybe I should get you a sexy nurse uniform.”

“And who would I wear it for?”

“Your only patient.” Steve says, matter of fact. “Do you think I’d let anyone else see you dressed in something like that?”

“I don’t know, I thought it was my choice who I let see me with or without clothes on.” You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, a smirk playing on your lips when Steve’s jaw clenched. “What? Does it bother you that I could go out there and find someone and let him take me home?”

Steve stands abruptly and spins you so that you’re chest to chest with him. His hands lay flat against the flat surface of the desk behind you, his eyes darkening at just the thought of someone else putting their hands on you. Your breath hitches at the intensity in his gaze.

“Do you really think I would let that happen? Let some asshole touch you.”

“It’s not up to you, Steve. I’m a grown woman, I can do whatever I want. Why do you care anyway? Are you still just trying to get me in your bed? Is this why you’ve been so helpful, you think that helping me with Eli will get me to sleep with you? I won’t risk it. My job is much more important than a one night stand with you. Besides I thought we were past this you sleeping with your maids thing.”

Steve groans in frustration, his head falling to your shoulder. You smile and play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“No. I’m helping you with Eli because I genuinely care.” He pulls back to look at you, his gaze much softer now. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough before but I will be now. I want you. Not just for one night.”

“Well two nights isn’t going to cut it either.”

“You’re being a brat, you know that? I'm going to win you over.”

You laugh and get closer to his face, his eyes immediately going to your lips.

“Well I’m not going to make it easy for you.” You murmur and kiss the tip of his nose just as the door opens.

Bucky walks in, his steps falter as he watches the two of you separate yourself from one another.

“Hey Buck, right on time I was just finishing up here.” You say as if he didn’t walk in on the two of you in a compromising position.

“Uh-ok cool.”

You pick up the first aid kit and place it back in its spot within Steve’s office. As you head for the door you stop and turn to look at both men.

“How much longer is that mess going to be downstairs?” You asked about the nameless idiot that shot Peter.

“It will be cleaned up soon.”

“Ok, just let me know if you need me to take Eli out for the day. I don’t want him to see any of that.”

“Of course.” Steve smiled and you walked out.

“What was that about?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve waves his hand dismissively.

“Ok? Anyways, Beck still won’t talk. We’ve tried everything.”

Steve sighed as he ran a hand over his beard. “We’re going to have to call either Lloyd or Loki in. But we’ll move Beck first. I don’t want that done here.”

“I’ll figure out where to move him to.”

“Thanks, I’ll make the call.” Steve leans forward and grabs the phone while Bucky heads back out.

You heard Steve’s voice before you walked into Elijah’s room. Almost as soon as you had moved in, Eli requested that Steve read with him at night before bed. You told your son you weren’t sure that was possible but in the short time you’ve been there Steve hasn’t missed a night. Although reading didn’t take long, all of the medication Eli was on made him sleepy. It didn’t stop him from fighting it and trying to stay awake for just a few more minutes. You lean against the doorframe and watch Steve tuck Eli in and turn off the lamp next to his bed.

“Hey.” Steve says as he walks out of the bedroom.

“He didn’t put up much of a fight did he?”

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “I think all of the excitement of having Peter here wore him out.”

You smile while looking back into the darkened bedroom. “I’m not surprised. He loved when Pete would come over and play video games.”

Steve’s eyes were still on you when you looked back up at him. There was an intense feeling of need between the two of you as you stood in the quiet dimly lit hallway. One that pulled you closer to each other. He cleared his throat and you looked away.

“I have some business to attend to at one of my clubs. Will you be alright here alone?”

“Yeah. Peter is sleeping too and I think Dom had a poker game. I’m just gonna enjoy a nice bubble bath before bed.”

Steve groans and closes his eyes. You bite back a laugh.

“Do you need a hand with this bubble bath?”

You smile and shake your head before starting to walk backwards toward your own room. “I’m good, thanks. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Tease.” Steve mutters as he watches you walk into your room.

****

Steve shook hands with his newest associate, Erik Killmonger. They had worked together before but this was going to be on a more permanent and lucrative basis. The two men were in the vip section with a drink in hand celebrating their new business deal.

They looked down at the sea of people dancing and drinking as they talked about logistics and expectations.

“Good evening gentlemen.” A sickly sweet voice called out from behind them.

It was a voice Steve recognized and immediately tensed because of it. He turned slowly, anger already rising within him. A glare was sent in the direction of the uninvited guest but she was unphased.

“What are you doing here, Sharon?” Steve demanded to know.

“I just came by to say hello, see how my old friend was doing.”

“You shouldn’t be here. Not my club and not in New York.”

She rolled her eyes and sat at one of the plush couches, motioning for a waitress to get her a drink. “I heard you were doing business and I have a proposition for you.”

Erik looked between the two and excused himself after mentioning something about someone catching his eye. It left Steve alone with Sharon although Bucky quickly and quietly joined them.

“So what do you say, Rogers? Want to make a deal?” Sharon asked as she batted her lashes at Steve.

“No. You shouldn’t even be in New York but I’ll be a gentleman and give you twelve hours to leave.” Steve nods at Bucky who moves and grabs Sharon by the arm.

“You can’t be serious? Is this because of Peggy?”

Steve tensed at the mention of her name. It brought back bitter and hurtful memories. He kept his expression unreadable though and looked back at the blonde.

“I’m a man of my word. I said I’d never work with The Carter Family again and I intend to keep it. I also told you that you have twelve hours to leave.”

Sharon pulls her arm away from Bucky’s hold. “It’s a shame you’re letting your emotions get in the way of a very lucrative deal.”

“Sharon-” Steve raised his hand to stop her from talking when she opened her mouth.

“Steve.”

“What Buck?” He looked over a Bucky, annoyed that he was being interrupted.

“We have to go. Check your phone.”

Steve pulls out his phone to find a few missed calls and texts from your phone.

Y/N: Steve mom needs help.

Y/N: Come home now!

Y/N: Please!!

Y/N: Answer your phone.

Steve immediately called you back but you didn’t answer. The urgency came from the first message that was obviously from Eli. He wasn’t sure how he missed yours and Peter’s calls but he left Sharon forgotten in his VIP section and headed back home with Sam and Bucky.

Eli and Peter were sleeping. Dom had gone to a weekly poker game with his friends. The house was quiet and you have wanted to take advantage of the bathtub in your room for a while. So that’s what you did. You lit some candles and added epsom salts and oils into the water. It was perfect. With some music playing softly in the background the only thing missing was a glass of wine. You grabbed your robe and headed downstairs with the intention of pouring yourself some.

It was while passing Elijah’s room that something felt off. While you left the door ajar it was opened a little too wide. Then there was a smell of cigarette smoke that bothered you. Especially after asking Steve not to smoke around him. You knew that request bothered him but he wouldn’t go do anything to harm Eli either. So you crept up to the door and peered inside just to make sure Eli was still asleep. You could see him on the bed sleeping soundly but the cigarette smoke clung in the air heavily. Since the room was dark other than the sliver of light that illuminated the bed you struggled to make anything else out.

You hear it before you see it. The deep inhale in the corner of the room. Then the lit cigarette. The person smoking takes a step out of his hiding place and you can barely make out his short slicked back hair and large frame. Your breathing stops as you stare at this stranger in your son’s room.

“Well what do we have here?” It’s almost a whisper but it sends an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

“Get out of this room right now.”

The stranger walked closer to you. He was tall and obviously strong. You were sure he would overpower you but he was a threat to your son. You’d do anything to protect him. With every step he took you took one back in the hopes of leading him out into the hallway.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing? Rogers must be treating you well if you walk around like that.” He motioned toward your robe which had loosened and revealed your bra. He licked his lips as he eyed you. “The kid might be a bit of a mood killer though.”

You wrapped the robe around yourself tightly and headed towards the stairs. He stalked towards you with a predatory gaze in his eyes. Before you could get to the top of the stairs he grabs the back of your neck, pressing his body against your. One hand wraps around your throat and the other starts roaming your body.

“That’s no way to treat a guest, Honey.” He whispered in your ear before sniffing your hair.

“Let me go.”

“Show me a good time and maybe I will. Or maybe I’ll keep you.”

He started dragging back into the hallway and opened the first door he found.

“No. Please don’t.” You tried to push against him in hopes of avoiding being thrown into the bed. But he was taller and obviously stronger than you.

“You should cooperate sweetheart. Maybe I’ll go easy on ya.”

You're thrown onto the bed. The robe you were wearing is now open, exposing your bra and revealing the shorts you were wearing. You cry and beg as your attacker moves to crawl over you, his lips find their way to your neck as he holds your hands above your head with one hand. His grip is hard and painful. The other he uses to keep your face still as he kisses you. He pulls back and smirks down at you.

“Look at you, you’re so pretty when you cry.” He laughs as he moves around in order to undress you. In a moment of desperation you kick your feet up and manage to kick him in his groin. “You fucking cunt.” In his moment of weakness you kick higher this time and your foot connects with his face. He grabs his nose and starts cursing at you but you’re moving away from him.

You ran faster this time in hopes of getting down the stairs. As long as he was away from Eli you didn’t care what happened to you.

“Dumb whore. I was going to be good to you but now you’re fucked. When I’m done with you, you’ll never see the kid again.” He yelled as he followed you down the stairs. “Stop running or I’ll go back up there and shoot the kid.”

Turning to look over your shoulder slowly you saw the gun aimed at you.

“I really only came here for one thing. You see your little fuck buddy, Rogers, he has an associate of mine.” He says while taking a few steps down towards you.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Elijah creep out of his room. He stood there unmoving as he watched a stranger pull a gun out on his mom. You prayed he would go hide again and were relieved when he moved away from the railing.

On the landing that led to the second floor you stood looking up at the intruder. He takes slow deliberate steps just to show you that he was in control. Your tear stained cheeks do nothing to deter his attack.

“If you tell me where he is,” he pulls his phone out and shows you a picture. “I won’t have the kid watch what I do to you. I won’t sell him off to the highest bidder either.”

A door opens up at the end of the hall. He stops on the last step so that he’s hidden from whoever is there.

“Y/N?” Peter’s sleepy voice breaks the tense silence. “Y/N, I need some help.”

The stranger takes a peek around the corner and sees Peter making his way down slowly. You take his distraction and charge at him full force hoping to at least knock him down and get the gun away from him. Barreling into him, shoulder first, he falls back. It wasn’t so much your strength but catching him off guard that helped you. He groaned as he grabbed his head, a small amount of blood started to trickle from the apparent gash at the back. While it looked like it hurt it didn’t completely knock your aggressor out.

“Peter, get back in your room. Call Steve or anyone tell them to get back now.” You yelled before running down the stairs with the gun in your hand.

Not even hitting his head against a few steps slows down your attacker. It forces you to head into the kitchen instead of outside. You turn on your heel and hold the gun up, pointing it at him.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot you.” You say.

“Really? I don’t think you’ve ever used a gun before.”

“First time for everything.” You reply. “On your knees.” The gun is still pointed at him but it shakes almost violently in your hands.

He smirks and takes another step closer. The gun goes off but it hits the floor. It makes your hands shake even more.

“Don’t. Move.” You say through gritted teeth.

There’s movement behind him and then Peter is telling you to move. The intruder turns around to face Peter knowing you won’t be able to shoot. He still gets shot once in the shoulder and in each kneecap forcing him to the ground. When you stand from behind the kitchen island you see Peter standing with a gun in his hand, suppressor attached.

“Are you ok?” He asks while keeping his gun aimed down at the intruder.

“I think so.” You say with a shaky voice while looking him over. “You’re bleeding.”

“I think I ripped my stitches.”

“I’ll get you cleaned up. Let me just-“ you look around unsure of what you can use to restrain him. “I’ll be right back.” You run down the steps to the basement on wobbly legs.

“We can use this.”

You say as you get to the top stair with some rope. Peter nods but grimaces at any slight movement.

“What do I do?” You look up at Peter.

“Y/N, Peter?”

“In the kitchen.” You yell out.

Coulson’s quick steps echo throughout the otherwise quiet home. He stares at the scene in front of him bewildered for just a moment.

“Give me the rope.” He says and moves into action.

You help Peter get to the couch. “I’m gonna get the first aid kit ok? I’ll be right back.”

“Hey,” he catches your hand. “Go check on Eli first, this can wait a few minutes.”

He saw the relief in your eyes and the way your tense shoulders slumped.

You run up the stairs and head directly to his room where you find the door locked.

“Elijah, baby it’s me.” You knock. “Baby please open the door. It’s ok.”

The door opens and Eli’s crying face comes into view.

“Mom.” He rushes to you, burying his face in your stomach and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“It’s ok, it’s safe now. Are you ok?”

You feel him nodding against you. The only thing you can do is hug him back and assure him that he’s ok. After a few minutes you pull away, kneeling to get a better look at him and make sure there are no marks on him.

“Why was that man here? Why did he want to hurt you?”

“I don’t know, baby.” You brush away his tears. “Let’s go sit.”

Eli takes your hand and walks back into his room. You aren’t sure if it’s him shaking or you but it’s almost uncontrollable.

“I tried to call and text Steve but he didn’t answer.” He holds out your phone.

“You did a good job, come here.”

You take your phone and call Steve immediately but there’s no answer. Then you call Sam and Bucky and still nothing. You send them all a few texts and you start to worry that they have been hurt. Dom answers right away and he tells you that he’ll be back in a few minutes. After that you sit against the headboard and bring Elijah to sit on your lap and you hold him tight like when he was a baby. The only thing you could do now was wait.

Steve flew through traffic in order to make it back as fast as he could. His mind raced as he tried and failed to get an answer from you. He came up with the worst case scenarios of what could be happening. All Steve hoped was that you and Eli were ok no matter what the issue was. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to either of you.

Sam and Bucky weren’t far behind when Steve finally pulled into the driveway of his mansion. Immediately he knew something was way off. The normal guards that were posted around the perimeter were missing. He grabbed his gun as he stepped out of his car. When he looked backed, Sam and Bucky also had their guns out.

Steve rushed to the door, opening it without warning. His gun was up as he walked in with Sam and Bucky behind him. They walk into the living room only to find Peter sitting back on the couch, his hand putting pressure on the area where he had been stitched up previously. Dom was fussing over him trying to help stop the bleeding.

“Peter? What happened?” Steve asked, getting the attention of the semiconscious young man.

“There’s this guy. He broke in.”

“I have him down in the room.” Coulson stepped out of the kitchen. “I got an alert from the security alarm. I got here just as Peter shot him. It seems he had his eyes set on Y/N.”

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs.” Peter answers. “With Eli.”

Steve looks back and Bucky lifts his chin up towards the stairs.

“We’ll go see who this idiot is.”

“Get Peter medical help and find out what happened to the guards.”

“Clint and Nat are on their way.” Coulson says. “I’ll have them take Peter in.”

Steve nods and heads upstairs. He takes two at a time until he reaches the third floor. His heart is beating out of his chest as he walks up to Eli’s room, worried about the state he would find you in. He knocks but doesn’t get an answer so he opens the door and takes a peek inside. The cigarette smoke still lingers but he doesn’t find either you or Eli. Steve walks out and heads to your room, knocking a bit more harshly than he intended too.

“Y/N? Can you open up?” Steve calls out. After a minute the door opens and your tear stained face peeks out.

“Steve.” You whimper when you finally see him.

“C’mere, baby.” Steve pulls you into his chest. He feels your whole body trembling and his arms tighten around you. “Are you ok? Is Elijah?”

You nod against his chest and begin to sob now that Steve was there.

“It’s over. You’re safe.” Steve murmured.

He kept as calm as he could but he felt nothing but rage. Not only did someone think they could just walk into his home without any repercussions, they also terrorized you. There would be hell to pay once he was downstairs to get the necessary information.

“Do either of you need to see a doctor?”

“No. We’re ok, just shaken up a bit.” You reply as you finally look up at him again.

“Alright. What about you? Are you sure you’re not hurt? Did he do anything to you?”

You avert your eyes and Steve’s stomach drops.

“What did he do? Did he touch you?” Steve’s voice hardened. There was this underlying and unsettling sharpness to it.

You nodded. Steve took a deep breath while he slowly pulled away and turned his back towards you. He ran a hand over his beard as he thought about all the ways he was going to rip the asshole that dared touch you apart.

Steve turned back to look at you. “Did he force hi-“

“Tried to. I got away from him before he could.”

“Ok.” Steve takes a deep breath. “C’mon let’s get you back to bed. You need to rest.”

Once Steve realizes that you’re asleep he leaves the room quietly. He walks down to the first floor to find out what the hell is going on in his own home. There will be hell to pay for this, not just for the disrespect of breaking into his house but for what you went through.

“Update, now.” He demands.

“The idiot that broke in is none other than Jack Rollins. Apparently he was looking for Beck when he stumbled upon Eli’s room.” Bucky says. “He’s a sick twisted bastard from what Peter told me he heard.”

“Did he say anything else?”

Bucky shakes his head. Steve starts rolling up his sleeves. He heads for the basement door with Bucky on his heels.

“What are you going to do?”

“What do you think?” He growls but continues toward the basement door.

“Steve, think about this.” Bucky says. “We could get information out of him if we do this right.”

Steve stops and turns to look at Bucky and the rest of his team.

“He put his hands on Y/N. I don’t give a fuck about information.”

Bucky’s eyes harden at the new information.

“I’ll come with you.”

The two men walk down to the basement and into the soundproof room. Sam was standing over Rollins, who already had a few cuts and scrapes along with the gunshot wounds. Steve doesn’t waste any time at all as he connects his fist with Rollin’s jaw. The man, who had been tied to a chair, falls backwards.

“I’m guessing that pretty little thing you have upstairs told you about our time together.” Rollins chuckles. “She was real sweet.0

Steve lands a few more hits before he stretches his hand out behind him. Bucky already knows what Steve wants and hands him a knife. Steve inspects it carefully before looking down at the man below him.

“Oohh should I be-Aahh.” Rollins screams when Steve plunges the knife into the bullet wound on his shoulder. Blood splatters into Steve’s face but it doesn’t deter him.

****

When Steve finally stopped his assault he was covered in blood. Steve’s anger hadn’t subsided even as he walked back into the kitchen. The others were gathered around the island talking about what happened when he joined them.

“Has anyone checked in on Y/N?” He asked.

“Still sleeping boss.”

He nods and starts walking out. “I’ll be back in about 10 minutes. I want to know everything when I come back.”

Steve goes up to his room to shower and change quickly. Then he heads back down to the kitchen. Dom has a cup of coffee ready for him. The sun was just starting to light up the sky. Steve grabs his cup and takes a sip.

“What do we have?” He asks as he takes a seat at the kitchen table.

“Rollins killed some of the guards around the perimeter, enough to slip by undetected. He hacked the security system. He couldn’t completely deactivate it but he delayed the notification Coulson would get.” Clint said.

“He was looking for Beck. But he won’t say anything else.”

“What should we do now?” Bucky asks.

“First I want him out of the house. Get him some medical attention, I’m not done with him just yet.” Steve orders. “Let’s double up the guards. Let’s have Jensen double check the security system and upgrade whatever needs to be upgraded.”

“How is Peter doing?”

Steve and the rest of the group turn to see you standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Even though you slept most of the night you look exhausted. Eyes are red and slightly swollen as if you’d just been crying.

“Peter’s fine. He just ripped some stitches, he’s in his room sleeping.” Nat tells you.

You nod as Dom walks over to you.

“Want some coffee, Mia Cara?”

You shake your head. Dom opens his arms for you and you step into his embrace. The older man pats your back in a comforting manner.

“You’re safe now, Mia Cara. We won’t let anything like this happen again. You hear me?” He reassures you.

You just nod against his chest. Everyone silently shuffles out of the kitchen. Dom places a chaste kiss on your forehead and leaves, giving you and Steve some privacy.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks as he gets up and moves towards you.

You shrug. Other than being worried about Eli you were numb to the whole situation.

“Baby, look at me.” Steve says softly. He tucks a finger under your chin and pulls up so that you have to look at him.

You’re fighting back tears for what felt like the millionth time.

“Tell me what you need?”

“I don’t know.”

“How about some time away from here? We can get away for a weekend and take Eli somewhere fun. What do you say?” Steve offers.

It angered him all over again to see you like this. A shell of who you really are. Your arms wrapped around yourself. Steve didn’t like seeing you down like this although it was completely understandable.

You shrug again in response and he sighs.

“Why don’t you go rest for a little bit longer and I’ll have Dom make you something and bring it up.”

“I can’t.” You mumble as you look around the room.

“Why?”

“I have to work.”

“You’re joking right? You aren’t going to be working today. Regina will be in any minute now, she’ll do what she can. You worry about taking care of yourself and Eli.” Steve says as he leads you out of the kitchen and into the living room.

In the distance you hear the door that is normally used by the house staff to come in and out.

“See, that's probably Regina right now. I’ll talk to her.”

You gasp when Regina appears in the doorway. She’s sporting a black eye, busted lip, bruises around her throat and she’s holding her side as if it hurt. You rush over to her to make sure she’s ok.

“What happened?”

“The-these men they-they broke into my house early this morning.” She sobbed before hiding her face in your shoulder.

“Fuck. Bucky, Sam.” Steve yells for them. The two men rush out of the hallway that leads to Steve’s office.

“What happened?” Bucky asks once he sees Regina crying.

You tell them what she had just said since she couldn’t control her crying. Both men look back at Steve, the same anger in their eyes. Dom and Coulson soon join the others.

“Do you know who did this?” You ask her as you guide her to the couch.

“No. I’ve never seen them before. I was sleeping when they broke in.” Regina sniffles.

“Did they say what they wanted?”

Regina nods. “They told me that I had to get whatever information that I could on you and report back to them.”

“I have a few questions.”

“Ask away.”

“How did they know you work for me?” Steve asks and you look between him and Regina.

“I don’t know, maybe they had been following me?”

“Why tell me?”

Regina swallows thickly as tears well up in her eyes again. “Well everyone here has been so nice to me, and this is the first job I don’t have to get almost naked to get money for,” She sighs, wincing due to her injured ribs. “I didn’t want to ruin what I had here. But my grandma, she’s in a nursing home and they had pictures of her. They said that they’d hurt me and make her watch.”

“They said the same about me and Eli.”

“Wait what?” Regina looks at you confused.

“Someone broke in last night.”

“What is happening?” Regina asked. She was scared and so were you. The only difference was that you knew Steve would make things right.

“I don’t know but I’m going to find out. In the meantime you can’t go back to your place.” Steve tells her. “We’ll have someone pick up some clothes for you and have a doctor look you over. Do you think you could recognize these men if you saw them again?”

“Maybe. Oh wait,” Regina grabs her phone. “Would a video help?”

“You have a video of them?”

She looks at Bucky and nods. “I installed a doorbell camera and a camera in the living room. Here, you can definitely see their faces.”

“You have a camera in your living room?” Sam asks suspiciously.

“I live alone and I’m single. There have been some break ins around the neighborhood. I was trying to protect myself.” She says as she hands the phone over to Bucky.

Sam and Steve huddle around Bucky to look at the video Regina had. They see her being dragged out of her room and beaten. Unfortunately they didn’t recognize the men in the video but they would find them nonetheless.

“Thank you for this. I don’t know who they are but we’re going to find them.” Steve tells her. “Y/N can I talk to you for a minute?”

You get up and follow Steve into his office where he closes the door behind you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask Steve after watching him pace back and forth for a few minutes. “Is it about whoever broke into Regina’s place?”

Steve leans against his desk and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’ll most likely have to be out more. At least while I track these sons of bitches down.”

“Ok, and?”

“Will you be ok here? After last night… I’m doing everything to make sure this place is more secure.”

“Ok.”

“I’m also going to assign Nat to be with you whenever you go out. I know you’re independent but I need you to do as she says if something were to happen.”

“Do you think someone would try to hurt me again?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I mean look at what they did to Regina and she hasn’t even been here that long. I’m not going to risk you and Eli being in danger again.” Steve pushes himself off the desk and walks over to you. “It should’ve never happened in the first place. I’m going to handle this.”

“I’m more worried about Elijah than myself.”

“Of course you are because you’re a good mom.” Steve cups your face when he sees your eyes start getting glassy. “You just take care of him like you always do and I’ll keep you both safe.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Ch. 8

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#hearts munition series #mob boss!steve rogers x reader #mob boss!steve rogers #mob au #Steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x mom!reader #single mom!reader #Captain America au #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #Steve rogers series #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you

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illubean · 8 months ago

Note

Dawg I just wanna thank you for writing stuff for kurapika x reader in general, cuz that tag is dead (has been for a while) and nothing new besides rape and/or yandere pops up there 😭😭

U don’t have to (cuz let’s be honest, it’s kinda cringey 💀) but smth that’s almost always on my mind when thinking abt kurapika is him with a fem!kurta! Reader who’s a survivor. Him being stressed to hell and back makes me sad so I typically think of reader being a specialist (man do I love me some strong women-) who can take care of herself. Her helping kurapika out with the troupe is debatable but she doesn’t take no for an answer when it comes to searching for their clan’s eyes.

-🦘

Kurapika Finding a Kurta!Reader

Characters: Kurapika Kurta Type: Headcanons, Fem!reader

tbh I don't even like Kurapika like that I just happen to get a lot of requests for/including him LOL

Warnings: none

after finding out there was another Kurta out there he was DISTRAUGHT

he made it a mission to find and protect you

but after finding out you can take care of yourself and you're a nen user he's less worried

that doesn't mean he stops looking out for you though

it's just natural to want to take care of you, you're all he has left of his clan :(((

when he found out you were a nen user he was relieved especially since you're just a girl in the world ✊😔

since all of the Kurta have the same eye's I am assuming that means everyone in the clan save for those married into it are somewhat related

regardless he treats you like a sister (if that's not what you wanted sry)

that being said, when you say you want to help him get back the eyes of your brethren he's very hesitant

he tries keeping you away from the violent part of getting rid of the phantom troupe as much as possible

he understands if you have different morals but nothing you say is going to stop him from killing the members of the phantom troupe

i have no clue what he does with the eyes after getting them back(or if he does at all, it's been a while) but you guys kinda just have them????

but anyways lets say somehow Kurapika is losing a fight somewhere and out of nowhere

BOOM

you show up and whoop the person's ass and save him

if he didn't already, respect = earned

haha this is kind of short sry idk where to go with this anymore

#hxh 2011 #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh #kurapika hxh #kurapika #kurapika kurta #hxh kurapika #kurapika hunter x hunter #kurapika x y/n #kurapika x reader #kurapika x you #hxh fanfic #hunter x 2011 #hunter x hunter fanfic #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter x y/n

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steviewashere · 7 months ago

Text

Loving Who You Are, Not What You Offer

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Referenced Rape/Non-Con (Not Between Main Pairing), Panic Attack (Sort of) Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Steve Harrington, Coming Out, Protective Eddie Munson, Patient Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Sexual Trauma, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Slight Comphet Steve Harrington, Dialogue Heavy

Okay, honestly, this one comes from a more personal place. So I'm gonna have to ask y'all to be kind about this one. I've recently come to terms that I'm somewhere on the asexual spectrum and I just needed to apply that somewhere, so. Also, writing from Eddie's point of view rather than Steve's helps me, so I don't wanna hear shit about it.

Read the content warning one more time before you continue and let me know if I missed anything <3

🩵—————🩵 There was an uncovered layer to Steve Harrington, that much Eddie has deduced.

It’s a subtle, blink and you wouldn’t notice, kind of thing. But even this uncovered layer had layers. And he’s not sure if anybody else has caught on. He was able to catalog several odd things about Steve that just…didn’t match his character. Not at all. Which has led, though it started casually and accidentally, to Eddie making a whole new doctrine.

The Odd Steve Behavior Doctrine. With a few noticeable bullet points:

-Don’t touch him without asking -Don’t ask him about his sex life -Don’t talk about sex around him, at all -He especially doesn’t like casual intimacy -Earning Steve’s trust is like climbing up a rocky mountain

He follows these rules he’s made for himself. Tries to keep himself casual and known in Steve’s presence. And hopes that it’s enough to get Steve to crack, even the slightest. Maybe he’ll say why these things bother him, Eddie initially thought.

Maybe I’ll just keep my mouth shut and let Steve come to me in his own time, he eventually noted. Because he doesn’t need to be in everybody’s business all the time, which is a typical thing for Eddie. He likes being nosy and involved with the lives of people around him. He likes to think of himself as the person his friends can come to, no matter the reason or the intensity of their need. And maybe part of it is selfish, too. He can admit that to himself. That he, in turn, wants to be everything Steve needs at the end of the day. Bearing the brunt of all that Steve has going wrong or right in his life.

Things come to Eddie little by little from Steve’s mouth. None that answer to any of the bullets in his doctrine, but things that are important, too. Like confessions, moments that Steve saw as flaws.

“I called Jonathan Byers a queer in 1983. That’s why he beat me up. I deserved it,” he told Eddie one day. Casually, complete nonchalance, as easy as discussing the weather. Steve had been cradling a mug of coffee at their local diner. Picked at the pancake platter he ordered all for himself. And, at Eddie’s coming out (“I’m gay, Steve,” Eddie admitted quietly mere moments before. He brought up love lives. Was poking around what was going on with Steve’s. And casually, he realizes, it just came up.), Steve took a sharp inhale. Confessed this bomb of a statement. Grimaced at the memory that must’ve played out behind his eyes. Then, murmured, “But thank you for trusting me with that, Eddie. I just need you to know that I was somebody you wouldn’t before. In case that…In case maybe you wanna take back that trust. Wouldn’t blame you, that’s all I’m saying.”

Eddie sat in that for a good several moments. As they slurped at their room temperature, rather mediocre mugs of Joe. “I still trust you,” he eventually said, “You don’t have to keep proving yourself to me, you know?” Steve merely shrugged. And that was confessional number one.

Following that, Steve mentioned being tortured by Russians. Which, Eddie thought that was reason for him not liking touch. It may be part of the reason, but there was something to Steve’s eyes that told him that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Eddie didn’t ask. Steve didn’t elaborate. Tortured by Russians, beat up by his peers, chewed up like a dog toy, the list in Eddie’s mind of All the Bad Things That Happened to Steve was growing longer and longer by the day. But Steve was telling him things, letting him in. It was a start.

So, Eddie had two catalogs all about Steve to keep up with in his mind. All the Bad Things and The Do’s and Don’ts of Steve Harrington.

Being his friend was an earned thing and it was a pleasant thing, but it also broke Eddie’s heart bit by bit. He’d never admit to this, but he had to realize that at some point. He wondered if Robin ever felt the same. Maybe even Nancy. But he wasn’t going to ask. Because who asks something like that? Eddie won’t be the first, but it won’t be the last somebody thinks that, he’s sure.

Even though Steve was breaking through his own mold, cracking his mask, shattering mirrors of who he was, none of it actually answered any of Eddie’s don’ts regarding him. None of it eased him. None of it lended itself in any sort of way. If anything, all of these other greater things only added to the incessant itch that couldn’t be scratched under Eddie’s skin.

Who are you really, Steve, Eddie asked himself all too much.

He doesn’t want to upset the poor guy.

But he’ll never know, he’s coming to realize. It’s just not in the cards.

———

It comes to a head, because of course it does. And he didn’t mean for it to, but it just happens.

They’re hanging out at Steve’s new-ish apartment. Lounging around on his, frankly, ugly floral second-hand couch. It’s musty and not all that soft on the cushions, lumpy and shifting. But they make do with it as they have a movie marathon. Steve is sprawled between the far right and middle cushion, Eddie is leaning against the left arm rest, legs crossed one over the other, head in his hand. Then, his stomach grumbles all too loudly in a room full of droning noise.

He leans into Steve’s space slightly. Reaches out a hand and places it on his thigh. Squeezes Steve’s leg and opens his mouth to ask if he’s hungry. But, for some reason, Steve tenses to the extremes underneath his touch. His hands grip harshly to the back of the couch and the throw pillow near his head. Legs going taut and straining against Eddie’s touch.

“Steve?” Eddie calls softly.

“Stop,” musters from Steve. It’s tiny. Cracking in half. Brings tears to his eyes immediately.

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, though. “What?” He asks. “What am I doing?” There’s a thrum in his chest. Something unsettling and obtuse. It pulsates and shifts and bitters his throat the way acidic bile does.

With force Eddie’s only seen in the Upside Down, Steve latches onto Eddie’s wrist. Tight enough that Eddie has to bite back a yelp of pure and unadulterated pain. Nearly enough to break the bone that Steve’s thumb digs into. He shoves Eddie away with just his grip. Scrambles to the far corner of the couch, legs tucked in close to his chest, knees colliding with his chin. He wraps his arms around himself.

And then, the softest noise breaks through between them. It’s quiet, yet somehow louder than the tape playing. It works its way under Eddie’s skin. Into his stomach, through his throat, and into his brain. Steve’s gentle, manufactured cries. Stifled behind his lips. In real time, Eddie watches him shatter. The way his eyes gloss over, his cheeks going splotchy with the sounds, his shoulders shake.

“Woah, hey,” Eddie whispers, reaching out again. He wants to ground him. Wants to comfort the way he knows how. How he soothes Wayne’s panic episodes. And how he calms Dustin down from lashing out. Or when Robin talks herself in circles. Wants to just…be there. “Hey, Steve, are you—“

“Don’t touch me,” Steve bites out, “I don’t have anything—You—I don’t want to.”

Immediately, Eddie drops his hand to the now unoccupied middle cushion. The fabric meeting his palm. Going cold. Warm where Steve had just been relaxed. And Eddie—he may be a dastardly fool most days, dumb as rock the others, three time senior—knows exactly what he did, now that he’s focused on every small movement he makes. He’s perceptive to the way Steve is leaning as far away as possible. How crumpled he makes his body. Eddie notices how much space has been created and where his hands lie.

I’m so stupid, he thinks, that’s like rule one.

Don’t touch him without asking.

“Fuck,” Eddie softly curses. He pulls himself away. To his own corner of the sofa. And swallows the bit of panic that rises in him. His eyes drift away from Steve’s fearful face, to his own hands. Twitches them in his lap, against his knees. Wants to cut them off. Throw them into a blender. Feed them to the birds. Something. But he forces himself to look back up.

Steve trembles against the couch. In a way that is not the Steve Harrington that Eddie met when fighting other worldly creatures. That dismantles everything and anything he once knew.

“Shit. I—Steve, I’m so sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “I’m sorry. I know that you don’t like that unless people ask. And I just—I wasn’t thinking, I promise. It was just—You know, I’m touchy with all my friends and I was just going to see if you wanted me to make some dinner or order some food. I was just trying to get your attention, y’know, and I didn’t mean anything by it. I promise, I swear. I swear on my mom, Steve. I would never—“ He takes a deep, gasping breath. Coughing on the inhale. His hands shake, now. And he doesn’t think he’s ever seen fear paint itself so clear and bright on a person’s face, but he’s looking into it. Steve’s pallor and yet still red cheeks. And his all consuming, though far away eyes. His built body, yet childlike hold.

A part of Eddie wants to cry, too. I’ve fucked up, he panics internally, I’ve fucked everything up and now he’s not going to be my friend and he was such a good friend, too. Why did I have to do that? I just wanted to make sure he was fed, too. That’s it. He’s such a good friend and now I’ve fucked it and I just—I—

“You wanted to make me food?” Steve quietly croaks.

Eddie, in an instant, nods. “Yes!” He exclaims in his own panic. “Yes, I swear, Steve. I wasn’t thinking when I touched your thigh. And I—What do you want to eat, Stevie? Say the word, I’ll find a way to make it or…something.”

His hands twitch in his lap once more. Thumbs catching on the ripped holes of his jeans. The threads soft and wearing away under his skin. The scratchy, dry bit of skin that peers through. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t think he breathes. Just makes eye contact with Steve. Which, surely, is overbearing and unnecessary and…I’m probably freaking him out more, calm down. He takes a deep breath, blows it away from him, and lowers his shoulders from where he didn’t know they were hiking.

“It was nothing more than to check-in. I promise,” he reiterates, murmuring.

Steve, finally, draws away from himself. With his own breath. He unravels his legs, stretching them out to their full length onto the middle cushion. Arms going limp at his sides. Hands resting against his thighs. His eyes dart—left and right and left and right—between Eddie’s. Nods once. “Okay,” he meekly musters. “Okay, Eds. Can…We can order pizza. There should be a menu on the kitchen counter. I’ll—“

Eddie stands from his own cushion before Steve gets the chance to. “Nope, don’t worry about it. Just try and relax, yeah? I’ll go put in an order, pay for it. You…Pepperoni pizza?” Steve just nods, tentative and surprised. “Cool,” Eddie states, “I’ll be right back.”

The phone call goes by quick and he easily sets the money out for when the driver gets there. But he’s not entirely sure his presence is going to be a warm welcome in the living room again. He gets a glass of water anyway because, surely, Steve will tell him to go if he isn’t wanted.

Steve’s in the same position as when Eddie left. Though, his gaze isn’t entirely there. Somewhere beyond Eddie’s shoulder. But there’s a gleam, a little shine that tells him that Steve isn’t gone from himself, not yet at least. He sits back down in his own cushion. Glass on the coffee table. And turns, keeping himself tight to his own body.

“Hey, Steve?” He calls out, watching as Steve blinks sluggishly back into his body. “I—uh—I got you some water, if you want it. Drinking water usually helps me feel better after…After a down moment, y’know?”

Next to him, Steve hums. He sighs. “Can I trust you with something?” He asks, forgoing the water entirely.

Eddie nods in haste. “Of course, Steve. If you have something you have to tell me, I can keep things to myself,” he states. Which is one hundred percent true. He may be a loud guy, screaming and yelling when need be. May be somebody that fills a room with noise, if only so he doesn’t succumb to the silence. But he knows how to keep a secret. It’s sort of a survival tactic, is what he’d say if somebody asked him about it. He’s kept secrets about his parents, things behind lock and key in his ribcage. Granted, he may forget, but he won’t say a damn thing. And he surely won’t spill Steve’s beans, especially with the way he looks to him in open earnest.

“Okay,” Steve responds. His legs fall away from the couch and he rights himself into being completely upright. Ramrod straight. On the far right cushion. Mirroring Eddie’s tight pose. Feet flat to the floor. His eyes trace something on the coffee table, cracks probably, but Eddie can’t exactly tell. “Okay. I…You’re going to be the second person I’ve ever told this to, alright? And I—I figured that it would come out sooner or later, but you’re gonna need an explanation for whatever the fuck just happened. And I don’t know how else to talk about it without just going all-in. So…I just need you to listen. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “you have the floor, Stevie. My mouth is shut.”

Steve nods slow, a ghost of a smile on his face. Breathes in through his nose, it traps in his chest and comes out as one gentle gust. He swallows heavily, words seemingly rising in his throat. And that smile falls away just as it sprung.

“In middle school, before I was popular and whatever, I had a group of friends that I ran with. We were all nerds, I won’t deny that. And—And I would involve myself with some of their interests, if only because I wanted to fit in,” Steve explains first. His eyes roam again. Not picking a spot, but Eddie won’t fault him for it. He continues, voice fracturing, “One of the guys I was closer to, we’ll call him R, he was interested in this club. It was kind of like a tech club? Focused on radios and channels and math and…Things that I was actually kind of good with, but needed a better understanding on. So, I figured, I’d sign up for this club. Go with my…friend.”

Before he goes on to say more, he leans over for the glass of water on the table. Holds it gently between his hands. Doesn’t take any sips. The condensation droplets roll down his fingers. Cold most likely keeping him grounded to the room.

Eddie can already tell he’s not going to like wherever this part of Steve’s past leads him. How Steve has to take breaks, it upsets Eddie greatly. He’s not sure he’s entirely prepared for whatever confession comes from Steve this time, but he’ll digest it. Get through this with the guy and figure out all he needs to.

Another steadying breath. And Steve’s voice is like gravel, but he keeps talking.

“It was a weekly thing. And we’d go in. Be taught about gadgets and whats-its and whatnot. R was there, though. He was always there. We’d talk, laugh, shoot the shit. Normal friend bullshit.

“One day, though. One day, something was…different. He looked at me. There was a sense of hunger. Want. A drive to him that I’d never seen before. He’d lean more into my space, drop his voice lower, whisper right into my ear.” Steve blinks in rapid succession. His breath keeps stuttering. And something in Eddie’s stomach sours. He goes, though. Pushing through. “I told him to stop. To knock it off. Kept telling him that I was trying to learn. That I wanted to focus. And he just…He wouldn’t,” he explains.

Eddie spikes with great unease and anger. Never at Steve. But whoever this so called ‘friend’ is, Eddie wants to maybe kill him. He keeps quiet, though. Steve wanted to share and he needs this out. And Eddie can listen. He can, even if it makes him want to cry, too.

“I thought that’s all it would be,” Steve speaks quietly, “Just him talking to me in this new tone. With this new level to his voice. But…I’m kind of stupid, I guess, so of course that’s not all he’d do. The next week at our club meeting, he got closer than before. He began to…” Steve stops and swallows. A single, silent tear crawls down his face. It doesn’t even phase him, the way crying usually does. It’s just background at this point. “…He began to—to touch me in ways I’d never been. And I—I told him to stop, I remember doing that. I remember putting distance between us. And saying no and saying stop and shoving his hands off me. But he just—“ A broken little sob. “—He was supposed to be my friend,” he states, small as a child.

The sobs rack Steve in such a way that his whole body is jolting with it. Nearly toppling off the couch. He chugs the water between cries, but doesn’t move from his spot. Tight and closed off within his own body.

“I wanted him to just be my friend,” Steve continues a moment later, nasally and choked. “But he didn’t want that. He kept overpowering every single decision I made. His breath on my earlobe. And his hands on my thigh, on my…He fucking touched my crotch. Tried to coerce me into having sex,” he spits. “That guy…He made me feel fucking disgusting. About my own body. About things I loved. About sex,” Steve growls, “Made me sort of dislike all those things, too.”

Eddie, for how loud he can be, is completely silent for once. Unable to form words. Not sure how to comfort. And if he could comfort, isn’t sure if that’s something he can do the way he wants to. He can’t touch. Can’t do what he’d normally do. And his body aches to take care of Steve or to simply hold him. To be…well, to be a friend. But that’s not something Steve can exactly trust.

He feels sick to his stomach.

The last bit of water is sipped at slowly, as Steve comes down. Then, he turns to face Eddie. Making direct and purposeful eye contact. “It’s not your fault, that I reacted like I did,” he states lowly. “And it’s not your fault that I close up when you want to talk about sex. Or you wanna talk about all that intimate shit. It’s something with me. Like something’s broken. It’s like a deep crack in me, Eddie.

“And I just wanted to clear up all that. Explain what I can, I guess.” He snakes out a tentative hand. It’s shaking and hesitant, but it still lands softly on the back of Eddie’s right. Squeezes. “But thank you for taking notice. And being concerned. And for apologizing. I feel safe with you, Eddie. I trust you a lot. Which is like—That’s probably highest honors you could earn with me.” And he chuckles slightly. It’s not a humorous thing, but it’s not exactly humorless either.

Eddie lets himself soak in this, though. Smiling warmly back at Steve. Because he needs it. They both need it. He murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me with that, Steve. That wasn’t easy and I’m proud of you for speaking up about it. I’m glad to be somebody you can trust.”

With another exhale, Steve relaxes back into the couch. His hand doesn’t move from Eddie’s. “I also want to say that you’re allowed to talk about your relationships with dudes,” he states quietly. “Seriously, I don’t mind. But just…Just check in with me? Before you do?”

“Of course,” he agrees instantly. “I’ll keep that in my noggin, promise, Stevie.”

Ghost of a smile on Steve’s face again. “Thanks,” he whispers.

A lull floats in the conversation. Steve removes his hand, watching as his fingers twitch, and there’s a little uptick to the corners of his mouth. Something pleased and almost…reverent at the way he looks at his hand.

Before Eddie can get up to change out the movie, he heaves a little sigh. And says, “Y’know, if you ever need any sort of physical comfort, need to talk about this, or you just need somebody to tell you that you’re okay, you can lean on me. Don’t even need to ask, really. I’m all arms.”

“I’ll think about it, Eds. This has been enough for me."

——— Steve comes out to him at the same diner Eddie did only a few years later.

It’s 1990, Eddie’s twenty-four and Steve’s freshly twenty-three. He has a certain spark to him. A sparkle to his smile and a pep in his step. And Eddie’s happy to see him happy.

Happy to eventually call their relationship romantic. Happy to share spots on the couch, curled around each other. Happy to kiss him slow and sweet or not at all, just able to gaze over coffee mugs and across the room and when Steve thinks he can’t be seen.

Eddie’s just happy to be allowed this love that fills his chest and in the colder, vacant spots of their lives.

But he realizes he still hasn’t heard everything about Steve. He gives it time, though. Because the second most important thing to Steve—first just being there for him—is patience.

The next of their chats happens when things get heated on the couch.

Soft kisses turn hungry, carnivorous. Hands wander over heated skin. Steve’s fingers against the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. But his hands shake. And Eddie places his own hands off to the sides of the couch, pulling himself away before things can get any farther than they already are.

“Hey,” he softly speaks, “Steve, we don’t—I’m okay with just kissing right now. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Steve stops next to him. Tensing up only slightly. “Are you—You’re sure about that?” His voice is so tiny, so unlike him. And though Eddie’s heard this tone before, it still breaks him.

He says easily, “I don’t want you to be scared of our first time, baby. It’s okay if we need to take things slow.”

He watches as Steve heavily swallows. “And if I asked if we never had sex?”

Eddie eyes him for a moment. Not wearily. With something like subtle pride. “Is that what you want?” He asks in turn. “Would that make you more comfortable?”

Subtly, Steve nods. “I—“ He sighs sadly. “I’ve been thinking about how to talk to you about it. With girls, I never even liked it. I just did it because it…There was something to say about a guy who could have sex with anybody he wants. But I also…I don’t know.” He shrugs as if trying to dismiss it, but Eddie doesn’t like that.

He sets a hesitant, soft hand on Steve’s shoulder. Squeezes when he doesn’t move away. “If you never want to have sex again, I’d be okay with that. I’d be more than okay with that,” he states assuringly. “You being happy and comfortable is what matters most to me. Not sex. I don’t give a shit about sex, not when I get to see you every day, smile on your face, and your eyes shiny and beautiful.”

Steve gives another small sigh, but the smile he has doesn’t waver. “Okay. I—Eddie, I don’t think I want to have sex,” he admits quietly. It shakes from his throat, but it’s still confident the way it lands between them. “It just doesn’t feel good to me. And I—I don’t want to force myself to do it. And it wouldn’t be fair to you, either.”

Another affirmative squeeze to Steve’s shoulder. “Alright, baby. Then we don’t have sex,” he agrees softly. “And if you ever change your mind—not that I’m forcing you to—then I’m okay with what you want.” He scoots himself closer so that their bodies are one single line, warm against each other. Reiterating, “Your happiness and comfort matter the most to me.”

With both of his hands, Steve wraps Eddie’s free one. Traces the veins on the back of his hand. Toys with his fingers. “We can still kiss, though,” he states quietly. “Maybe I want a kiss.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Mhm,” Steve hums. So, he closes the gap. A wet peck to Eddie’s lips. Soft and venturing. One that last only a few seconds. He draws back with the softest smile adorned on his features. Murmurs, “Thank you for hearing me out on this. And for understanding. And for accepting this.”

“I love you, Steve. Just for you. Not the sex or touch. We could never do anything except sit next to each other and talk, and I’d still love you,” Eddie swears.

Steve sniffs something wet. Shoves himself a little closer, cuddling into Eddie’s chest. To which Eddie wraps his arms around his back in response. And he sighs, but it’s a sound of long awaited relief. “I love you, too, Eddie. God, I love you.”

The conversations are tough and they are stomach turning, but after it all, Eddie gets to have Steve. How he is. How he wants to be. And that’s all Eddie could hope for.

He kisses the top of Steve’s head and relaxes back into the couch. “I’m proud of you, Steve,” he murmurs, “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for being patient. Being here.”

Eddie squeezes them together even tighter. Warm in his chest at the content noise that draws itself from Steve. This could be all that they do forever and Eddie would never ask for more.

🩵—————🩵

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort #cw referenced rape/non-con #read the content warnings #asexual steve harrington

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rotten-pomegranate · 2 months ago

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Day ten : Size difference with yandere uvogin

Tags: @aliceattheart @my-eyelash-flew-off

Warnings: Noncon, bleeding

/|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\

All you wanted was some affection, to be held even if it was by the man that took you away, made you stay by his side

That really is all you wanted, but no of course not, his hands where roaming all over your body while you just laid on his shoulder

“Damn babe, you get hotter by the day” his hands are everywhere on you, you ass, your tits, your waist

“Hmm” you slightly wriggle when he punches you nipple to hard “your hurting me” he laughs, the man who said he’d never hurt you just laughed in your face when you told him he did

“ I want you to ride me” all you have on is a skirt and no underwear as per his request

He lifts you with one arm while shimming off his shorts with the other

His cock is soft but it won’t be for long, you rap both hands around it as soon as your put back down

He was never patient when it came to sex, he didn’t even wait a week to pin you down and force you to have sex with him when he first took you and that was as awful as your sure this will be

He put his hand over your own to give his dick a good squeeze, it was getting hard quickly

“Yeah, get on the floor and use your mouth now” you nod and climb down off his lap

Being between his legs is horrible, he’s massive and he always makes you deep throat him by the end

“Well, get to it” legs spread wider for you even though there was more then enough room

You nod and lean forward to take his cock in your mouth, your lips stretch around him and he hits the back of your throat without being half way in

“Come on” he leaned forward to push you down by the neck, it hurt so bad, you couldn’t breath or see or feel anything other then the pain in your throat

He moves from your neck to your hair and starts moving you up and down on him

You try to pull away but he’s to strong, all you can do is try to breath and desperately scratch and grab at his thighs

He pulls you up suddenly “ok I wanna be in you now”

He yanks you up while your still catching your breath only to get up and push you back onto the hard floor

He gets on top of your and pushes up your skirt around your hips so he can touch your properly

You didn’t wanna be turned in by him but your body couldn’t lie, his fingers went in your partially wet pussy and he started moving then in and out, scissoring slightly

With the size of him compared to the size of you no amount of prep would help you to feel no pain

Even if it was humiliating you do appreciate the prep he is giving you, he often skips it

“Shit babe, look at you, say you don’t want it all you want you fuckin love this”

Shaking your head you start to tear up “tears won’t help you” he lines himself up and you grab his bicep to brace yourself

You wanna scream so load, scream and cry and lose your mind when he pushes in, it hurts, it hurts bad

This man chosen to hurt you in the most intimate way possible just because he thinks your his, and hell you might as well be

He’s practically ripping you open already when he starts to move

Jesus your definitely bleeding, he’s gonna act all sweet tomorrow like he didn’t rape you until you bled

He’s gonna give you water and snacks like he’s the reason you can’t get it all yourself

“Fuuuuuck, I’m cumin baby” you can feel him fill you up with cum, it’s warm and there’s lots of it

He pushes in was leaked out before pulling out for good

Tomorrow things will be better, you’ll be ok tomorrow

“Why don’t we go to the bedroom and you can ride me”

You just had to wait for tomorrow

#hxh #hunter x hunter #uvogin x me!#uvo x reader smut #uvogin x reader smut #uvo x reader #hxh uvogin #uvogin hunter x hunter #uvogin hxh #yandere uvogin #uvogin x reader #hxh uvo #yandere uvogin smut #uvogin #uvogin x reader getting high #kinktober

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kimaixun · 3 months ago

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[It is what it is; Part Two] - [SKZ Bang Chan X M!Reader]

Part One

‼️Trigger Warning(s) : Bullied, Abuse, Rape, Depression, Suicidal‼️

“Are you still hanged up over it?” Seo ChangBin questions the red headed as he tried to secretly glance over his roommate who sat at the corner of the classroom. “If you’re gonna appear every single time we end a period, you’re labelling yourself as a creep. It’s been a week.”

It has been a week.

A week since that night where Bang Chan couldn’t forget the tiny little tint of hurt flashing across M/N’s eyes. He didn’t go after M/N when he left the restaurant but, as he sat back down, a sense of guilt ambushed him, stabbing his heart that the pain was almost physical. Why? Why did he feel that way? This shouldn’t be hurting him, this should only hurt M/N so why was he hurt? M/N didn’t come back that night and Bang Chan barely caught any sleep either. It was early in the morning the next day when Bang Chan heard the door of the dorm open and M/N came stumbling into the room, tipsy, stench in cigarettes and alcohol. Bang Chan got up to sit on his bed, his eyes observing every move of the latter who seems to ignore him indefinitely.

“M/N……I…. I can explain.” Bang Chan stammered.

M/N turned to him, his eyes glassy and unfocused, “It is what it is. You don’t need to waste your breath explaining and I don’t need to waste my time listening.”

That was all M/N said before dropping onto his bed, burying himself under his blanket. Bang Chan swore something in him cracked. Ever since then, neither of them shared any word or look even, at least not M/N. Bang Chan still stole glances over his roommate whilst M/N simply pretended as if Bang Chan was nothing but, a thin of air.

“Has M/N been different lately in class?”

ChangBin thought for a moment before shaking his head, “not really. He is still a quiet and reserved kid like he always was since forever.”

“T…That’s good i guess.”

ChangBin rolled his eyes, “seriously? Why are you so concerned about M/N?”

“I…I… I’m not concern about him, i….i just wanna see him suffer?” It came out as a question but for sure, ChangBin didn’t believe the latter.

ChangBin sighed and patted Bang Chan’s right shoulder, “I won’t judge if you end up caring about how he had felt you know. Besides, you did have to go through a lot just for a bet.”

At his words, Bang Chan winced. He did had to go through a lot to get to know M/N. He had to learn and study M/N deeply, taking notes of his liking and dislikes, his little pet peeves, etc. When M/N confessed to Bang Chan, there was no doubt that Bang Chan felt something, Bang Chan could feel the sincerity of M/N’s heart. Bang Chan had to do something to reconcile with M/N, or at least, get M/N to just look at him even for a minute and so the gifts came in. Bang Chan had left gifts with notes on M/N’s study table.

‘M/N, I bought you the cake you liked from the bakery nearby.’

‘M/N, I bought the puff you craved for before.’

‘M/N, i got this flowers cause it reminded me of you.’

‘M/N, look at this grumpy cat plush. It looks just like you.’

‘M/N, this was cute so i got it for you.’

‘M/N, the novel was going for sale at the bookstore so i thought of you.’

Bang Chan felt the ache in his heart looking at the untouched gifts on M/N’s table. It didn’t seem like M/N even care to look at them. This had been even worse than when Bang Chan had know him for the first time. The walls that Bang Chan had torn down previously was rebuilt with even more concrete security and to be frank, Bang Chan was losing hope.

Bang Chan dramatically plops onto the lunch table across ChangBin and whined, “he doesn’t even touch it, i doubt he even looked at it. I had to throw all the cake(s) and pastries that turned bad. Binnie, give me ideas please. I have to do something. I need to apologise to him.”

“You’re finally admitting that you don’t want to see him suffer?” ChangBin smirked. Bang Chan sighed in defeat and nodded to his words. “I mean, if the gifts aren’t working, perhaps do something more brazen? Like, just grab him and make him look at you and talk it out.”

“It could work, maybe?”

“Oh, by the way, have you heard about it?”

“About what?”

“It could be a rumour but proof has been circulating that M/N use to be a porn star. He was involved in a child pornography.” ChangBin said and Bang Chan gasped, “it’s sickening knowing that people are actually into it.”

“Please, tell me you’re joking.”

“I told you it could be a rumour. I haven’t seen it for myself.”

Bang Chan abruptly stood from his chair, taking his belongings before he rushes out of the cafeteria. Reality smacked him hard on the face. Just when he thought he knew M/N that well, there was still some untold secrets kept by him. Could this be the reason why M/N declared Bang Chan was his will to live? Could this be why M/N confessed that Bang Chan had saved him from himself? Could M/N have gone through severe depression because if the rumour had been true, it could tear down one’s soul? Now, Bang Chan felt even worse than before. The red headed find himself sprinting to his dorm room, barging into it. There, M/N sat on his bed with his phone in his hand.

“You,” Bang Chan took a deep breath, trying to calm the adrenaline from sprinting.

He locked the door to their dorm room, stomping towards M/N and he stood right in front of the latter who couldn’t care less to even look at him once.

“You…” Bang Chan breathed, “did you know that there are rumours going on that you were involve in a child pornography?” Bang Chan could see how M/N’s frail begin to tremble. “Is it true?” This time, M/N’s head dropped as if he was a child ashamed of being scolded. “M/N? Is it true that you were involved in a child pornography?”

“And so what?” Bang Chan breath hitched as soon as M/N spoke. It had been awhile since he last heard the latter talk and his voice still never failed to give shivers down his spine.

Bang Chan honestly didn’t expect himself to feel anger arise in him at M/N’s response, “so what?! You should’ve told me! You should’ve explain to me the reason why you’ve been telling me that i saved your life! I could’ve understood you better and—,”

“AND WHAT?!” It happened in a blink of an eye. M/N stood up, pushing Bang Chan hard that he had fell onto his bed, “SO YOU CAN TELL CHANGBIN AND YOUR GROUPS OF FRIENDS THAT I AM THE CHILD IN THAT PORNOGRAPHY? SO YOU CAN CONFIRM THE RUMOURS THAT HAVE BEEN CIRCULATING AROUND?! SO YOU CAN JOIN THE SENIORS WHO ARE INTENDING TO RAPE ME?” Raged was seen across M/N as he towers over Bang Chan, spit flying from his lips. In that moment of anger he'd said everything, whatever was most hurtful, whatever would give him the opportunity to relieve himself, “IF I HAD TOLD YOU EVERYTHING THAT HAD HAPPENED IN THE PAST, WHAT COULD YOU HAVE DONE? COULD YOU SAVE ME FROM BEING ADOPTED BY CRIMINALS? COULD YOU SAVE ME FROM BEING SOLD TO PEOPLE, TO HUMANS FOR THEIR PLEASURE? WOULD YOU UNDERSTAND THE TRAUMA AND SUFFOCATION I FELT? WOULD YOU UNDERSTAND ME IF I SAID THAT I HAD TO KILL PEOPLE BECAUSE ALL OF THEM RAPED ME AT ONCE? COULD YOU BE HYUNJIN HYUNG TO ME? COULD YOU BRING BACK HYUNJIN HYUNG TO ME? COULD YOU STOP ME FROM TRYING TO KILL MYSELF EVERY. SINGLE. FUCKING. NIGHT?”

Bang Chan felt his heart throbbed immensely at M/N’s words. The pain and despair he had made M/N felt was nothing compared to what M/N had been through.

“I LOVED YOU! I LOVED YOU CHRISTOPHER BANG! YOU CAME INTO MY LIFE LIKE A FUCKING ANGEL IN DISGUISE. FINALLY, I COULD BREATHE! I FOUND A WILL TO LIVE! I WAS ECSTATIC GENUINELY HAPPY TO BE WITH YOU. I WAS HOPING THAT ONE DAY WHEN WE GRADUATE, GET A JOB, GET A HOUSE TOGETHER, I WOULD MARRY YOU. I WOULD MAKE YOU THE HAPPIEST MAN ALIVE IN THIS WORLD! BUT NO! EVERYTHING WAS A FUCKING BET! EVERYTHING CAME CRUSHING DOWN ONCE AGAIN AND I WANTED TO DIE IF IT WASN’T FOR HYUNJIN HYUNG’S LAST WISH! I WANTED TO JUST JUMP OFF THE BRIDGE THE NIGHT I—,”

M/N stopped himself abruptly, his breath ragged from his outburst, tears streaming down his cheeks. He took a second to breathe, rethinking about that words he had retorted. M/N felt guilty. He shouldn’t have burst out to Bang Chan out of anger. He should’ve just ignored him like he had been for the past few weeks. He shouldn’t have made the impression that Bang Chan had made M/N think about suicide. No one was at fault but, him. M/N was at fault to even exist in the first place.

“M/N,” Bang Chan’s chest heaved with each sob, breath catching in irregular gasps. Tears streamed down his cheeks, unchecked and hot against his skin. His throat tightened, a lump forming that made it difficult to speak. In that moment, M/N felt his heart shatter into pieces. In all his years of living, someone was crying for him. No one should need to cry for him, especially Bang Chan. He didn’t know what he should do and so, M/N left the dorm room, leaving the sobbing one.

“Here, I got you water.” ChangBin sat on the Bang Chan’s bed as the latter hide himself under the covers. Bang Chan finally crawled out and took the water.

“Why are you here?” His voice was hoarse as if he had been crying for days but, in actually fact, it had only been a couple of hours since M/N left him.

“M/N came running to find me. He said that I should come here and take care of you.”

“He did?”

ChangBin nodded, handing over a warm towel to Bang Chan, “i assume you guys had a fight? None of your faces look any better. You look like a puffer fish and so did M/N just now. I’m surprise you guys can see the world with those swollen eyes.”

“I fucked up ChangBin. I fucked up so bad that i just wanna go back to the time i met M/N for the first time.” Bang Chan sniffled.

“That bad huh?”

“I love M/N, i really do. Even if it wasn’t a bet, I would’ve still fallen for M/N.”

“Finally.” ChangBin smiled, “took you so long to admit it. I apologise to M/N earlier on and explain to him the real reason behind the bet. If isn’t for our seniors who threaten us to make our college life miserable on the bet, we wouldn’t have done it. Surprisingly, M/N asked for the seniors names and when i told him, he was silent.”

“What do you mean?”

“He said those seniors had been after him for a while now. He mentioned something about them knowing the truth from their government parents. I didn’t understand him though, do you?”

“Wait, did you said government parents?”

“Yes.” ChangBin affirmed, “Tae-il sunbaenim’s parents are apart of the government ministers.”

“If they are government minister, it means they technically can know each and every person’s background don’t they?”

“Technically yes,”

“Oh no.”

“Woah, where are you going?” ChangBin was taken aback when Bang Chan practically fly out of his bed, grabbing his phone and putting on his shoes. “Can you at least explain something to me?”

“I need to find M/N. I need to talk to him. I need to apologise. I need,” Bang Chan took a deep breath, “I need M/N.”

“Oh, good luck.”

Bang Chan wasn’t gonna waste anytime because if his institution was right, he needs to find M/N fast. Upon knowing another truth, Bang Chan assume that Tae-il and his gang of friends knew about M/N’s past thus they might have been the ones with the intention to rape M/N all this while. This time, Bang Chan was determine to be save M/N. He needs to. He spammed M/N’s phone with calls and messages but to no avail, there was no response. He searched through the campus asking around if anyone had seen M/N but everyone looked at him in disgust instead. That was until Bang Chan came across a group of seniors in the hallway, he didn’t approach them but, he overheard their conversation that put him sick to the stomach.

“Damn was M/N good.”

“I would do him again.”

“Tae-il is making a fortune.”

“Fucking him was definitely better than a woman.”

“Though the location could be better. The gym storeroom smelled horrible.”

BINGO.

Bang Chan sprinted as fast as a wind to the gym storeroom. He was met with groups of people hanging outside the storeroom. Bang Chan ignored the calls from the people that had deemed to be his ‘friends’ as he stomped into the storeroom. His blood turns cold the moment he was met with what was happening. M/N was tied up in ropes and Bang Chan could see the friction burns underneath it. He was naked, blindfolded, body covered in bruises and blood. As if M/N was a doll, three people were doing the deed, raping him simultaneously on the front and back. Tae-il sat by them, on the chair, cigarettes in his hand smirking proudly as if he had done the best thing in the world.

“FUCK OFF!”

Rage was all he saw. He couldn’t think ahead as he lounge towards them. RED. That was all Bang Chan could see. He didn’t know how or what had happened but he felt someone pulling him away from Tae-il and he came into realisation. Tae-il lay on the floor a couple of feet away from M/N, beaten almost to death. He could hear ChangBin telling him that everything was okay now. No, it wasn’t. M/N was still blindfolded, unaware of what was happening, trembling and curling up on the ground. Bang Chan realised he couldn’t save M/N. He failed to save him.

“M/N?” Bang Chan’s hand trembled as he reached out to M/N. He released the ropes, covering M/N’s fragile frail with the blanket Lee Know had handed over. “M/N, its me. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Bang Chan removed the blindfold and M/N’s e/c orbs looked at him but, his heart shattered. M/N wasn’t crying neither did he show the intention to cry. His eyes wasn’t even watery to begin with. All M/N did was stare into Bang Chan’s teary eyes, lifelessly and Bang Chan broke down as he embraced M/N tightly.

What had he done?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Author’s Note: Apologies for the late update but, here it is! I might just add one last part to this! A happy ending? Or shall I wreck my own heart with a sad ending?

#malereader #kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #straykidsxmalereader #seo changbin #stray kids #christopherbang #skz bang chan #bangchan #angst #trigger warning #rape #depression #suicidal

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