#possible rape mention

[asherisawkward]

Please note that this is very much a rant about their school system that deals with/mentions topics like grooming, sexual assault/abuse, pedophilia, and the sex education system as a whole.

If any of these topics are triggering or upsetting for you, do not read this post.

Considering a post I just reblogged on banned books and sex education, I figured I’m going to make a post explaining my stance on this, so I can point people here if I ever get asks about this kind of stuff.

I went to a middle of the country school when I was in middle school and my first year of high school, but it definitely was smaller and had a southern vibe. If that makes no sense, look up “Tornado Alley,” and that’s about where I was.

My school system did two years of middle school and four years of high school, and I had some sex education. Rather, I had one class period per year in middle school. I went through this class twice.

It did not teach anything substantial about sex. It did not explain what reproductive organs were or how they worked; it did not explain what sex was; it did not teach me about how to use a condom or even what one was. It did not teach me about consent or what rape and sexual abuse or assault. I didn’t even know what that was.

Do you want to know what I learned?

I learned about some STIs/STDs. The guy showed pictures of them in class and explained the symptoms entirely through sickening food comparisons that have left me having trouble eating/looking at any of those foods today (example: he compared syphilis to pepperoni) He did made no actual attempt to explain how they were contracted (beyond “I told [name] not to lick the pepperoni; he licked the pepperoni”) or where they originated from.

You know what else he taught me?

Apparently, sex felt good.

I had no understanding of what any sort of sexual assault/abuse was, and my basic reaction to the vague concept I was aware of was, “just run away.” (An incredibly toxic and victim-blaming mindset that I am ashamed of to this day.) If I had been in a situation where I was being raped or groomed or in a situation akin to that, I would not have known what was happening to me was wrong and needed to be reported. Fortunately, I wasn’t.

And, for the record, my boyfriend had to explain to me how sex works when I was sixteen, because I still didn’t know. And that supposedly helpful sex ed did nothing to help me.

About the same time my boyfriend explained to me how things actually worked in the bedroom, when I was still sixteen, I met a man who visited the neighborhood occasionally because he had a job in lawn maintenance. He was always friendly to me whenever we met. I didn’t know his name, but I saw him when I went on walks around the neighborhood, and we exchanged pleasantries. I thought he was nice.

He had the habit, whenever we saw each other from afar, of blowing kisses to me. I thought he was trying to be grandfatherly. I didn’t knew what it was, and I still don’t really know what to classify it as.

One day, he approached me in his truck and started speaking to me. He asked me my name and if I had a boyfriend. I gave my name and said yes. He told me I was pretty and he liked me. Then he asked me if I wanted to have sex. This man was in his fifties or sixties, and I’ve been mistaken by people for being a couple years younger than I am. There was no way he could have thought I was an adult. I had mentioned going to high school sometimes when we had taker before.

I walked back home, terrified that he would drive by me, throw me in the back of the car, and I’d end up assaulted and eventually dead in a ditch. He didn’t, but I was terrified the entire time.

I wish I had known this stuff sooner, and I didn’t even experience anything that bad. Knowing about It wouldn’t have stopped that from happening, but maybe I could have seen that a man in his fifties or sixties blowing kisses at a sixteen year old kid was not normal.

Imagine how it could have helped for people who go due experience trauma and weren’t lucky the way at I was. People could have figured out the signs of abusive partners or figured out that behaviors indicators of grooming or predatory behavior. It would allow people to know what to report to authorities.

To sum up the product of my ranting/venting; sex education is just as important aspect of of growing up as secular education, and it is vital for the prevention, report, and punishment of abuse and assault.

[rat-f4g]

How dare they condescend to say that I could be benefitting from the patriarchy when every single government documentation of mine reads as male and during several wrongful arrests, I was processed strictly as a woman.

Non passing trans men don't benefit from misogyny whatsoever, besides possibly on the internet. If they are seen as a woman in someone's eyes, especially legally, they do not benefit from it. If you are not seen as a man by society, regardless of if you are or not, you do not benefit from misogyny.

It's that fuckin simple.

[zombieplaguedoc]

TW: Discussion Of Possible Religious Trauma

Being indoctrinated with toxic views and thinking growing up in a cult counts as religious trauma, right? Or does that not count?

Antis pls dni, this is not aimed at you

[goat-guy-tm]

To anyone who continues to boil down MouthWashing to a game just about rape, I would like to show you this;

The game is quite literally about a company that is so steeped in shit that they make it as hard as POSSIBLE to put in any level of complaint about anything or anyone.

Pony Express is a manipulative, abusive work environment that promotes abuse of its employees because who's going to complain when you not only have to HAND WRITE IT, BUT GET IT SIGNED BY A HIGHER UP AND TURN IT IN ON VERY SPECIFIC DATES?!

Not to mention instantly promoting their company mascot plushie on the same poster.

Muting notifications on this post as it's the one with the most notes I've ever gotten and continues to get notes and it's stressing me out with phone bussing, if you really have strong feelings you need to voice to me about this you're more than welcome to my dms.

[mx-paint]

I think by far my favorite thing is when someone says "if this happened to the opposite sex, we'd never hear the end of it!!!" and you look it up to find 5 at the ready situations that aren't nearly as talked about as the other one.

[thinkingofausername]

some things from mouthwashing that i think need more attention:

UPDATED (again 😂) because I've been corrected on some things

jimmy, as co-captain, was unfortunately needed and couldn't be disposed of

pony express should carry the brunt of the blame - sending people into space and THEN telling them they're fired; not installing locks in the sleeping quarters; etc.

anya said "i have to believe our worst moments don't define us", implying she forgave curly, at least to an extent

every moment seen through jimmy's eyes could and should be questioned. he's an unreliable narrator

jimmy wanted curly to take the blame. he wanted the crew to blame him. the game wanted us to blame him for the crash (until the reveal)

curly got burned because he faced the explosion head-on; trying to fix things

anya died first; she did it with the last remaining painkillers which could've been used for curly; she even did it in front of him

jimmy shamed and attacked curly during the birthday scene and curly didn't react; implying their relationship was never smooth and truly friendly

it was never explicitly shown what anya said to curly. perhaps she never specified jimmy raped her. curly was shocked when she said she was pregnant, he didn't connect it with anything

anya telling jimmy she was pregnant is what made him crash the ship

it's implied anya told swansea about jimmy and he did nothing. he only attacked jimmy a while later, as revenge for daisuke

it's possible curly was only ever visited by jimmy, aside from anya

jimmy crashed the ship 147/365 days into the trip (they've got 7.2 months to go); the same day anya told him she's pregnant. assuming she found out a bit before that, and she could've found out within a month, by the time they got off the ship she would've been around 8 months pregnant - she would NOT have given birth on the ship

swansea had been 15 years sober

curly most likely wouldn't survive the cryopod. entirely skinless and then frozen? hell

curly was the only one to have clearance for the sweetener

curly very pointedly looks at jimmy ALL the time after the crash

after curly's conversation with jimmy (the "feet in cement" one), right before jimmy crashed the ship, the screen goes black and there's heavy breathing, implying curly was left panicking

jimmy gives curly medicine 3 times - first, with anya relatively nearby, a fairly normal intervention; second, with no one nearby, where jimmy assaults curly; third, alone again, he doesn't assault curly but he still cries, he's permanently scared of jimmy

curly was already struggling with insomnia before the crash

while anya was locked in medical, jimmy told daisuke she might do something to curly

anya said the mouthwash couldn't be used as disinfectant and jimmy still did it

jimmy drugged swansea; he convinced daisuke to go in the vent by saying swansea would be proud of him

curly and anya and jimmy all talk of "handling things"

jimmy says curly receives praise all the time; implying he was a good captain (he was also the only one to get exceptional references)

swansea had a wife and kids; daisuke mentions his mother, the creators of the game said curly loved spending time with friends and family. they had people waiting for them

jimmy said cartoon horses excite him and anya's baby is presented as a horse

[motomamita]

viking!könig × female!villager!reader

warnings: smut, +18, possesive!könig, breeding kink, kidnapping, mentions of rape and virginity!!

Viking!König who, along with his warriors, disembark in a small village located by the sea. Dressed in animal skins, swords and armor, they enter the village to loot and destroy everything within their reach.

It is then that he manages to spot a small house at the top of a small mountain, not far from all the others. Upon reaching the field, he notices a female figure coming out of the small garden with a basket of tomatoes. It was you, dressed in a long white skirt, a beige shirt and a scarf around your head. You look like an angel fallen from heaven, so harmonious and calm, totally different from König's rude figure.

It doesn't take you long to notice that tall, burly man at the entrance to your home, who seems anything but pleasant. You recognize their clothing and the bad intentions that characterized the vikingos. An expression of terror was marked on your face and you immediately ran into your home, shouting your father's name and without letting go of the basket of tomatoes.

Konig's stomach twisted in a feeling of excitement at your reaction, feeling powerful at the fear of the rest of the people seeing him. With his long, muscular legs, he followed your steps to the interior of the home where a series of murmurs welcomed him.

In the humble living room there was an adult couple who looked somewhat sick and next to them was you, who covered 2 small children no more than 6 years old with your body. König was tall and in good shape compared to your family, who apparently barely had enough to eat.

"Please, don't hurt us.." sobbed your mother, who brought her skinny hands to her chest, begging.

"We don't have anything valuable, you can check for yourself." Your father spoke now, pointing around you. König began to walk around the room, observing everything around him and verifying that there was nothing there that would be useful to him. "The only thing we can offer him are vegetables and fruits from our garden. Daughter, give him the basket of tomatoes!" Your father ordered, hoping that König would agree and leave as soon as possible.

You stepped forward timidly and held out the basket with the tomatoes to him, taking a distance and with your hands trembling. König looked down at you, smiling slightly at your fear and how you couldn't maintain eye contact with his cold blue eyes. He reached his hand to the basket and took a tomato, it had a good size and color. Without thinking he brought it to his mouth and tasted a little of it, not caring how the juice fell from his lips to his bushy beard.

"And then? What do you think? If you want, you can take the whole basket, it's all yours!" Your father insisted.

To tell the truth, that tomato was delicious but you were even more so. "I'll take everything from the garden... And your daughter too." König spoke for the first time, generating a shiver throughout your body.

"No problem. Girl, put on some shoes and go!" Your father spoke coldly, capable of doing everything possible to defend his family, even if it meant giving you away to an unknown Viking.

You sobbed and screamed that they wouldn't let you leave with him, with König, but your father did nothing but raise his voice even more and even try to hit you. Your mother and your brothers cried in silence, observing the situation with sadness but without intervening on your behalf. The decision was already made, you were now König's property.

It was widely said that the Vikings came to the villages not only to plunder but also to rape their women and then return to their more 'relaxed' ways. Luckily for you, or not, that had not been the case for you. No, König didn't just see you as a hole to fill with his powerful semen. But as his property, as something to take care of and defend from the other Vikings who had no intention of formalizing with any woman. He wanted to be the only one with something to fight for and stay alive. And, soon, with whom to form a small family of warriors.

During the short time you had to gather your few things, your father took it upon himself to inform König of all the good things you had to offer. You knew how to wash, cook, heal, and, best of all, you were a virgin. That last one excited König even more, who was excited by the idea of ​​being the first (and only) to be between your legs.

You boarded a large ship with your wrists handcuffed to prevent you from escaping and an old cloth bag with some items of clothing. According to König, none of that would help you in the cold climate of traveling over the sea, plus he wanted you not to wear underwear.

"Look guys! König brought us this sweetness to share!" one of the Vikings exclaimed, making all the men's hungry gazes turn towards you. You sobbed at the idea of ​​having to serve as a sexual slave for all those scary Vikings but that idea quickly disappeared when you noticed how König approached the man and growled: "don't go near her." Reporting that you were not a common asset to the crew, but his alone.

That same night you slept next to König in a more exclusive room than the rest of the men, who all slept in the same crowded place. You noticed that he had a higher rank than the rest, therefore you had certain advantages over the others. Luckily for you, König explored your body externally, caressing your breasts, ass and pussy but without trying anything else.

The weeks passed and with them you managed to get used to the lifestyle of those men. König had already warned everyone about your exclusivity only with him, so no one ever tried anything with you. Your routine was based on washing and cooking König's clothes, cleaning his war wounds and cooking for him and his men. During the nights, you only had to be in charge of helping him bathe and dress the times when he arrived very exhausted, then both of you would just lie down and sleep.

Inevitably you managed to appreciate him and desire the closeness of that massive man. König, for his part, also wanted you, demonstrating it in the way that during the night he would rest his big erection against your ass, or how he would sit you on his lap and take advantage of the movements of the boat to obtain a pleasurable friction.

That night, the sexual tension between the two was unsustainable and it didn't take long for both of them to achieve what they had longed for. Due to your tightness and the large size of König's member, his first thrusts were painful and uncomfortable. However, he took care of reducing your disagreement by sucking and biting your breasts.

"My little wife- ah I love your breasts and how tight you are.." König growled, bringing his hands to your hips, using you as his personal fleshlight.

Slowly, his long and thick cock entered completely inside of you, feeling a sensation of simultaneous pain and pleasure. His hot breath and masculine scent made your walls wrap even tighter around him, causing him to moan loudly.

"Mine, only mine. This pussy belongs to me, your breasts belong to me, you belong to me completely..." he murmured, bringing his mouth to your ear and lightly biting your lobe.

His thrusts increased along with his grunts, you sobbed with pleasure at the way his hair pubes touched your clit. "König- I want more.." you stammered, not quite able to formulate words.

"Huh? You want my cum? You want me to fill you up inside?" He asked as his pace became more clumsy, announcing that he was about to finish.

And so he did, filling your entire interior with his powerful semen that, after 9 months later, took shape into 2 chubby and healthy warriors.

[reiderwriter]

Little Angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid × virgin!fem reader

Genre: SMUT, some fluff, a little tiny smidge of angst. MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: As the youngest and most innocent member of the BAU, they all take care of their little angel. When they find out just how innocent you are, though, one member takes his possession to the next level. You're his little angel, and he's determined to have you.

Warnings: loss of virginity, loss of innocence, degradation, pet names, oral sex, thigh riding, fingering, cum marking, love bites, Spencer is territorial and possessive, Dom! Spencer Reid, PinV sex, mentions breeding, but he pulls out.

A/N: We've reached Day 8 of kinktober! It's our second "long" fic, meaning there's a bit more plot to this, and the smut scene is longer too (WC is almost 7k!) I hope you love this one just as much as I did... The kinktober masterlist can be found here, and my regular masterlist is here too! If you want something specific, my requests are open ❤️

Your first three months with the BAU were a blur, and for good reason. Endless cases, back-to-back, interrupted only by the slight hint of a weekend or the ever possible death row interview. You were tired, stressed, and afraid to walk home alone at night, and absolutely satisfied. As far as you were concerned, it was all worth it to get these monsters off the streets, to help save their victims and to find out what made them tick. There was nothing else you'd rather be doing. 

The team had helped you settle in well, too. You'd joined the team after Alex Blake had left - she'd recommended you actually from the college seminars you'd taken with her. You were obviously lacking a bit of experience, so they took on two team members, and you and Kate Callahan had the great opportunity of both being the newbie. But you had a slight disadvantage of age, coming in as the youngest member of the team. You thought that might be why you'd settled in so well, in all honesty. 

Hotch and Rossi were both protective in a fatherly way. Hotch pushed you and Rossi encouraged you and that was everything you needed from them. A strong pat on the back at the end of a case and a "you did good, kid," and whatever hell they'd pushed you through, it was worth it. Morgan's tough love was brotherly, but he did a great job at getting you to relax on and off the case, reminding you to not take the work home. JJ and Kate were great mentors. It wasn't easy being women in the FBI, let alone the unit that specifically looked into some of the most misogynistic killings, rapes and abductions in the world. They both gave you tips about how to handle condescending officers, and JJ had held your hair back after you'd puked your guts up on a particularly harrowing day in the field. With Penelope, friendship was easy, and you loved talking to her about whatever hyperfixation you were on that week, loving that there was someone on your team that had filled their life with genuine joy in the face of so much horror. 

And Spencer. Honestly, you were beginning to think that you'd used Spencer as a human stuffed toy a bit too much. 

You don't know how it happened at first, just that after one of your first few cases, you'd been so elated to find a victim alive, safe but traumatised, that you'd thrown yourself into his arms the minute you got back to the precinct. 

"We did it, I thought she was going to be dead, Spencer but she isn't." Your head was pressed into his chest, you were almost surprised he even heard them, muffled as they were. If you weren't so elated, you'd have noticed the way he'd stiffened at your touch, panicking slightly before awkwardly wrapping his arms around you, too. But you pulled away before you could notice that he wasn't really used to any physical comfort, bouncing off to write up your case report. 

Spencer noticed, though. Noticed how the heat of your body made him feel comforted, the way his heart rate increased to 125 BPM from it's base rate and didn't fall back to normal for another half hour. He noticed that you smelt like jasmine and patchouli, and more importantly, he noticed that he didn't really care if you touched him, and that was new. 

It became a kind of ritual for you, finding him after a case and folding into his arms to celebrate. They were friendly hugs, after all, a sign that you'd been through hell together, and you'd made it through like avenging angels. They only lingered longer when the cases went badly. You turned to crying in his arms after you'd discovered the body of a dead street girl, Veronica, in pieces in the house of an unsub who'd committed suicide by cop moments earlier. 

"I told her she'd be safe if she talked to us, Reid. I told her we'd protect her, that I'd protect her." You were so hurt by that failure that he'd had to drive you home that night, holding your hand the entire way so you didn't feel so alone, left to fester in your guilt. 

The rest of the team had begun teasing you about the hugs, but you'd brushed them off. You hugged everyone else too, and you knew for a fact that Penelope hugged every member of the team, so there was nothing special going on between you and Spencer. No one had deigned to inform you of Spencer's germophobia and aversion to touch. 

"Gonna tell me what that's all about?" Morgan asked Spencer as you bounced away from a hug one day, leaving to remove your FBI vest. 

"What what's all about?" He replied coldly, turning away to remove his own vest, replacing it with his blazer. 

"What, you don't have a statistic for how many germs are passed between people during a hug, Kid, come on, you were practically smelling her hair." The older man's eyebrows raised in a question again, but Spencer continued to blow him off. 

"I hug people all the time, it's not a big deal." He shrugged. 

"It took you four years to return one of Penelope's hugs, and you still only do that on special occasions. That's not all the time." 

"Derek, just drop it. There's nothing going on, she just… She just does it sometimes." 

It was when you'd hugged him in the middle of the office, without a case to use as an excuse, that you noticed an underlying tension in the office. You were all celebrating, of course, Callahan had just announced her pregnancy, and you were all so happy for her. You'd heard the happy news and instantly turned and thrown yourself into Spencer's arms. Even you weren't sure why, not even questioning it until you saw the awkward glances on the other profilers' faces. You brushed it off by rushing to give each of them hugs, and running out in a mad flush, needing air, or water or something to get you out of what was looking more and more like an interrogation room. 

A few cases later, the entire team headed to O'Keefe's to celebrate. 

"To another case successfully solved," Morgan toasted, and you all joined him, lifting your glasses in triumph. 

"To the wonders of non-alcoholic beer," chimed in Kate, leaving you all laughing together. The booth was small, and as usual, you'd found yourself sat right in the arms of Spencer Reid. You hadn't intended it, honestly, having slightly avoided him recently, but you'd followed Penelope into her side of the circular table, and Reid had followed you. You were sat squished between them, your arms resting awkwardly on your lap between drinks. 

"Okay, a night of drinking is slightly boring without some games to spice things up, what do you say, hot chocolate?" Penelope said, addressing Morgan who was on her other side. 

"I'm all ears, baby girl. What were you thinking?" 

"How about twenty questions? We already know a lot about each other, let's see what we don't know?" Kate suggested, thriving off of the knowledge that as the sole sober member present, she'd hold all the cards tomorrow. 

"What, how is asking questions a game?" Reid questioned jokingly from beside you. "That's just an interrogation or a therapy session, there's no winner or loser."  

Already slightly buzzing from your drink, you turned to him and out your fingers in his lips, shushing him. 

"No time for logic in matters of the bottle, Spencer. Let's play." He pulled your fingers off him, but nodded, holding them in his grip still as you turned back to the table. 

"I'll start! JJ, are you and Will thinking of having more baby LaMontagne's?" Penelope jumped at the chance to probe her teammate, and you laughed at her enthusiasm. 

"There have been discussions, but I'll not confirm or deny yet." JJ said, taking a sip of her drink as she slyly avoided a direct answer. 

"I always forget why you were so good with the press, Miss No Answers. Okay, your turn to ask a question." 

"Okay, Morgan. Are you thinking of popping the question to Savannah anytime soon?" 

"Did she send you?" He laughed and took a drink. "If I do, she'll be the first to know." 

The game went back and forth like this for a few rounds before Penelope turned the spotlight back to you. 

"Okay, Y/N. You were a college student recently, I know you've got some wild stories. Where's the craziest place you've ever done it?" You knew Penelope didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. She was just an open person. 

But you shifted in your seat nonetheless, trying to figure out if you could answer or even if you would. Your tongue was a bit looser than you expected though, because before you could even finish thinking you just blurted it out. 

"Nowhere." 

The others blinked at you slightly before Penelope dived in with another question. 

"Is that Nowhere, Oaklahoma, or you're just not having sex in crazy places?" 

"No. I'm not… I'm not having sex. Period. Never have." You felt yourself shrink as the other members of the team awkwardly apologised for probing you so much. Really it wasn't that big of a deal, and it wasn't as if you were saving it for religious or moral reasons. But you'd not been the most popular teenager, and you'd started studying serial killers and sociopaths so early that you really hadn't wanted to get so intimate with someone else like that. 

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer's grip on his own drink had tightened ever so slightly, his heart race had picked up again, and suddenly the hand that was holding yours suddenly let you go, quietly dropping your fingers like they were glowing cinders, and he was dripping in gasoline, waiting to ignite. 

Lust. He felt sick with himself for the images that were suddenly flashing through his mind now that he knew you'd never been held in that way, trying not to fantasise about you underneath him, holding him, begging him, feeling all of him. He took another swig of his drink and politely excused himself to get another as he let himself catch some air, as the sudden realization that he wanted you - and had wanted you for quite some time now - finally hit him.

The next couple of weeks were normal, and you were thankful to have that discussion behind you. No one treated you differently, acted like you were more of a child than before, asked you how your dating life was or set you up on blind dates, which was really refreshing actually. You'd let some friends know previously, and that's all they'd done, surprised that you could live ignorant to wonders of sex without shrivelling up and dying. 

The only thing that was different was Spencer. And that wasn't really difference so much as growing more comfortable with each other. He'd rest his hand on the small of your back now in support sometimes, or have a hand slung over the back of your chair when sitting together. He was constantly at your side, especially if you were around male suspects or officers who'd taken a bit of a ballsy approach. 

You liked it, probably a bit too much. You gravitated towards him in a room filled with people, and found yourself hugging him more often, when you left a room, when you entered one, when he looked like he needed it. Which, recently, was all the time. A month went by with this increased comfort level, and soon you found yourself feeling wrong if his hands weren't on you. 

He stood close to you all the time, and you noticed the stares you were getting from everyone else. A few officers who'd approach you would apologise to him when they noticed him at your back, hand on your hip as he pulled you away. 

After one case, you could even swear that you felt more than him than you were expecting. He'd moved away slightly in between one of your hugs, but you'd pulled his arms back around you and stepped closer, pressing your back against his chest, letting your head rest on his arms. Something hard and long wedged up against your ass, and in a split second he was pulling away before you could ask him about it. He excused himself, and you felt your body burn up. It was Spencer, it was just Spencer and that wasn't because of you, it was some other reason. 

Spencer didn't know what he was doing. He grew more possessive over you by the day, and he'd honestly nearly bitten the head off an officer who asked him for your number. 

"Sorry, she doesn't have a phone." 

"But I saw her with one earlier. Look I get it she's FBI, and you guys are-" 

"Okay, so she's not interested."

"Hey, why don't you let her decide that wise guy?" 

"Oh sure, get angry I'm sure she'd love that. She's not interested, she has me." He couldn't help himself from getting in the officers face at that, and Morgan had to pull him back from the edge. 

"Wow, wow, hey, calm down." The officer stormed out, and he felt triumphant for only a second before Morgan rounded on him. 

"Whatever this thing you've got going on, Spencer, you need to get it out of your system as soon as possible." His voice was low and stern, throwing a glance over his shoulder to where you were sitting, staring confusedly through the glass at Spencer, whose eyes refused to move from your own. 

" I just wanted him to back off, she doesn't like him like that."

"No, you wanted him to back off because you've marked her like some animal marking its territory. She's not your prey, Spencer, she's our team member, now you're gonna have to get your act together and leave her alone, because we've got work to do." 

Sighing and throwing his hands through his hair again, he finally looked away from you and gathered his breath. He wanted to stop this too, this horrible perverted feeling of needing his hands on you, wanting to possess you day and night. To protect you. He just wasn't sure if he was strong enough to do that. 

The next time you all went to O'Keefe's he certainly tried. You expected him to follow you into the booth again - he didn't, sitting opposite you next to JJ. You expected him to talk to you or look at you for more than a second at a time - he didn't, avoiding most conversations entirely and keeping his eyes fixed on the bar. You certainly expected him to still be sat at the table when you returned from the bathroom, ready to slip into the seat beside him, force him to talk to you. Instead he was gone, and you scanned the rest of the bar trying to locate him. 

Something green and vile jumped you when you finally locked onto him, stood at the bar, surrounded by other women. Surrounded was maybe an exaggeration, as there were really only two of them, but they were practically draping themselves over him, and for some reason that set something alight inside of you. 

You watched them for a moment, how one of them trailed a hand up his arm as he shuddered away from their touch, the other pressing herself against the bar so her chest pushed up dramatically. The green bile in your throat carried your feet forwards, and before you knew it, you were clearing it from your throat to grab their attentions. 

"Spencer, there you are!" You brightened your tone specifically, as you locked eyes with his panicked ones. The two girls looked you up and down as you moved closer, brushing past them to climb up right into his lap on the barstool, pulling his arm around you as you pressed your ass into his crotch. 

"Are you going to introduce me to your new friends?" The smile didn't reach your eyes as you let your back rest against his chest comfortably, watching the women to see their reactions. The one touching him pulled her arm back instantly, and the other readjusted her dress before they both left silently, carrying their glasses back to wherever they came from. 

You watched them leave a little triumphantly before the green faded, and you realised what you had done. 

"Y/N…?" His voice was hesitant in your ear, and you shivered slightly before pushing off of him. 

"I'm so sorry, Spence, it just- it… looked like you were hard." You panicked again, pushing closer to him. "No, like you were in a hard situation, not that you were," your hand accidentally dropped to his crotch as you spoke your final words: "Hard."

He twitched beneath you as you finally looked down to where your hand was, as his mouth opened to say something. 

"Y/N…" was all you heard before you turned around, and fast walked to the entrance, picking your bag up quickly on the way, and then sprinted the second the cold air hit your face. 

You cursed yourself inwardly as you ran the three blocks more to your apartment, thankful that you were at least in walking (or apparently running) distance. What the hell had you been thinking? Practically sexually harassing one of your coworkers like that, grabbing his dick, albeit accidentally. 

You slammed your door shut behind you, leaning against it and sliding to the floor as you finally accepted that whatever this was with Reid, it wasn't friendship for you anymore. And you weren't sure if it had ever been. 

With your head between your legs, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you started replaying each moment with him, each touch from the very first. How even the memory of a brush past you could excite a fire in your heart, a heat between your legs growing by the second. 

You wanted to crawl pathetically into bed and not think about him until the next morning at work,  but fate, or Doctor Spencer Reid, had other plans. 

The knock at your door was sudden and incessant, the banging starting loud, and staying consistent until you tentatively pulled it open. 

He was stood there, chest heaving, looking down at you, sweat coating his forehead. 

"Can I… Come in?" He asked, and you nodded, too stunned at his sudden appearance to tell if this was real or just your fantasy becoming a little too realistic. 

He thanked you for letting him inside, and you showed him inside, guiding him to he couch, where you took a seat opposite him. 

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, you left in a rush and…" He trailed off, eyes flicking down to your lips. His Adam's apple bobbed with his swallow, and you watched it yourself, trying to avoid meeting his eyes, as if you were a schoolgirl about to get in trouble with a disappointed teacher. 

"I'm okay." 

"Okay, that's great, that's… Great." His breaths caught up to him, and he took another deep breath and a swallow before continuing. "How about we continue that game from last time. Twenty questions?" 

You'd do anything to stop him walking out of that door, but you felt too shy to touch him again, even in the friendly ways you were used to, so you eagerly accepted. 

"Yes, that… That sounds fun, thank you." 

"Okay. Question one. Do you know why I'm here?" He asks as he shifts closer to you, still not touching, but at a proximity where it would be natural to accidentally brush against one another. 

"N-No. But I might have an idea." He nodded at your response before moving on to his next question. 

"Question two. Are you a virgin?" He didn't trip or stumble over the words, pushing them out slowly and delicately so as not to offend. 

"Yes." The lump in your throat was thick, almost as if he'd put something there that you couldn't help but choke on. 

"Question three. Do you want to remain a virgin?" 

You shook your head no, following it with your voice seconds later as he stood up from his seat, putting some distance between you. 

"Question four. Do you feel intoxicated or drunk right now?" He held himself still as you sat on the very edge of your chair, desperate to feel his hands on you now. 

"No, I only had one sip at the bar before…" He held up a hand to silence you, and you did. 

Question five. Answer me honestly. Do you like it when I touch you?" 

"Yes." Your breath was a whisper, but it was breathy, sounding almost pornographic in your neediness. 

"Question six. Do you like it when other people touch you?" 

"Do you?" His head snapped back to yours, and you froze under his gaze. "Not as much." You answered and relaxed again, pouting slightly at his lack of answer. 

"Question seven. Do you like me touching other people?" He took a step closer to you again with this question, but you continued pouting as you shook your head. 

"No. I don't." His lips quirked upwards before he could stop them, but he gathered himself together again. 

"Question eight. Do you want me to leave?" You met his eyes at that question, taking one good, hard, long look at him. You noted the tensed jaw, the clenched fists, his stiff body language, trailing your eyes over him before looking him directly in the eyes. 

"No." You let the word hang on your tongue, pulling it out a bit longer than was necessary as you watched him take in a shaky breath. 

"Question nine. Do you want me to come over there and kiss you?" 

"God, yes." He was on you in seconds, restraints gone, throwing himself back at you as his lips collided with your own. Virgin you may be, but you'd kissed men before, and it had been nothing like this. 

His hands trailed up to your hair, tipping your head back slightly so he could gain better access. He bit your lip and thrust his tongue into your mouth when you gasped, so eager to consume every part of you whole. 

You'd never felt like this before. 

He pulled away, and you tried desperately to chase his lips, even as your lungs begged you to stop. 

"Last question," he whispered in the space between you, holding the sides of your face at a distance so neither of you could be tempted to dive in for a second kiss, or a third, or fourth. "Do you want me to fuck you?" You whimpered at his words, nodding furiously as you tried to lunge at him again, but he held you firm. 

"I need you to say your answer, baby. I need to hear your consent, okay?" You nod again and open your mouth, eyes never leaving his lips as you moan out a definitive "yes."

Instead of letting your lips fall against his again, he lunges for you, grabbing your legs and hauling you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style all the way back to your bedroom. 

"Gonna do it right," he mutters to himself as he throws you down on the bed, pulling back to take off his jacket and unbutton the cuffs on his shirt, rolling the sleeves up meticulously. 

"I'm going to take care of you, Y/N, okay?" You nod at him and flush, suddenly feeling the strength of his need for you as he holds himself back. He puts his hands on you again, gently coaxing your legs apart, pushing your skirt up over your hips. Reflexively, you move your hands over yourself, covering your sensitive places with your hands. 

"Don't cover yourself." His voice is strong, deep, as he orders you, and you let your arms drop back to your side. He traces his hands up and down your legs, almost as if he were memorising every inch of your skin, how you felt under his hands. 

His hands make their way up to your panties, and you watch with baited breath as he moves you, pulling your hips up so he can let them fall down. The lace material tickles you as he pushes them past your thighs, over your knees and finally off your legs entirely, balling them up and putting them in his pocket. 

"I'm going to touch you now, okay?" He asks it like a question, but he doesn't wait for your answer, unable to hold himself back before diving straight between your legs, so desperate to taste you that he's deaf to everything else. 

His tongue connects with your sensitive area first, tracing up and down at a steady pace as his legs half-heartedly push your legs open. It's almost as if he's enjoying the pressure of your legs wrapped around him, suffocating between your thighs as he feels your pleasure build, and build. 

Eventually he pushes your hips further apart, letting himself push his face into even more of you, his tongue entering your hole as he begins fucking it in and out of you, fingers coming back up to your clit to keep up the pressure there. 

"Spencer, please, please, fuck." 

"I love it when you beg for me like a needy little slut," he whispers, holding your legs apart as he looked up at you, face slick with your arousal. Your mouth drops wide at his words, and he immediately begins to retract them. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N, if that was too far, I just got caught up -" 

"I liked it." You said, quieting him as you spread your legs a bit further apart, begging for him to continue. He smiled and dived right back in, bringing his other hand up under your dress, all the way to your chest as you kept your legs open yourself. 

He sucked your clit into his mouth, lapping up all the juices you were releasing as you moaned underneath him, bucking into his face at the memory of his degradation. 

You were a needy little slut, and you needed him to make you cum. He was more than happy to oblige. 

He kept you there for what felt like forever, drinking you in for as long as he could. You orgasmed twice before he finished, completely overstimulated by the way he was desperately fucking you with his mouth. 

He was obsessed with you, with your scent, your taste, with being the first ever person to ever touch you like this, to fuck you, to make you feel so good. Without him even realising, you're pushed to the brink for a second time, shuddering under the heat of his mouth as he drinks you in. 

He finally pulls his head up again, coming up for air as you're twitching under him. 

"Perfect, baby, so perfect for me." His lips fall down to your own, and suddenly you're tasting yourself on his tongue. It's hypnotising, and despite the pleasure you've just received, you need more, desperate to feel him on you again. 

When he pulls his mouth away, he replaces himself with his fingers, pushing them into your mouth. 

"Suck," he says and you listen, as he watches the way you lick yourself off of him. 

He unzips your dress with his free hand, carefully pulling your arms out of the sleeves and pushing your dress off your body. You trace your tongue around every ridge of his fingers, leaving no inch undiscovered. He moved you to pull the dress of, and you graciously followed, letting him do whatever he wanted to you. 

"Nice little slut, tasting herself on my fingers?" He whispered when you were finally bare, pulling his fingers from your mouth, letting the trail of spit hang between you as you moaned. 

He removed himself from over you, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

"Come here. Come and sit on my lap." 

You cautiously followed his directions. You'd thought that he'd fuck you then, after spending so long getting you ready, but apart from his tie, which he was in the middle of discarding as you crawled over to him, he hadn't derobed any further. 

"That's it baby, come and sit yourself down right here." He pat his thigh and you crawled over, lowering yourself down onto his clothed leg. 

"What now, Spencer?" You stuttered the words out, heart beating as you awaited his instructions. 

"Now, I want you to rock your hips back and forth. Just like this." He grabbed your hips and started moving you against his leg, pushing you down to grind into him. 

"Spencer, wait, I don't know-" 

"I do. I know you can do it, so please try. For me." You pulled you in for a kiss, and then removed his hands from you, leaving you to rock against his thigh. 

You were unsure of the movements at first, moving slowly as you dragged your aching cunt up and down the top of his pants, watching as you saw the wet patch you were making. You moaned with each movement, growing faster and more confident as you continued. 

"That's it baby, use me to get yourself off, okay? Let me see you." He whispered in your ears, pushing your sweat-slicked hair ou of your face, holding it up for you. 

"Spencer please," you don't even know what you're asking for as you beg him, feeling that familiar bubble in your stomach grow. 

"No, you can do it. You look so beautiful like this, Y/N, so desperate for my cock, huh?" You start trying to unbutton his shirt, desperate to see more of him, to feel more of his bare skin on your own. But he stops your hands and holds them against his chest. 

"You need to ask nicely first, before trying to undress me like a needy little whore." The words should sound violent, should humiliate you, but his voice is so soft you simply move faster, moaning and desperate to cum one more time. 

"Fuck, Spencer, I'm gonna… I'm gonna…" 

"No, you're not." Before you finish, he pulls you off his leg, hauling your body back onto the bed, and laying you back down on your back. You moan in disapproval, so frustrated with the lack of release that you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

"Don't cry, baby. I'll give you what you want soon." He practically rips his clothes off, pulling his vest over his head, stumbling over each button and removing his belt and pants before climbing over to you. His cock finally free you take your first glance at it. 

You'd never entirely been sure how it was that the male appendage fit inside something as small as your pussy, and you were doubly unsure about how Spencer's was ever going to fit inside you. You stared at it wide eyed, as you took in the length, the girth, and the heat of it as he stroked it in one hands, pushing on top of you. 

He let go of it as soon as he was between your legs, letting it fall onto your stomach as he crawled between your legs. He trailed a finger over your lower abdomen just around where his cock was twitching against you as his other hand came up to stroke your hair. 

"You look worried, Y/N, what's wrong?" 

"Will it, um, will it fit?" You asked, knowing how cliché you sounded. 

"We've spent the last thirty-seven minutes loosening you up with foreplay. It should fit, but I can't promise it won't hurt."

"Right, if my hymen is still intact you have to…" 

"That's right. And then it's going to reach all the way in you to here," with each word, he stepped his fingers up from your clit to where the tip of his dick sat on your stomach, letting you come to terms with exactly how full you were about to be. 

"I'm going to fill you, and you're going to be mine, and I'm going to be yours. My sweet angel." He stroked your face, catching his thumb on your lips on the way down, tempted to thrust it into your mouth again, to see just how much of a whore you could be, given the chance. 

Instead, he lined himself up with your dripping core, and, making sure one last time that this is what you wanted, slowly pushed in. 

It was uncomfortable at first, having something so wholly alien inside of you, you weren't sure how to react. You wrapped your arms around him, digging your nails in, deep, as he pushed in further. 

"Y/N, I need to move more now, and it's going to hurt a little, you just have to trust me, okay?" He kissed the top of your head, but you were so lost in the sensations to answer. With one swift jerk of his hips, he pushed through your hymen, and fully sheathed himself inside of you. He pressed small kisses everywhere on your face, while whispering to you how beautiful you were. 

"You're doing so good for me angel, I'm going to take care of you. Going to make you feel so much better than this. You're so beautiful." His lips were distractingly sweet, as were his words, and soon you found yourself relaxing into him, the sharp pain of earlier fading to an electric buzz inside of you. 

You jerked your hips up to meet his, and with that, he knew you were ready. From his words, you'd assumed that he'd move slowly in you. But with one final lingering kiss to your lips, he lifted his chest up, pinned your legs tightly down, and started thrusting hard and fast. 

"Sorry, just couldn't help myself baby. Needed to see you looking ruined underneath me." Moans spilled out of your mouth with his every movement, and the orgasm you'd built up earlier hit you like a ton of bricks, blackness hazing over your eyes as they rolled back in your head. 

"Fuck, fuck, Spencer, don't stop!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, unable to control your pitch or volume as he slammed into you desperately. He was so turned on by the sight of you beneath him, so proud of having fucked away your virginity, to have given you your very first penetrative orgasm that he wouldn't have heard anything that came out of your mouth. 

His eyes were fixated at the place between you, where you joined, where he was entering you, defiling you, claiming you, using you, breeding you. 

He knew he wouldn't cum inside of you, not the first time, but it was tempting. Instead, he chose to move his lips back to your skin. He marked you with love bites and hickeys across your neck, chest and shoulders as you moaned with every roll of his hips, shuddering on his cock. He was close. And seeing you like this, displaying all the signs that you were his and his only, he finally lost it. 

Pulling his dick out of you, he stroked it through his release, spraying his seed over the parts of your skin he hadn't bruised with love. Your stomach, your breasts, hell, one spurt even landed dangerously close to your lips, he was everywhere. You. Were. His. 

He fell beside you, panting for a few moments as you finally cracked your eyes back open, realising what the two of you had just done. You wiped the cum from your face with a stray finger, staring at it for a second before licking it off your finger. 

"As hot as that was, I think we should get you cleaned up properly, angel." He spends forever cleaning you up, carrying you to the bathroom, washing your entire body with hot water and a fresh cloth, running you a hot bath to relax your muscles. You snuggle into his chest at some point in the bath, relaxing so much into him, that you drift off to sleep. 

You feel him carry you to bed, semi-conscious, tucking you in and climbing in next to you. He holds you through the night, the way he holds you after your bad cases. He holds you until he doesn't. 

You're blindsided by the cold bed the next morning. You knew he would be there, you'd felt him inside you and next to you, and you'd needed his warmth, but he was gone. You looked for him in every other part of your home, looked for a note or an explanation, but there wasn't one. 

Through tears, you got ready for work, ready to face him and make him answer why he was suddenly gone. You wanted him to apologise, especially since he'd marked you so badly the night before you looked like a car crash victim from the neck down. 

Dark lavender blossomed along your collar bones as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trailing a finger along every place that he touched the night before. 

"How could you be so stupid?" You cursed yourself. If you'd have listened to what he was saying last night, really listened, you'd have known he wasn't going to be here in the morning. He wanted to ruin you, to possess you, to take away your virginity, and he'd done just that. 

You almost wanted to keep the bruises on display going into work, to make him confront the pain he caused you by leaving. In the end, it was the inevitable stares from everyone else that convinced you otherwise. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. 

You pushed through the doors to the bullpen and didn't bother putting your bag down before you started scanning the room for him. 

"Where's Spencer?" You practically shouted the words at Morgan, unable to hold back your anger. 

"Y/N, what's wrong?" 

"Where is he?" You demand, and there must be something in your eyes that speaks to your devastation because Morgan shuts up and just points to the top of the stairs, where Spencer is exiting Hotch's office without a care in the world. 

You don't realise that something is tears until you're beating a hand against his chest in frustration as they spill down your face. 

"Where were you?" You demand, sobbing into his chest, as he pulls your hands away. The entire office is watching your commotion, but you don't care, you're not letting him move you out of the way. 

"Y/N, I need you to sign this." His voice is calm, and you hate him for that. That he can stay so neutral when he's just broken your heart. 

"No, not until you tell me why you left." 

"Sign the papers, Y/N, trust me." He pulls your chin up so you can look him in the eye, and you catch a glimpse of the man who has been holding you, comforting you for the last four months. You snatch the pen from him and sign the papers, thrusting them back at him with a scowl. 

He smiles as he looks down at them, placing them back on his desk before pulling you in for a long, deep kiss. You're shocked at first, but you melt into it, pulling him closer so he can't leave again. 

"I'm sorry. I had to come into the office to declare our relationship, Morgan sometimes tells me I have a one track mind, and when I woke up this morning, the one thing I wanted to do was get it in writing that you were mine." 

Your push the tears out of his face, and attempt to pull him down for another kiss. You don't get the chance, as the sound of several throats clearing around you burst your bubble. 

"Public space, no canoodling." Rossi shouts down at you from the balcony, a soft smirk on his face. 

Penelope runs in from her office, and stares wide-eyed at the lack of space between the two of you. "You! And you! Security cameras….. You!"

"Now, I'm sure there's a story here, but from the state of our little angel's neck here, I'm sure I don't want to hear it." Derek laughs, smacking Spencer on the back in praise as he walks up the stairs to the meeting room. 

You slap a hand over your neck, trying to pull the turtleneck further up to hide the mark you evidently missed. 

"She's my angel, now." Spencer calls up to him. "I have the paperwork to prove it."  

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

y’all… characters drinking alcohol (in fanfics) is not “dead dove do not eat”

character death alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

angst alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

whump alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

self-harm (in fanfics) alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

suicide (in fanfics) alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

infidelity (in fanfics) alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

BDSM / smut / rough sex (in fanfics) alone is not “dead dove do not eat”

even non-con (in fanfics) alone is not necessarily always “dead dove do not eat”

of course, any of the topics mentioned above can be “dead dove do not eat” if it’s written in extremely graphic details in the nature that will sicken your readers / in a way that can make your readers throw up and say what the actual fuck / if it’s the main plot of your story. but taboo topics alone are not “dead dove do not eat”. I’m saying this because I’ve seen people use “dead dove do not eat” tag in stories that only mention a taboo subject once and it’s one sentence or one paragraph long, and that is… not what the tag is for.

for instance, if your story contains non-con, but it’s not explicitly written in graphic details / it’s not written in a way that can make your readers throw up and say what the actual fuck / it’s not the main focus of your work / it’s only one or two paragraph long, tag it as “rape/non-con” accordingly, but it does not warrant the “dead dove do not eat” tag.

sure, you can say it’s “not that deep” and that it’s all just “made up fandom stuff”, but it can also make it more difficult for people who want to avoid the tag or people who seek out the tag specifically to curate their experiences if the tag isn’t being used correctly the way it's supposed to be used.

I’ve explained what “dead dove do not eat” as a tag means and how you can properly use it here.

but to make it as simple as possible, this is basically the meaning of “dead dove do not eat” tag 👇🏻

(so no, the tag isn’t about character going through a nasty breakup and drowning themself in alcohol or character getting drunk and having sex they end up regretting)

[thisisntmyrightera]

Together - CHO HYUN-JU x Fem Reader Part 2

Summary: Reader is scammed and abandoned by her boyfriend, leaving her alone in South Korea to her fate, so in desperate search of a solution to return to her home country she decides to join the squid games to get money, within the game she meets a couple of people who become her friends and could possibly be something more.

Warning: Violence, homophobia mention of attempted rape and sexist language

Hours passed, one after another as groups of 5 people entered after passing the tests, time was exhausting, hearing gunshots in the distance and watching as the greedy people got upset every time the door opened again and again

I had already gone back and forth from my mattress to the steps, I sat down and lay down bored looking around feeling the irritation on my ankle more and more, the guard had tied it so tight that a red irritation had started to appear on my skin

Ouch - I said barely touching my ankle feeling the burning that was irritated even more by the friction of the fabric

Are you okay let me see - Hyun-Ju approached slowly sitting down a couple of steps below taking my foot carefully - did you twist your foot?

No, I'm fine - I looked at her embarrassed, trying to avoid her gaze, but her firm and large hand held my foot, looking at me - it's just a scratch, I think

Let me see - her touch went from firm to soft and delicate, slowly lifting the fabric of my pants, showing the red and irritated mark on my skin - I see, your skin is very sensitive, are you weak after all?

Hey, I'm not weak - her laugh made me laugh with her, pushing her a little while my leg rested on her knee - Hyun-Ju… can I ask you something?

Sure - her smile was still kind as she carefully folded my pants up, making sure the fabric didn't touch the irritated area again

Why are you here? Do you need the money for something? - Her face seemed to turn even paler than it already was, her smile blurred and her eyes looked at the floor in shame, as if she had asked the most embarrassing thing on the planet - If you don't want to tell me, I'll understand, excuse my intrusion

No… it's not that - she sighed slowly swallowing saliva and then looked at me with a look of embarrassment - my… my goal is to get to Thailand

Thailand? Do you need to go on vacation or something? - I smiled at her naively excited, thousands of times I had heard about that country but I still had not had the fortune to know it

No..- she smiled mocking a little at my foreign innocence - I…I need to go finish my transition you know..

Transition?..oh..I..understand Hyun-Ju sorry I shouldn't have asked you something so personal

Don't worry - she smiled a little moving her fingers nervously playing with the green fabric - it's just that…nobody is ever interested in my story and it's a little difficult for me to tell it

I understand…well..- I looked at her going down a couple of steps until I was sitting next to her looking at her attentively - if you want you can tell me, I would like to meet Hyun-Ju - She laughed with her eyes a little wet looking to the other side trying to hold her breath - do you work?

I worked… - she sighed again, this time deeper, dropping her shoulders - I was fired from my job when… well… I decided to tell everyone what I really am, they were ashamed of me and, they fired me

They are bastards, that is not right or even legal, what does your identity have to do with your ability, they are ignorant - I snorted angrily clenching my jaw - it must have been a dumb job after all, right? You must not have missed much

I was a soldier… - she looked at me, moving her legs nervously - a sergeant to be more exact, after they fired me my mother cried a lot and my father was ashamed, they don't talk to me anymore, my friends stopped talking to me and… - her voice broke off as her lips trembled - and everything became difficult and lonely

I understand, the people you trusted turned their backs on you - I looked at her feeling stupid, I shouldn't have forcing her to open her feelings like that, now I felt guilty for making her cry because of my silly curiosity - but… Hyun-Ju - I smiled a little taking her hand (which I could barely hold a couple of fingers of her big hand) I can be your friend, I would have loved to meet you somewhere else and be able to help you feel better about yourself, after all you haven't done anything wrong, being yourself makes you very brave

That's why I want to go to Thailand, I've heard that in that country there are the best doctors and the prettiest girls, I would love to be able to complete my transition and finally be what I want to be - her eyes showed a sparkle when she talked about it, her illusion overflowed through her pores

You don't have to go to Thailand to feel like that, for me you are already beautiful - my arms surrounded her as soon as the sobs began to come out of her chest and her hands covered her face saddened by crying, she was so fragile, my arms could barely surround her shoulders while her head rested on my shoulder sobbing and shaking - if you want to cry do it, people have been very cruel to you, but never cry out of shame, you have nothing to feel disappointed in yourself about.

This time, the shots didn't seem so dangerous and time passed without feeling it so slowly, she was a magical being that made me lose track of time

You are also very pretty, since I met you, I felt your bravery but also your heart, not everyone shows what they have inside and makes it look so valuable - her hands slowly wiped her tears taking care not to ruin her eyeliner and her diva bangs

It's not time to get sentimental - I laughed pushing her slowly while I got up adjusting my blouse going down a couple of steps - I'll go to the bathroom in the meantime

Do you want me to accompany you?

No, I'll be fine, wait for me here don't go anywhere - I laughed walking across the large space in the center of the beds feeling everyone's gazes.

They followed me and whispered, some laughed and others even said uncomfortable things waiting for me to react upset, they made the path very difficult to the door which was empty and as it was supposed, almost all the guards were in the yard even while the game continued.

The bathroom was big, with lots of cubicles and mirrors, almost uncomfortable to look at, like those endless and gloomy backgrounds, I could barely walk without tripping over to one of the toilets, sitting down uncomfortably listening to the door open once again, this time the footsteps of several people echoed in the almost empty place and a couple of laughs broke the silence and then a loud bang on my door made me jump scared, quickly pulling up my clothes

-I know you're in there, naughty girl, get out of there - the boys' laughter echoed off the walls, how could I have gotten into the wrong bathroom - get out you damn bitch - A loud bang again made me jump scared, unlocking the door with fear and opening it slowly

What did I tell you, the foreigner was here - the purple-haired boy laughed leaning on the bathroom door almost joining his face to mine - what are you doing here, cutie?

Nothing, I'm done - I looked at him, barely trying to get through quickly, scared, feeling a clumsy and strong hand pulling my hair

Come here bitch, I'm not done with you - this time his strength made me slam against one of the bathroom doors, making my back hurt - we know why whores like you come to our country, they come for sex and attention from us, don't they?

That's right, my friend - the long-haired man laughed, pressing his sweaty face against my cheek - she smells good, tell us, darling, what is such a pretty and sexy girl doing with that damn homosexual monster, huh?

She's not a monster, she's my friend - I looked at him, annoyed, tired of continuing to deal with men like him, but despite trying to get out of his hands, I couldn't - her name is Hyun-Ju, that's what they should call her

Oh, how cute, so you're a fucking weirdo like that effeminate? You like faggots, huh? - He laughed, hitting my cheek, making me scream in pain- You know my friend Nam-Gyu liked you as soon as he saw you, don't you like my friend? He's a real man

Leave me alone - I could barely speak when I felt his hand on my neck, pressing me against the door

Leave you? Honey, we're just getting started - the rapper laughed with his friend - do whatever you want to her Nam-Gyu, show her what it's like to be with a real man

My screams could barely be heard a couple of centimeters away, his firm hand on my neck and my crying didn't help much, feeling his disgusting hands running over my body, under my shirt and on the elastic of my pants made me feel even more of an idiot, this was all my fault

Shut your fucking mouth, you're distracting me - another blow again, this time on my lip leaving me stunned - hold her tight, she won't stop moving

I could feel the cold air on my thighs as they pulled down my pants and laughed talking disgusting and meaningless things, everything seemed to get even more dizzy, everything looked blurry until my body fell to the cold floor and again I could react, my tears wouldn't stop running down my face but I could notice the rapper and his friend lying on the floor, the latter Nam-Gyu wiping his bleeding nose

This will be the last time you approach her, is that clear? - Hyun-Ju hit him once more, slamming his head on the floor, leaving him unconscious - If you touch her again, I'll kill you, you fucking idiot, I'll kill you!

The purple haired boy ran hysterically almost tripping over his shoulder, not caring that his friend was on the floor, and I felt so humiliated, lying in a corner of the bathroom crying with a bleeding lip. If only I had listened to my parents from the beginning, I would have never come to this country and this wouldn't be happening. It was all my fault.

Calm down, sweetie, here I am - Hyun-Ju was much taller than those two men, her body was still strong and thick, but her presence was so calm and gave me so much peace that I couldn't feel intimidated by her.

Her hands, careful as always, held my pants, slowly lifting them up until they were in place, then they went to my face, checking my bruises and moving my hair out of my eyes so she could see every inch of my skin.

Sorry… - I looked at her embarrassed, feeling my tears running non-stop, I felt so humiliated and dirty that I couldn't think of anything else but that everything was my fault

You don't have to apologize, you didn't do anything wrong, no one will do anything bad to you anymore, I promise - her arms held me, she never asked me to stop crying or forced me to calm down, she just let me take it all out in her arms, rocking me slowly - let's go outside

But… - I looked at her with fear, shaking her head

Nothing bad will happen, I promise, as long as we're together I'll take care of you, okay? - I could feel my hair being brushed by her fingers slowly and carefully

Ok… - I sighed wiping my eyes with my sweater getting up slowly holding on to her arm so I wouldn't fall, luckily when we left the lights were almost off and most of the people who were already in their beds were getting ready to sleep, thank god without paying attention to us as we crossed the large space in the center

Let's go to bed, tomorrow will be a new day and we must be focused - her hands held my back slowly, making me go up the stairs carefully taking care not to trip - do you want me to help you with your shoes?

No.. - I looked at her embarrassed sitting on my bed taking off my sweater carefully while she stood rubbing her hands nervously

Okay, if you need anything, I'll be in my bed, just call me okay? -She smiled lightly at me, almost invisible because of the darkness of the place, but I could feel it, she made me feel those nice things

Hyun-Ju…-I held her hand quickly while she stopped almost tripping- can you… stay, I'm afraid to sleep alone

Do you want me to stay here? I can watch you if it makes you feel safer -she went back up a few steps sitting down carefully

You can sleep with me, we'll both rest and take care of each other- I could feel my cheeks erupting again while I held the blanket so she could come in with me

Are you sure? I don't want to bother you…

I'm sure, come - I smiled at her, barely feeling a pain in my lip, she just lay down carefully, her body almost taking up more than half of the bed but her presence was so calm that it made me feel like everything was perfect again

I didn't understand why I felt that way, safe and loved, with honesty and without being hurt

Thank you Hyun-Ju…thanks for saving me

Thanks to you, sweetheart, you saved me in a different way,

----------------------------------

Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon! Tag List!

Part 3

@kuureii @sann1e @sunflowers-are-heaven @bridellashiper

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 22 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: A dark surprise is awaiting you - something that might change your entire life for better or worse, if it doesn't end before it could.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening (knife), mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy issues like nausea and puking, kidney failure, cockwarming, rough sex, penetration, oral sex, blood play, degradation kink, knife play, threats of torture and gore, rape (to a certain degree), the pregnancy is being threatened in a vile, graphic way, not beta-read! if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+! dark content ahead!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Author's note: I'm putting an extra note here, just to say: I think compared to the other chapters it gets kinda dark here, with real noncon vibes, so please be cautious of that before reading. Beware: Word count 12.278

When he came home, it always went the same way.

The door creaked open, then he closed it, set his briefcase aside and washed his hands.

Not a single time had he ever missed one of these steps. Washing his hands was like a sacred ritual. You did it, because you felt your hands vibrating the second you didn’t. Whenever you came in from wherever you were outside – and if only to check the mailbox – you had to immediately wash your hands or else you felt sick. It was a physical ache, your hands were reminding you that they needed to be cleaned.

You didn’t know if it was the same for him. Maybe there were other reasons, maybe he had the same kind of OCD. Whatever it was – he washed his hands. Every time.

And only then would he come and look for you, seek out where you were. Normally you’d either be in the kitchen or the living room. Sometimes you’d be typing mindlessly on the typewriter, lost in the cloud of your own imagination. It was much more fun than you expected and it reminded you not only of your father, but also the man you loved, with every letter. You loved the clicking sound and the hum every time a new phrase came to paper.

Other times, you’d be cooking. Ever since the first trimester nausea passed, you finally were able to eat again. Now you were craving things. Often savory food, but just as often it was some sweet nonsense. You tried to eat as healthy as possible, but often times you’d settle for some kind of cornflakes when he wasn’t home. It was alright though, so you told yourself. You had been through a lot and you deserved to calm down and relax a little.

There were those other days when you’d come up with the freakiest things. This gummy pudding, you had no idea what it was, but it was to be found in Korean convenience stores. He brought it home for you and it was disgusting, but you still finished it. Other times, you felt you were in dire need of spicy food – very unlike yourself. He still brought it home to you. One time was especially odd. You had just finished a giant portion of pasta (now that you could finally eat it again), but you couldn’t get one thing off your mind.

A McFlurry.

It was the one good thing you associated with your mother. Well, not her directly, but with your childhood.

Your mother had never been one to spoil you, but on some very rare occasions, when you were out in the city, which wasn’t quite often, she’d allow you some Fast Food. Like any other kid of course you were all for Nuggets and Fries, but the thing you loved most was the ice cream. The ice cream machine was broken more often than not, so it was quite the highlight when you got to eat it. You remembered one moment especially.

You sat on the worn-out red leather cushion, slurping on your ice cream, when you felt your mother’s intense gaze on you. You immediately straightened up, thinking you had done something wrong and she’d take the ice cream away for it.

“What is it?” You had asked in that quiet, unsure voice of a poor, insecure nine-year-old.

She kept looking at you for a long moment and there was something soft in her eyes, something she never let you see. Later that day, she’d send you to sleep in the wardrobe, because on the way home, you said something to piss her off, but then and there – she looked at you with kind eyes.

“Eat your ice cream, honey.”

To this day, the taste of it reminded you of that moment. That one time honey didn’t sound like a mocking curse, but something a mother would say to her daughter. Because she loved her.

Not, because she’d try to poison her a few years later.

So, many years later, you found yourself on the couch, picking at the last of your pasta, when you felt his gaze on you.

“What is it? Aren’t you feeling well?”

You looked up at him, your eyes soft. You didn’t want to mention your mother to him, but you did. You told him of the brief moment of kindness and the way you still loved that ice cream to that day.

And what did he do?

He got up and put his coat on.

“What are you doing?”

He shrugged. “I’m getting ice cream.”

That made you smile, but softly. “But it’s almost midnight.”

He smirked in return, but his eyes were warm. God, it was so easy to lose yourself in them.

“Eat your pasta. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He kept his promise and only twenty minutes later you found yourself curled into his side, licking the sweetness off the plastic spoon. “You’re such an idiot.” You murmured and shot him a smirk. “I can’t believe you did that.”

He snorted as he played with your hair. “Yeah. That’s the weirdest thing I’ve done so far.”

You laughed in response and shoved a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. He grinned and took the spoon from you with ease. “I’m just saying.”

The next few weeks went on just as smoothly. It was almost like you were stuck in a dream. A part of you was constantly on edge, always expecting something horrible to happen. If it wasn’t your kidney to suddenly give up, it would surely be him. He’d do something – something horrible, something unforgivable, something to hurt either you or your baby…or you both.

But the more time passed, the clearer it became that he wouldn’t.

Every time you stared at him in silence, whenever you observed the way he nibbled on his pen while he filled out some paperwork, every time you watched him drive the car with a quiet hum on his lips, every time he did each of those things – the guilt was nearly suffocating you.

Of course you trusted him. You loved him, you adored him, he was the father of your child.

But he had also hurt you.

More than once. Repeatedly. Some of his ways more painful than others.

He looked so peaceful when he slept beside you or stirred something in a pot in the kitchen, while you watched him. He still brought you your fruit cocktail every morning, still seared your vegetables for you daily. And never did he complain once.

But it was inside of him. You knew it was there, buried under piles of kindness and love.

You saw it in the way his hand twitched, whenever you got into a minor argument. The way his eyes shone darkly and his lips pulled into a frown. The way he clenched his jaw over little things. Sometimes, he was trembling with barely suppressed rage.

One night, he almost lost control.

Almost.

It had started as a minor disagreement, you couldn’t even tell what it was about, but it escalated when it got to the point of you asking him why you still weren’t allowed to leave the house on your own. After all, you were carrying his child.

What would finally make him trust you?

But he nearly exploded. A few minutes into the argument you realized, it wasn’t him being paranoid and angry. It was him being concerned and possessive. His jealousy was easily triggered, even easier than your own and now that you had his child in your belly…

It didn’t make things easier.

“I would never leave you.” You muttered, shaking your head.

He let out an annoyed exhale. “I know that.”

“Then why?!”

“Because I said so.” He gritted out and shot you a dark glare. “And now shut up about it.”

“I won’t.” You had been feeling somewhat too confident that day. That was the thing with him. He made you feel so safe that you actually dared to speak up your mind and feel like you were someone. And when you did, it infuriated him. Not always…but whenever it went against his way of things. “I won’t, because this is ridiculous! I will not-“

“Shut up!” His fist shot out so fast that you hardly even recognized it as a movement. A sharp inhale later, you squeezed your eyes shut and clenched your damp fists, expecting him to break your jaw. But all that really happened was a sharp flinch that went through you, when you heard his fist bump into the wall only a few inches away from your head. You felt the air heat up with his proximity and for a long moment, you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When you eventually did, you immediately looked up at his face, but he wasn’t looking at you. He kept his gaze downcast, his eyes closed and his jaw clenched. He was taking quick breaths, his chest rising and falling in record speed. You didn’t dare open your mouth in case this was just the calm before the storm. But it didn’t seem to be. Instead, he seemed almost pained under the weight of his loss of control.

You tilted your head only enough to see his fist, still shaking against the wall. There was a faint crack in the plaster and you saw the hint of harsh red of his blood mixing with the soft apricot color of the wall.

It would have probably been the clever thing to let go. Lock yourself away until he calmed down. He’d apologize, probably and even if he didn’t – he hadn’t hurt you.

But instead of leaving him, you reached out a hand, still struggling to breathe yourself. Your fingers closed around his wrist and he yanked his hand back, attempting to pull away, but you only tightened your grip.

“Let me take a look!”

His arm was tense as was the rest of him and you were almost afraid to look at his face, but when you did, he was still avoiding your gaze. So, instead you focused back on his hand and the traces of blood, the broken skin, mixing with paint.

You swallowed and looked up at him again. “I’m going to clean this up, okay?”

He still didn’t answer. It was like tending to a wild animal, a bull even. His eyes were wide and unfocused, looking for a spot to fix upon. Just not you.

But when you guided him to sit on the couch, he didn’t resist. When you attempted to get up and get a clean cloth, his hand shot out again, fingers wrapping around your wrist like a vice. You winced, but quickly caught yourself again. You wrapped a gentle hand around his arm and whispered: “I’ll be right back.”

He swallowed and hesitated for another second, before he finally let go. You nearly broke both legs stumbling over a pair of shoes and a bag on your way to the bathroom. You gathered what you thought you needed, a wet cloth, some disinfectant and luckily you even found a clean bandage in the drawer. While you carried everything back to the living room, you caught yourself thinking, how is it even possible that I never needed this until now?

You crouched down beside him, taking a look at his hand. He was still far away with his eyes, but he seemed softer now. Less like a wounded lion and more like a man who drowned in guilt.

“I didn’t mean to-“ He cut himself off and clenched his jaw again.

It was hard for him. You could see that every time he held himself back for your sake. You didn’t know if it was because you were pregnant now or because he was slowly starting to understand that you indeed loved him and that you truly didn’t intend to leave him.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t easy on him. He was still two people at once, fighting internally, battling each other over minor things. Sometimes, he won. Other times, he punched the wall hard enough to crack.

But that was okay, you told yourself. He was trying. You could see that he was, despite his struggle. He would hurt you again, you were sure. You took a slow breath, silently praying to God for him never to lose control too bad. He would hurt you again. But fuck if you’d let him hurt your child.

“I know.” You murmured softly as you gently began to dab at his wounded knuckles. “Nothing happened. It’s alright.”

“It’s not.” He gritted out. “I could have-“ He closed his eyes and took a slow breath.

You waited patiently until he opened his eyes again and until he was finally ready to face you. This wasn’t like him, you suddenly realized. His dark side, his evil twin, it was unlike him to show signs of guilt. But to you he did. For you he did.

His eyes were still dark, but now there was something else as well. Something you had rarely ever seen in him. It was more than guilt, it was different than anger, it was…fear.

“I could have hurt you.”

You paused for a beat, before you could respond. “But you didn’t.”

“You don’t understand.” He lowered his head so he was eye level with you and you were forced to look into his eyes, to see the depth of what lay beyond them.

“I wanted to.”

There was a tight knot in your chest. What were you supposed to say to that? There was not much you could do. You knew what he was. He was trying. But was that enough?

“But you didn’t.” You eventually said again. Your voice was unwavering, more certain than the rest of you.

He frowned and pulled his head back, glancing down at his fist, still clenched in your hand.

“I don’t deserve this.” He murmured.

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head, still staring down at your hands. “I don’t deserve you. What have I ever given you aside from pain?”

You felt as though he had punched you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to show the horror you felt inside. “You…”

“It’s true. You are good and kind and forgiving. You care about me in ways…” He clenched his jaw and averted his gaze entirely. “I don’t deserve this.”

Before you had time to think it through, you already reached out and grasped his chin between two fingers. You tilted his head, forcing him to look at you. With a stern expression, it was now you who shook your head.

“You love me.”

His eyes widened a fraction. “What does that have to do with anything?”

You smiled, with more conviction than you thought yourself capable of. “Everything.”

He didn’t comment on it any further and neither did you. You simply took care of his wounds and he let you. It was foreign to him – you could tell by the way he watched you in a mixture of confusion and wonder. A part of him was still tense, as though he expected you to strike. He wasn’t used to being vulnerable, but he was getting better at it.

That was the moment you decided you wouldn’t ask him again.

No matter how confused and desperate you felt, how angry it made you that he knew everything about you and you seemed to know nothing about him.

You didn’t know his name, nor what he did or where he came from – but you knew that he loved you. That he’d kill for you. And that you were his, as much as he was yours.

And so you decided to trust him with everything else as well.

Because he was trying.

Six weeks came and went. Time passed so quickly and life felt so easy, that you tended to forget about the bad things. The times when he ignored you, when he withdrew his love in order to punish you for things you might have done wrong in his eyes, were all but forgotten.

The days were short. You spent every possible moment together. Aside from when he went to work or to…well, to work on the man your mother had sent, you were together. Always.

Sometimes you were almost afraid that your constant presence would end up suffocating him.

Despite the way you got more and more confident in yourself, the dark thoughts lingered. Whenever he was gone for a few minutes too long, whenever you got into an argument, you couldn’t help but think yourself unlovable. One day he would wake up and he would realize the terrible mistake he had made.

But he had ways. Many different ways to ensure your thoughts were only that – thoughts.

Every time you thought you were being too clingy and decided to pull away, put at least a little distance between you – scoot over on the couch, roll over, pull yourself away from him – he caught you. Whether it was being a hand on your thigh, an arm around your shoulders or just his knee pressed a little tighter against yours. He was just as clingy, you realized. Of course you didn’t speak of it. But you saw it in the way he closed his eyes, when your fingers ran through his hair. The way he smirked to himself when he caught you staring at him when he came out of the shower – if he ever allowed you to take a shower alone. He needed your contact just as much as you did his and it only ever made you love him more.

What was it about the couples who needed space? What did that even mean?

Sure, you sometimes asked yourself if it would do your relationship any good if you spent some time apart. But no, God, no. The thought alone made your skin crawl in fear. Falling asleep without him by your side sounded like the most ridiculous and impossible thing. You needed him there, his warmth, his arms around you and his warm breath on your neck.

It wasn’t just you and him cramped up in the space of the apartment all the time. Things became…lighter.

Going outside became a trivial thing to you. It wasn’t only the regular appointments at the doctor’s office. You went out to eat, to take walks and he showed you Seoul. Of course you’d seen a few places there – guided by only your phone, because you were a ghost in your own life. But what he showed you weren’t only tourist spots. No, he showed you things you would have never even thought about on your own. Things only someone who had grown up there could show you.

Even his old house.

It was burnt down to the ground of course, no more than dead grass, some dirt and rusty metal. But the way he stared down at it, the place that had once been so much bigger than him, the place where all his nightmares found their origin…

It made you hold his hand just a little tighter.

He didn’t say a single word and he didn’t need to. His eyes said it all. His pain ran much deeper than you had ever assumed. Maybe even deeper than your own.

But pain is not something to be measured and compared, right?

You squeezed his hand – and he squeezed yours right back.

You never spoke of it. Not a single time. And you held onto your word, your thoughts, you had had just a few weeks ago. You didn’t pressure him and it seemed to pay off, because the tension in him that was always there seemed to ease just the tiniest bit.

You went to the movies – thank God there were days when they played in their original language – and to the theater. He showed you bridges, buildings, food, music, art.

All the things you had missed out on your entire life.

And while he was at it, he showed you love.

You felt it in the way his hand tightened on the small of your back, whenever you got into a group of people. The way he looked at you, that sheepish smile, whenever you caught him staring at you while you were doing something – be it the dishes or stargazing.

He showed you himself. All you needed to know was right there in the way he kissed you.

And he kissed you.

Of course there were moments when a quick peck had to be enough, but the nights? The nights.

There was not enough air to breathe and you didn’t care one bit.

All you needed was him. He made sure of it.

You couldn’t count the times he made you inhale sharply and claw at the sheets.

Every night, so far. Once your nausea and your sickening exhaustion had passed, you became a wild thing. It was hard to tame you, the second you felt his fingers run up your thigh, down your hip, up your back. You were sure you could have recognized his hands blindly in-between a thousand others.

When he rubbed the pads of his fingers over your tongue, down your stomach or when they slipped inside your panties. They were so skilled that it never took him long to have writhing and begging. It was so easy that it almost got boring.

And so, sometimes, he had his ways of making you suffer, just to spice it up.

The night before, he had done just that. Your jaw still hurt thinking back to it – and your panties grew wet just the same.

He had been sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper as he so often did. Sometimes you asked yourself if he really read it or if that was just some kind of front to keep up the illusion of composure. You had just come out of the shower and were on your way to maybe try and write something, when you saw him sitting there, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. The way he leaned back, one arm resting on the couch, the other one holding up the paper.

It didn’t need any words. Just one look.

He leaned back in that infuriatingly hot way, legs spread apart and lowering the paper just enough to look at you.

You had never seen such expressive eyes before. And the command was clear.

You let go of any idea of writing, the moment you approached him instead. You slid onto your knees almost automatically, but not before he shoved a pillow before you, for you to kneel on. You shifted slightly, spreading your legs apart involuntarily, but he shot you a warning look.

“I want to see your hands at all times.” He said lowly, before he glanced back down at the newspaper. “And now keep me warm.”

You nearly choked on your spit, your own arousal making your mind go hazy. But you obeyed. You always obeyed – until you didn’t. But that night, you did.

You freed him from his sweatpants, his hardness already apparent and ready for you to take care of. The need to run your tongue along his length and drive him to the brink of madness was almost suffocating, but the way he tightened his grip on the paper just slightly kept you from doing so. Instead you spat down on it just once and took him in your mouth. And then you stayed in place.

You felt the way he tensed, heard the way his breath hitched, but he didn’t do anything either.

“Good girl.” He murmured and ran his fingers through your hair with his free hand, keeping them there. You tried to swallow around him, but it only made you drool all over him. A small whimper died in the back of your throat as you forced your knees to press into the pillow firmly, not daring to move or touch yourself, when that was all you wanted to do. You were already so wet, just from kneeling like that, just from tasting him.

A soft sigh came over your lips and your tongue involuntarily moved, causing him to inhale through gritted teeth. You expected a scolding, but he just pushed your head down further onto him. You moaned and chocked back a gag.

“My good girl.” He murmured, as he kept playing with your hair. “Be a good girl for daddy, so he can finish reading this, okay?”

You didn’t respond and how would you have accomplished that? You just stayed in place, keeping your head still. Your fingers twitched to reach between your legs and do something against the burning ache there, but you didn’t. It would only cause him to torment you further, to withdraw your release or keep you on edge.

Minutes passed and the only sound was his ragged breathing and your own.

His grip on the newspaper was painfully tight – normally he had a better grip on his composure. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t had sex in two days. Maybe it was because he felt your legs shaking.

The evidence of your own arousal was slowly dripping down your thighs and you let your eyelids flutter shut. You choked back any sounds you wanted to make, your hands gripping the edge of the sofa tightly.

“Fuck this shit. Fine.” He sighed out, before he slammed the paper onto the couch. “Come, darling, make daddy feel good.”

You didn’t hesitate.

You always loved to pleasure him with your mouth, for many different reasons. The sounds he made, his grip on you…almost like his life depended on it. It was exhausting of course, but it was worth it. You almost came, just kneeling there, being at his mercy – and somehow, it was you in control nonetheless. Of course he’d guide your movements every now and then, force a gag over your lips, but other times, when he was in a softer mood, he’d just…

Admire you.

His mouth slightly agape, his brows furrowed, he stared down at you like a man starving and you were the water he desperately needed. His grip on the back of your head was firm, but not painful, just enough to allow him to massage his fingertips into your scalp.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, just like that, baby. Just like…ah, fuck.”

His eyes fluttered shut and you used the opportunity to bring your hand between your legs, dying for any kind of friction. But he caught the movement and quickly caught your wrist.

“No, baby, no. I’m going to make you feel better than you ever have before, but you’re going to listen to me. Understand?”

You forced yourself to nod, though you almost felt tears of desperation sting your eyes. You hadn’t felt this needy in…

Probably not that long ago. He kept doing this to you. And as much as you hated it, as much did you love it, because in the end…

He always made up for it.

Before you had the chance to thrive on your determination to make him cum, he pulled your head back, causing you to whimper.

“Good girl.” He gritted out, his grip on your face bruising. “Such a good girl.”

He pulled you up onto the couch and pushed you back into the cushions.

“Are we above begging, huh?”

You shook your head in a way that could only be described as hysterical. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum, daddy.” You breathed out, your face flushed red.

He smirked in that devilish way, looming above you and making a face as if considering.

You whimpered again and his smirk widened into a full-blown grin. “Beg a little more, sweet girl.”

You licked your lips and bit down on them as you pressed yourself back into the couch, involuntarily arching into his touch. “Please. Please, I’m begging you, I…I’m so…Please…”

He hummed approvingly. “That’s a good girl, if I’ve ever seen one.”

His head dipped forward and his lips brushed over the side of your neck. He kissed a path from your neck to your earlobe, where he gently bit down on it. “Do you want me that bad, hm?”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and you nodded, sliding your hands over his bare back.

“I want to have a taste first.” He breathed in your ear, causing your body to tremble and your toes to curl. Your throat felt too dry to form a response, but that wasn’t necessary. He leaned down and parted your lips with his tongue, delving in for a kiss that was as messy as it was desperate.

You moaned and arched your hips up against his, feeling his slick hardness against your soaked panties.

He hissed in response and bit down on your lip. “God, you’re killing me.”

In no time, he kissed his way down your body. The way his hands smoothed your clothing out of the way made you shiver. You were a puddle in his hands, unable to move or breathe, all you could do was gasp and whimper.

He ran his fingertip over your slit, which caused you to inhale sharply.

“My God.” He murmured. “I don’t think I’ve ever had you this wet before.”

You whimpered in response, biting down on your tongue to keep any more pathetic sounds back.

He smirked and hooked his fingers under the material, pulling them off of you torturously slow.

“Fuck.” He all but growled, when he came back up. You felt his hot breath against your core and it was enough to make you cry.

“Please-“

“Patience.” He spoke calmly. How could he be so feral and suddenly so composed, all within a minute? Maybe he had more than just two personalities.

He ran his hands up from your ankles to your knees, before he swiftly hooked them around his shoulders.

“I want to hear you, okay?”

You swallowed and nodded. You were sure you had a fever by now.

And then he finally touched you.

The sound you made when his flat tongue ran over your slick folds was hardly even human, but you didn’t hold anything back. You just leaned back – and relaxed.

If one could call it that.

His gentle ministrations quickly turned into something else entirely, because soon he ran the tip of his tongue in circles around your sweet spot, before he attacked it with his pursed lips.

Your hand found his hair almost involuntarily. It had to hurt, the way you tugged at it, but you couldn’t help yourself. You guided his movements, practically using him to pleasure yourself.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God-“

He hummed and the vibrations it sent through your core alone were enough to make you arch your back.

“Oh, fuck!”

It didn’t take you a full minute to end up writhing and crying out, your body nearly floating from the sofa.

But he didn’t stop there.

It was almost painful, the way he kept working his mouth, kept lapping and licking, kissing as he would your mouth.

“Oh, oh, oh God…”

And soon, you felt yourself tip over the edge again, this time even more intensely than the first time.

“Please…can’t take…more…”

Your legs were shaking and so was the rest of you. You felt hot and cold at the same time and you kept feeling as feverish, until he finally decided to be merciful and pull away.

He slowly crawled back until he was hovering over you again, his lips curved into a devilish smirk.

“Oh, that was delicious.”

“I hate you.” You whispered breathlessly.

That made him laugh and he leaned down to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips and it made you moan.

“Too bad.” He murmured against your lips. “Because I love you.”

You sighed deeply and bit down on his lower lip. “I love you, too, you demon.”

His smirk widened into something more genuine. “And what does that make you, hm?”

You couldn’t help but smirk in response. “Oh, shut up.”

He gently cupped your cheek in his hand and looked at you for a moment, before he let his hand wander and gently pressed it against your stomach instead. The intensity of his feeling and the softness in his eyes made your breath catch in your throat.

“I love you both.” He whispered.

You swallowed thickly, your eyes wide in surprise and admiration.

“We love you, too.” You whispered back.

He smiled and didn’t say anything more. You bit your lip and gently pressed a hand against his chest. “And what about you?”

He cocked a brow. “What about me?”

You smirked and teasingly ran your thumb along the tip of his hardness. His eyes fluttered shut and he inhaled sharply. “Ah.”

“Mhm.” You tilted your head up to meet his lips in a gentle kiss. “You know what I want?”

He shook his head, pulling his head back to meet your gaze.

Your eyes darkened in a way you had only ever seen in him. It was him. He had that effect on you. He made this of you. This mess. This wicked, wanton, needy mess.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Now his own eyes darkened and he clenched his jaw. “Is that so, hm?”

You licked your lips and nodded. “I want you to fuck me, daddy.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, your words sending a shiver down his spine. When he opened them again, he looked feral again.

He immediately pushed your legs apart and pressed himself against your entrance. You, still wet like crazy and him glistening with precum, you forced yourself to keep your eyes open. You observed the way his brows furrowed and his breath stuttered as he slowly pushed himself inside you.

It didn’t matter how many times he did it. It was always enough to make your eyes roll back.

“Fuck.” He gritted his teeth and wrapped his fingers around your throat, but not squeezing. Only holding you, only showing you who was in control.

“Open that pretty mouth for me.”

You didn’t hesitate. And he didn’t hesitate to spit down in it.

When you closed your mouth and swallowed, you could swear, you felt him throb inside you.

He leaned in so his lips grazed your earlobe and whispered: “You’re taking me so well. Such a good girl. My beautiful, dirty girl.”

Your eyelids fluttered and you forced yourself to look up at him. He began to roll his hips against yours and you pressed yourself up against him, following his rhythm. You never thought it was possible to cum in this position, not as a woman, but he showed you that it was indeed possible.

His thumb found your sweet spot again, still heated and sensitive from his earlier attack, but that didn’t stop him.

“My good girl.”

“Ah, fuck…You’re my…My man.”

His eyes narrowed and his movements stuttered just slightly, before he caught himself and his movements only ever became more frantic. His mouth fell open and he drew in a sharp breath.

“Say that again.”

“My…” You licked your lips, your brows furrowed. “My man.”

He licked his lips as well and stared you down in a way that was deeper than any doting look he had ever given you.

“If I asked you to marry me, would you?”

You froze in your tracks and your eyes widened almost comically. “What?”

He nodded. “Would you?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat and the way your chest tightened.

Marriage.

It wasn’t entirely ridiculous, right? After all, you were pregnant with his child. But you had never thought that far, never even dared to think of such a thing.

“What a dumb question.” You breathed out.

“Then answer it.” He whispered just as breathlessly.

Yes. Yes. For God’s sake, yes!

But you didn’t say that. Instead, your body reacted before your mind could, your lips curving into a dangerous, teasing smile. “You’ll have to be a man and risk asking me for real.”

He smirked, his eyes filling with a warmth that you didn’t expect. “You’re so goddamn sexy when you’re being a tease for me.”

He then closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. “I will burn this fucking world for you. Just say the word.”

You bit your lip and slowly shook your head. Your chest still felt warm under the weight of his words.

“Just love me.”

And that he did. To bliss and back.

The next evening you found yourself lying in bed, thinking about your life. So many bad things and so much pain had led you to that point. If you could go back to change it, would you?

No.

Not if it meant the outcome would be different.

You lay on his mattress, wearing no more than a dark red negligee, a pair of panties and a wistful smile. He was everything you ever wanted, everything you ever wished for in a man.

The things he made you feel, both emotionally and physically…You never even thought that possible.

You always thought you were unlovable.

You always thought no one would ever love you.

But there you were. His.

Only his.

You took a slow breath and closed your eyes, remembering the night before. Involuntarily, you felt your hand wander down your body, to the gentle curve of your belly. It was so tiny, barely even noticeable, but you did notice. You saw it, when you wore a tight dress and you felt it, whenever you thought about it. A baby.

Your baby.

His.

This wasn’t exactly what you had expected to come out of your life. This wasn’t what you anticipated either. To be honest, you had never even thought you would make it that far. You had never been able to picture yourself that way. Married, pregnant…All these things sounded foreign to you. And yet, there you were.

Lying on the bed of the man you loved, his child inside your belly.

When you heard the door click open, your smile only grew.

No matter how much time you spent with him, you always missed him like crazy.

You considered getting up and approaching him at the door just to show him how much you had missed him. But then again, you were already settled under the blanket, warm and cozy…and the way you knew him, he’d be there within two minutes anyway.

But something felt off.

You heard the door creak open and you heard his steps. Slow and measured, hesitant even. Maybe he assumed you were asleep and so he tried to be careful about it.

But you couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something was amiss.

And that was when you realized it.

He hadn’t washed his hands.

You wanted to believe that you were being paranoid, but a little voice inside your head told you that something wasn’t the way it should be.

There would be only one reason for him not to wash his hands after he came in: any kind of emergency. But if there was an emergency, if he was worried for you, wouldn’t he be running? Wouldn’t his steps be quick and relentless?

But there he was, sneaking in like a ballerina.

You sat up stiffly, careful not to make any sounds. Whatever the feeling you had was, it got worse with every minute.

Fuck.

As much as you didn’t want to think too much into it – you had to. Better safe than sorry, right?

The last time your brain went into rotting mode, you ended up being kidnapped. No matter if you wanted to call it that or not – it was a fact.

Before you knew it, you had already opened the closet, careful not to make any sounds. You crouched down and pressed your back against the back of the wardrobe, slowly pulling the door shut.

If it was him simply being careful and having forgotten, for whatever reason, to wash his hands, he’d probably panic if he came in and didn’t immediately find you. But you’d deal with that by the time it came to it. You stared through the tiny crack between the doors, holding your breath as you listened in.

The steps came closer, but they were too careful. Too slow.

And the realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

It wasn’t him.

You choked back the horror you felt and only ever leaned back against the wall. Your body felt hot and cold, your palms sweaty. Your breath was stuttering and stilling in your lungs.

Fuck.

Who on earth could that be? The police? He had killed that janitor, after all.

No, it wasn’t the police. It was only one person, you could tell. That was far worse.

You wanted to close your eyes and attempt to calm yourself, but there was no way. Your eyes stayed wide open, your breath caught in your throat. You tried not to breathe at all, to not make a single sound.

And then the door opened.

You pressed a hand against your mouth as your eyes followed the light that suddenly flooded the room before you. You saw the shoes before you saw anything else. It was still too dark and your view wasn’t exactly clear.

You held your breath.

“I know that you’re here.”

The familiarity of the voice nearly made you gasp or scream out in horror. The accent. You heard the fucking accent, because you spoke in the same way. His accent matched yours.

“You can’t hide forever, girl. Come out and maybe I’ll let you live.”

You pressed your hand tighter against your face, sucking in a sharp breath while you were at it.

Oh God. God. No. No, no, no, no, no.

But you didn’t even have the time to say a prayer in your head.

The wardrobe door was yanked open and you were immediately sure.

Your life was over.

Your lips parted in a silent scream, but all you were met with was something that was…hardly even human.

The sight of the man who had once stopped you and questioned you, who had once appeared in front of the door and who ended up on the floor in blood and shackles…

Well, that man was gone.

All that was there now was skin and bones, pale skin and probably broken bones. He bared his teeth in a crooked grin and you saw how he was missing a few of them. His bloodshot eyes were filled with darkness and terror, his lip bruised and bloody, his collarbones nearly jumping at you from the way he was so skinny.

You stumbled back against the wall, but he didn’t give you time to react.

His bony fingers wrapped around your arms and he yanked you to your feet. A part of you was almost confused at how he even managed to get anything done. Judging by the way he looked, he was barely even alive. Just a skull with hollow eyes and blood smeared all over him.

“Is he home, hm?”

You hadn’t even noticed the knife. You only ever realized his grip on it, after he pressed it against your jugular.

You gasped out loud and held your breath, your eyes wide and terrified. You wanted to speak. Wanted to scream. Wanted to fight, to run.

But then you felt it.

Slowly, at first. And then full-force.

You froze.

Your body, your mind. Yourself.

You froze. The same you always did whenever someone touched you.

The feeling was nearly foreign to you by now, because it hadn’t happened in so long. A part of you had almost assumed it wouldn’t ever happen again, because maybe, maybe he had managed to heal you. Maybe you were normal now. Maybe a touch couldn’t cause this reaction in you any longer.

Oh, how entirely mistaken you were.

“Look at that.” He smiled that unhealthy smile, a hoarse laugh rumbling in his chest. “Look at that. Aren’t you a convenient little slut?”

It wasn’t even necessary to restrain you. When he pushed you against the bed, you let him. You fell against the mattress, your limbs stiff and still. The only thing reminding you that you were still alive was your pulse. You were sure you heard it pumping in your ears, somewhere near your brain. But it felt as though you were seconds away from having a stroke.

“Please.” Your voice was hardly even audible, your lips barely moving. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, he paused, his expression almost contemplative. But then he pursed his lips and stretched out his arms, the notion almost lazy. “Good.” He purred. “Then it will hurt him all the more.”

He straddled you in a swift movement, ramming the knife into the mattress only a few inches from your head. You gasped and squeezed your eyes shut.

This was it.

Everything that had led you to this moment – Would you still take it? If this was how your life ended?

All the pain. All the misery. Only for your mother to get her last wish.

He leaned down and his breath hit your face, smelling of iron and blood. “You know…” He stretched out a finger and ran the tip of it down your cheek, then your neck. You whimpered and only ever squeezed your eyes shut tighter. That made him smirk. You heard his amusement clearly. “I was actually supposed to find you and bring you back. Rescue you, if you will.” He scoffed and shook his head, before he dug his fingers into your cheeks and forced a sharp gasp over your lips. “Isn’t that so fucking ironic? Rescue you. While you were here, getting fucked by this little piece of shit. Did you enjoy it? Huh? Did you enjoy spreading your legs for this bastard?”

You wanted to keep your eyes closed, to somehow escape this nightmare. But he didn’t let you. His hand cracked against your cheek with enough force to make you cry out aloud.

He had never hit you so hard.

Not even his goddamn punches had hurt that much.

You sobbed and tried to swallow back the saliva that threatened to make you choke. A hot feeling flared up in your chest – humiliation, anger, but mostly fear.

He would hurt you. He would genuinely hurt you.

“Please, I didn’t want any of this!”

“Shut the fuck up.” He slapped you again, this time even harder. Hard enough to make you go dizzy. “Will you keep that fucking, slutty mouth of yours shut or do I need to use other methods to make sure you obey?”

A soft rustling sound and then you felt it. The cold metal of the blade, pressed against the side of your neck. Your eyes shot open and you choked back a sob, trying to gasp for air, but there was none.

Were you already dead?

You shook your head, almost imperceptibly.

He nodded. “Good. But just to make sure…”

He tilted back the blade, running the tip of it over your neck. Your eyelids fluttered and all you saw was white, white, white light.

This was how dying felt.

Not being forced by your mother to sleep in a wardrobe, not having to drink water from a bowl on the floor, not event thinking you’d get raped at the metro station.

This was it.

The hardness in his eyes. The coldness. The numbness. The death.

There was nothing left of him. And soon, there wouldn’t be anything left of you either.

“P-p-please.”

But he only smirked. He only smirked and guided the tip of the blade lower and lower, until you felt it pressed against your abdomen.

You stiffened painfully much, digging your nails into your palms.

Your baby.

Your man.

Was he dead?

Oh God, had he killed him?

There was no safety in sight. No help. Nothing.

You were going to die tonight.

Never had you ever been particularly fond of life. And now that you finally were, now you were going to die.

But that didn’t hurt half as much, as did the blade against your stomach. The threat.

“I could cut that thing out of you and feed it to him.”

He wasn’t dead.

And still, his words made you shudder.

You had never even realized when you had started to cry. You simply suddenly realized your face was wet, your lashes sticky and your vision blurred.

“I’ll do whatever you want. But please-“ You sobbed out, but you stopped, when he pressed the blade harder against you.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut.” He spat.

You forced yourself to keep your eyes open and nodded frantically.

“Good.” He murmured. “Maybe you’re not entirely useless. What do we have here?”

He used the tip of the blade to cut the strap of your negligee, causing you to gasp.

“Look at that. How pretty. Like a pretty little slut.” His eyes darkened and his lip quivered in barely suppressed rage.

He leaned down and you felt his tongue run a path from your cheek to your ear. It made you shudder and tense, squeezing your eyes shut, but you forced yourself to stay still and not say a single thing. You just sobbed.

“You know what I’m going to do with you?” He smirked and ran a disgusting path with his tongue inside the shell of your ear. “I’m going to fuck your pretty little pussy. I’m going to fuck it again and again and again, until there’s nothing left of you. And only then will I cut you open.”

You were shaking and sobbing so hard that you felt nausea rise within you. Not only his words, but the intensity of your sobs was enough to make you want to puke.

“Or maybe…” He pressed the blade against your cheek and you held your breath. “Maybe I could cut your eyelids off first, hm? So I can be sure that you keep your eyes on me at all times. What do you think?”

The cold metal of the knife dragged over your face, until you felt it pressed right underneath your eye.

“Please.” Your words were slurred and choked out between sobs and gasps for air. “Please, I’m begging you. Please, I’m pregnant. He f-f…He forced me. He forced me. Please, he forced me, he dragged me here by force, He…he…made me…”

“Shh.” It was almost soothing, the way he shushed you. But the way the blade pressed into your cheek was anything but. The pain came slow, but it stung more than his slap ever could have.

“That’s why you’ve been waiting here, wearing this, hm? Because he forced you?”

You felt blood trickling down your cheek. It didn’t hurt half as much as his words did, though.

“Ah…”

“Mhm, mhm. Do you still want to defy me?"

You shook your head, trying to breathe in hysterically. But there was simply not enough air.

The cut went from your eye down to the corner of your mouth.

There went your vision from a pretty wedding dress, a sweet, young mother picking up her child from daycare. No, you were the Joker. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You wouldn’t make it to that part of your life.

If only he hadn’t stopped cutting you. Because the second he did, you felt the next blow, dark and low. His fingers traced a path down your chest, over your stomach and before you could protest, he pressed his thumb against your center. You squeezed your eyes shut and your lip quivered, a silent plea on your lips.

Not this, not him. Not someone who wasn’t your man. But he couldn’t have cared less, right?

The blade followed the path his fingers had drawn and soon enough you heard the material of your panties being cut open.

Your chest heaved rapidly, your nails biting bloody marks into your palms.

Maybe it would be over sooner than later.

Maybe he would violate you and then leave you to it. Maybe, he’d let you live at least.

Still, you couldn’t choke back the sob that threatened to drown you, when you felt the knife wander down further. The cold metal pressed against your core, sideways, and you forced yourself to stay still. You were sure, one wrong movement and you’d end up maimed for life.

For the little life you had left.

He kept the knife pressed against the bundle of nerves underneath him, while you felt two of his disgusting fingers press against your entrance.

“There, there. I thought that’s what little sluts like you want.”

He pressed forward and you cried out in horror and pain.

“Please, stop!”

You didn’t mean to speak, you knew what always happened whenever you opened your mouth, but your body reacted before the rest of you could.

He stopped for a moment, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re such a dumb fucking whore.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for what he did to you! I didn’t ask him to, I didn’t want him to!” The words spilled from your mouth like wildfire. “What I said is true, he did force me here! But I fell in love with him and then you talked to me that day, and then you followed us home and I just- He just- He saw your gun and then he- And then he-“

“Shut up!” His free hand shot out and squeezed your face so tightly, it made you gasp. “Shut the hell up, will you? I’m not doing this, because you fell in love with him. Fuck! Do you think I care about his shit?!” He gritted his teeth and leaned down enough to be right in your face. “You wanna know what your motherfucking boyfriend did? Hm? You wanna know?” His lip quivered again and his eyes were hard enough to cut you open.

“He had my brother killed.”

That made you freeze. More than you already were.

His words sent a sharp pang through your chest and you opened and closed your mouth several times.

“What?”

“Ah, so he didn’t tell you. How fortunate.” He scoffed and exhaled through gritted teeth. “He kept asking me where your bitch of a mother is. And I told him, that I don’t know. Which I don’t. I haven’t seen her in months, right? And he kept asking me. Fuck. I told him that I don’t know. I told him! And what did he do? What did he do the next fucking day?!” The hand he used to hold your face was shaking and so was the rest of him. The crazed look in his eyes intensified to a degree where you were genuinely frightened – genuinely believed you would be dead soon.

“The next day, he showed me a picture on my own phone.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “My twin brother.” He briefly closed his eyes, before they shot open again.

“Someone had…Someone had shot him. Right in the face.” He swallowed and bit the inside of his cheek, scrunching up his nose. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he did it himself. But no, he was here, busy fucking you. Getting you pregnant. Fuck!”

He slammed the blade back into the mattress, pressing his fingers back against you, forcing your legs apart.

“I’ll fuck you ‘til you die.” He spat out.

“I didn’t know!” You sobbed out. “Please! I had no idea! Had I known-“

It was a soft sound, a gentle thud, somewhere in the apartment. And what started as a soft breath, quickly turned into running steps.

An emergency. An emergency indeed.

He had heard it, too. And the second he turned his head to look at the open door, you finally broke free from your haze.

He wanted to kill you. Your baby.

Your elbow shot out, hitting the side of his face hard enough for an ugly cracking sound to be heard. He gasped loudly and pulled back, just enough so that you could somehow scramble back from underneath him. He doubled over and pressed a hand against his temple.

The door flew open and there he was.

Oh God.

The fraction of a second. A single second.

His eyes were wide in horror, in disbelief, in surprise.

And then that was all gone. And all that was left was pure, unbridled, murderous fury.

He stormed forward and yanked the intruder off of you, leaving you finally able to breathe again.

You somehow stumbled over, getting on your knees, unable to tear your eyes off the scene.

He slammed him into the wall and began to throw punches left and right, but not in the way one might see in a movie. Not even in an underground fight. Maybe he didn’t even want to kill him. No, he wanted to cause as much damage as possible and watch him suffer.

He was shaking. Shaking in fury, shaking in rage. His fingers itching to murder. And his eyes were black.

“I found your little sister, Elliot.” He spat through gritted teeth.

The man, whose name seemed to be Elliot, slumped down against the wall, but his head perked up, his eyes immediately shooting open in alarm, despite the way his face was slowly swelling beyond recognition.

“What?” He coughed up blood. “No. I don’t have-“

“She lives in France. Clever move, Elliot, really. Thought I wouldn’t find your little French whore of a sister.”

He spun around and dragged the knife from the mattress, making you flinch. He crouched down beside him and tightened his grip on the knife.

“I wish you would live long enough to see what I have planned for her. You see, I’m a loyal man, so I won’t fuck her myself. But fuck, I’ll gather enough men to break that dumb little cocktail waitress. They’ll split her in two.”

Elliot’s eyes widened impossibly, shaking his head frantically. “No…no…no, please, she’s only twenty-six…Fuck, no, please, please, please, I’m sorry, I…”

Suddenly – his gaze met yours.

You flinched and stumbled back against the wall, inhaling sharply.

“Please, you can’t let him do that! Please!”

All you could do was stare at him.

But then his voice cut through the silence. “Get out.”

Your eyes snapped back to him, to the way his eyes were blazing with murderous intent.

“I- I-“

“Get out!”

He didn’t need to say it a third time.

You stumbled to your legs, shaking and nearly falling over, but you caught yourself in the last moment. Your legs somehow carried you outside and you ran and ran, until you reached the bathroom. You collapsed on the floor, gripping the edge of the toilet tightly. You retched and retched, aiming for the toilet and ending up puking all over yourself.

You were still shaking.

Still sobbing.

And with every pained gasp you heard from the bedroom, with every grunt, every plea for help – a little part of you died.

You had no idea how much time had passed. An hour? More? Less?

You lay curled up between the toilet and the wall, your stomach grumbling in unease. You had never felt so disgusting before, covered in blood, sweat, your own puke and the lingering touch of a dead man.

When you heard his footsteps approach, you couldn’t even lift your head.

He knelt down beside you, the movement frantic and concerned. His warm hands cupped your face, forcing you to look up at him despite your terror, despite your pain.

“No.” You heard him whisper, his fingers brushing softly over the cut on your cheek.

It sounded watery, like he was speaking through a tunnel. Everything was distant.

Was this how death felt?

He gathered you in his arms and your head lolled forward, resting against his chest. He held you like that for a long while, but you barely felt it. You were shaking like a leaf, but the sobs had died.

You had died.

“He- Wanted-“

“Did he hurt you?” He was trying to stay calm, trying for your sake. There was not much he could do to retaliate to a dead man, anyway.

“Is he dead?” You choked out.

“Don’t think about that now. Did he hurt you?”

You begrudgingly shook your head. “Not…enough to…”

You had no idea what you were even trying to say.

“I’ll take you to the hospital.” He said lowly as he attempted to get up. You caught his wrist before he could.

“He didn’t.” You choked out. “I’m not- He didn’t-“

Your gaze followed down his to your exposed body. His eyes were wide and fearful.

“Did he…”

“No! He didn’t…I mean he did try to…He…You came in.” You whispered weakly. “You came in, before he could.”

His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment, before he pressed you against him, cradling your head against his chest. His heart was racing in his chest and his hand pressed your head into his embrace almost painfully tight.

“This is all my fault.” He whispered hoarsely. “I lost the chip and by the time I realized it, I…This is all my fault.”

Of all the things he had done wrong, you wouldn’t let him take the blame for that.

“No.” You whispered, slowly coming out of your haze. Everything was still blurry, but the shaking began to lessen ever so slightly. “It’s not your fault. It’s his.”

“If I didn’t-“

“We’re not discussing this.” You whispered. “It’s not your fault.”

He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t want to overwhelm you any further, you could tell. And you were grateful for that.

“I’m going to take you to the hospital regardless. The stress-“

“Okay.” You whispered. “But please, I…Just let me…Give me…”

He pulled back enough to look at you, his expression pained. “I’ll take care of you. I promise, I will. And I will never leave you alone again. No one will ever touch you again.” He gritted out.

You didn’t protest when he sat you in the tub. He knelt beside it, gently washing everything off you. You just sat there, your chin resting on your knees. The warmth of the water felt good on your skin, it helped against the cruel cold in your bones. But it did little to comfort you. Nothing could ever erase the pain, the fear you felt as you lay there, entirely helpless and frozen.

You barely felt his hands as he gently cleaned you up. You closed your eyes when the warm water ran down your hair and face, but you didn’t flinch.

After a while you felt his hand gently cup your cheek. He made you look at him and you didn’t hesitate to.

“Can you ever forgive me?” He whispered barely audible.

You had never seen him like this. So…desperate.

You were sure, you would never forget the look in his eyes when he reached for the knife. The moment he saw what was going on.

You had been terrified then. And also incredibly relieved.

But you couldn’t help but ask yourself, since that was inside of him…would you always be safe? Would your child always be safe?

But then your expression softened. He looked genuinely terrified. Terrified of the possibility that he had lost your love, your trust. You.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” You whispered hoarsely. “I love you.”

He swallowed and averted his gaze, gently tightening his grip on you.

A few minutes later, you were still damp but covered in a big, fluffy bathrobe. He led you to the other bedroom and lay you down gently, pulling the covers up to your chin.

“I’ll get the doctor here instead.” He murmured. “I don’t want you to go anywhere right now.”

You didn’t protest. He sat by your side, squeezing your hand and staring down at it.

His guilt was eating him alive. And that was eating you.

You gently took his hand and pressed the softest kiss against his knuckles.

“I was just afraid. I’ll be okay.” You whispered.

But he didn’t look convinced. The pain in his eyes was so apparent, so real. You had never before seen him like that.

After a while, you slowly looked up at him. “Did you really have his brother killed?”

He stiffened slightly, but he didn’t avoid your gaze. “Yes.” He said quietly.

You were silent for a while. “Why?”

“He said things about you.” He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “Threatened you. I should have killed him back then already.”

Your guts churned and you averted your gaze.

“Your mother is in Korea.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Maybe you were indeed dead. And maybe it was better that way.

“What?” You breathed out.

You felt him nod. “She’s here. She’s in Seoul.”

He bit his lip and you kept your gaze glued to the ceiling.

“I know where she is.”

You closed your eyes and tried to sort out your thoughts. A list of pros and cons. And then you thought back to the baby in your belly. The tiny human, dependent on you. Tiny fingers and toes. Small teeth. A smile, covered in chocolate and ice cream.

Someone to love.

Someone to love unconditionally.

And then you thought back to how you how almost lost it. How your kidneys were giving up. How you had lost one, due to poisoning. You almost lost your baby because of her.

When you looked up at him, your eyes didn’t look like your own.

“I trust you.” Was all that you said.

He didn’t comment on it and he didn’t need to. His eyes said it all. He was a clever man.

He didn’t need words to understand you.

You averted your gaze again, staring up at the ceiling and gently running your thumb over the back of his hand. He loved it when you played with his hands.

He loved it when you leaned on him.

He loved it when you loved him.

He-

“Choi Seo-jin.”

You stopped in your tracks and kept your gaze focused on the ceiling. There was no confusion. You knew it. You knew what he was saying. You knew what it meant.

When you slowly tilted your head to meet his gaze, he was already looking at you. His eyes soft. Softer than ever before.

“My name. It’s Choi Seo-jin.”

You opened your mouth and closed it again. There was not much you could say.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke in a voice so soft and silky that it left you feeling breathless.

His name. His name.

“Sorry?” You breathed out.

He nodded. “For not telling you earlier. For not trusting you, when I should have. For…for all the things I have done to you. Everything.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Most of it, you had already forgiven him. Probably everything. Most likely everything.

Sure, you had told to the dead man that he kidnapped, that he forced you to be here and carry his child. But what else should you have said? You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want your baby to die. And so you lied.

It wasn’t really a lie, was it? Not a few months ago. But now you knew this was exactly where you belonged.

There was no more curtain, no uncertainty left. No guilt, no unease, no fear.

When you feared him, then you feared him as his partner. Not his victim.

“You don’t have to say that.” You said gently, but he cut you off with a sharp nod.

“Yes, I do.” He exhaled slowly and looked down at your combined hands. “I told you of my father, right? But I didn’t tell you everything.”

You held your breath and simply…let him be.

He smiled, but there was no mirth wheresoever. His eyes were cold, but not directed at you.

At the memory.

“I still hear my mother screaming, you know? Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I’m sure I can hear her. When I wake up then and see you lying beside me…It’s the only thing to bring me back.”

He bit his lip and shook his head, still not looking at you.

“He told me that no one would ever be able to love me. That no one could ever love a weak little bastard like me. Called my mother a whore. Said she slept around. He wouldn’t even be sure whose or what I was. Bastard was his go-to name for me.” He sighed and shook his head, gently playing with your fingers. “He said no one could ever love me. And everyone who ever said they did would lie.”

That was when he finally looked up to meet your gaze.

“And I believed him.” He whispered. “I was sure that no one could ever love me. No one would ever trust me. No one would ever look at me and see their lover, their husband. Their protector. They’d see me for what I was. A bastard.” He shook his head again, his voice dropping low. “I thought if I tested you enough, if I hurt you enough, you’d run. I was sure. You were a tough girl. Tough as nails. I did the most vile things to you, but you? You never tried to run. I tried to kill you and what did you do? You told me you loved me.” He clenched his jaw as he spoke. “And I was…I was so fucking confused. Why would you love me? You had to be lying. But no matter what I did, you didn’t run.” His voice turned contemplative, his gentle grip on your hand never wavering.

“He came to my room, you know.” He swallowed against something in his throat and you were sure the sound of your heart breaking was audible.

“Every so often. He…” He closed his eyes. He couldn’t say it. And he didn’t need to. Instead, you gently squeezed his hand, just a little bit tighter than usual.

Your eyes filled with tears, but you bit them back. You wanted so bad to be strong for him, especially now. He slowly opened his eyes and met your gaze, a tiny, weak smile on his lips.

“I couldn’t control it.” He whispered and slowly shook his head. “No matter what I did. I was never in control. Everything just happened. And I could only let it happen.” He clenched his jaw tighter, his grip on your hand was shaking now. “And I told myself I would never, never feel that way again. Never. And I didn’t.”

He sighed deeply. “But I think I got a little ahead of myself. And now…And you…” His gaze raked over your face, over your damp cheeks and he smiled again.

“I gave you control. I know it wasn’t much. It’s not…easy. But I’m trying. I’m really trying.”

He reached out a hand, his palm against your cheek warm and gentle. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.

“You never took advantage of it.” He murmured. “I saw it in your face, in your eyes. That one time you slapped me or whenever I let you be in control…It’s almost like it’s hurting you physically.”

His smile widened, just the tiniest bit. “I know it now. I know that my father was nothing but a liar. And you love me.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you nodded. It was all you could do.

“Good.” He whispered. “Because…”

He took a slow breath and brought your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against it.

“Because I intend to marry you and make this whole thing work. I’m going to be your husband and you will be my wife. And this…” He gently pressed his free hand against your stomach. “This is our baby. And no one will ever touch our baby. We’re going to love it. And I will kill anyone who ever tries to touch either of you again.”

His voice was so firm and convincing that you were sure. He meant every word.

You couldn’t even protest. You didn’t want to.

You would be his wife.

And your baby was going to get all the love the both of you had been missing.

And then?

And then he told you everything. Everything from who he was and where he came from. Every quirk, every ick, every pain, every wish, every fear. Everything. Until you were sure.

You were meant to be there.

You were meant to be his.

And had it been him who wrote the text, who uploaded it, who decided to share his thoughts with the world. Had it been him, not you.

You would have done the same.

After an eternity of just talking and letting go of everything that dragged down his soul into the strange abyss that was his misery, he finally looked at you.

“Did I miss anything?” He murmured, before he leaned down to press a kiss against your temple.

You swallowed and nodded. “You didn’t tell me where you work.”

He sighed deeply and leaned back. “You’ll love me regardless?”

You didn’t need to think about it. You simply nodded.

You would.

He nodded as well and leaned down, just enough so you felt his breath against your skin, like the gentle kiss of a sweet spring day after a long, bitter winter. His fingers gently played with your hair, the movement absentminded.

His eyes softened even more and he looked at you with nothing less than pure trust.

“Tell me, darling…Have you ever played the Squid Game before?”

_________________________________________

Tag list 1 :@mitsuki-dreamfree@kpopsmutty69@heroine-chique@vkeyy@mizuwki@blu-brrys@z0mbi345@yourpointbreak@ayieayee@freddyzeppsworld@lola11111111@indifitel6661@salesmanlover08@laurenbenoit70@lalalaa2210@lila-marshal@auspicious-lilana@0-aubrie0@lovelyaegyo@theredvelvetbitch@violentbluess@muriels-lover@dorayakissu@eviebuggg@muchwita@ririgy@strxlemon@obsessedwthdilfs@kiwilov3@misty-q @koigguki

Author's note 2: Sorry for traumatizing you, guys. I hope whatever I wrote made any sense...My brain is a mess, it's 2.30am and I'm going to sleep now. I loveeeee you! 🤍

[venusbyline]

Revenge ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 30, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader x Aegon II Targaryen

— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: mirror sex

— summary: Aegon wants to please you, his niece and betrothed, during the night of your nineteenth name day. However, everything goes wrong when you reject Aegon's touch and he decides to try to make amends with Aemond, letting the younger prince take revenge on your brothers in the worst way possible.

— word count: 4.0k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 30th day, female!reader, dark!Aegon, dark!Aemond, Jacaerys' twin sister!reader, betrothed!Aegon, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT (i'm not kidding, this is REALLY disgusting), rape/non-con, mirror sex, Targcest (uncles/niece), degradation, non-consensual somnophilia, vaginal sex, rough sex, breeding kink, blood and violence, squirting, overstimulation, forced orgasm, dacryphilia, crying, dumbification, vaginal fingering, unconscious sex, fainting/collapsing, forced pregnancy, cum eating, cum swallowing, blood licking, sexism, age gap (older men/younger woman), marriage of convenience, ambiguous/open ending, implied/referenced cheating, face slapping, hair-pulling, sadism, revenge sex, threats of death, emotional manipulation, book accurate ages (It's 133 AC. Reader's 19, Aemond's 23, Aegon's 26, Jacaerys' 19, Lucerys' 18, Joffrey's 16), referenced Targaryen-Velaryon Incest (sister/brothers), referenced consensual underage sex, minor Velaryon brothers/reader, implied Aemond Targaryen/Helaena Targaryen, bisexual(?)!Aemond, bisexual(?)!Aegon, minor Aemond Targaryen/Aegon Targaryen, Aegond, dark content, dom!Aemond, switch!Aegon, sub!reader, canon divergence (No Dance of the Dragons/War for Succession), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @dearjardim

— author's notes: It's MENTIONED during the fic that Aegon's obsession with the reader has been going on since before the night in Driftmark, 120 AC. So at that time, you would be 6 years old and Aegon would be 13/14. Although this is just a MENTION of Aegon's dark desires and isn't graphic at all, it's important that you understand about the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag and read all trigger warnings. This is just a FANFICTION, but Aegon's thoughts are disgusting anyway.

— crossposting: AO3

Aegon II Targaryen had been quite impulsive when choosing the woman he would marry. He knew that getting betrothed to his niece, Jacaerys's twin sister, would not be an idea well received by his family, especially by his mother and his younger brother, Aemond, but he decided to act on that decision without thinking too much about the possible consequences.

His obsession with you, the only daughter of his half-sister, Rhaenyra, was almost unhealthy. Aegon has watched you grow, just as he has watched Jacaerys and Lucerys grow. He liked to see you trying to keep up with them when the three boys got together to play some trick on Aemond. They never let you spend much time with them, and Aegon even made fun of you, just like he did with Aemond.

At that time, Aegon did not know how to deal with the intense feelings he felt about you, finding it disgusting that he was much older than you. Gods, you were younger even than Aemond. He really could not deal with those thoughts, and venting about them to someone would be a bad idea. He would probably get a beating from Harwin Strong — the man all people of King's Landing knew was your true father — when the knight was still alive.

Trying to keep you far away, Aegon chose making you a butt of jokes. Jacaerys and Lucerys never seemed to notice how Aegon really felt about their sister and even liked to have fun at your expense.

As the years passed, the family had grown apart. The fight involving Aemond against Lucerys, Jacaerys and Daemon's daughters parted the Targaryen family into two sides. Despite always being a terrible older brother, Aegon had tried to make it up to Aemond after he lost his eye. He did not like to admit that he blamed himself a little for what happened. However, the thought occurred to him with a damn frequency. If Aegon had not been drinking like an asshole that night, perhaps he could have defended his brother.

He wanted to be a better brother to Aemond, he really tried to be, but nothing seemed to be enough for the younger prince. Nothing seemed to make him happy. Not even when Aegon took Aemond, who was still ten and three years old, to a brothel and introduced him to Madam Sylvi. Aegon thought his brother would like to become a complete man and he would like to get his cock wet. But he was definitely wrong.

He could remember with anguish how Aemond opened the curtains and walked out into the halls of the brothel after the act. Aegon tried to ask him how the sex had been, if he had liked it... But all Aemond did was give him a cold and hurt look, replacing his eye patch and continuing to walk so both of them could leave soon.

When Aegon returned to the brothel the next week, he asked Madam Sylvi about Aemond performance and expected a naughty response from the whore. Anyway, hearing the phrase "He is not a child now" clearly did not sound as sensual as he imagined. He needed to drink a little more to avoid wanting to cry when he realized that in fact Aemond was no longer a child. He had taken that away from his brother when he convinced the younger to joined him to Street of Silk. Even after so many pranks, until that fateful day in Driftmark, Aemond still trusted his older brother. He was still an innocent child, with just one eye and his fierce Dragon.

And Aegon had destroyed the last vestige of innocence inside Aemond's heart. Aegon had ruined everything again, just as he had ruined everything every time he played tricks on you with your brothers and called you a fucking bastard the night Lucerys accidentally took out Aemond's eye during the childish and violent fight. You were not even there when all of that happened, but Aegon thought offending you would be like making up to Aemond for his absence and lack of protection.

Now, 133 AC, thirteen years after the family chaos in Driftmark, Aegon was trying to slowly restore some peace by proposing to his half-sister, Queen Rhaenyra, a betrothal to you. It was a way of seeking a truce between the grudge that Rhaenyra and Daemon held for Alicent and her children. And most important of all, it was a way to make amends with you and Aemond, even if his brother hated you.

"What do you think about your new necklace, my dear?" Aegon asked you after the festival in King's Landing to celebrate your and your twin brother Jacaerys' nineteenth year of life.

"It is very beautiful, uncle." You replied with a tense voice, observing yourself in the large mirror with golden edges in Aegon's private chambers.

You were not someone who liked breaking the rules, especially when they involved secret meetings with your uncle Aegon. You still harbored resentment for the way he started to mock your and your brothers' legitimacy after Rhaenyra and Alicent's complete estrangement. At first, you thought about denying his call for you to accompany him through the castle corridors, but the idea of receiving one more gift seemed tempting. And in fact, you did not regret. Actually, you were enchanted by the necklace with the pendant of a golden dragon with silver-toned wings.

"Do not call me uncle anymore, my dear. You are my future wife now." Aegon reminded you with a chuckle, standing behind you and watching as you admired the pendant. He could see the way you seemed to want to ask something and he knew exactly what it was. "Yeah, the dragon on the pendant was made especially to represent Vermithor."

He said and your eyes widened immediately. Just like Rhaena and Aemond, there was no dragon for you when you were born. You only managed to claim Vermithor four years ago, however, your bond with the elder dragon was already quite admirable. Vermithor was a fierce creature to everyone and he was like a puppy to you, so meek and docile that sometimes you found yourself venting alone to him. A habit that only increased even more after your mother confirming your betrothal with your uncle.

"This is... This is... This is incredible." Your eyes filling with tears. You lifted your face to observe Aegon's reflection behind you, his soft smile as he returned your gaze. "My most sincere thanks, Aegon. This is the kindest and sweetest gift I have ever received. I swear."

Aegon's cheeks flushed a little. He was not used to being kine or sweet. Much less listen someone calling him like that. Your thanks slightly caught him off guard and he cleared his throat, trying to hide his sudden nervousness, hoping you would not notice how sweaty and shaky his hands were when he placed them on your shoulders, a little taller than you while you were still watching each other in the mirror. "You look so fucking delightful right now."

He purred into your earlobe. The warm air and the smell of wine made you frown and step back. You were not used to being touched like this by men who were not your brothers and you did not feel comfortable with Aegon's sudden physical proximity. Of course he was your fiance and very soon you would be forced to consummate the marriage, but there were still many barriers between the two of you. Barriers he built to keep you away when you were a child and now he was determined to break them at any cost.

"Do not do that again." Aegon scolded you, fire coursing through his veins at your abrupt departure. He hated that you were acting like you were disgusted by him. Damn, he was trying to be good, was not he? He was being a good betrothed and redeeming himself with you. "I gave you a fucking gift you loved!"

You flinched at his loud husky voice, stopping just looking at him in the mirror and turning to him, the size difference not being as intimidating as it was when you were still a little girl seeking approval from your uncle and your brothers. He did not even have the same long hair as before. Now, Aegon kept his dry silver hair to a medium length, giving him an appearance of lack of care, as well as the intense dark circles under his eyes. Even though you would never admit it, you feared him but also you thought he was very handsome at the same time. Like your child version also thought these same things about Aegon when he was a teenager.

"And I already thanked you for it. However, I do not remember allowing you to touch me the way you just did."

"Seven Hells, do not be an annoying prude! I just rested my hands on your shoulder."

"And purred in my ear like a cat in heat, surely thinking I would give in to you so easily and we would sleep together before our wedding ceremony!" You exclaimed, without thinking straight. Your heartbeat was racing, your face red with anger that he had the audacity to call you an annoying prude.

Aegon growled at your words, moving closer to your body, until your faces were practically glued together and you could smell the wine he had been drinking throughout the festival, just as he could smell flowers fragrance coming from you. The tension was palpable, both of you staring at each other with anger in your eyes. It was like flames burning each other just with gazes.

You thought he would yell at you or at most throw you out of his chambers and take the gift back. You expected many things, except Aegon to abruptly cover your mouth, holding the back of your head with his other hand to stop you from struggling and running away.

"Perhaps, you bastard bitch, I am acting like a cat in heat because I know what a cheap whore you are." Aegon growled one more time, the fingers that had been holding the back of your neck now gripping your hair. "You always act like you are a maiden, but all people of King's Landing is already suspicious about how your cunt has already been filled several times by your twin brother. Jacaerys seemed quite furious when my betrothal with you was made official."

Aegon pushed you onto his large bed and you immediately tried to get up and scream, being stopped by the hard slap he gave you in the face, making you fall back onto his sheets, terrified as he climbed on top of you, holding both of your arms on top of your head. "If you try to do that fucking shit again, I am going to rip your fucking head off and gut you until you die. Our entire family is going to go to war and blood is going to be spilled because you are still the same spoiled bastard who cried and wanted to fit in with me when we were younger."

Something made you stop fighting against the situation. Perhaps it was your childhood memories of seeking approval from Aegon, Jace and Luke. Perhaps it was the threat of more chaos happening in your family if Aegon killed you. Perhaps it was all the alcohol you happily drank during your and Jace's name day celebration. Perhaps it was because you already knew that Aegon would rape you anyway if he was determined to do so. Perhaps it was all of that. You simply stopped, sobbing a few times before shaking your head.

"Good girl..." Aegon chuckled at your submissive reaction. "Just look at the ceiling, alright? I promise it will be good."

You did not know what Aegon meant, only understanding when you obeyed. Looking up at the ceiling, you saw that there was a large mirror placed there. You could watch yourself lying in bed, your face soaked with tears, your hair disheveled and your hands being held above your head. You had never been so shocked due a reflection. It was a clear sample of Aegon's obsession, firm fingers holding your wrists in the way he wanted, while his other hand simply hiked up your nightgown, taking advantage of your lack of reaction to take off and throw your underwear on the floor. Aegon was about to take off the tunic he was wearing, before being interrupted by the door opening and then closing.

"Am I interrupting something, brother? One of your guards said you demanded my presence here. I was busy and could not arrive at the ordered time." Aemond's cold voice echoed through Aegon's chambers and your eyes widened. You looked away from your reflection for a while, barely feeling Aegon fingering your slightly wet folds. You were incredulous at the fact that Aemond was so nonchalant with the sight of his older brother about to rape their niece. You could not tell if it was simply because Aegon often did atrocities like this or if it was also because Aemond had hated you since both of you were kids and he was not at all pleased with his brother's obsession with marrying you.

"Oh, busy with Helaena, I must assume." Aegon teased his brother and Aemond rolled his eyes, clearing his throat and pointing to the scene in front of him.

"May I know why my presence here is necessary?" The youngest asked and a moan escaped your lips when Aegon stuck two fingers inside you at once, drawing your attention back to him. Aegon raised his eyebrow as he noticed how, despite the painful and abrupt intrusion, your little cunt accepted his fingers without much difficulty, which meant not only that you were no longer a maiden, but that you had also fucked with someone recently and completely ignored your future marriage with your uncle.

"Looks like you were not the only person to fuck with your own sister today, brother."

Aemond could not help but smirk, tilting his head in mockery when he saw Aegon took his fingers out of you and shake your wetness away, almost as if he was disgusted. "Who would have thought that the rumors about her and Jacaerys were true..." The prince mocked, approaching the bed and making you flinched your body into the mattress. "Tell me, dear niece and sister-in-law... Which of your Strong brothers has already fucked your dirty and disgusting cunt? Only Jacaerys? Or also Lucerys and Joffrey?"

You whimpered at the invasive and demeaning question, knowing you would be in danger if you revealed the true, but you would also be in danger if you lied. "Not Joffrey yet."

It was Aegon's turn to mock, with some irritation. "Joffrey's small cock has not gotten wet inside you yet, but I bet you at least taught him how to eat you out. After all, he is already ten and six. That is old enough." The stare Aegon received from Aemond made him swallow hard. It was clear that his younger brother still felt angry about what happened at the brothel when he was thirteen. "Well, I mean..."

Aemond ignored his brother's attempt to justify himself and looked back at you, his cold hand touching your warm core, enjoying your wetness and rubbing your pearl, eliciting confused and tearful moans, your mind trying to encourage you to scream and run far away of them and your body begging him to keep rubbing your clit. Perhaps a little stronger. Stronger enough to draw your blood. Jace, Luke and Joffrey were always too sweet to you. Too noble. "That does not matter. What matters is that you are nothing more than a hole for your brothers to use."

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes and letting the tears flow. When you turned your face away, Aemond's hand grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to pay attention to what he was saying. "Now I understand why my brother was obsessed with you when we were younger. You were always a cockslut, I bet."

His words sinked your heart and you shook your head, so fast that your vision even blurred. You wanted to deny it, say that you were nothing like that, say that Aegon had never been really obsessed with you. But nothing came out of your lips. Actually, your panicked mind was starting to make you believe that Aemond could be right about both things.

"Uhm, I still remember everything before that night in Driftmark... How you were always running after Aegon and your brothers, desperate to be seen... Just like how my brother was always pushing you away." He scoffed, gripping your chin tighter. "Probably because he felt sick about himself thinking those naughty things about you. After all, you were only six years old and he was almost ten and four. A drunk teenager wishing for such perverse things and—"

Aegon grimaced as Aemond spoke, clearly uncomfortable about having his dirty little secret exposed right in front of you. "That is enough, Aemond." The older man softly growled and Aemond frowned and let go of your chin abruptly, his thin lips pulled into a sarcastic smile.

"You still have not told me why you demanded my presence here, brother." The last word sounded bitter to the ears of the three of you and Aegon took a deep breath, determined to take control of the situation again. Or at least a little part of the control.

He pointed to you, lying on the bed with the legs open, your cunt now wetter and your face reddened from crying, the empty look in your eyes making it obvious how confused and vulnerable you were. The confused and vulnerable state that your own uncle and future husband had left you simply because you refused his touch.

Aemond did not seem at all bothered by what he was seeing. You did not notice any trace of desire coming from him either and if it were not for the way a slight bulge began to appear in his pants, you would even believe that the scorn and resentment he always felt for you was bigger than the anger and desire to get revenge on Jacaerys and Lucerys.

"Are you offering me our niece?"

The question was said without a hint of enthusiasm and Aegon laughed, knowing his brother well enough to know that he just wanted to maintain the typical facade of indifference. "Well... I wanted to give you and my betrothed a gift. I was going to suggest that the three of us have some fun tonight to celebrate her name day..." Aegon purred, his calloused fingers caressing your bare thigh. "However, due to her spoiled and thankless behavior, I wish you to take her first."

Aemond was surprised at first, his good eye switching between you and his brother. He had already imagined several possibilities to get revenge for the things his nephews did when they were all kids. He had even thought that your betrothal to Aegon was already a good form of revenge, despite hating his brother even more when he realized that he had never gotten over that ridiculous obsession with you.

Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey had been furious when they discovered that their mother had agreed to let Aegon marry you. They were scared of what would happen to you, neither of them ever believing Aegon's stupid explanation about a peace treaty.

Aemond knew that his nephews would be furious if they knew what he was about to do with you, just as he knew what Aegon wanted. Aemond was not dumb, he understood that Aegon blamed himself for the tragic events in his life. Aemond understood that Aegon blamed himself for taking away his chance to lose his virginity willingly and with someone he was really attracted to.

And then, Aegon was there, giving you to him like an apology. Also, he was giving Aemond the chance to take revenge on his nephews and take you before himself.

Aemond did not respond with words. Instead, he just pushed Aegon aside, taking his brother's place on the bed and starting to undo the ties of the tunic he was wearing.

With each brutal thrust from Aemond, a tearful scream from you resounded throughout the chambers, muffled by Aegon's large hand, who was sitting next to you, caressing your dark hair with his free fingers.

All of the three of you was admiring different points of the view reflected by the mirror on the ceiling. Aegon was focused on the sight of your little cunt, so tight and being brutally fucked by Aemond's thick and rosy cock. Aegon could hear the sudden noises caused each time Aemond's body hit yours hard, your wet core making it easier for your uncle and brother-in-law to fuck you rough and deep enough that the walls of your cunt began to feel so much sore.

Despite the blurred tear-filled vision, you stared at yourself in the reflection, your heart clenching with self-loathing as your muffled screams stopped being pleas for Aemond to stop hurting you and started becoming just loud whimpers about how you were cumming again. You had actually lost count of how many times you had cum around Aemond's cock. You had already lost count of how many times you had squirted and even lost consciousness for a few seconds.

You felt like you were about to die and all that kept you alive was Aegon's fingers stroking your hair like you were his precious doll and Aemond's seed filling you for the second time in the last hour. Aemond looked at his own reflection after cumming inside you, his Sapphire's eye shining in the mirror, as well as the sweaty skin of his chest. He felt powerful. He felt alive. And best of all, he finally felt the good but bitter taste of revenge.

You were almost sure that Aemond was determined to breed you. And you were almost sure that Aegon had allowed it, because even when his younger brother pulled his wet cock out of your sensitive and bruised hole, Aegon just waited for Aemond to start getting dressed to take his place, bending down in front of you and licking the mixture of blood and cum that dripped from your cunt, ignoring your tears and the forced submission coming from your trembling body.

"You are disgusting, Aegon." Aemond huffed after Aegon licked and sucked your clit until you were squirting on his face too, your weak whimpers making you look like a sad kitten. "You should stop. She will end up convulsing and dying if she cums again."

"Oh, but she wants to cum again. Do not you want that, my dear?" Aegon teased, rubbing your swollen reddened pearl. You shook your head, the confused movement seemed like a confirmation and a denial at the same time, which elicited a chuckle from your future husband. He turned to Aemond and pointed at you. "See? She is going to be a perfect wife. All it took was a cock and she is already completely stupid and brainless, like a real good wife should be."

"Uhm, I guess she is not a very strong girl." Aemond scoffed, the word Strong bringing you horrible memories and making you whimper and turn your face into the pillow, until you finally fell asleep while Aegon was still eating you out. "I am serious, brother. Let our whore niece sleep and get some rest." Aemond murmured a little impatiently, his eye scanning the Vermithor pendant of your new necklace and then to Aegon's lips, wet with your juices and creamy with the mess of your blood and Aemond's seed. "Just stop eating my seed. Your future wife will not get pregnant with my child if you keep being a greedy and needy slut, sucking out all my cum just for you."

Aegon's eyes widened, in disbelief at his brother's words, raising the head and being interrupted just as he was about to defend himself. "Besides, you are going to end up cumming in your own pants if you keep just watching everything and settling for scraps. Our niece's cunt is delightful, however, I will be waiting for you in my private chambers so you can continue apologizing to me, brother."

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

[fir-fireweed]

Viatica is now complete! 🥳😱

A new interactive fiction available free to read on itch.io and written in Twine Chapbook.

Story Link | ROs | Ko-Fi

Set in a dystopian, post-apocalyptic future, with a focus on personal growth, as well as platonic, familial, and romantic bonds.

Your world is a desert, both figuratively and literally. Speech is prohibited, books are outlawed, and any meaningful human interaction is nonexistent. Humans are reduced to the job they do for The City. There are no names; instead, everyone is identified by a number.

You are H-313, a healer.

Create and customize your character: male, female, or non-binary; gay, straight, or bisexual. Become an individual in a world of drones. Learn to speak, express your emotions, define your personality. Dream big, resist tyranny, inspire the masses, and forge a new world. Or not. This is your journey, after all.

There are no point-based choices or outcomes. No choice is wrong—it simply changes the type of person you grow to become.

Content Warning: This story is intended for mature audiences. Possibly triggering topics present in the story include blood, violence, death, suicide, rape (mentioned), child abuse, mature language, and sexual content (optional).

Art by the extremely talented Isabela Zaneti

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Red

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: sexual assault (not quite rape), angst, feeling uncomfortable by a man touching you, minor fluff at the end

Summary: A mission calls for you to find your inner vixen to get information from a man who is known to be a womanizer. Things don’t go according to plan, so Sam has to step up and take matters into his own hands. When Bucky hears about it, he turns to you knowing you need comfort in the safest way possible.

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x

The short black dress stares back at you in your closet with a knowing look. You don’t want to wear this. you don’t want to go on this mission. You’d rather spend the night cuddled up next to your boyfriend and watch movies. Instead, you’re going on a mission to essentially be a vixen, not in the literal sense where you have sex with someone but in the sense where you have to seduce the target to get what you want.

It's not ideal but this is the job.

The man in question is a womanizer and is high in the weapons world. He’s one of the most well-known weapons dealers across the country. He mostly deals out of his club but whenever authorities raid his club, they can’t find anything to nail him with. That’s when they called your team to do what they clearly can’t.

You yank the dress off the hanger and quickly put it on. You haven’t worn this since before you started going out with Bucky. You can remember wearing this to the club with your friends.  The material is a bit tighter than you remember but it’ll help you get what you want. You shift your boobs to make them pop more without having them completely spill out the top. You walk to your vanity and sift through your makeup.

Someone knocks on your door before walking in. You smile when you see it’s your boyfriend.

“Hey, baby.” He has a frown etched onto his face, deeper than usual. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like this plan.” You’re the only one who can get close to Mezzi. Anyone else would just tip him off. “Not that I don’t want you flirting with another man, but Mezzi is bad news. He treats women like shit. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You set down your makeup brush and walk over to him. You wrap your arms around his neck and his hands automatically settle on your waist.

“I’m a professional, baby, and a really skilled spy. I’ve gotten bigger, more tougher men to talk for less. I’ve done this before. Plus, Sam and John will be there if anything goes wrong.”

The mention of the blonde man makes his frown deeper.

“I don’t like that John is going.”

“You don’t like anything he does.”

“There’s something dirty about him. He’s not a good man.”

You pull Bucky down toward you and kiss him, keeping the kiss short and sweet.

“You have nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine. It’s just another mission.”

Bucky slides one of his hands into your hair and kisses you for longer this time.

“Okay, I trust you,” he whispers against your lips.

“Good,” you grin and peck his lips once more.

You finish getting ready and leave with Sam and John to the car. Bucky leads his own team of soldiers who will wait outside until the cue is given. He would have gone in with you but Mezzi knows Bucky’s face. He would have ruined the entire mission before it could begin.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” you say. “I’ll go in first and distract him while you two go to the bar and pretend to be just like any other customer. Once I’m close, I’ll casually ask how my friend heard about his weapons and would like to buy some. Hopefully, he’ll be drunk enough to say where he keeps them which we would call in Bucky’s team.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam shrugs.

“We need a safe word,” you say.

“Why?” John asks.

“Because I’m a woman going in to seduce a womanizer who looks like he doesn’t like the word no. So, I need a safe word or I’m not going in.”

“Seems fair,” Sam says.

“Fine, what is it?”

“Red. I’ll work it into the conversation but if you hear me say that, move in immediately.”

John doesn’t say anything but nods in agreement. When you get to the club, you go in first. The place is already crowded with a bunch of people but you push past them all to get to the far end of the club. There is a section separated by curtains and guards which can only mean it’s the VIP section. Through the large slit in the curtains, you see Mezzi sitting back with both arms on the back of the couch.

Bingo.

You walk closer to the VIP section and start to move your body to the music. Sam and John walk in and head to the bar like they’re supposed to while keeping a close eye on you. You look up and meet Mezzi’s eyes through the slit and smirk at him. You’ve got his attention. You run your hands down your body and move sensually to the music. He leans forward and licks his bottom lip, already entranced by you.

He calls for one of his guards and whispers something to him while maintaining eye contact with you. The guard leaves and heads over to you, and you pull your eyes from Mezzi to look at the guard.

“Boss wants to see you.”

“Lead the way,” you grin.

He allows you to pass into the VIP section, and Mezzi leans back with a lazy smirk on his face.

“Up close, you’re even more beautiful,” he grins. “Drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He gets up and walks over to the mini bar to make your drink. You watch him carefully to make sure he doesn’t put anything in your drink, and you relax when he doesn’t. This place is so secluded from the rest of the club due to the curtains so anything can happen in here and no one would know about it. Luckily, you have Sam and John in your ear so you’ll be able to call for them if things get out of hand.

“Thank you,” you smile and accept the drink. He takes a seat next to you, a little bit closer than your liking. It’s okay. Pretend he’s Bucky. “I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so handsome before.”

“Oh, baby, there is no one else like me. You’ve come to the right section. I can blow your mind without even touching you.”

“Oh, really? Lucky me,” you giggle.

Mezzi reaches out and runs his hands over your exposed thighs, and you picture Bucky’s hands touching you. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to do this for a mission, but it is the first time since you’ve been with Bucky. You respect him too much to do things like this, but there was no other way to get close to Mezzi.

“God, you’re so sexy. Best looking girl here.”

“You’re just saying that.”

His hands briefly slide up your dress before he moves it back down. “No, I’m not. When I see something I like, I make sure she knows about it.”

“Here’s to new opportunities,” you grin and hold your drink out to him. He raises his own drink and clinks it with yours, but he only takes a sip. He’s careful not to intake too much alcohol, especially when he’s involved in so much illegal shit. “I was hoping to talk to you tonight.”

“Yeah? About what?”

“I have this friend who was asking about you.”

“What friend?”

“Oh, just a friend.” You reach over and dance your fingers across his chest, slightly sliding them through the buttons of his shirt. “He says you have a certain shipment he’d like to buy from you. He wouldn’t tell me more. He says you’d know what I was talking about.”

Mezzi’s attitude switches but it’s very subtle. You can see it in his eyes. He does not like that question. He slides his hand up your body and rests his palm over the hollowness of your throat. Not hurting you but letting you know he can hurt you if you piss him off.

“Well, you tell your friend if he wants something I have, then he should be the one asking for it, not sending his whore after me.”

“Now, that’s not very nice.”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, baby, it was a compliment.”

He pulls you in closer so that you’re practically in his lap, and you suddenly grow uncomfortable. He has one thing on his mind and it’s not talking.

“Out of curiosity, what’s the shipment?” you ask, trying to get his mind somewhere else.

“Enough talking. You clearly came here for one thing and one thing only. I deliver on all of my promises, and I promise to make your time here worthwhile.”

He slides his hand up your dress and rests it very close to the one place you only ever want one man to go: Bucky. He leans in and presses kisses to your neck so lightly, and that’s when you panic. No mission is worth feeling like this. You don’t want to be here anymore.

“Red,” you blurt out.

“What?” he asks and pulls away.

“I like your red shirt. It’s very silky.”

“It looks better on the ground.”

Sam’s earpiece has been bothering him since he got here, so he’s trying to fix it. He should have gotten a new one when he had the chance since it’s not the first time this has acted up. John’s earpiece, however, works just fine. He hears your cry for help yet he does… nothing. He looks toward the VIP section and sips his drink casually.

“My favorite color is red,” you say with slight panic.

John can’t give away their position because Mezzi hasn’t given the location of his weapons yet. If they raid now, they might not have anything. Sam tweaks a few parts before putting it back in his ear. He smiles when it works but it’s lost when he hears your panicked voice.

“Has she been saying this? Why are you just sitting there?” Sam asks.

He gets up to rescue you but John grabs his arm.

“He hasn’t told her where the shipment is.”

“I don’t fucking care. Get your hand off me.”

Sam yanks his arm away and leaves to come to your rescue. John, on the other hand, finishes his drink leisurely.

Mezzi has you pinned to the couch with your dress bunched up at your hips. The only thing separating him from rape is a flimsy piece of cotton. You wish Bucky was here.

“Please stop,” you say, close to tears. “Red!”

He is about to silence you with a hand to your throat when he freezes. Sam places a gun to the back of his head.

“Let go of her.” Mezzi does and you scramble as far as you can get from him. You shake slightly and pull your dress down as much as it can go. “If you don’t want to get your head blown off, I’d suggest you tell us where your shipment is right now.”

“You’re bluffing,” he chuckles.

Sam moves the gun away from his head and aims it at his leg. He shoots once, and Mezzi jerks back in pain. The gun has a silencer on it so no one can hear how much Mezzi is in pain. The music drowns out his shouts of pain, and Sam moves the gun back to his head.

“Am I bluffing now?”

“In the basement, man. In the tunnels.”

“Come in, Buck. You’re up. It’s in the tunnels below,” Sam says into the earpiece.

“Copy that.”

“Are you okay?” Sam asks you while keeping the gun on Mezzi.

“I think so,” you whisper.

“Go. We’ve got it handled from here.”

You don’t think twice about leaving. All you want is to go home, shower, and cry.

“Shame,” Mezzi groans in pain. “She looks like her pussy would be tight.”

Sam rears his fist back and punches Mezzi hard in the jaw. So hard that Mezzi passes out right there and then. Bucky and his men found the shipment and were able to arrest Mezzi and his men on the spot. With that much evidence, no judge would ever think about letting them go. The adrenaline has worn off and the shakes have replaced it. You were almost raped. You were sexually assaulted. You might be a trained spy but that all went out the window the second Mezzi forced you on your back.

The second Bucky heard about what happened, pissed doesn’t even cover what he’s feeling. Sam had to tell Bucky what John did because it was wrong of him to hear your safe word and do nothing about it. Bucky storms into home base and makes a beeline for John. He grabs his collar and yanks him violently toward him.

“You heard her safe word and did nothing about it?”

“I knew she had it handled! He didn’t tell her where the shipment was.”

“I oughta kill you,” Bucky growls. He grabs John’s throat with his metal hand and squeezes. “She’s my girlfriend, you bastard.”

John is no match for Bucky so he doesn’t even try to fight back. Bucky is about to do more damage when Sam walks into the room.

“She’s asking for you, Buck.”

Bucky lets John go, and the latter coughs violently. “Get him the hell out. He better be gone when I get back.” He leaves the room and walks into your bedroom. The shower is going in your bathroom, and he looks inside to see you sitting on the shower floor with your knees to your chest. “Y/N?” You don’t reply. He knows how scared you must be. “He can’t hurt you anymore, baby.”

Again, you don’t respond to him. He steps inside the running shower and turns off the water, not caring if he has water on his clothes. He wraps you in your fluffy towel and scoops you into his arms. He brings you to the bed and sits you down before going into your closet. He grabs one of his big hoodies and dresses you in it.

The second he has you in his arms, you bury your head in his chest and cry.

“Shh, I’m right here. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I was so scared,” you whimper. “I thought… I just wanted you.”

“I’m here now. I won’t let him touch you again. You’re safe now.”

Bucky smooths down your hair and allows you to cry as much as you need to. He won’t tell you what John did because that would only make you feel worse.

“Please stay with me,” you whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere. You can rest knowing you’re protected. You’re safe now.”

“I love you,” you say and snuggle closer to him.

“I love you. Get some rest. I’ll be here the whole time.”

That’s all the comfort you need. He makes you feel safe, and that’s all you can ever ask for.

x

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[batmanisagatewaydrug]

So I just saw your post about different emergency contraceptives and you mentioned that they have weight limits for efficacy. Are there any emergency contraceptives for overweight people? Like if an overweight woman gets SA'd is she just supposed to hope she doesn't get pregnant?

hi anon,

so, before we get to actually answering this question, I need to get pedantic about terminology, because this is important to me:

just say "raped." we call things what they are here.

obviously women are not the only people who might find themselves experiencing a pregnancy risk and in need of solutions

I personally do not rock with the term "overweight" because, as many fat activists have pointed out, it centers the idea that there is a "normal" weight for humans to be that fat people are diverting from, which isn't the case.

anyway, actual answer:

in this answer that you're referring to, please note that I didn't say emergency contraceptives won't work at all for users who are over the designated weights; Plan B doesn't become useless the second you weight 166 pounds or more.

several studies have found that people over certain weights have a slightly higher instance of becoming pregnant in spite of using emergency contraceptives; 195 pounds and 165 pounds, respectively, are the current best estimates for ella and levonorgestrel-based emergency contraceptives (that's all the other ones) maintaining full efficiency. above those weights, the effectiveness has been found to drop between about 2-5%.

it should be noted that while emergency contraceptives are often treated as if they're a surefire way of preventing an unwanted pregnancy, this isn't true even for people with lower body weights. the effectiveness of emergency contraception pills at reducing the risk of pregnancy is variously estimated to be between about 65% and 95% if taken within the appropriate amount of time, meaning that users with a higher body weight are unlikely to experience a substantially higher risk of failure than their lighter counterparts.

this is an area that has been understudied, as many issues pertaining to fat patients are, and the link between weight and efficacy are not yet fully understood. as noted, the existing studies only indicate the possible existence of such a connection. being aware of the possibility is important for decision making, but I also worry about it discourages people from viable healthcare options.

while I agree that it's unsatisfying to be uncertain about the efficacy of incredibly important, lifesaving healthcare like emergency contraception for fatter individuals, all indications currently show that these pills are appropriate and safe for use by fat individuals. there is currently no medical guidance that recommends advising heavier individuals against using plan b, ella, or any other emergency contraceptive pills, since these products very much can and do work effectively for them.

pills also aren't the only form of emergency contraceptives available. someone concerned about experienced an unwanted pregnancy can get an IUD within 5 days of sexual activity to lower their chances of pregnancy by 99.9%, a higher success rate than any form of emergency contraceptive pills can currently offer. crucially, neither hormonal nor copper IUDs are impacted by the weight of the user.

[kismetlotts]

Kinktober 🎃 day nine: Cheating!

cw: cheating, dubcon, noncon, mentions on rape, open relationships? (Johnny and Simon share), rough sex, mentions of blood, mentions of saliva, fingering, oral sex on reader, bruising, voyeurism, ‘don’t get caught’ trope, ignorance, degrading names such as ‘whore’, vocal Simon, creampie, mentions of having a child

Simon and Johnny who are so used to sharing each other’s little toys: their own girlfriends. It’s a weird bond that brings the two of them together. It’s sick and fucking perverted but it’s something to talk about when the weather turns cold and on a mission.

Sipping on their drinks as they recharge their batteries mumbling a, 'Remember so and so?’ getting a ‘Yeah, they were a good fuck.' in response.

It was more than likely one of the reason why the two blokes struggled with keeping their girlfriends. Most of them rejecting and breaking up with them when they’d bring it up because what woman who was looking for a family, a life, love, would want to fuck their boyfriend’s best friend? Or be tampered with?

The two of them had grown a lot of respect and loyalty for each other from this little routine. A ridiculous amount when you put it against how much respect they gained from each other at war. Protecting one and others lives, killing for each other, just doesn't help the same than sharing some good pussy. Weird logic that not even they understood but with all said, they were tight, close.

So when Johnny got his hands on you, a pretty little thing that refused to fuck until the third date he knew not only was he in danger, but you were. He knew how much Simon would ruin you, take that precious little hole of yours and stuff you so deep you'd feel it for days. Johnny just fucking knew it would happen and when you'd finally let him inside, invited him into your heavenly cunt- he couldn’t let him steal you.

Too delicate and light for Simons heavy way with sex.

"So when's my turn?" The gruff, masked man would ask Johnny. Conversation of you being brought up and the words just tumbled from the cracks of his lips. Normality and need seeping through his tone because as it was such a statement in his and Johnny's relationship, he’d think no other way.

Not once would he even consider the possibility of Johnny turning around and refusing, saying no. Telling him that your pussy- your body- is just for him. Claiming you against his own kind. Barricading and locking you away from him in his designed cell of greed.

It wasn’t going to end well, Johnny was sure of it, so with an awkward laugh and the rub of his neck he spun around facing him, eyes catching Simons through the mask before clearing his throat. Words coming across shakier than intended because he wasn't intimidated by Simon, more fretful of what he’d do knowing that you were off limits.

"Actually, lass is a good' ne. Think she might be a keeper Si." Silence filling the room for about five seconds, the slow click of the clock on the wall the only audible thing. Simons gaze not changing once and it killed Johnny, bugged him harder than a kick to the teeth.

Everything about him yearning to know what Simons brain was thinking or what he was planning, wanting to reach out and shake him, beg him to back off. They were getting old now, it was bound to be called off at some point- when they properly wanted to settle down and have kids and a family, right?

"Oh really?" His accent and words a monotone warning but Johnny was so flushed with relief that he hadn’t exploded and raged at him, his ears missed it. Missed the way his blinks slowed, analysing the man in front of him. Missed the way Simons personally and mindset changed. New thoughts drowning his head so hard he forced out exhales to think straight. Did he think he was better than him? More deserving of your body than gruff ol’ Simon over here? Worthier?

He was fucking seething, the metallic taste in his mouth potent as he bit his tongue, refraining to tell Johnny to go fuck himself, stand up and find you. Go track you down and make you cry both of their names just so he can hear which one sounds better or which one turns him on more.

Moaning your boyfriend’s name so loudly while his friend hits that one part. Choking out, crying out for Mactavish as your eyes roll back, tongue drooping out the side of your lips too. He’d be a liar to say his dick wasn't twitching at the thought.

"Yeah, I'm so sorry Simon-" But he was already shaking his head, hand waving him off with a sly smirk on his face as he told him no worries! Told him that's its alright and that he completely understands. Barely moving an inch the rest of the night as he came up with plans on what he's going to do to you. What he did in fact do to you.

Face down in yours and Johnny’s double bed. Panties damp with your cum from how many times Simon had already made you orgasm, shirt wet with tears and saliva. Rubbing your clit so harshly and fast your body trembled at every little touch. The fine line between touching and fucking, abuse and rape being blurred but you craved it. You longed for it, days of wishing and wondering when he’d come back to please you again.

He’d force your legs apart, holding you by the ankles while he ate like a mad man. Devouring you messily, the noises sounding like a fucking porn movie. Ruining your makeup, your sheets, your body. You couldn’t look Johnny in the eye when he got on all fours, kissing your thigh and humming against the soft skin while asking how you’d got another bruise.

Day and night- when Johnny's downstairs and when he's away. He'd have you begging to stop, pleading him to let you go before you’d lose yourself. His thrusts silencing you, cries turning to moans back to cries to screams of joy- it was mesmerising and so fucking bad of him.

“Oh shut up, babe. You know you want me.” He’d grunt, eyes shutting as he took you in again and again. Eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and ignorance for your cries. Knowing it was only a matter of time before you gave in again, joining him and thrusting back against his cock.

What made it worse was the moans that came from this man. Johnny was never vocal- never vocal enough for you but Simon sounded almost in tears. Each thrust like he’s on the brink of orgasm, you felt so good he couldn’t stay quiet- he didn’t want to.

His favourite memory was when he snuck into your window, almost kicking the stupid Halloween decorations Johnny had put up outside on his way up. The sky pitch black and your bedroom likewise but he could see you in his night vision goggles, sneaking behind you as you changed out of your clothes getting ready for bed.

Bending you over the bedframe, peeling down your panties and thrusting into you for a quickie. The sound of Johnny's electric toothbrush coming from the bathroom one room away only adding to his excitement. He could step in any minute by now, luckily from the darkness Simon had an advantage and most likely enough time to hide if he wanted to. If he wanted to leave your pussy.

Gloved fingers slipped into your mouth for you to suck or bite. Anything to help silence your moans. It excited him the fact that Johnny could find him, Johnny could catch him and realise all this time he though you were safe and committed to him you’d gone behind his back. His precious little girl who actually is just a dirty whore. A dirty whore who lets her hole be used. By men she doesn’t even know.

He wonders what you do when Johnny brings him up in conversation, I mean, he figures you haven't spilt the beans to him yet so do you just laugh and nod on along? Hearing his name, acting like you don't know his touch or how his tongue feels. Pretending he's a stranger, just some stranger who's dick is drilled into your memory. He doesn't fuck like Johnny, he's bigger than him, hits all the places that Johnny can’t. You can never get Simon out of your mind.

Filling you up with his cum and laughing deeply at himself. He's got to be careful with it- what if you two were trying for a baby? That would be a shock, wouldn’t it? Gorgeous little kid coming out looking just like Simon- Simons eyes, Simons hair; a little mini Simon left all for you to raise.

Maybe Johnny would be too thick to realise, too slow to pick up on why his son looks so much like his best friend- that the son he’d always wanted actually belong to Simon. Oh fucking hell, he was a dark deluded arsehole- who thinks like this? Slipping back out of the window and shutting it the same time as Johnny walked into the room.

Large soft body crawling on top of you and pushing you further into the bed. Lips attacking your sensitive neck as his already hard cock slips its way inside of your warm, creampied folds. The darkness hiding all the evidence and leaving him to believe it’s just how wet you are for him. How needy and desperate you are for him.

Blissfully unaware that the wetness lubing his cock up, letting him fuck you with ease and making him feel so hot and so good, was no other than his best friends cum. Dribbling out your hole and onto your thigh as he picks up the pace.