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yanderenightmare · 2 months ago

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Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, size difference, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ GN reader

Bakugou doesn't tell people about his home life, so you can imagine the Bakusquad’s utter surprise when they invite themselves over only to find out he has a little omega housewife waiting for him.

“Oh, hello,” you say when the four additional Alphas pour in through the door after your Katsuki.

They all look at you unblinking. The biggest one, a redhead, doesn’t seem all that surprised—as though he’d had some suspicion that’s now been laid to rest. But the other three, an electric blond, a guy with raven hair, plus a woman with cotton candy curls, look at you as if they’d just stumbled upon a mouse in a lion's den—all slightly horrified at the sight of you.

Your alpha, the tightly wound grump seething with annoyance, stomps over to you and plants a quick kiss on your hairline. “They just barged in,” he grumbles under his breath. “Sorry if we scared you.”

You hum calmly in turn, “That’s okay. I heard you yelling in the driveway, so I wasn’t surprised.”

The four members of the Bakusquad are all gobsmacked at the domestic sight—the boss, their boss, their hard-headed macho boss, bending over and apologizing to this little omega half his size.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, peaking over the breadth of his hunched shoulders to the others with a warm smile on your pretty face. “I just finished dinner.”

“No,” Katsuki growls grumpily and winds his arms around you—like an old, tired dog, voice gruff, “Uninvited intruders don’t get my dinner.”

You only giggle it off, brushing his stubble with a soft hand, gently handling him further down to your level so you could place a kiss on his other cheek. “Oh, stop, Katsuki. Be nice to your friends.”

Then you walk off to the kitchen.

Calling out sweetly over your shoulder, “I went a little overboard, so there’s more than enough for everyone.”

And by god, if they don't fall in love with you right then before they’ve even got a single word out.

But love at first sight isn't all so strange. None of them have ever seen an Omega outside of on film—much less been hit with the scent of one. They're all bewitched and confused at the feeling as they trail after you as if they've been compelled by some higher power.

"Please sit," you smile, gesturing to the long table where only two seats have been made. "Katsuki, hon, help me, please"

They all scoot into each their unplaced seat while your big lousy Alpha begrudgingly helps set the table for the unwanted dinner guests. They remain silent as you serve them like the perfect homemaker—all crimson-cheeked and ashamed at how they sniff after you as you pass them by.

You sit just as brightly despite the awkward tension. "Please, enjoy."

They all obey, eating in utter silence—every single one of them trying hard not to stare—and all failing miserably.

Kaminari's the first to speak, having been left shaken by curiosity he no longer could contain.

"So... did he kidnap you, or?"

It's a fair question to some extent. Omega's are a dime a dozen, all regulated strictly by protective institutions. You can't just find one to mate like in the old days. You need to apply for one and be vetted—not to mention they cost a fortune.

"Denki!" Kirishima whisper-shouts in admonishment, shaking his head from across the table.

"What? I'm I the only one who's thinking it?" he throws his hands up and defends.

Katsuki's fist strains around his fork, but you lay your mit atop his, and he calms down shortly.

“Don't worry, Mitsuki and Masaru made the arrangements and paid the dowry," you giggle, running your hand through your Alpha's ashen hair with fondness in your eyes. "I was a graduation present of sorts. They worried Katsuki wouldn't take care of himself once he started working and thought having a mate might help him with his busy day.”

If Katsuki appreciates you spilling his business like that, he doesn't say anything about it—just continues eating.

Denki sighs and sags in his chair. “I always knew Bakugou’s folks were loaded. How nice...”

Sero grins, “Your jealousy is showing.”

Denki pouts, “I’m not exactly tryna hide it.”

"Yeah..." Mina pipes up. "Can't deny I'm jealous, too."

Sero's grin falls as well with his confession, "Yeah, me neither, actually."

You keep smiling sympathetically, "Well, you're all welcome here—I don't mind the extra company."

"Really?" Denki lights up.

Mina and Sero, too—in awe and in unison, saying, "She's an angel."

"Get yer own," Katsuki grumbles. "Now shut up and finish your food. Then you're leavin'—all of you."

"Oh, come on, man," Denki whines. "Have a little pitty for your fellow Alphas."

"Let's stay respectful, guys," Krishima buds in lightheartedly. "Think about what you're asking."

Then, rethinking the conversation, the other three all realized how it had sounded, even though they hadn't meant it that way. And they all blush even darker than before.

And still, you just smile—alphas are all so cute.

Especially your hyper-protective one.

♡ prequel ♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

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diejager · 1 year ago

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Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention.

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes.

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument.

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body.

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail.

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him.

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight.

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours.

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures.

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you.

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home.

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him.

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him.

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much.

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty.

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind.

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition.

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to.

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition.

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you.

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live.

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much.

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures.

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room.

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making.

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal.

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue.

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave.

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him.

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying.

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh.

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back.

“You’re happy, ja?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @0alk0msan

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werecreature-addicted · 1 year ago

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Brain rotting under anon bc I'm a coward but dragon boyfriend who comes back to his hoard to go cuddle with his mate only to see them barely even half dressed, covered in gold and jewelry and just dancing around. Of course, you're the most precious thing there, but something abt the way the gold and rubies are sparkling off your neck, and the way the gold chains hanging off your hips and wrists is doing something to him man.

You, unaware of this new development ofc, turn and see your beloved partner back from god knows where, staring at you like you're a snack...🤭

Dagon husband who leaves your side to go hunting. He hates being apart from you, but a dragon has to eat and his den is safe for you. He misses you the entire time he's gone but he eases his weary mind by imagining how happy you'll be when he gets home. You always praise him for being such a good hunter and being so strong. It made his bestial heart sing when you praised him.

when he does come back to the den he expects to find you curled up in bed, covered in the soft things you liked so much. Instead, you're in front of a gilded mirror, looking at yourself. and what a sight it is indeed. you're wearing nothing but gold jewelry. a necklace that drips down over your shoulder and chest, a gold belt inlaid with rubies, and dozens of gold bracelets that clink when you sway back and forth. You're in the process of picking between two gold crowns when you spot him in the mirror.

"what are you doing?" he asks, his voice low and thick with lust. his eyes trained on your body and the way the gold glimmers in the low fire light. You are the only other soul in the world allowed to touch his hoard beside him, but right at this moment, you look less like his mate and more like a part of that hoard, gods above it drives him crazy.

He doesn't even give you a chance to answer his question before he's on top of you, sliding his scaly cock against your entrance and growling a low possessive snarl. He hooks your ankles around his shoulder and only then does he realize that you're also wearing a gold anklet around your foot. It jingles as he thrusts into you.

"I'm going to breed you, gonna fill you with my brood," he groans as he pushes himself deeper and faster inside of you until he's spilling his hot cum into you.

"Such a pretty human," he praises, running his forked tongue over your body, tasting your sweat, and the precious metal on your skin.

#monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #dragon x reader #dragon x human #dragon smut

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syoddeye · 10 months ago

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Lightly edited. 600 words. CW: alcohol, possessive behavior, implied stalking

You stopped sharing location with John Price.

He's a busy man. Too busy for you lately, it seems. The usual tricks, the old reliables, no longer seem to capture his attention anymore. You wonder if there's someone else.

You do it after he texts you yet another short, unapologetic message. He's working late tonight. Don't wait up.

You won't.

It's been ages since you indulged in a favorite pastime: reading at the bar. A habit of yours since school. You dress up for your own enjoyment, pluck the book that's sat on top of your to-read pile for months, and find a spot at the bar of your old haunt. Cocktail in hand, you lose yourself in the story.

Three drinks later, a hand settles on the counter beside your glass, connected to a thick arm testing the thickness of a denim jacket. A voice made rough with smoke curls in your ear and sends a shiver down your spine.

Should've checked here first. You were just sayin' you missed this place.

Heat you want to believe that's only from the liquor creeps up your chest and claws at your throat.

Woulda been easier to find you if you hadn't, you know.

You're embarrassed when you think back to when John first convinced you to enable the feature. You didn't share that information with anyone, and the idea of someone watching you felt gross. It took quite a bit of cajoling for him to persuade you, going on and on about how he only wants what is best for you, to keep you safe. Knowing where you are at all times is part and parcel of a relationship with him.

He's smiling. There's warmth in his features, the upturned corner of his mouth, and the slight scrunch of his nose, but his eyes are matte. Dull even in the dim light of the bar. He's fuming.

John sits beside you and drapes an arm over the back of your seat. He waves down the barkeep with the other. You finally find your words, humiliated that the first thing you think to say is an apology, and that you two can go back to yours. He shushes you.

No, love, go ahead. Finish your chapter. Mind if I borrow your phone? Used up the battery on mine, you see.

You've never seen his phone below 60%, but you fork it over anyway, and he gestures for you to return to your book. You re-read the same paragraph a dozen times before giving up. He sips his drink, unhurried, catching your eye and giving a wink before he slides the device back to you.

There. All better.

There's a new icon on your home screen. It's unfamiliar, and when you reflexively tap it, it asks for a passcode. Your mouth dries.

Can't have you making more impulsive decisions like that, eh?

The arm slung over the stool migrates to your shoulders, and his hand gently clamps over the nape of your neck, thumb swiping over the skin.

I haven't been giving you the attention you deserve lately, have I. S'pose that's why you pulled a little stunt like this. Wanted me to come hunt you down, find you sitting pretty at a bar, hm?

He laughs when you stutter and try to defend your decision but glowers when you quietly comment you were worried someone else was keeping his attention.

If you're finished reading, think we'll spend the night at mine, sweetheart. Show you you're the only one for me.

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sushiyuzu · 1 month ago

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cooking dinner

warning: fluff — sylus cooks dinner for the 2 of you 🍽

- second acc: @blushpawss

spices.

and herbs.

those were the very first things you smell the moment you stepped into the kitchen, catching the familiar scent of the ingredients that only meant one thing—sylus was cooking again.

he stood at the stove, his posture as straight and composed as ever, every movement precise. it was a sight you’d seen before, yet it never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“cooking for me again?” you asked with a playful lilt, leaning against the doorway. “you spoil me, you know that?”

sylus turned his head just enough to give you a quick glance, his expression as serious as ever. “someone has to make sure you eat properly,” he said, his voice deep and matter-of-fact.

you chuckled, stepping closer. “oh, is that right? or are you just showing off your cooking skills again?”

he huffed, the corners of his lips twitching upward in the faintest hint of a smile. “maybe a little of both,” he admitted, his tone softening as he stirred the contents of the pot with care.

you sat down at the kitchen island, already feeling the warmth and comfort that came with these moments. sylus’s tough exterior remained intact—brow furrowed, eyes focused—but there was no denying the gentleness in his actions, especially when it was for you.

“do you need any help?” you offered, even though you knew he’d say no.

as expected, he shot you a firm look. “i’ve got this, sweetie,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “just sit and relax. i’m making your favorite.”

your chest tightened at his words, the simple act of him remembering what you liked making your heart flutter. “you didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you said, touched by the unexpected gesture.

“it’s not trouble,” sylus said firmly, his serious gaze locking onto yours. “you deserve to be taken care of.”

for a moment, you were speechless, caught off guard by the tenderness in his eyes. it was rare for him to show his softer side, but when he did, it always left you breathless. “thank you,” you said softly, feeling warmth spread through you.

he gave a curt nod, turning back to the stove as if the brief moment of vulnerability had never happened. “now be a good kitty for me and stay quiet,” he instructed, his tone returning to its usual firm and authoritative manner.

you obeyed, a smile tugging at your lips as you watch him continue cooking, his movements efficient and precise, yet you could tell he was putting extra care into each step.

you smiled, resting your chin in your hands as you watched him work. “you’re such a softie, you know that?”

his brow furrowed even more, and he avoided your gaze, a light flush dusting his cheeks. “i have no idea what you’re talking about,” he muttered, turning back to the stove with a slight smirk plastered on his face.

“sure you don’t,” you teased, enjoying how flustered he got whenever you pointed out the obvious.

within minutes, he was plating up dinner—your favorite dish—presenting it with the same care and precision you’d seen him use a dozen times before. he set the plate in front of you with a small nod, and you couldn’t help but feel touched by the effort he always put into making sure everything was perfect.

“it smells amazing,” you said sincerely, picking up your fork.

“it should taste that way too,” he said with a hint of pride, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you take the first bite.

you hummed in delight, your eyes lighting up. and for a moment, you swore you saw the tension in his shoulders ease.

“oh my god, sylus,” you said, genuinely impressed. “this is... this is really good!”

he let out a breath, almost as if he’d been holding it, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. “i’m glad,” he said, his voice dropping to that softer tone again.

“you know,” you said, your voice gentle, “you don’t have to do this all the time. i’d be happy with something simple too.”

sylus paused, glancing over his shoulder with that serious expression that always made your heart race. “sweetie, it’s not about simple or complicated,” he said quietly. “it’s about doing things for you.”

you were momentarily stunned, your heart swelling at his words. sigh. he always said the most heartfelt things in the simplest way, catching you off guard every single time.

“you really are impossible,” you said, shaking your head with a smile.

he shrugged, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “i’ve heard worse,” he said, and there was a softness in his eyes that told you he didn’t mind being impossible if it was for you.

you both ate together, the atmosphere warm and comfortable despite his serious demeanor. there were moments when you caught him watching you, a softness in his gaze whenever you looked back at him. it was those fleeting glances that made your heart swell, knowing that underneath that tough exterior, there was a gentle, caring side he only revealed to you.

after dinner, you started to get up to clear the dishes, but sylus’s hand shot out, stopping you. “i’ll handle it,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours with that usual intense seriousness.

“but—” you began, only to be cut off.

“sit,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. then, softer, “you’ve had a long day. let me take care of this.”

your cheeks warmed, and you sank back into your seat, watching as he cleaned up the kitchen with the same efficiency he brought to everything he did. he was so focused, so diligent, and yet there was a certain tenderness in the way he handled everything—like he was making sure everything was perfect just for you.

“you’re really sweet, you know that?” you said suddenly, unable to hold back the smile that spread across your face.

sylus raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “oh? only just now noticing?” he teased, his voice carrying a slight hint of cockiness.

you rolled your eyes, but your smile widened. “don’t let it get to your head,” you warned, playfully nudging his arm.

“too late,” he shot back with a chuckle, leaning in just a little closer. “and besides, i’m not just sweet. i’m unforgettable.”

you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “okay, okay, mr. unforgettable,” you said, feeling your heart flutter at the confident sparkle in his eyes.

“that’s more like it,” sylus said, his tone softening as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. “just making sure you know what you’ve got.”

you felt your cheeks heat up, your playful retort momentarily caught in your throat as his gaze softened, his expression both teasing and sincere.

you smiled once more, feeling a rush of affection for the man who, despite his stoic exterior, was always so gentle with you.

“finish your wine,” he said, his tone brusque as he continued washing the dishes, but you saw the way his shoulders relaxed, the faint blush that dusted his cheeks.

you sipped your wine, feeling incredibly lucky to have someone who, while serious and tough to the world, had a heart that was soft and gentle when it came to you.

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charliemwrites · 3 months ago

Text

хозяин

Nobody. You wish it weren’t so apt. But he’s not a person, not anything of Earth.

Content: Dub-Con, Biting, Scratching, Exhibitionism, Possessive Behavior, Toxic Behavior

You must have pissed something off in a past life. Or they’re planning on giving you something really good in the next one. Because this… this is too much. He’s too much.

We are exactly right for you, khozyain.

It’s not just the taste of leather and oil on the back of your tongue each morning. Or the crimson smears on your sheets before bed. You could live with the shit sleep, the centuries of foreign memories, and the occasional hankering for raw meat that thins your appetite to nothing.

“You’re KorTac’s best operative?”

It’s a question you’ve heard a dozen times before – and will likely hear a dozen times more. The criticism is valid. You’re not an imposing figure; nothing impressive about you. Look more like a child in a Halloween costume than anything resembling a soldier. The question never bothers you because the unofficial title is as ill-fitting as the gun strapped to your thigh.

It’s not you they need to worry about bothering.

“We are. Problem, soldat?”

“There’s no problem, Nikto,” you answer in Sebastian Krueger’s place.

No, Krueger is too busy wondering where the big, dark figure behind your shoulder just came from. He could have sworn you stepped out of the transport alone. In broad daylight, no less. (That doesn’t mean there aren’t shadows.)

Nikto grunts, nearly tripping you with how closely he walks, toes of his boots nipping at the heels of yours. A stride twice the length of your own but doggedly following, not leading.

“Thought there was only one ‘a ya,” Declan O’Conor muses.

“Paperwork issue,” you lie, smiling.

Nikto grunts, pressing into your back as you stop in front of your temporary captain. You have to brace against his oppressive weight, feel yourself flush a bit when you don’t quite manage.

“Who’re you, then?” Declan asks, eyes on your shadow.

“Nikto,” comes the gruff reply.

Nobody.

You wish it weren’t so apt.

But he’s not a person, not anything of Earth. You don’t know if he ever was; he never gives you a straight answer when you pluck up the courage (or frustration) to ask. Last time, he told you that if he ever wanted to feel human, he’d just be inside you. (You’d flushed, didn’t know if he meant in your mind, where he often takes up unwanted residence, or… elsewhere. Couldn’t make yourself ask him to clarify, afraid of the answer. Jumped whenever he touched you for a week.)

You don’t know the exact bounds of this pact either. He listens to you only sometimes. When it suits him – or when it least suits you. And you’re not immune to his cruelty either, as the bruises and bitemarks and scratches can attest. Nothing like the romanticized crossroads deals you see in tv shows and movies.

Truthfully, you’re not even sure if he’s a punishment for you or if you’re a reward for him. What’s that line you read online once? Dog heaven is squirrel hell. Did he make a deal with you, or did he make a deal with something else, and you’re just collateral?

You never bother to ask. He’ll just click his forked tongue and tell you that it won’t get rid of him either way. The worst part is that he’ll be right. You’re pretty sure the Christian God as you know Him has nothing to do with any of this.

The mission doesn’t matter, not really. You only listen for objectives. Whoever needs killing, whatever information needs gathering, wherever the hostages are. The rest is all useless extra, so much noise to Nikto, not even listening. He’s too busy bullying his way between your thighs, sinking his teeth into the meat through your cargos.

You’re never sure if he’s visible or the other operatives just avoid looking at him in these moments. Regardless, you flush and kick at him when his jaw locks too hard. It’ll bruise livid and ugly, and he’ll fuck the head of his cock into the aching ring of teeth prints left behind.

He’s insistent when the briefing is over, riled up by the promise of bloodshed. Pushy and growling, nearly snapping through his “mask” as he herds you like a rabid shepherd to your temporary quarters.

He fucks you in the doorway though, using one thick arm to bounce you like a personal fleshlight. The other keeps your jaw forced open so he can spit and lick into your mouth, obscene and filthy.

You push and squirm, but he just laughs that awful, maniacal rattle and grinds your clit into his pelvis. Until you start to mean it when you whimper “no” and “stop.” It always makes him cum so hard that you taste ichor in the back of your throat.

It’s too much to hope that you’ll eat in the mess hall uninterrupted. Nikto’s presence attracts the worst, and Krueger is compelled to pick at the weakness you exude. It’s no question that he’s a bigger, stronger, meaner beast than you. But like a dying soldier left to scream in the field, there’s a muzzle hidden out of sight, awaiting whatever is lured in – for mercy or to feast.

Krueger takes the seat across from you, one of his boots landing heavy and threatening on top of yours. You eat quietly, picking at your mashed potatoes and rubbery chicken. Listen to him jab and jeer.

Nikto is there but he’s not. He’s laughing in your ear at all the true but derisive things Krueger is taunting you with. All the sins he boasts of and the reactions he takes as proof of your inadequacy for the assignment you’ve been brought for. It would hurt more of you didn’t know it was true – and if your nerves weren’t rattling.

There’s a line, always a line. Some fault hidden beneath the surface that you don’t see until the ground splits and swallows up the unfortunate soul above.

This time, it’s a comment about how much more useful you’d be as a cockwarmer.

The plastic fork is an inch from his eye by the time you finish blinking.

“Nikto, stop!”

It snaps in his tight fist – but stops. Krueger hasn’t even processed how close he was to losing half his sight before you’re yanking Nikto back by the straps. He’s growling, snarling, half-crazed over a comment he’s made himself. You abandon your mostly full tray and the table altogether, putting all your weight and strength into dragging him from the cafeteria.

“Calm down, that’s enough!” you shout over the animalistic sounds ripping from his throat.

He turns on you instead. Pins you to the wall just outside, in full view of anyone passing on their way to dinner.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he’s chanting. Ripping through your pants (that’s the second pair this week) and thrusting against the seam of your ass. Already leaking precum from an obsidian tip at the small of your back, the corpse-pale base nestled between your cheeks. If he had the coordination through the frenzy, he’d stuff it into you dry and tight. As it is, it’s all he can do to buck against you, fingers digging divots into the cement wall, dust raining down on your face.

Mine, mine, mine, he chants inside your skull in languages known and unknown. You’re leaking through your underwear, too overwhelmed and bewildered to be anything but turned on. Fear is synonymous with attraction, those two wires soldered together and circuited to your pussy.

Copper fills your nose, warmth drips down your lips. Nikto scents it like a hound, yanks your head back to lap at the blood, groaning into your mouth.

Yours, yours, yours as his cock splutters against your spine, too hot. Tingly, almost caustic. You can barely breathe and he’s hauling you over one big shoulder, scooping your slick to prod at the hole he was just grinding against.

Us as you’re pinned with nowhere to go and no voice to praise or protest. In a room darker than a void. Suspended on an endless continuum of pleasure and pain, phantom claws raking your skin and phantom mouths filling whatever holes his cock isn’t occupying.

Sometimes you wonder if the plural “we” and “us” he tends to use is in reference to you and him, or…

The mission is going to be a success, it always is. You separate from the rest of the KorTac squad, shooing Nikto’s hands out from under your shirt. The claw marks still sting; the sooner you can get out of tac gear, the better.

He cracks his neck as the two of you approach the infil point. It sounds like snapping bone. A crescent moon carves into the night sky, sharp enough to cut yourself on.

“Is it time, khozyain?”

Those cajoling whispers caress your ears again. To let him run rampant, to let him fill your bath with blood. He’d be a scourge on the earth if you let him, a one-man apocalypse. The death of the world for a slip of the tongue.

Your hold on his leash is so tight that it’s imprinted past the skin, down into muscle. But on nights like tonight, for things like this… you let out the lead.

“Stay clear of Point B,” you remind into your com.

“Roger,” all others agree.

If they know what’s good for them, they’ll abide by the plan like holy writ. Not even you can promise their lives if they stray.

Shadow looms behind you, grows with each beat of your heart, spills over your shoulders, threads down your arms. You don’t dare glance at the inhuman head hovering right by yours, the maw parting for vicious, pearlescent teeth and pooling saliva. Hungry. Starving.

“Nikto.”

A rolling, ravenous churr vibrates through your skull. The lowest windows of your target begin to crack.

“Hunt.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #nikto cod #nikto x reader #call of duty nikto #heavy kink

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cece693 · 3 months ago

Text

Calm Down Cowboy (Jasper Whitlock x M! Reader)

I never expected much love to come from my first Jasper fanfic, so as thanks, here's another one :)

Summary: You were a social butterfly, however, that doesn't excuse your husband's actions. However, was it really all bad if it led to him being possessive and taking charge.

tags: jealous Jasper, social butterfly male reader, petty cowboy, happy ending, smut, past mention of Tanya/reader

It was almost funny, looking back on it now, but in that moment, you were steaming like a kettle ready to burst. After all these centuries spent by Jasper’s side—dozens of weddings, countless anniversaries, and endless reassurances—how could he still get jealous just from you talking to someone? You were well aware of your own charm; a social butterfly whose charisma, suaveness, and good looks drew people to you like moths to a flame. But Jasper knew this too. He knew you never encouraged those who fawned over you, nor did you let any past lovers hold sway over you anymore.

Yet, Tanya Denali seemed to light a fire under your cowboy like no other. It didn’t matter how many times you’d promise it while fucking him that Tanya was nothing—just a brief fling in your long, immortal life, severed the moment he'd come into it—he still couldn't stand the sight of her.

It started innocently enough. The Denalis were visiting Forks, and you'd found yourself chatting with Tanya. The conversation was light, inconsequential—a quick catch-up on each other's lives. But then Tanya, ever the flirt, edged closer, her hand brushing against your arm, her laugh a little too soft, too familiar.

Jasper, who had been watching from a distance, stiffened immediately. You could feel his emotions boiling over, his usual calm demeanor cracking as Tanya leaned in, her fingers trailing down your sleeve. You glanced over your shoulder, trying to catch his eye and silently communicate that it was nothing, but Jasper was no longer standing in his spot.

Instead, he was striding toward you, his eyes dark and full of a possessiveness that made your stomach twist. "That’s enough." he said sharply, stepping between you and Tanya. His tone was harsher than you’d ever heard from him, a growl that had everyone around you suddenly going silent.

Tanya raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh, come on, Jasper. I’m just catching up with an old friend. No harm in that, is there?”

Jasper’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tight. "Funny how you always seem to forget what ‘no harm’ means. You don’t belong here, stirring up old shit.”

You quickly put a hand on his arm, but Tanya wasn’t done. “Oh, Jasper, I had no idea you were so insecure,” she cooed, her eyes flicking to you with a knowing glint. “I thought you’d trust your mate by now, especially after all these years. But I suppose some habits die hard.”

Jasper’s muscles tensed under your grip, his temper flaring hotter than before. “How would you know? You haven’t found your mate yet," he snapped back, his Southern accent thickening with every word. "Why don't you take your desperate ass back to Alaska and leave what's mine alone?"

“Jasper!” you hissed, pulling him back before things could spiral out of control. This was so unlike him—he was usually composed, especially around others. But Tanya had a way of needling under his skin, and she knew exactly how to make it worse. You tugged at his arm, dragging him away from the porch and out of earshot of the others, who had started murmuring in shocked whispers. Emmett’s booming laughter grated on your nerves, adding to the tension.

But Tanya wasn't finished. She threw a final parting shot over her shoulder, her voice laced with venom. “You know, maybe Jasper’s right to be worried. It must be exhausting, trying to keep up with someone like you. All that fire and passion—maybe he’s just not enough for you anymore.”

Jasper jerked against your hold, his eyes flaring with fury, and it took everything you had to keep him from lunging at her. "You listen here, you conniving bitch—" he started, but you cut him off, practically dragging him away from the scene before he could finish his sentence.

“Jasper, stop!” you pleaded, your voice tight as you struggled to keep him from breaking free. His anger was like a living thing, wild and uncontrollable, and you knew that if you didn’t get him away from Tanya, things would get ugly fast. “She’s just trying to rile you up! Don’t give her what she wants!”

He stopped struggling, but his whole body was tense, vibrating with barely suppressed rage. “I’m not letting her get away with that,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “She thinks she can just waltz in here and—”

“And she’s not worth it,” you interrupted, stepping in front of him and forcing him to meet your gaze. “You know she’s just trying to get under your skin. Don’t let her win.”

Jasper’s breath was coming in ragged gasps, his eyes still blazing with anger, but slowly, he began to calm under your steady gaze. “I can’t stand her,” he muttered, his voice still laced with venom. “She thinks she can just say whatever she wants, like she knows us.”

“She doesn’t know anything,” you assured him, your hands sliding up to cup his face, forcing him to focus on you and not the lingering venom in Tanya’s words. “And I don’t care what she says. You’re the only one I want, Jasper.”

For a moment, it seemed like your words would be enough to soothe him. But the tension was still there, simmering beneath the surface. His eyes darkened, his hands gripping your waist possessively. "Show me." he demanded, voice raw, an edge of desperation beneath his anger.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift, but you saw the need in his eyes—the need to prove himself, to reclaim what was his. You nodded, giving him permission to take the lead, knowing this was a big step for both of you. Jasper didn’t waste a second. He backed you up against a nearby tree, his mouth crashing onto yours with an almost feral hunger. His hands roamed over your body, rough and urgent, as if he was staking his claim with every touch.

He was never like this, never so commanding, but you let him take what he needed. His lips moved down your neck, his sharp teeth grazing your skin before a burning fire settled on your collarbone. His venom would create a scar there, a mark that you were his and vice versa. "Mine." .

"Yours." you assured, threading your fingers through his honey-blonde hair. "Only yours."

He didn’t slow down. If anything, your words only spurred him on. The heat between you two built quickly, his need palpable. He pulled away, his eyes locking onto yours, searching, almost as if he was begging for you to understand. "I need to know." he whispered. "Need to feel it."

You nodded, letting out a soft sigh. “Then take it. Take what you need.”

And he did. His movements were intense, almost punishing, as if he was trying to erase any doubt Tanya had planted with each thrust. You met him with equal fervor, matching his intensity, your bodies colliding in a raw, unrestrained dance that left you both breathless. His hands were everywhere, gripping, claiming, reminding you of exactly who you belonged to.

As the tension between you two reached its peak, Jasper buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the bite. “I love you.” he murmured, his voice shaking with emotion. “Don’t ever doubt that. I’d burn the whole world down before I’d let anyone take you from me.”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him close. “I love you, too, Jasper. And I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.”

For a moment, everything was still. Then, slowly, Jasper's grip on you loosened, his anger ebbing away as he relaxed into your embrace. You both stayed there, holding each other tightly, knowing that nothing could break you guys apart.

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