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rainrot4me · 4 months ago

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Whispers In The Trees

Summary: Prepped your whole life to complete a ritual to hand yourself over to a monster, you demand the reason why. When he gives you the answers, he demands your body.

Characters: Slenderman x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Big size difference, rituals, tentacles, gagging, choking, suffocation, eating out, Slender has a big tongue, vaginal, tip fucking, forcing, blood, clawing

Words: 5.2k

The curse of Slenderman had been in your family for generations.

Since you were little, this curse-like entity crept on your kin and ruled their lives. Demanding sacrifices and obedience every decade; deeming itself a God over you.

So as you trekked through the dense moonlit woods, you clutched the wicker basket so hard in your hands that it nearly cracked. You tried to think of your mother and her sisters, and her mother and her sisters, who have gone through this same ritual like generations before. The fog was dense all around you, the small flashlight in your hand doing little to breach the thick blanket.

The nature around you was quiet, a dull whisper of insects and animals as you trudged through the underbrush and thick roots. You knew this path, having walked it often when you were little to help your mother and sisters prepare for their turns, their time to appease the creature. You didn’t understand then, but now that you were dressed in thin white robes and bare feet, reality quickly faced you. In other circumstances, the outfit wouldn’t be bad, a nice Halloween costume of some cute cult girl from Midsommar maybe. But as you neared the familiar clearing past the trees, you didn’t find the idea of being a sacrifice funny anymore.

Standing just at the edge of the treeline, you took a deep breath, limbs shaking against the cold and fear that ran through you. It was late summer, well past midnight, and the night air brushed against your flushed cheeks leaving goosebumps. Closing your eyes, you stepped forward, leaving the dense forest behind you.

A sense of dread immediately engulfed you. The fog suddenly fizzled out on the ground like it wasn’t just blinding you. The air was silent, not a bug or animal to be heard no matter how hard you listened. And the breeze just stopped. It was like the whole forest was afraid to move into this clearing, hugging close to the treeline curiously but daring no further. But you had to, no matter how badly you wanted to turn and run back home to the safe arms of your family. To keep the vengeful creature at bay, this was the price that must be met. Every ten years, you watched as another woman from your family disappeared for a night late in the summer, silently praying that she would make it home in the morning. They always did, but the haunting look that followed them shook you to your core.

Reaching the center of the clearing, a dead spot in the grass was etched in a circular shape, the familiar pattern laid before you. Lying down your basket, you flicked off your flashlight, the moon illuminating a milky blue hue into the clearing bright enough for you to see. You shuddered, the silence creeping into your mind and making you look around quickly, paranoia gripping you. You huffed, rummaging through the items in the large basket and laying the contents out, preparing for the exhausting ritual. Your mother had taught you, every step perfect as she walked you through the routine. The symbol, the candles, even the perfect way to position yourself. It was like an art form for her as she taught you and your sisters.

Unwrapping the large bag of salt you packed, you began to follow the outline in the grass, pouring as you walked slowly. The symbol was forming nicely, a large circle with an x etched through it, the symbol of Slenderman, bore by anything he owned. As you closed the symbol, your heart pounded, the next steps coming quickly as you could feel the forest beyond the treeline begin to stir, its curiosity pressing. Setting candles along the salt, you spaced them evenly, lighting them as you went. It wasn’t nearly as perfect as your mother would have done it, but your shaking hands restrained you slightly, giving you little reason to care.

The candles flickered against the night, the warm glow surrounding you as you studied your work, praying desperately that it was good enough. You felt an impatience in the air, quickly cleaning up the rest of your items into the basket before sighing, and closing your eyes tightly. This was the part you dreaded. The part your family was reluctant to tell you when your time eventually came around. You hooked your hands under the hem of your white robe, the thin fabric almost see-through as you tugged it over your head, your bare body flush against the cold air. Your nipples had already perked, your nervousness making you squirm into yourself as you folded your robe neatly and laid it in the basket, turning back to the salt symbol. Breathing deep, your hands shook, goosebumps running all over your body. You took a step in, careful not to disturb the salt as you kneeled in the middle of the x, tucking your feet under yourself and straightening your back, placing your palms flat against the top of your thighs.

The salt was meant to protect you, a barrier that Slenderman couldn’t break. You were supposed to come out willingly, offering yourself to him without force. Was it for trust or some sadistic attempt at manipulation, you didn’t know. But as you breathed deep, you stared into the dark corners of the forest, eyes flicking nervously and watching for any signs of movement that you knew would come. You had only heard of Slenderman’s appearance, never seeing it besides what your family could recount. Terrifying, was the word they all used. It didn’t help as your heart pounded, the thudding echoing in your ears as you prayed he would never come. But it gave you a good time to reflect.

The specific reason why your family was enslaved to this creature was unsure, tracing back generations and lost with time. But like any of Slenderman’s victims, who's to say exactly why he did anything except for his own gain?

As you caught yourself zoned out in thought, you were quickly snapped back when you heard the rustling of leaves yards ahead of you. Your eyes snapped wide, back straightening quickly as your tits perked, your naked body on display amongst the candles and decor. You studied the shadows carefully, watching for any sudden movements, your pulse quick. But finally, slinking from the shadows, the lanky creature emerged. The sheer height of him made your heart sink, his bony limbs long and awkward. If it wasn’t for his movement, he could easily blend in with the tall trees surrounding him, making you suspicious of just how long he had been watching concealed by the dense forest. Your nails gripped into your thighs, teeth gritted as you tried to hold down your tears. His presence is overwhelming and otherworldly, defying the logic and rationality you’ve always relied on. The air around you seems to distort, amplifying the surreal nature of his presence until it feels like you can’t breathe. He was closer now, it barely even seemed like he had walked but more like appeared before you, only a few yards away from the circle protecting you. However, the worst part about the encounter was the lack of a face. It was like someone had pressed a sheet against his face, features protruding against the pale skin but offering no obvious facial structure. It was purely terrifying, this creature far beyond what you could’ve imagined.

His dark suit contrasted against his terrifying appearance, his buttoned coat and tie making you knit your brows, your unease only growing. Slenderman just stared, his vacant eyes absently staring down at you. His faceless visage and elongated limbs exuded an unsettling yet compelling magnetism that you found yourself drawn to, eyes refusing to look away as you studied him. Finally catching yourself, you looked down at your hands quickly, cursing yourself for being so disrespectful. “Slenderman, sir.” You mumbled respectfully, keeping your body at attention even though embarrassment wrecked you internally. “I come, as my kin does, to offer myself to you. To fulfill our obligations to you. And to-”

The speech you had so delicately rehearsed was cut short by a low grumble, the echo of the tall figure’s voice cutting you short.

“I hate to interrupt,” His voice was smooth, every word laced with the undertone of a darker grumble, like two voices were speaking at once, overlapping each other. “But hearing this same dedication every time I meet with one of you becomes rather tiring.” You sat shocked, unsure of what to do next as your careful instructions were quickly skewed. You kept your head down, eyes flicking against the grass as you carefully waited, shaky breaths the only noise between you. You felt so helpless against him, like if you made one wrong move that would be it. The only reason you weren’t screaming and running was the salt circle and the looming fact that if you did run your family would be massacred in minutes.

“Forgive my rudeness.” He coaxed, pressing closer against the circle until you could see his black dress shoes come into the edge of your vision. You dared to look up, your eyes slightly edging up until you were staring at his face again, that odd sense of being drawn in coming over you again. Slenderman tilted his head, vacant expression examining you. “But, you and I both know what we’re here for. There is no need for formalities anymore.” You knitted your brows, embarrassment creeping up your cheeks as you remembered just how bare you were. You gripped your thighs, nervousness running through your every word. “But I thought there was a need for formalities. This being a ritual and all.” You mumbled, eyes roaming the tall figure, his long limbs clamped respectfully behind his back as he chuckled darkly. “All of this,” He motioned towards the salt circle beneath you. “This is only for aesthetics. You understand, to make the scene more appealing for us. Humans have such an odd fascination with beings like me, so to combat your fickle bravery: you created a routine. Something to take your mind off of just how terrifying encountering me may seem.” He explained calmly, his body hauntingly still as he talked, but there was barely a motion of his jaw, like the voice was coming from somewhere inside.

You glanced at the salt circle, your efforts to make it look so nice thrown to the wayside. “So, the salt…” You glanced up, Slender nodding reassuringly. “I cannot penetrate it. Your protection is still guaranteed. However, I quite like it when you silly women step outside your protective ring and offer yourselves so willingly.” He was teasing now, his thin hands reaching around to adjust his suit before kneeling in front of you, his limbs awkwardly contorting to allow him in front of you. “But you are not like the others. I feel a very reluctant air from you. The others were a lot more… eager.” He cocked his head to the side. At this angle, you could clearly see the massive bulge beneath his dress slacks, the sheer size of the thing making your stomach twist. “I don’t find giving myself over to a cryptid demon so… appealing.” You huffed back, trying your best to conceal the dark tint against your cheeks. Slender only chuckled, the dark echo of his voice making your skin crawl. “But oh how fun it would be to show you otherwise.” He purred, tracing his pale claw against the edge of the salt, his actions impatient. You squirmed, nails digging into your thighs.

You straightened up, your bravery low but overruled by your curiosity. “Tell me why. Why the decades of demanding our submission while we cower for the rest? Then, when I am satisfied, I will offer myself. No resistance.” You demanded, eyes hooded as you tried to stifle your fear. Slender stood slowly, clasping his hands behind his back as he contemplated. Until he finally nodded, sighing.

“Alright, little one, I’ll bite.” He cooed, that ominous voice seemingly coming from nowhere but everywhere simultaneously. You settled, brain running a mile a minute as your heart beat heavily in your chest. “When old cryptids and beasts still roamed rampant through the Earth, your family was desperate. It must have been more than eight generations ago now, but they sought me out, begging for my protection against the things that went bump in the night. I obliged, my only demand being an offering. I never specified, but you hormonal humans took it upon yourselves to offer your bodies. For all I cared you could have given me your leftovers, but I was more than satisfied with what I have been given.” His words were thick with this cryptic dialect, his accent unheard of. “No such creatures roam these lands, long hunted out or deceased. But your family continued to show up despite my resignation, paranoia convincing them if they didn’t I in turn would be the monster that preyed on you. But, I’m afraid I have more important things to deal with than any of you.” Finished, he leaned forward, his white face vacant, but you could tell what he wanted.

“Then why do you still co-”

“Ah, ah, ah. I was promised if questions were answered I would get what I came for.” He growled, the calm voice laced with a tone of demand as you scowled. He waited expectantly, his hands tapping quietly behind his back as you stood, the salt on your knees falling as you shook them off. When you looked up, you realized really just how tall he was. You stopped at his waist, your face eye level with the terrifyingly large bulge nudging against the slacks in front of you. He was tall, towering and matching the height of the trees around you. He stepped back, standing straight as he waited for you.

Breathing deep, you took a step, your foot halfway out of the circle as your heart began to race. You could just wait him out, lay here until morning. But you feared his peacefulness would turn to wrath under desperation. Clenching your fists, you stepped completely out, straining your neck to look him in the face. Slender chuckled, his demeanour instantly switching as you felt the air stir, the forest pressing in on you with such an intensity you thought you were hallucinating. It was like he was controlling the trees themselves, making their branches press in and suffocate you. With a hissing, you finally saw the reason for the sudden intensity. Several black groping tentacles shot from his back, their form close to tree branches with their edges and curvature. He seemed to control them as well, the long limbs reaching around his body and whipping at the air, stretches and tears of the odd black liquid molding into new shapes instantaneously.

They encompassed your vision, the tentacles casting shadows across your face as they streaked across the moonlight. They slithered forward, sliding across the grass and in the air to grip onto your body. The tentacles were cool, like slimy tree branches that defied all laws of permeation. They slid around your ankles and up your calves, gripping tightly against your thighs before hooking onto your waist. They gripped your wrists, up your forearms and around your neck, tugging as they wrapped around your tits and waist. Soon you were completely secured, the tentacles curiously studying every inch of your bare skin, goosebumps rising everywhere they touched. It was electrifying, your body stiff under the chilled slime. Slender was quiet, his body just as curious as his tentacles as he relished in the way you squirmed under his touch. “So warm.” He mewled, his hands gripped tightly behind him. You shivered as the tentacles breached past your thighs, the slimy tips sliding against your folds, curiously spreading them open while you flinched. They slid further, pressing between your ass cheeks and making you hiss, the coolness sharp against your asshole.

“Wait-” You whined, your hands straining to push the tentacles off your body but they held your wrists still. They engulfed your tits, the tips wrapping around your nipples and tugging lightly, making you whimper. Slender watched carefully, his face never letting any emotion reveal itself. “Relax, little one. You made this decision. Now let me claim what has been so graciously offered.” He grinned. The tentacles slipped between your folds, your nervousness making you clench your knees together but they held them apart easily. Slipping against your clit, you groaned, your stomach tightening as you stood. Pressing further, they probed against your entrance, tiny little tips tangling with each other to slip inside of you, your warmth contrasting with their chill. You whined, eyes slipping shut as the tentacles pressed further in, stretching you as they squirmed and whipped. You felt incredibly full, your clit throbbing against the intrusion as a single tentacle flicked against the hardened nub.

Slender grunted, his eyes darker as he relished in the way you squirmed, your tiny noises making him strain against his slacks. “Go on, no one can hear you. Be as loud as you please.” You gasped, the tentacles in your cunt tangling together and pressing deep, stretching you wide. They began to pump inside of you, pulling out before pressing in quickly, your mouth falling open. Every inch of your body was covered in the cool slick of the tentacles, every inch sensitive as they glided along you. You felt a tug along your waist, the tentacles securing around you as they began to pull up, lifting your feet off the ground. You panicked slightly, the loss of stability unnerving as you were lifted to meet Slender’s face, your body angled back so he got a clear view of your cunt full of him. You whined, your face flushed and breathy as they trusted quickly, your slick coating the dark limbs beautifully. You found it terrifying how no expression or signs of interest flashed on Slender’s face, only the heavy breathing in his chest telling you how excited he was. Curling, you moaned loudly, throat straining as the tentacles pressed against your warm walls, squelching loudly through the quiet woods.

You couldn’t speak, the air in your lungs restrained as the tentacles gripped your throat, choking you. Some more moved up, pressing against your cheeks and against your lips, nudging their way inside. The tentacles tasted grimy, unlike anything as they slid around your tongue, filling your mouth full of him. You choked, the tips curiously pressing down your throat, quickly following the pace of the tentacles in your throat as they began to thrust down your mouth. It didn’t help when you felt a single tentacle slide across your asshole, forcing its way inside and stretching uncomfortably. You were gasping and gagging, every inch of you overtaken by these slimy things as they pressed against every inch and the entrance of your skin. That’s when you began to hear Slender’s ragged breathing, his chest heaving against his suit as he watched closely, entranced by the whole scene. He felt every slide and movement of the tentacles, relished in every vibration and constriction that your body gave him. He pushed you, seeing what made that beautiful voice stir or what made you flinch. He loved every answer he got.

Your senses were skewed. You forgot what direction you were facing or how high you were off the ground, everything becoming a blur as your body dissolved under his touch. Pleasure was racking your body, your resolve leaving you as Slender’s tentacles broke and pulled at every restraint you tried to use. No matter how hard you wanted to resist, these tentacles were quick to force embarrassing noises from your lips, pressing on all the right places. Squirming, the tentacles slicked against your cunt, pounding up into you at an inhumane pace. You couldn’t concentrate, every inch of your body was violated at his will. You couldn’t hold back anymore, your cunt throbbing against the thick tentacles inside of you as you felt your orgasm crash down. You gasped loudly, mouth full of slimy limbs as you came roughly, walls constricting around him. Your body thrashed, fighting against the restraint as you rode out your high, chest heaving. Your head was light when the tentacles slipped from your sensitive cunt, replacing themselves around your thighs as you were hoisted up higher, your brain too hazy to care.

Your body was angled upright, legs spread wide apart as your clit throbbed, aching from the intensity. Your heavy eyes watched as you were lifted to Slender’s face, your cunt open and raw inches from him. You whined, squirming as the tentacles slipped from your mouth, gasping. The tentacles retreated to your limbs, holding you firmly as Slender’s claws left behind him and reached up, wrapping firmly around your hips, pinching the plush skin. “You have such a pretty face when you cum. I would love to see it again.” He growled, pulling you close to his face. You were confused, wondering what he meant until you heard this sharp tearing sound loud enough to echo through the trees. You tensed, watching fearfully as Slender’s face split where his mouth should have been. It was terrifying. His mock mouth split wide, jagged pieces of skin splitting to reveal a dark interior, his mouth pitch black. Emerging from the dark, a tongue, similar to the shape of one of the tentacles, slipped through the jagged skin, pressing close to your cunt. You squirmed instantly, unsure if you wanted this to happen.

You didn’t have much of a choice as he ran his large, thick tongue through your folds, a groan echoing through him. His tongue was long, black, and inhumane. It pressed through your entrance, the warmth a nice contrast to the coolness of his tentacles that still slid against your skin. His claws gripped tight, holding your cunt flush against his mouth as he slowly lapped you up. He moaned at the taste, pressing against your velvety walls until he heard those wonderful gasps again. “Delicious.” He grumbled against your cunt, tongue curling and filling you as he relished the sweet taste of your orgasm. It was all too much, your body squirming against the sensitivity until you were gasping for air. He was so skilful with his tongue, lapping at every inch of your inside until you felt your orgasm rocking you again, your eyes rolling as you cried your pleasure. It was all too fast, his touch too addicting as you stared at his blank face, pleasure struck across his knitted brows.

“God… Fucking human.” The words sounded so vulgar following how polite he’s been. It caught you off guard. But you had little time to think as his tentacles were tugging you down quickly, laying you flat as they positioned your legs to spread around his hips, hips straining as the tentacles pulled. You whined, watching carefully as Slender unzipped his slacks and freed the bulge that had been haunting you from the moment you saw it. To say it was huge was probably an understatement. The thick length was easily larger than your forearm, not even two hands would be enough to hold the thing. You began to struggle against the tentacles, panic overtaking you as his cock twitched with excitement. “There's no way in hell that thing’s fitting inside of me! It’ll rip me in half!” You squealed, feet planted against his legs to hold yourself away from him.

Slender’s claws wrapped around your thighs, scraping the skin lightly as he tugged you towards him, his cockhead laying against your cunt. You cringed, fear riding up your spine. “I’ve never gotten this far with the others. Their voices and bodies were too annoying. But you intrigue me, little one. I’ll make it fit.”

You tried to close your legs, but Slender was already wrapping his claws around your hips, his claws easily overlapping as he nudged his hips between your legs and held you open for him. You were breathing fast, heart pounding as you watched the head of his cock line up with your entrance, the head alone the size of your entrance. He dug his claws in, pinching your skin as he began to press against you, nudging his cock into you. The stretch was rattling, the sharp sting making you cry out as the head of his cock barely pressed inside, your entrance begging for relief. Your hands reached down, gripping his claws tightly as tears spilt down your cheeks, your babbles echoing loudly. The tentacles slid across your skin soothingly, pinching at your nipples and rubbing at your cheeks the further he tried to press. “Ple- Please- Oh, God, please-” You cried, your stomach tightening as his head popped past your tight entrance, your walls constricting against the intrusion, “Breathe, little one. You’re doing wonderfully.” He groaned, hips stuttering lightly as he nudged his head in and out of you. You were whining, breath catching every time he pushed back into you.

He couldn’t go further than the tip, but Slender didn’t seem to mind as he shallowly fucked you onto his cockhead. You were whining, back arched and hips grinding as the sting and stretch of his head slowly turned to painful pleasure. The nudge of his cockhead against your walls made you moan loudly, tentacles sliding down to tug at your clit as he fucked you onto him. You could tell he wanted more, his slimy tongue hanging from his mock mouth and lolling with every thrust. His desperation showed as he breathed heavily, gasps ragged as he held himself back. Even though your mind screamed that you couldn’t handle any more, you gasped, gripping your hands against his thin forearms. “Deeper…” You whined, staring up at him through heavy eyes and flushed cheeks, jaw slack.

Slender’s body lit up, his claws gripping tighter as he groaned, brows knitting. He was reluctant, his movements nervous until his desperation overtook him, his shoulders crouching low to press his face close to yours. “Hold on tight, little one.” He hissed, your hands slinking around the back of his pale head as you gripped the collar of his suit. He breathed your scent in deep, tongue pressing from his mouth to slink against your neck, relishing in the taste of your sweat. You groaned as the tongue pressed against your cheeks, sliding across your lips before pressing inside. You sucked on his tongue, the long warmth pressing against your throat as Slender began to press your hips down further. It felt like you were tearing, the incredible sting making your eyes clamp shut, Slender’s tongue quick to distract you. His tentacles moved rapidly across your skin, pinching and pulling against every available sensitive service to help relax you. Slender’s cock pressed barely deeper, not even halfway inside of you, but it was all you could take.

You clawed at his shoulders as tears spilt to your cheeks, the fullness obstructing your breathing. Slender was moaning deeply, his ominous voice ringing across the trees as he began to thrust your body down onto his cock. You were both sporadic, hands and tentacles gripping onto every available surface as you stretched impossibly wide. You couldn’t believe the feeling, both painful, but so wonderfully pleasurable. You were so sensitive, so overwhelmed, but oh so full. It was nothing like you had ever experienced.

Slender was holding you tight, pressing your hips down roughly and pulling up quickly, just to nudge you down again. He was careful to read every signal your body gave. Every hiss of pain or sigh of pleasure, he was sure to adjust for you. “Sir- So full-” You groaned against his mouth, tongue slipping to glide against your neck. He groaned deeply, teeth gritted and brows knitted. “So good, little one. So good.” His tentacles flicked against your clit, tugging until you couldn’t take it anymore.

You couldn’t breathe as you felt your orgasm rush over you, hips jerking down against his cock until you were too tight to move. Slender still tried to thrust you down, but your walls constricted and kept him in place. You cried out, clawing against the back of his neck as he slammed his mouth back against yours, tongue invading your throat before you could catch your breath. Slender was quick to follow, warm seed shooting up inside of you in thick stripes as he groaned. His claws dug in deep, blood pooling around his pale skin until it was dripping down your legs. His tentacles lapped it up, pressing the thick liquid across your skin.

When Slender’s heaving chest finally settled, he took a deep breath, slipping his claws under your arms. “Hold still, little one.” He hissed, pulling you off his cock slowly as you whined, the sharp sting stretching your sensitive cunt. You couldn’t focus when he finally popped out of you, thick black liquid leaking from your ruined hole. His cum was hot, a thick black liquid that bubbled and gooped against your folds. You whined, emptiness making your cunt throb as your head pounded. Slender sat on the forest floor, laying down on his back as he pulled you with him, laying you down on his chest as you both settled. Your limbs were weak, eyes heavy with exhaustion as Slender’s tentacles ran soothingly across your back.

When you finally caught your breath, you braced your hands on his chest, leaning up to stare him in the face. His pale skin had fixed itself, with no sign of the mock mouth that tore across his flesh. The blank slate was all that was left. “I release you… Of your duties. There’s no need for you to come here anymore.” You sighed, resting your head against your hands. Slender reached forward, tangling his claws with your matted hair, sliding his fingers through the long strands. “But what if I want to come here? More often than just once a decade, that is.” He huffed, sliding his claws against your cheek. You sat stunned, glancing at his expression and searching for any tricks. “But why..?”

“I guess now I’ve found a more enticing reason.” He grinned, pinching your cheek. He blushed, turning away. You traced along his chest, the fabric of his suit soft under your touch. “You’re still released from protecting us. No need to give you more work than necessary. I suppose you won’t be requiring the ritual anymore?” You smiled, resting your chin against your hand. Slender chuckled, rubbing up your sides. “Only if you would like to reminisce, little one…” He growled, holding you tight.

In reality, you never imagined the monster that haunted your family to become humane to you. You also never expected to meet with him weekly, in the same clearing, exploring each other and relieving the urges only the two of you could satisfy.

Maybe it was a slap in the face to your kin, but as Slender held you close for another week, all you could think of was him.

He may have been a curse, but he was yours to bear.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

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mooishbeam · 1 year ago

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『♡』 Rises the Moon

♡ featuring: dan heng IL x f!reader

♡ summary: you help dan heng work through his heat cycle wc: 3.1k+

♡ cw/tw: canon-divergent, breeding, praise, kinda sad but wholesome, monster-fucking, heat cycle, blowjob, cunnilingus, mentions of blood, biting

notes: super canon divergent ik vidyadhara can't have kids but ahhh dan heng breed brainrot :P ruahh I need that lc

Cracked from a shimmering pearl into the cold deception of a ship no longer home, that damned his ill-fated legacy. A lonely forgone dragon wanders a lifetime in purgatory, searching for hands to follow, for he was reborn into the dead silence of solitude. He stretched his inhuman heart as far as it could reach, enough for anyone to hold. But it twisted and tangled in thorns, cradled by serpents' eyes that prayed for his ruin. In brief moments of rest, his visions were suffocated with catastrophic destruction unbeknownst to the reincarnate. When he was eventually released, no one turned for him; a trail of fire he would have to walk alone, bleeding for repentance until his sin was permanently consumed by the collapsing universe.

A race cursed to live forever rarely knew joy or love to its full extent, as all things mortal would return to the ground beneath them. It wasn’t worth the attachment, nor the deserved doom of a man denied salvation.

Your arrival at the space station upturned his perception. He wasn’t sure why he yearned to be near you, why his senses craved your smell and sight. He had to distance himself from you as much as possible, but the melody of your pure voice stored a rhythm in his core that could not be removed. He lamented the blooming affection in his discernment. Often lying awake at night, struggling to satiate the urges.

To you, he was Dan Heng. The solemn, headstrong friend that seldom spoke in your presence. Your favorite pastime was playful banter; he rarely smiled, but it pulled at your heartstrings when the corners of his lips slightly lifted. When he picked at his food, you went out of your way to find out what he preferred and arranged your meals around his. You spent almost all of your time on the parlor car. That isn’t to say you weren’t interested in adventuring, you frequently noted the prettiest gems March showed you during their trips. You asked Dan about the stuff he enjoyed, but it’d usually amount to “I was too focused on staying alive to take in the scenery.” You recall entering your room after their return and noticed an iron scrap flower sitting on your windowsill. Dan nonchalantly admitted to the act, mentioning how he overheard your liking for metallic constructs. You originally thought this was simply an extension of your friendship, but the burning ache in your body spoke otherwise. The little things he did, such as bringing small gifts or ingredients for you to experiment with made you seek that numbed heart, imprisoned in ice.

Himeko joked about your sour mood whenever Dan Heng was gone. You read while she stared at you, amused by the pout on your face. “Hmm, your boy toy is missing. Feeling down?” Your head shot up, ears hot from the assumption.

“W-what? No, of course not. We’re friends, Himeko.” you panicked. She softly giggled.

“Don’t worry. They’re coming back soon.” You peeked up from the pages.

“...When?” you mumbled. “A few days. Now you can stop being so sad.”

You were ecstatic when they arrived, ready to hear about their grueling journey, and more so happy to see Dan Heng. As March relived her storytelling, you observed him. He seemed to be in a trance. His expression was the same as always, but he felt disconnected from you, like he discerned a grim future. He didn’t come to dinner and went to sleep. When you asked March if something happened, she shifted uncomfortably but finally spoke.

“Dan Heng...he changed on the Xianzhou Luofu.” She’d conveniently left out most of the story.

“What do you mean ‘changed’?” you questioned, finding it hard to mask your worries. “He had horns and... It was all really new. I kinda wanna forget about it, too.” You didn’t pressure her for more information, and she went to her room shortly after. You tossed in your sleep, wondering what he must’ve gone through, and what you could do to help him.

You awoke in an inky blue void, the stars cascading a brilliant aura across the night. There were no other planets visible; only the vast moon, a divinely warm glow, alluring and protective in your gaze. Heavenly bodies carried infinitely above, shaping the moon in its godlike image. You stood in a comparatively small pool of iridescent liquid that waterfalled off each side. It marbled from refracted shimmers, cool to the touch. Somehow life emerged in the barren quiet, white lotus’ decorating most of the area. They never spilled down the stream, as if they'd been waiting. In said pool, was a man with elvish ears and gleaming horns, kneeling turned away from you. His pale arms were shackled behind him, and his delicate hair cascaded down his naked back. If you listened closely, you could hear the faint sobs he tried to stifle. You wanted to comfort him, to calm his nerves. You took a step, and he stopped. He didn’t acknowledge you. You took another step, your hand wishing to touch him. Before you could, you phased out of your dream.

For the next two weeks, he didn’t leave his room. Not when you were around. At the same time, this reoccurring dream was plaguing your thoughts. It ended the same way each time. March aimed to console you, but you felt she knew more than she led on. Fatigued from your restless mind, you decide to talk to Himeko instead. She stirs her drink while Welt reads the paper.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” said Welt.

“Good...morning.” you yawned, rubbing your worsening eyebags.

“You don’t seem okay. Is everything alright?” Himeko asks, motioning for you to sit beside her.

“Something is wrong with Dan Heng and March isn’t telling me everything. I was hoping you would.” Welt clears his throat, sets the paper on the table and walks away. Himeko puts her hand on your knee.

“He’s feeling unwell right now. It’s best we don’t disturb him.”

“I’ve been having this weird dream, of a guy with horns. He’s crying. And I can’t save him. What does this mean? Why is everyone keeping this from me?” Alarm flashes in her expression, but she composes herself. She sucks in a deep breath. “Do you know what a Vidyadhara is?”

“No.”

“Vidyadhara descended from dragons, and they’re very powerful. Dan Heng is a special case of Vidyadhara, so we must treat him as such.”

“So why can’t I see him?”

“It’s important that we avoid him while he’s in the process of...getting through this.”

“But someone has to check on him, right? I could be the one to do it-”

“(Y/N). Dan Heng requested specifically, that I don’t allow you to see him.” You felt your heart pierce. You believed you were friends with him, so why was he forcing you away? “Oh. Okay.” you said meekly. You went back to your room to contemplate.

You were a ghost throughout the day, serving food in silence. When the crew went to bed you prepared a hearty soup to soothe whatever illness he had. He’d probably reject it, but the selfish side wanted to know why he was upset with you. Even if he didn’t have an answer, perhaps his voice would be adequate. Arriving at his door, you knock twice gently.

“I have some soup for you. Himeko said you were feeling ill. I won’t disrupt you, just want to make sure you’re eating.” He said nothing. “If you’re not hungry, let me know and I can store it for tomorrow. You can’t get better on an empty stomach.” You hear rustling inside, but he still said nothing.

“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, but I need you to go away.” His voice is feeble, and it scares you.

“Can I please leave this on your desk? I’ll go away right after, I promise.” You 're practically begging, but you need to see him and know he’s okay. Dan Heng’s weakening mindset rationalizes his risky judgement, and he allows you to come in. He should be able to defend you from himself with the strength he has left; there’s no other choice. “Okay.”

When you open the door, you’re horrified at the state. Books and precious documents were strewn across the floor or shredded, along with most of the blankets. He’s hunched over on the futon clenching his abdomen, strands of hair sticking to his shiny forehead and puffy lips. He was in a form you've never seen, dressed in elegance in contrast to his shaking figure. The clothes were disheveled, however, the window on his top ripped down the middle, exposing the muscular torso underneath with his pants pulled just under his v-line. He's flushed and sweating, a look in his eyes that both terrifies and excites you. What was most shocking were the pointy ears and horns protruding from his head. The same ones from your dream. He tracks you as you walk to his desk. He’s undoubtedly weak, and yet you feel hunted. You set the soup down.

“Shouldn’t you ask Bailu about this?”

“I did already. There’s nothing she can do. I have to wait.” You get on your knees next to him, and he recoils from your proximity.

“Wait for what?”

“I'm hot all over, all the time. Nothing I do works, even when I feel good it’s not enough.” he rasps. His eyes are shut in an attempt to null the intense sensation blazing in his veins. You ultimately realize what he means and regret your cluelessness. Still, you don’t leave, deconstructing his resolve. Suddenly, Dan Heng feels the tender press of your palm to his forehead; the touch of someone he could recognize in different timelines and different bodies. The scent of morning dew at early sunrise, the light in its darkness, bitter and sweet and persistent. He punished the thought of ravaging you, but the incessant thump of his member was staggering. He grabs your wrist tight, a guilty look in his eyes.

“I can’t control myself. Go. Now” he shouts. His anger doesn’t scare you, and your other hand caresses his cheek.

“Does it hurt? I can help you.” Dan Heng’s frozen as your fingers travel down his Adam's apple, then his chest, to the hem of his bottoms. He’s on his back taking deep labored breaths, the print growing from your airy brushes.

“I don’t want you to be in pain anymore.”

You spring his cock free, and it bounces into your hand. It’s thick and almost twelve inches, a rosy-brown gradient to the mushroom tip. His veins dance around the rounded spikes lining up his shaft on both sides. A frustrated sigh leaves him, beads of pre come dripping down his balls. You lubricate your hands with his slick and start to slowly pump him. His head is spinning, the intoxicating ecstasy makes him rut his hips and bite his blushed lips. You fondle his balls with one hand while massaging the tip with the other. Whimpers echo pleasantly in your ears, and he can’t stop watching you, drinking up your shy glances. It twitches in your hold; you can feel how close he is. He’s falling apart because of you and your dampened underwear accepts it. You push your thumb in his mouth and part it to reveal excessive drool and sharp canines.

“Do you like it?” you tease. He makes noise resembling an “uh huh” through teary eyes.

“You wanna come?” He quivers from the question. He can only manage a moan. You move to his base, and you slaver at the daunting size before running your tongue along the urethra and taking him in your mouth. He throws his head back but tries to restrain himself from bucking into you. You can barely get it halfway as his cockhead kisses the back of your throat. You hollow your cheeks and start bobbing your head, he trembles from unconstrained pleasure.

“Please, I’ll do anything please let me come” he whines, tears spilling down his cheeks. You move your hands with the suction along his gradually noisy whimpers, the occasional gag from sloppy grinding.

“Ah, ‘m gonna come-” he chokes, his chest hitched rapidly, spurting ropes that flood your throat. He rides the wave against you until you pull up. When you meet with him again, his demeanor changes. He instantly snatches you into his arms and smothers his nose in your stomach. He tears your clothes off impatiently, just to taste your bare skin. “Dan-”

“You smell so good. Aeons, why do you smell so good.” He gazes at you darkly, littering wet kisses across your stomach and chest. His slender hands grope and explore anything they can reach. It was like he had a burst of energy; he nearly lifts you off his lap. You notice his horns get progressively longer, a dim radiance outlining them. His nails grew too, they dragged light scratches over your breasts to your hips. He pulls you to him, lips barely hovering before they collide into a deep, passionate exchange. Unspoken words allow teeth and tongue to mix, and you moan into each other. The pheromones hugging his consciousness are addictive, he needs more of it. He promptly flips you on your back, his eyes look down on you with a starving glint.

“I’m hungry now.”

“Oh sure, I can warm up the-”

“No. Let me eat you.” His statement was more of a demand than a request, as he mangles your panties down your legs. He forces your thighs back and appreciates the glistening sticky folds. “Stunning” he purrs. He licks a flat strip to your clit and laps up your juices, then envelops his mouth in your heat. His firm squeeze prevents you from escaping the determined pink muscle, swirling and twisting around you. He switches between French kisses to your vulva and merciless sucking on the erect bud. He’d rather drown in you than catch his breath, your essence covers his jaw and chin. You card your fingers through his scalp and accidentally sweep his horns; he shudders. You rub the pad of your thumb on it, earning a strangled whimper. His tongue sinks into your passage and begins to move at a brutal pace. You tease the sensitivity in his horns, flicking and circling them. The vibrations from his moans rock against your walls and your hips stutter. “Ah- I’m close” you plead. He stimulates your clit, and you pulse around him before your back arches, and you unwind. His mouth is stitched to you as you try to wriggle out of his grasp. He continues to devour your climax. He hoists your lower half off the ground, savoring your honeyed desire, laughing from your overstimulated cries. You’re spasming and feel your heart racing in your ears. He stops at the approaching precipice and lays you down. Balmy kisses dot your knees.

“Please Dan Heng, more” you beg.

“(Y/N), I don’t want to hurt you.” He's throbbing, and he straightens your legs to roll his hips between your thighs. The plush fat cuddles his cock and he pants. You grab his hand.

“It’s okay, I’m yours. I know you don’t mean to hurt me.”

“But-”

“I love you” you blurt out. “Please, I want to have this with you. I can handle it, I promise.” Your vulnerability surprises you, and he stops.

“You...love me?” he questions. For a split second, you see sadness and despair. No one stood to consider an exile incapable of love, but you did. No one bothered to defrost the drifting hollow, but you did. The undying weeps.

“I love you. I would destroy every star and planet in your name. Carve your worth into the cosmos so that even Fuli could worship your memory. I am yours in its entirety, and I’ll only live for you.” You wipe the tears as they come down and kiss his troubles away.

“I want you inside me” you whisper. He stands and scoops you up, his hands on your ass and your arms around his neck. He aligns his tip with your sex and lowers you into the plunge. The stretching blaze of your walls accommodating his girth is excruciating.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.” You give him a reassuring smile. He’s stuffing you full, the spikes knead your inner walls the deeper he goes. He bottoms out and stays there for a while.

“Tell me when to move” he soothes.

“Go ahead.” He starts an unrelenting tempo, and you grip him like a vice, your arousal drenching his balls. The thundering sound of desperate huffs and squelching, smacking flesh is almost embarrassing; you both don’t care, indulging each other. You could’ve sworn you saw something similar to a dragon's tail swaying behind him, or maybe your mind played tricks on you. Strings of saliva connect his fangs, eyes cloudy with carnal impulse and cock twitching from the friction. He can see the bulge snapping in and out of your stomach and groans.

“Deeper.” He pulls out and lays you on the futon before positioning you in a mating press. In one swoop he jackhammers your cunt, balls swinging and ragged breath on your ear. His hair blankets you and you soak in his sweating physique, his needy appearance.

“Gonna breed this pretty pussy” he moans. Eyeing the unoccupied space on your neck, he salivates. You guide his lips to your neck, encouraging him, and he takes the bait. He ruptures the skin with sharp teeth; harsh puncture wounds remain. He licks the blood away, adamant on claiming you. The spikes massage your g-spot, and your eyes loll back, pleasure and pain blurring. Dan Heng loses his composure, frenetic thrusting as he chases his release.

“I’m gonna come!”

“That’s it, come with me, my love” he groans. You see black as tremors overtake you and a stream of squirt coats you both. Your wails flow into the halls. Your contracting vulva sends him over the edge, and he finally comes undone, painting your insides to the hilt. You milk every last drop of his gushing seed, and he jerks a few times until limp. The creamy, swelling base pushes your folds to capacity. It's barbed wire in your gut. He strokes and kisses your face.

“I'm sorry, it’ll go down soon.” With your legs wrapped around him and his head snug against your cheek, you weren’t sure if you wanted it to go down.

His curse may not be lifted through your embrace. But in your arms, his shackles don't feel as heavy.

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail #dan heng smut #dan heng il #dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng hsr #dan heng imbibitor lunae #imbibitor lunae

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certaimromance · 3 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 A Heart Matter.

Spencer Reid x Prentiss!reader

Series masterlist | ONE | TWO | THREE |

Summary: A few months after you left, Spencer thinks he sees you walking down the street, and his whole world is turned upside down.

Words: 3,2k.

TW: mentions of crime, trauma, death, pain and violence (normal warnings in the series). so much spoilers for s6 and s7. the events narrated occur after emily's "death". so much angst. read the dates carefully, especially the years, because there are some backward time frames that can confuse you if you don't pay attention!. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I'm so sorry, that's all I can say now.

Also, I thought about making this a series, but I'm not sure because I've never done one before and I've really only been writing here for about a month??? I'm trying hard.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

July 18th, 2011

The steady ticking of the wall clock echoed in Spencer's head as a reminder that his time in the session was ticking away, robbing him of the chance to express himself without sounding like a complete lunatic.

“I saw her.” He had to repeat it aloud after receiving a puzzled look from his therapist.

The woman pursed her lips. “In a dream? Are you having nightmares again?”

The lump in the agent's throat felt tighter and more suffocating, causing him to shift in his seat to hide it. He wanted to appear sane and focused, however much his next words were anything but.

“No.”

The therapist's intrigued look and the fact that she stopped writing in her notebook to give him her full attention made his hands tremble and his heart pound as he spoke again.

“I mean, I still have the same nightmares...but this, this is different.” Reid tried to explain hesitantly.

Since the day he found you lying in a pool of blood outside your sister's apartment, his mind had been tormented by the image and the guilt it caused him. The nightmares of seeing you again and losing you were a constant every night. Every time he managed to fall asleep, he woke up agitated, feeling again the emptiness of not having you by his side. And that was something his therapist knew better than anyone, because she forced him to write down every nightmare and tell her all of them.

Those bad dreams were supposed to be over, or so he had claimed for the past three weeks.

“How?”

“I wasn't asleep when I saw her.” Spencer finally blurted out in a slightly shaky voice. He had rehearsed the same conversation several times and always ended up feeling like a deranged man seeing ghosts. “I was on the street.”

That sentence instantly changed the tone of the conversation.

“It was after work, I went to buy some food because the case ended earlier than I thought. Her favorite Chinese restaurant is a few blocks from my apartment, we really liked to eat there...I bought some and when I came out, I saw her.” He paused for a minute, trying to mentally return to the moment that was relentlessly replaying in his mind. “She was across the street, buying flowers.”

He had to be quiet for a second, pausing to calm his own breathing. It was ridiculous, but the thought of you buying flowers again made him smile slightly.

You had always loved flowers and now he was supposed to bring them to your grave.

“I ran across the street as soon as I saw her, but I lost sight of her when a bus came across.” He said, struggling to finish his story.

“Spencer, listen to me.” The woman's tone alone let him know that she didn't agree with him at all. “It's normal to think we see someone we lost, it happens to several people. Maybe it was just someone who looked like her, and being near a place the two of you frequented contributed to the confusion.”

That was impossible because he would recognize you anywhere and there was no one else like you.

“You know the truth.”

Of course he knew.

He had been trying to live for six months knowing that you were already dead.

Six months of him trying to deal with your ghost. Six months of him on his knees begging for this to be just another nightmare. Six months of reliving the last time he held you in his arms. Six months of being dead in life.

“Yes, but she looked different.” He explained, receiving a puzzled look that prompted him to provide further clarification. “Her hair was shorter, much shorter. And if I were hallucinating her ghost, I'd see her the same way I saw her the last time, or maybe the time before that. It wouldn't be so different from the way I remember her.”

“You lost two important people on the same day, it's not about logic.”

From her reaction when he concluded his session, it was evident that she considered his perspective to be irrational and clouded by the effects of grief.

And maybe it was.

July 30th, 2011

A few days of missing therapies and locking himself up at work already had consequences.

It was the second time a case had ended earlier than expected and Spencer had to go back to his lonely apartment and find excuses to leave without feeling sorry for himself. It was hard for him to be in his own home without you, surrounded by the photos you always insisted on taking and framing to preserve moments that were now torture. So the best solution was to make unnecessary purchases or lock himself in the nearest library.

Anything was better than being locked in a room with himself, so he decided to read in a room full of strangers who provided the company he so desperately needed.

The bad news was that the library's closing time had come earlier than expected for unknown reasons, and life seemed to force him to face his reality on the busy streets of Virginia, taking every possible alternate route to delay his arrival home. He didn't want to have to open the door knowing that no one would be waiting for him, that you wouldn't be there asleep on the couch after watching a marathon of your favorite movies, or just trying to read one of his books so you could discuss it with him.

His mind was still hazy and his eyes were wandering through the shops of the city when a familiar and unmistakable figure appeared before his eyes, just a few meters away, coming out of one of the shops on the next street.

It was you again. Unmistakably you.

He started running without a second thought, but the streets were so crowded that it was hard for him to move through the mass of people. His heartbeat was out of control and probably everyone could hear him, but he didn't care about looking crazy, he just needed to get a little closer to talk and make sure it was you.

The city's public transportation seemed to be against him, because just as he was about to cross the street, not caring that the light was red, another bus crossed the street and almost ran him over. Just a few inches and the story would have been very different for him. Everyone on the street was whispering, car horns were honking and every now and then someone would ask him if he was okay or look at him like he was a psychiatric patient. But nothing mattered to him, there was only your image in his mind and the possibility of finding out if he was really going crazy or if your ghost was haunting him.

When he managed to cross the street, there was no sign of you, and his therapist's words echoed in his mind as a symbol of temporary insanity brought on by pain. Try as he might to ignore his conscience, there was no way to find you in the sea of people, and he had no choice but to enter the store where he thought he saw you coming out.

“A woman bought something here a few minutes ago, she had a bag slung over her shoulder.” Spencer spoke quickly as soon as he walked in and approached the local salesman. He paused only when the man nodded in confusion at his attitude. “Do you know her name? Where she's from? Does she come here often?”

The man's lips were sealed, he just waved his hand to let him know he would only talk for money. He didn't even flinch when Reid pulled out his badge and repeated that he was FBI. Anyway, the thirty dollars was the master key to get the information and the security camera footage, which was barely visible because of the poor quality.

“I don't know who she is, it's the first time I've seen her. There aren't many customers on my shift, and not everyone buys that many books.” He began to speak under Spencer's curious gaze. “She paid cash and bought a bunch of classics. And she had a limp.”

“Are you sure? Which leg was it?”

There was a short silence, which the salesman used to remind himself, and Spencer's nerves got even more out of control.

“I don't remember which leg it was but I was definitely limping. I noticed that when she climbed the ladder, I had to help her.”

January 11th, 2010

“Can we eat here?” You asked after reading the sign that said the restaurant's elevator was under repair. “There are a few tables.”

Spencer couldn't help but frown and let go of your hand to stand in front of you. His eyes searched for yours. “I thought you wanted to come up, the view is your favorite thing here.”

You two were at your favorite restaurant, a Chinese food paradise with the best view in city, according to your expert opinion. It wasn't the first time the two of you had been there, so you had already more than booked a table, and this one was on the third floor. Your favorite part of going there was seeing the moon.

And of course, Dr. Reid was the kind of guy who always paid attention to the little details. He remembered everything, and could probably tell what you were thinking just by looking into your eyes for a few seconds.

“Let me take you upstairs, please.”

His puppy-dog eyes and a single phrase were enough to get you to let him take you by the arm and lead you up the stairs at a slow pace. By the time you got to the second floor, he offered to carry you like a princess. You had no choice but to accept, especially since it had already taken you more than ten minutes to climb a single floor. The pitying looks from the other diners were starting to make you uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Spencer.” You mumbled as you reached the table and he pulled up a chair for you.

He smiled. He loved how you said his name and wanted to hear it for hours.

After you both sat down and made your requests, you spoke again. “Aren't you going to ask why I can't climb a ladder?”

“I won't ask you anything you don't want to answer.” He said simply.

You felt like you could tell him anything, even your darkest thoughts. Your sister had already talked about it. Either it was the Reid effect, or you were just madly in love with him. Both were quite similar in your view.

“I hurt myself while I was practicing ballet. I made a really bad move.” You spoke up after a few minutes of silence. He frowned when he heard you. He had no idea you played the sport. “I was supposed to have quit, so I didn't tell anyone. Only Emily knew. I didn't treat it until the injury got worse when I went out in the field on a case. That's how I retired from the FBI. My mom freaked out, and my left ankle was screwed up for my whole life.”

Before you turned your attention back to Spencer, you prepared yourself mentally for the sympathy he would undoubtedly show. The curious thing was that in his eyes, there was nothing but interest and gratitude for having allowed him to know more about you. That was what kept you talking.

“There's an operation to try to fix it, but recovery takes quite some time. I'd rather always take the elevator and avoid the stairs as much as possible than have to rely on Emily to take care of me for three whole months. She has work to do and would go crazy having to be my maid.”

“I would.” He said without hesitation. When you looked curious, he elaborated. “I'd take care of you.”

“For three whole months?” You asked, sounding rather incredulous and as if you thought maybe he was just being extra nice.

“For the rest of my life, if you let me.”

September 5th, 2011

“There's no way you could have seen her, Spence.”

JJ's eyes fell on his friend's not-so-shaky ones, and a part of her churned inside, not knowing what else to say to him. It was eleven o'clock at night, the first time in several days that Spencer had shown up at her house to try to find comfort and perhaps understanding.

“I know, I know it shouldn't be possible.” He replied and went back to pacing the room, trying not to make a sound. The last thing he wanted was to wake up his godson or his friend's husband. “But it was so real...maybe I'm crazy.”

“You're not.” She said firmly, getting up from her seat to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

At the time, even he didn't know for sure, and that made him fear that he had lost his mind. He was hungry for a love that he would never have again.

“You just miss her.”

No, missing was nothing compared to his feelings.

“It's more than that, much more. I haven't been able to catch my breath since she left.” He admitted, running his hands through his hair as tears formed. “I miss Emily, too, and I don't see her walking down the street.”

Silence fell over the room because no one had anything to say. There weren't enough words to describe the situation. The only sound that could be heard was the man's sobbing on Jennifer's shoulder, trying to be encouraged with words.

“It's going to be all right, Spence.”

He didn't say it out loud, but he thought he'd never get anything right in his life if all he wanted was you.

March 14th, 2010

The coffee he was carrying kept him warm as he made his way through the chilly FBI offices. Spencer wondered if the air conditioning had broken down when he reached the technical analyst's office and a conversation stopped him in his tracks.

“My take? She looks like she'll be Mrs. Reid one day.” Penelope's voice was heard after several loose sentences that the boy couldn't understand from the other side of the door. He figured they were talking about him and his relationship with you.

“I hadn't thought about Reid being legally part of my family until now.” Emily spoke next, letting out a few chuckles. “I'm going to have mini geniuses for nephews.”

“Stop it, we're just dating.” You spoke with some nervousness, still reeling from the implications. “It's not like we're getting married tomorrow.”

As he leaned against the wall by the door to hear better, Spencer couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about what he was doing. He knew it wasn't right to overhear other people's conversations, especially if they were about him. But he had a feeling he needed to know what you were saying about him when he wasn't around. It wouldn't hurt to just hear a little bit.

“Don't pretend you don't talk about future names for your babies, I heard you two.” Garcia spoke again.

“It was a random conversation.”

“About baby names?” She gave a little smile and raised an eyebrow.

“What I mean is that bringing things forward is not good.” You began to speak, completely ignoring the previous point. You were trying to be the voice of reason in the midst of their ridicule. “But I'd like him to be the one.”

“I think I'll shed a tear or two because you've grown up so fast.” Your sister commented in a teasing tone that hid quite a bit of truth. She gave your hand a quick squeeze and looked at you for a few seconds before speaking again. “What's up with that look on your face?”

You frowned. Spencer's heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. “What look?”

“You know which one I mean—the one you put on when the coffee runs out.”

Reid's hands began to sweat. He felt like a teenager trying to figure out what the girl he liked really thought of him. Did you ever have doubts about your relationship? Did you ever picture yourself with him in the future? Was he really the one for you?

“The scariest thing about love is getting hurt.” You said, trying to initiate the idea. Unfortunately, Penelope beat you to it and spoke up.

“I'm sure he wouldn't hurt you.”

“I know, I don't care about that.” You spoke up again after a few seconds, looking around the room as if lost in thought. “What if I do it? What if I break his heart?”

Oh, that was certainly not something Spencer was expecting to hear.

“How would you break his heart? Not answering his calls for five minutes and seven seconds?” Interjected Emily with a teasing tone to try to lighten the mood and get a smile out of you. “I don't think either of you would consciously hurt the other.”

And right after that, the protagonist of the discussion entered the room, causing the three of you to remain silent and pretend that nothing was going on. You could only smile when your boyfriend came in with a hot coffee for you and you saw the tender looks the two women gave you.

“Thank you.” You said.

“It's nothing.” He replied, pulling you close to surprise you with a hug that brought him close enough to your ear to whisper. “You could never break my heart.”

September 21st, 2011

Ian Doyle was only a couple of meters away.

Spencer's fist throbbed and burned, still stained with the blood of the man who had taken everything from him seven months ago. He knew he had done wrong, that he had promised everyone that he would only talk to the terrorist, and that he had done much more than that. The team had barely been able to get him out of the interrogation room because he was out of control with rage.

He wanted to make him feel a lot of pain and a minimum of what you and Emily probably felt that night.

“You need to calm down.” JJ came out of the meeting room to stop him before he could go in.

“I'm calm.” He replied, still trying to regulate his breathing. He could see his friend raise an eyebrow, and he decided to speak up again to avoid upsetting her. “This is about as calm as I can get right now.”

As soon as he was done speaking, Reid tried to keep going to the room, but the woman was in his way again and stopped him from opening the door.

“You have to be calm for what Hotch has to tell you. I mean it.” Jennifer said, after receiving a confused look. “What you're going to see now...”

“I'll be fine.”

Without giving her a chance to say anything else, he opened the door to the room. Spencer thought he'd find photos of the crime scene that ruined his life, maybe some testimony he didn't know about, or even the killer there. But none of that was true, and it made his heart stop.

“Hi.”

You certainly broke his heart this time.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #matthew gray gubler

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revehae · 5 months ago

Note

Could you do something from dream 00line + mark bullying, dub con and non con? 🥺

well… this is basically what you asked! i changed it up just a little bit tw // noncon, forced oral (m receiving), gangbang

“come on,” jeno groaned playfully, grip on your hair tightening. “that’s not how you used to do it.”

you whimpered weakly, the muffled sound sending a tiny tremble through jeno’s cock as he kept your warm mouth around him in spite of your protests. not that you could expect anything less from him. he was never afraid of forcing you into something you never wanted.

jeno had never seemed afraid of anything, now that you thought about it. you still remembered the risky exploits they made you tag along on. how could you not? it was only some years ago, back when they would force you to please them in the boys’ locker room.

haechan laughed, both at jeno’s encouragement and the miserable look on your face. he always did like seeing you suffer. “you want her to gag on your dick like a virgin?”

jeno shrugged. “call it nostalgia.”

“guys, come on,” mark said, as if he was trying to put a stop to this. but you knew better. time after time of being disappointed, getting your hopes up thinking he would make them leave you alone, you learned years ago that mark was hardly any different. “aren’t we a little too old for this now?”

haechan rolled his eyes in annoyance. “jesus christ,” he sighed. “will you ever get off your moral high horse?”

“he can do whatever he wants. he can leave, if that’s what makes him happier,” jeno said, in spite of knowing mark wouldn’t go, the same way you did. he yanked your hair harder, forcing your mouth further down onto his cock until you were damn near suffocating. “i’m not stopping until she gags.”

jaemin laughed out of nowhere, having been quietly watching the entire situation unfold. “maybe she’s had practice since then, jeno.”

“you mean, our little slut has been whoring herself out to other guys?” haechan chimed in, snickering. the thought amused him. no guys used to ever come near you, like you were the most unfuckable thing in the world. you were obscure and unnoticed.

jeno felt you pushing at his thighs like you used to do when you desperately needed to come up for air. “in that case, what’s the fucking problem? why are you being so difficult?”

your eyes winced closed when jeno slapped your cheek, the burn of his palm sizzling on the side of your face as you jolted back. your eyes watered, and before you could bother to recover, jeno was forcing his cock back inside your throat, thrusting his hips.

that was when you finally and inadvertently gave him what he wanted, gagging around his cock and scraping at his thighs for mercy that he wouldn’t give you, keeping your mouth on him by your hair.

“that’s it, babe,” jeno told you, looking down at you with a blend of scorn and amusement. “choke on it just like that.”

mark shook his head in disapproval, arms crossed. “jeno, dude. you’re gonna hurt the poor girl.”

jaemin crouched down beside you when jeno pulled out of your sore throat, having finally gotten what he wanted. “don’t be such a prude, mark. she can take it,” jaemin replied, looking at you almost dotingly. he pressed two of his fingers into the corners of your lips and forced them into a smile. “isn’t that right, baby?”

you shook your head, backing away from them until you crashed backwards into the side of the hotel mattress. when you started to crawl towards the door, haechan kicked your ass with his shoe, making you slump onto the floor for all of two seconds before you scurried onto your feet.

and nearly tripping over them, you made a beeline for the door. the same door mark was near, as if he was toying with the idea of turning around and heading out too. but rather than let you go, he gripped your arm.

your eyes were stinging. you glanced up at him desperately, hoping that maybe he would show some remorse. “please. you said you were sorry. you promised.”

it’s not right, mark told himself, swallowing as he looked at the fear in your stare. after graduating, he told himself that he would be a better man and not a stupid boy.

and that was why on the last day of school, he took it upon himself to apologize for everything the four of them had done to you that senior year. he promised that he never meant for things to go so far, that he meant every word of what he told you, that he regretted everything he had done to hurt you.

and even now mark wanted to make them stop, he really did. but that desire was outweighed by the one to feel you again, to lose himself in the heat of you as his thrusts became more and more restless.

and a moment or three later, that was exactly what he was doing, all the while holding your smaller body down as his eyes fluttered closed, hypnotized by the sweet squeeze of your vice-like cunt. he became increasingly feverish with every passing second, unable to hear the thoughts that told him to be gentle.

jaemin nudged haechan playfully. “you know, this is exactly how i remember it.”

“ah,” haechan replied with a pleasant sigh, a little smile on his lips as he watched mark fuck you mindlessly. “some things never change.”

#nct dream smut #lee jeno smut #mark lee smut #lee haechan smut #na jaemin smut #jeno smut #jaemin smut #haechan smut #nct dream hard hours #tw: noncon

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cute-sucker · 5 months ago

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note: this is pretty dark! so please tw for toxic relationship (with rafe obviously!!) + this is for liona (inspo)

short masterlist: part one here, part two here, part three here, part four here, part six here !

words: 2,024 words

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

rafe was following you.

you could almost feel his gaze on you from the diner sometimes. as if he was waiting to strike. the first time you saw him, he was standing outside the glass diner a strange expression on his face. clearly, he was high out of his mind as he tried to stumble and hang onto the street lamp. you had been talking with jj, him chuckling about you having whipped cream on your face - and you spotted him.

he was staring dead into your soul, and you felt your breath quicken pardoning yourself to the bathroom. no, you couldn't do this, and when jj asked you what happened you had whispered some excuse.

he knew where you were. your masterful escape hadn't been masterful after all.

sometimes rafe scared you. it was the early stages of your pregnancy with him. the feeling of being so suffocated carrying his baby. and it wasn't like he didn't love you no, sometimes you cried to him fists drumming on his chest, screaming, wondering where you had gone wrong.

where had you gone wrong for him to be so punishing. for his protective cage to make you fall prey to him? it was the feeling that your heart would break if he whispered a bad word, and you hated it cowering against his heavy words and hoping that he wouldn't get you back from putting a toe out of line.

being with rafe had been some of the worst and best times of your life. it was when you got a taste of teenage freedom, putting out a small dress to sneak to a party, tasting punch and he was there. you looked a mess with pink glowy lipstick, shyly trying to ease into your new shining persona.

he saw you, a hopeless deer in headlights and suddenly if anyone tried to bump into you - he was there. it felt nice to be cared for, and sometimes he'd take it far. taking you anywhere in your car, and making sure that his hand wandered near your waist.

but it was after the baby that things went wrong. he was cursing at you for being so stupid to get pregnant. you had cradled your head in your chest as he cussed you out, heavy drums in your heart. he tried to persuade you first -

"you don't need a baby. no, you don't need one," he would coo, eyes red from whatever he was on, as you tried not to stop yourself from sobbing. you made miek sounds, practically folding into yourself as you rocked from side to side.

he took this as you disrespecting him, "hey?" he snapped his fingers, eyebrows furrowed as he clenched his jaw, "what the hell is wrong with you? fucking embarrassment," he would spit out, almost as if he was disgusted with your behaviour.

then you would whimper with sadness, and it only amplified his anger, "jesus christ. i'm always taking care of you, and this is how you reward me?" he barked, his voice sharp and unforgiving. you shook your head, telling him you were sorry.

you had your baby in the morning, an early baby. he wasn't even there in the reception, as her wrinkly face mewled for someone. you had tucked her into your lap, swearing - swearing to get away.

but then he came like your prince charming, eyes red while carrying a baby bag, and a stupid pink outfit that he told you she could wear. it was tacky and too big, yet you felt the need to cry. maybe this was a sign that he would change. maybe this was a sign from the gods. there was a forced smile on his face, as he looked at your sticky baby.

it finally came down to how he acted around the baby. never cleaning up after. after all, you were eighteen when you had her, practically children as if you were playing family. he was smoking, abusing drugs and then coming back to your apartment telling you he'd get better.

the day you left was a breath of fresh air.

so what was he doing coming after you? you tried to ignore it, but sometimes out of the blue - weeks after his first sighting, he would be looking at the glass window with a clear look on his face. as if he was going to come in, and yet he didn't. every single time you dared him with your eyes, meek hands shaking as you tried to stay away from that entrance.

at this point, your favourite place was next to the counter, next to jj where you could yap as much as you wanted. sometimes jj would tell you to shut it as he made food, because one time the two of you were talking and he'd messed up an order. the guy had yelled at him, and all jj could do was shrug, a playful smile on your face looking at your flushed face.

the two of you were taking it slow. you didn't know how to do it all, but since that day he sat you down in his lap, playing with the strands of your hair - you didn't know who you were to him. yet, it felt right laughing with him, letting him touch your waist leaving you completely rendered. you were under a spell as if he was the sun and you were the moon.

you were running back to him every single time, a bright smile on your face. after all he was the one who told you to go to art school. so that's what you did at night while leaving your baby at the elderly women's house. she was so sweet, as your baby girl blubbered and giggled. she was the grandmother you had always wanted for your little girl.

everything was fine.

˚❀༉‧₊

it would be a lie if jj said he hadn't noticed the strange guy staring at the glass from time to time. he was always there when you were, giving you a stare that could bring the dead back to life. jj didn't know who he was, and to be honest he was giving him the creeps.

you always seemed to stiffen whenever the guy came into view, and jj couldn't help but scowl when the jackass came to view. it was the only time he hated the wide glass windows in the diner. it meant that you had to see that guy peeking in.

what creeped him out even more was the amount that the guy stared. sometimes he came out drunk, eyes red as he stumbled onto the sidewalk. jj was waiting for him to come in. waiting for him to confront him - and yet for his whole ordeal, he had never taken a step inside the diner. he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"i like this dress," jj mused the next day you came in. he wiped the table looking up at you. the diner was closed up, and the little bell jingled he knew it was you. he didn't know how this became a thing - but you always came after things ended.

sometimes the two of you would share an ice cream sundae sitting next to the counter, sometimes he'd get you some chocolate milk - but never had he asked why you came.

you liked talking about your day during those times. you sat there all pretty and prepared, he'd never admit it but he liked how much you dolled up for him. there was always some flowery blouse you had on, or a tight skirt. sometimes it was a maxi skirt or some jeans. but you always look so pretty.

you smiled bashfully at the compliment, biting your lip as you tilted your head. you held your baby tight, and yet she wiggled out of your hands to make it to jj.

"oiagh," she sputtered out, "wah, wah," incomparable words but jj couldn't hlep but chuckle, lifting her up to look at her better. she was around 10 months now, her tiny curls in pigtails. she was wearing tiny overalls and a backwards hat.

"look at you," jj murmured, toying with her hat, "such a cutie," he sighed, and she shrieked with happiness as jj poked in her in the stomach. he couldn't help but gaze over at you. you had this dazed happy expression on your face that made him giddy with joy.

you wiped your babies drool, before pinching her cheek, "she wanted to look like you."

jj laughed, eying you in an incredulous look, "i don't wear overalls," he pointed out, tugging at the straps for her to only scream with joy again.

you rolled your eyes, "close enough. it's the cap for me."

"alright. alright. i'm not fighting with you mama. c'mon lemme get you something..." he paused pretending to think, and you giggled, "you want something sweet, am i right?"

"ding, ding, ding! a point for mr. mayback!" you drawled, before sitting next to the counter. "chocolate milk, please."

jj folded his arms, a teasing lit to his voice as he watched you fix your dress, "you're working me to the bone."

"i like my men hardworking."

"so you say."

then the two of you were off, talking about the different things that had happened. he told you about the mess with the muffins, and you talked about your favourite show. it was a perfect evening, and before you knew it you were yawning resting your head on jj's shoulder.

"you look tired," jj breathed out, softly moving your hair out of your face. you stirred, sleepy eyes looking at him a gentle smile gracing your face.

your heart stuttered staring at him, "it's that one that keeps me up," you said pointing at the tiny baby who was also asleep next to the couches. then suddenly you watched jj get up alert but thought nothing about it.

he finally spoke up, "how about you take a small nap?"

that sounded great to you, and before you knew it you were burrowing yourself in jj's sweatshirt, sleeping in a warm bed.

˚❀༉‧₊

jj was practically running while trying to keep up with the man in the window. he was there again when the two of you were speaking, and he hated it. like a stalker following your tracks, so jj did what he was best at.

act recklessly.

"hey! stop right there asshole."

the man turned around at the sound of jj’s voice, his expression shifting from one of eerie calm to a volatile mix of anger and amusement. he stopped in his tracks, turning to face jj with a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"what do you want?" the man sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, rocking back on his heels as if he had all the time in the world.

jj’s eyes blazed with fury as he closed the distance between them, his fists clenched at his sides. "who the hell are you?"

the man scoffed, "i'm rafe. rafe cameron. i thought you'd know about me by now."

"i don't know what you're talking about fuckface."

for a moment, something dark flickered in rafe’s eyes, and his jaw tightened. but then, just as quickly, the mask of arrogance slipped back into place. "you're telling me you have no idea who you’re dealing with?"

jj's glare intensified. " listen man, i don't give a shit who you are," he started scoffing, "but i know the food looks great but you can't stay out there staring at people. it's messed up, makes you look like a creep. come in and get a bite or jus' fuckin' leave."

rafe’s laughter was cold and hollow, echoing in the empty street. "oh, i will. don’t you worry about that." he took a step back, his gaze never leaving jj’s. "but for now, i have better things to do."

and he jumped into his car, a shiny truck with blaring lights. all jj could do was look into the dark wondering who the hell rafe cameron was.

taglist: @yourmumstoym @lionasvault @saturnrings77 @rainbowpiss34@wowza31419 @tcddszn@maraudersmyloves@stxr-slut@redhead1180@dinnodallas @breeistired @obaex

let me know if you'd like to be added !! + feel free to request <3

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yanderestarangel · 7 months ago

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HEADCANONS MK1 | YANDERE!TRIO LIN KUEI

A/N: I finally finished this shit.

smut confectionery event ┆cinnamon cake ┆gang bang, degradation, praise, kidnapping. ˖⁺ ⊹୨ "yandere brothers + defenseless darling."୧⊹ ⁺˖ ── SMUT

˖⁺ ⊹୨ 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓭𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝔀. 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭 ୧⊹ ⁺˖

𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 🎀

TW: kidnapping, manipulation, stall syndrome, porn plot, dark smut, afab reader, nicknames like "good boy or good girl" used, praise, degradation, v!sex, blowjob, unprotected sex, breedkink, face fuck, deep throat, rough sex, stimulation, dumbfication, anal sex, degradation, yandere themes, gang bang.

Being in love with someone was complicated, but three people falling in love with the same person was a situation you didn't see every day ─ especially if these three guys in question were the three most powerful in all of China. Bi Han, Kuai Liang and Tomas Vrbada, all eyeing the same person. You. They didn't know who had been first.

Maybe when Bi Han saw you wandering around the Lin Kuei forests alone and picking some fruits, instead of moving you away from his clan's land he felt the strange urgency to help you. You looked like a deer lost in the snow, ready to be devoured by someone predator ─ the grandmaster himself fit this role well, but from that first instance he just helped you pick the apples you needed and let you go, you had messed with his world without even knowing it.

Maybe it could have been Kuai Liang, when he saw you bathing in the waterfall near his house. The white and loose peasant-style dress fell on your shoulders and clung to your curves due to the coolness of the icy water that accumulated on the smooth stones ─ the ninja pyromancer's focus had quickly shifted to your breasts that moved gracefully in the transparent fabric, begging for attention involuntarily. Your nipples hardened from the cold as he looked at the delicate curvature of your pussy, like a flower that was unopened and needed to be explored. The fire ninja didn't dare to come close to you - just watching you from afar, but his heart was racing, warming his body even more.

Or maybe it was Tomas Vrbada when he first saw you helping Madame Bo in her restaurant. You looked beautiful and oblivious to the smoke ninja's eyes that practically burned you, for you he was just another customer on a night with a lot of customers. But to him, you were the image of perfection he sought after the faith he had lost after losing his family too... He watched your graceful movements and even the way you smiled beautifully while serving his table. He felt his smoke powers go out of control each time he looked deeper into you ── it was like looking at a work of Renaissance art, the longer he looked at the more hidden details he could perceive.

Even with the unusual situation, the three brothers decided to make the best decision, join forces and share you. And the best way to stop anyone from having you was a quick kidnapping. After Bi Han asked Sentir to find everything about you, especially where you lived ─ Tomas used his smoke powers to fill your house with a suffocating gas enough to cause you to faint, without much harm to you obviously. Kuai Liang used his fire powers to overheat the door lock and break it, seeing you lying unconscious to it all... Scorpion's arms wrapped around you as he carried you away and his older brother, Bi Han, led their way guaranteed that no one would question anything after all who would question three ninja assassins?

You had gotten in their way, without even realizing it, you had marked your own destiny. Being woken up with restraints on your wrists and tied to a comfortable bed unlike at home was scary for you and especially seeing the three muscular men watching you in the corner of the room, but what could a weak boy/girl like you do? Just accept fate.

The rules were simple, don't try to escape, and respect everyone there. The words that came out of the grandmaster's mouth were sharp and harsh, demanding linear and blind obedience to them. Kuai Liang agreed with his brother, trying to soften his words with "we just want to keep you safe. And if you obey us you will be rewarded for it."

Tomas on the other hand was still insecure and anxious, with an underlying fear of rejection from you, he stayed quiet and let his older brothers talk while he watched everything. They wouldn't touch you for the first few days, making you comfortable enough in your new life. The best food, clothes and treats you could think of you had now ─ it was a prince's/princess's life, only in a bizarre way and in a narrative twisted by their obsessive minds

˖⁺ ⊹୨ How would they act?

Tomas Vrbada

He would be your caretaker while Kuai and Bi Han went on missions for Lord Liu Kang. He was responsible for making sure you didn't try to escape. But this served to bring the two of you closer together, the silver-haired man was soft, a soft giant. He always made a point of asking how you were, if he needed anything and even let you free from the ropes and chains that his brothers put on you to make sure you wouldn't run away from them. "I'll let you go, but you promise you won't run, right?"

He likes to be with you most of the time. He knows how to share you with his brothers but he prefers to be with you and hug you tightly, keep you protected behind his muscles and stroke your hair. The first time you had sex was also with him ─ the ninja felt over the moon when you said that in front of Kuai and Bi Han, making them respect your decision and let the Czech take you first.

You are treated so well when you have sex with him that it makes you forget that they kidnapped you and you are now in a beautiful cage surrounded by soft pillows and luxury ─ his cock is thick and big enough to give affectionate and warm kisses to one of your uterus, making you moan and writhe beneath him with each compliment that accompanies a thrust of his hips deep into your core.

"So beautiful and so tight my prince/princess, I knew you would like this. Open up more for me please... I can't move with your pretty pussy holding me like that.- FUCK!-" Vrbada is sensitive seeing you cling to him, the result of a stalling syndrome because of the situation you were in. He gives you kisses and praises you every time you suck his dick so well, telling you that you can continue and he will do whatever you want later. "Please make me cum, that's-! Yes... Damn such a beautiful and good mouth, you're a great boy/girl." He protects you from any punishment from Kuai or Bi Han, but if you betray his trust and try to escape, he will be extremely disappointed in you and he will treat you coldly and with sarcasm every time you speak, even refusing to keep you company.

"I should have thought of that before trying to escape." Were the words that left his lips as he just gave you a dark look and closed the door to your room, leaving you alone about your actions.

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang is a bit more stoic and closed off than Tomas. He will just look at you a few times and warn you not to try to run away ─ once again telling the false illusion of you being"safe with them" his personality even as Yandere is the perfect balance between strict and calm.

He will use unconventional methods to get you close to him and gain your trust, whether through manipulation convincing you that being with him and his brothers is the best way to live, where you would be kept beautifully there with them just having to be an obedient boy. or he could also be passive aggressive and intimidate you, telling you how he knew exactly where your friends and family lived and that if you tried to run away from Lin Kuei lands you might get a nasty surprise when you got back home... A subtle but functional threat .

Regardless, when you are mentally corrupted enough to cling to him, the fire ninja will take advantage of this opportunity and make you his for nights on end. Fucking you on a soft mattress surrounded by transparent curtains and the wind that bathed you both ─ he would bite, slap your ass while holding your head against the feather pillow making you arch your back even more towards him and giving him the view of your pussy drooling on his cock.

You knew you couldn't enjoy it so much, after all, that man was also responsible for your kidnapping... But you couldn't resist each strong thrust of Scorpion's super heated cock. Whispering how well you're doing, how he likes to see your body bounce with each thrust, how your pussy drools his cock... How you're his. "All i have to do is talk to u, don't I sweetheart? You're a shaking, beautiful mess, you're soaking the cloths baby boy/baby girl ... And my dick too. You're going to clean me up later with that pretty mouth, aren't you? It is?" Kuai Liang would bury his cock even deeper in your pussy, making you practically see stars and look at the eyes behind your skull, making you milk his cock and grip the sheets beneath you.

"I never thought a cute boy/girl like you would be such a greedy slut for cock..." He taunted again as he spilled his hot seed deep into your womb, filling you to the brim and giving one last bite to your neck. He would take care of you after sex, giving you a hot bath but keeping the chains that prevented you from running away from him ─ he is not easy to manipulate, you can convince him to let you free from the bonds after getting close enough and saying that I would never leave him. However, if you try to escape and he catches you he will definitely punish you, he would be angry enough to breed your pussy all night.

Bi Han and Tomas would only hear the banging of the bed against the wall and the grunts of his pyromancer brother as you were fucked into abandonment, even if you begged him to stop that you would behave he would just hold your neck and smirk. "stop? Oh my little dumb boy/girl, you should have thought of that before you tried to run away like a scared bunny- now spread your legs like the good slut you are and let me fill you up again." Kuai Liang would growl as he spit contemptuously into your pussy, his saliva helping his thick cock slide further in and out of your poor little cunt.

Bi Han

Because he's the oldest and has Napoleon syndrome, he really thinks you're there to serve him. You remember the bittersweet memory of having crossed his path for the first time, but you could no longer complain or beg for mercy. Even with the grandmaster's anger and imminent cruelty, he will be protective of you and give you the most expensive things money can buy ─ a tactic to distract you from the situation you are in now and start seeing him and his brothers as perhaps more than you. that just crazy people obsessed with your love.

He would have you on his lap while he did the paperwork, pulling on the chain that was attached to your neck with every inopportune movement you made or if you tried to get off of him."Be a good boy/girl and stay here okay? I can reward you later, maybe something you've wanted for a long time hm?" The ice ninja would speak, bringing you to him again, looking at your face and giving you an icy, expectant kiss on your cheek ─ like a sunny day that hid a night of heavy storms, that was the definition of your captor.

Sex with him is extremely good, making you turn off your brain with each rough thrust he made into your pussy while you sucked his fingers to muffle your moans. You felt his muscular body against his and how his hoarse moans made your pussy get even more wet and drip onto the floor, while you fought to keep your knees from sinking and falling to the floor. "Fuck- you are so fucking beautiful like this... Begging for a cock to fill you. Such a beautiful boy/girl for your master." Bi Han would moan hoarsely and distribute hickeys on your neck, cupping your soft breasts with his hands while he smiled, pleased to see you accept him so well and without question, the three brothers had corrected your behavior and turned you into their broken and corrupted little doll. One, two or three orgasms, maybe you had even squirted on his cock.

At this point you wouldn't even try to run away anymore, you had three men who loved you in a sick way, a comfortable place and being full of cum every night... You were satisfied with your new life or maybe you just settled.

gang bang with the lin kuei trio.

You were filled with Bi Han's cock in your pussy and Tomas followed behind, fucking your ass with half of his cock, your mouth was occupied with Kuai Liang's cock. You felt your brain go numb and go numb with each joint thrust of the ninja trio into your body.

Bi Han's hands found your clit as you moaned into his brother's member, making him smile sadistically ── they were jointly ruining their precious boy/girl. It was beautiful how fat tears fell from your teary eyes and you couldn't protest or say anything, too busy with the taste of Scorpion's warm musk on your tongue.

The smoke ninja's hands went to your hips as you heard his needy moans and how his dick filled your tight hole even without him even putting it all the way in.

Your womb had cold kisses given by the grandmaster's fat cock, making you lean on Liang's muscular thighs while he pulled your head and made your nose touch his pelvis. The voices mixed in your ears, and you just let yourself be deliciously destroyed by the three men. "You're close... Almost there... But not yet... Not until I feel you cumming around my cock again..." He pants heavily, his breath hot against your ear.

Bi Han’s eyes are almost black with lust, his hands gripping your neck tightly as he continues pounding into you, his thrusts match his younger brother's in your other hole, the two of them practically lift you off the ground while Kuai Liang hits you and enters your throat unceremoniously. "Holy fuck honey... Did you swallow me down to my throat? What a good slut." He groaned as you felt your saliva run from your mouth to your chin, wetting his balls.

Tomas only knew how to moan, and with one final thrust he came inside your tight ass, leaving a wet trail making you moan and the ice ninja who fucked your pussy came inside your uterus, breed your pussy deliciously, like a creampie. Kuai was not far behind and took his cock out of your mouth with a loud pop, cumming on your face and hitting his member on your cheek.

You collapsed against Bi Han's firm chest, while the once dominant hands turned into tender and soft touches, praising you for being so good to them, with their voices telling you to rest a little and have a happy sleep, filled with their seeds.

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

Text

Yan!Apollo w/Reader!Daughter of Yan!Hera Headcanons (Romantic)

❝ ☀️ — lady l: this headcanon is based more on Hera's POV than Apollo's, but I hope you like it anyway. This ask was thought of and I can do a second part if anyone wants! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, jealousy, offenses and hatred, bouts of jealousy, unhealthy relationships, mention of war.

❝🦚pairing: yandere!apollo x reader!daughter of yan!hera.

No one knew how you ended up in Hera's arms, but everyone knew you were hers. Some said that you were found by her when you were a small child, others say that you were taken by her after she cursed your parents after they had offended her in some way and other versions say that you were her and Zeus's daughter. No one knew the exact origin and it didn't really matter, because you were hers and always would be.

Hera is known for being vengeful and possessive, jealous of Zeus's lovers and anyone who crossed her path. And that jealousy passed on to you as you grew into a beautiful young woman. Your mother wouldn't let anyone near you and when you reached marriageable age, Hera became more suffocating than ever.

She would never let her little girl get married or be defiled by any man. Whether mortal or god, no one will lay hands on you. Hera swore to herself that you would never be touched or hurt as long as she existed.

Apollo has always had an interest in you. He always liked you but never had the real chance to get to know you, not with Hera hovering over you all the time. The god didn't know why but he wanted to get to know you better, to get closer. You attracted him, maybe it was because of your immense beauty, he didn't know, but there was something about you that attracted him like a magnet and he needed to know what it was. So he waited for an opportunity to get closer to you.

And this opportunity arrived in the best way possible. You were finally allowed to wander around Olympus for a bit, without having your mother glued to your side. You begged her if you could go out alone for a bit and Hera gave in very reluctantly. As you wandered through some gardens, Apollo was sitting near a statue of Zeus, playing his lyre and singing something in a low voice. You cautiously approached the god and crouched near a hyacinth bush, hiding and watching him in wonder. Apollo knew you were there, but he didn't stop singing and playing, wanting to impress you.

When he stopped singing and playing, Apolo stared blankly at the bush where you were hiding. That was when you knew you had been caught. You stood up awkwardly, smoothing out your rumpled dress and stammering out a weak apology. You knew it was wrong to spy on others, especially a god. To your surprise, Apollo laughed and approached you, telling you that everything was fine and he didn't mind being watched by a beautiful lady like you. You blushed and smiled at his words and that was the beginning of a beautiful romance.

After this meeting in the garden, you and Apollo began to meet more often, all hidden from your mother's jealous eyes. You found yourself more and more attracted to this god and Apollo more and more in love and obsessed with you. You were perfect in his eyes. Benevolent and merciless in just the right amount, a daughter of Hera indeed. You would be a perfect wife and Apollo found himself more and more eager to ask you to marry him, but he was no fool, he knew that Hera would never accept. So he wouldn't ask her permission, but rather his father.

Apollo went to meet Zeus and told him his wishes, that he would like to marry you, leaving his father at an impasse. Zeus would like to allow you to become his son wife, but Hera would never allow it. And she was the goddess of marriage, getting married without her blessing wasn't the right thing to do. But Apollo didn't care and when Zeus reluctantly gave his permission, he knew what he had to do.

One night, Hera was by your side as you tried to fall asleep. Like the caring and patient mother she was to you, she kept you company until you fell asleep. As you fell asleep, Hera left the room and locked the door like she always did. You woke up a few minutes later and opened the window, allowing Apollo to enter. Once in your room, Apollo kissed you and got down on one knee and asked you to marry him. Your heart raced and before you could think, the words ''yes'' left your mouth and you were in Apollo's arms, kissing him passionately. You were so focused on each other that you didn't hear the door open until Hera started screaming.

Hera had known something was wrong for weeks. She suspected but had no proof that you were seeing anyone, until that cursed night. She left your room and waited for a few minutes, wanting to make sure you didn't have a lover, the thought made her sick. When she heard voices coming from inside your room, Hera unlocked the door and quickly walked in and she saw red. All she felt in that moment was hate, pure rage seeing you in the arms of a bastard of a husband. Hera had never been so sorry that she hadn't been able to kill Apollo when he was still in his whore mother's womb. How dare he tarnish you? Her pure princess? She was ready to kill him.

Apollo pushed you behind him just as your mother started screaming. This sight only enraged her further. It wasn't enough that he dishonored you, he still wanted to keep you away from the only person who would always love you. You flinched at your mother's screams and Apollo's eerie calm. When Hera finally stopped screaming, she tried to get closer to you but Apollo wouldn't let her. Just as Hera was about to curse him, Zeus stormed into the room furiously and demanded to know what was happening. Hera couldn't explain how furious she was and Apollo was very calm. Zeus looked at you and when he saw the ring on your finger, he knew what had happened. Curse that Hera had discovered that way.

Zeus tried to calm his wife, but his attempts were frustrated and he had to impose himself so that she and Apollo did not start fighting physically or trigger a war. Apollo just said that you and him would get married and that Hera would have no right to interfere, not when he had the blessing of the King of Olympus. Hera let out a scream of rage and all this fury was diverted towards Zeus, leaving the god in trouble. Hera was screaming at her husband and demanding answers, how did he have the nerve to let his bastard son get his hands on you? Hera doesn't remember feeling as much hatred towards Zeus as she did at that moment. Zeus remained silent, trying to remain calm while being insulted by his wife. When she finally stopped yelling at him, she turned to talk to you and you were no longer there.

Apollo had taken you. Hera fell to her knees and uttered curses. Zeus just watched her with remorse. She got up and sat on your bed and grabbed your pillow, in an act of fury, she tore it and her green eyes were filled with hatred. She would destroy Apollo and anyone who got in her way until you were safe and sound in her arms. She was ready to start a war, use her son, Ares, to destroy the world to bring you back. She swore these words and Zeus, for the first time, was speechless.

#yandere greek gods #yandere greek mythology #yandere apollo #yandere apollo x reader #apollo x reader #yandere hera #platonic yandere hera #yandere headcanons #headcanons #greek gods #yandere platonic hera #greek mythology

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stevieschrodinger · 9 days ago

Text

Part One TwentyEight

This chapter in NSFW

TW panic attack

Eddie waits, fiddling with the cuffs of his pull over, “where?”

“I…” Steve casts around, he doesn’t really want to kneel on the floor, “bed? We can listen to a record after?”

Eddie nods, going into the bedroom. Steve follows, taking a big, fortifying breath. He can totally do this. It’s just Eddie, and he knows Eddie’s dick won’t hurt him. Eddie doesn’t even pee out of it, well, Steve’s...pretty sure he doesn’t, since he still sits to pee, so, in theory, it should be better than a regular dick?

Maybe?

And he definitely doesn’t come out of it, so Steve doesn’t even have to worry about...that part.

Steve has no idea, because he’s never done this, “Eddie,” Steve starts, watching as Eddie strips off and lays his clothes, well, Steve’s clothes that they’ve been sharing, over the chair. He climbs into bed, Steve’s soft bedding having been transferred to here.

At least it’s familiar, and smells like home, “Eddie, you know I’ve never done this before, right? I’ve only ever been with girls before. And they don’t...they don’t have dicks.”

“I know it. Pictures in my book.”

“Oh...is there?”

“Yeah, and of...feet– feeetuuus- tadpole? Inside?”

“Oh,” Steve gets undressed, following Eddie into bed, “a pregnant lady? With a baby inside?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.”

It’s easy enough to reach between Eddie’s legs now, rubbing until Eddie’s dick slides out to meet his fingers. Twisting around them to greet Steve, familiar now. Steve rubs and tickles the head under the covers, Eddie shifting and making a soft sound of pleasure as the petals open. Steve rubs the pad of his thumb across the top, feeling the soft drag of all those little nobbles, following the dip and the petals, “ready?”

Eddie nods, blinking up at Steve with liquid brown eyes.

Steve takes another deep breath before he shuffles down the bed, half pulling off the covers so he doesn’t suffocate down there as he gets himself situated between Eddie’s thighs. He starts off kneeling, but then lies down. It’s not like he hasn’t been sucked off before so he’s...seen the mechanics of it quite a few times.

Eddie’s dick is upright, even without Steve holding it, the thickness of it...wriggling, but slowly. Swaying. Kind of.

Like a snake from a snake charmers basket…an image Steve does his best to dismiss.

The rest of Eddie’s anatomy isn’t anywhere near as intimidating. Despite there not being a single hair on Eddie’s pale skin, the slit is near enough what Steve’s familiar with that it seems like the safest way to start.

He feels fucking awkward, figuring out where to rest his arm on Eddie’s thigh as he takes hold of his dick again, his nose pumping clumsily against Eddie on the first try, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind at all. He’s still reclined, but up on his elbows so that he can watch. He’s frowning, “okay, Stevie love?”

“Yeah. Yeah I just...you’ll tell me, if I get it wrong, okay?”

“Yeah. I...Stevie, you like this? You sure?”

“I...I mean I want to try.” Which isn’t a lie. Steve wants to try this so Eddie can try it, and it certainly isn’t fair to deny Eddie because of Steve’s own hang ups. Eddie’s body being...different...certainly is not Eddie’s fault.

He can’t sound very sure though, because Eddie’s frowning, lifting a leg to shift Steve away, trying to shield himself, “Stevie.”

Steve pins Eddie’s thigh, “no. Look, let me try, okay. I might really like it, but I won’t know unless I try, right?”

Eddie frowns, “promise it’s okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I promise. If you don’t like it, you say, and if I don’t like it, I say, deal?”

Eddie nods, relaxing again, “deal.”

Steve holds Eddie’s dick gently, brushing the tips of the open petals with his thumb. It’s like Eddie’s dick...leans into it, brushing up against Steve’s fingers like a friendly cat would.

“Okay,” Steve tells himself, “okay.” He leans down again, this time heading for the safe, familiar bit first, and with a flattened tongue he licks a stripe up the length of Eddie’s slit. He tastes like clean skin. Steve lets his tongue trace the place where Eddie’s dick emerges, prodding gently at the little gap there, between Eddie’s dick and the place it comes out.

Steve leans back again, “was that okay?”

Eddie nods frantically, shifting his legs further apart to give Steve better access, “good.”

Steve slides his free arm under Eddie’s other leg, rather than having it half trapped beneath him. It lets him settle right down against the mattress, before he goes in for another lick. Eddie hisses out a noise, clearly liking it, “warm,” he tells Steve, “feels warm.”

“Uh hu,” Steve makes an affirmative noise, pressing the tip of his tongue between Eddie’s folds, and trailing it downwards. There is a taste now, just a vague one. Nothing like what Steve is used to, but not bad. Maybe because Eddie doesn’t get at all that wet until he comes.

Steve flicks his eyes up to Eddie’s face when he’s at the top of a lick, checking they’re still good. Eddie’s eyes are wide and his cheeks are a little pink, and his tummy muscles give a little twitch and shiver when Steve licks again at the base of his cock. Steve takes the encouragement, cradling the back of Eddie’s length to keep it vaguely in the right place, Steve licks a thick stripe right up the length, getting close up to the nearest petals before backing off a little.

Eddie’s hips lift with a groan, trying to chase Steve’s mouth. It doesn’t work at all, because his dick stubbornly nestles itself against Steve’s palm. The head waves a little as Eddie’s hips relax, the petals pulsing and grasping at nothing, and Steve figures, he might as well just go for it.

He times his moment, waiting for the petals to be fully open so he can lick across the top, letting spit gather in his mouth before he leans in. The head tilts towards him, petals stretched fully, like this is exactly what it wants. Steve has an intrusive, and a little insane thought, that Eddie’s dick is watching him...that it knows exactly what it’s doing. Steve does his best to ignore it.

Steve opens his mouth wide, intending to lick right across the top and take Eddie into his mouth at the same time.

Spit pools on Steve’s tongue as he dips it into the shallow indent in the middle of the black petals, and immediately Eddie huffs out a shocked noise. His arms give way, his head hitting the pillow as his hips buck upward, and Steve does his best not to panic as Eddie’s dick latches to his tongue.

It’s probably only the familiarity of it that saves him from a knee jerk reaction to pull away, he’s felt this same thing, the soft, suckling grip of Eddie’s cock on his thumb many times now. It’s the same thing, Eddie’s body rolling and bucking, Steve sort of letting his head bob with the movement, following the shifting of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie comes so hard Steve hears it, a wet squelch as Eddie’s jelly like come gets forcibly ejected from...wherever it is it comes from.

He’s pretty sure he could pull away, once he’s had a second to think, Eddie’s dick doesn’t have that strong of a grip, but he can feel the pulsing far more acutely now. Eddie’s dick giving Steve’s tongue almost a suckling kiss, which Steve can feel much more thoroughly on his tongue than he ever, ever has on his thumb.

He watches, only feeling a little silly with his mouth hanging open and Eddie’s dick attached to his tongue. He wonders what it looks like, easily able to imagine the stark black skin of the head of Eddie’s cock bright against the pink skin of his own tongue.

Steve has a good view, holding on as best he can while Eddie’s body writhes and twitches through it’s orgasm. After all the stress, the whole thing was probably over in less than a minute.

Steve can feel the pulses lessen, the petals releasing their grip, and Eddie’s cock detaches. It sinks halfway back inside, the remainder just sort of hanging out, loose and relaxed. It never really goes flaccid, Eddie’s dick, even when he’s come, it still maintains the thick girth of a good sized dick.

Steve wonders vaguely where it goes and what it does when it’s back inside, if it tucks itself around into a little sleepy doughnut or something. It makes him smile. And then stop again, because smiling over Eddie’s dick being cute is kind of weird. Steve distracts himself by rubbing at Eddie’s thigh instead. He’s still now, flushed and kind of sweaty looking, just panting a little.

“Was that okay?”

Eddie swallows thickly once, then twice, before he finally says, “good bad?”

“Oh,” Steve says, uncertain what to do with that. He pulls the covers back up, taking them with him as he climbs up to settle next to Eddie, covering them both. He’s half hard, despite his initially ambivalent feelings about blow jobs, it was...kind of fun. Steve rationalizes that it’s more a fear of the unknown and...it was fine. Good even, he did kind of enjoy it. And now he’s done it once, he really would be happy to do it again now that he knows what to expect, as long as Eddie doesn’t object.

Which he might, ‘good bad,’ isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement of success. Eddie holds Steve’s hand under the covers, “was it okay though?” Steve asks again, uncertain now.

“Come...good. Really good,” Eddie says after a moments thought.

“But..?”

Eddie frowns, “sharp,” he finally says, and then with much more confidence, “fast.”

“It was...you came too fast? And that made it...not as good?”

“I...it hurt? But...good hurt?” Eddie tries, a little confused, a little desperate to get Steve to understand, “Stevie good. Perfect good.”

“Huh. Maybe just a little more foreplay then, next time. So it...happened suddenly then? Like coming was a surprise?”

“Like...braking too hard in the car? Everything-” Eddie pulls his arm out from under the covers to make a sharp jerking motion with his hand.

“Oh. Oh yeah, I think I get you. Yeah so...you just need a little more build up then?”

Eddie shrugs, “maybe?”

“You willing to try again?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods enthusiastically, so it can’t have been all bad.

“I have been wondering...when I touch you...you usually come when I get the end wet, right, and that’s always with my spit? And then then...my, well, my tongue has spit on it, and you came like, straight away so...do you think it’s actually like, my spit that’s making you come, or do you think it would work with anything?”

Eddie shrugs, “you want...try water?”

“I mean, could, yeah. Could buy some lube. Milk?” Eddie’s nose wrinkles, “tomato ketchup?” He actually scowls, a little disgusted at the thought, “orange juice?”

Eddie smacks him playfully, smiling now, “Stevie.”

“What, you know what Dustin says about experiments or whatever, as long as we record our findings,” Steve recites dutifully.

“Whizzy cream?”

“What, so you can eat half the can again?” Eddie grins, and Steve knows he’s right.

“We try sex with no condom now?” Eddie asks. He has such an earnest innocence about him, something about the question, the keen way Eddie asks it, makes Steve stomach fill with butterflies and his dick feel all twitchy.

“Yeah...yeah, okay. If you’re still sure you want to?”

“Doctor said it’s fine? The results say you’re all clean,” Eddie repeats the second part carefully, he’s probably only heard Steve say it that one time.

“Yeah. That’s right.”

Eddie shrugs then, “I trust you.”

Steve has no idea when Eddie picked that one up, but it makes something warm pulse in his chest.

“I love you, you know that right? Like, I really love you. It would...hurt me, if you went away or…”

“I know Stevie. I love you too. Many lots. The most.”

Steve leans down for a tender kiss, soft and careful before he pulls away again, “how do you want to do this?”

“The first way,” Eddie tells him, “I stay here.”

Steve leans down for more kisses as he climbs back over Eddie, Eddie’s hands rubbing at Steve’s back and ruffling up through his hair before sliding back down. Eddie bends his knees a little as Steve fully settles against him, cock hardening reflexively.

Eddie lifts his legs more, letting them wrap around the back of Steve’s legs as Steve uses one hand to notch the head of his dick at Eddie’s opening. He pushes in carefully, mindful of how tight Eddie can be at first. He’s so warm inside, and now, without the condom, Steve can really feel the wetness slicking his cock. The drag of Eddie’s walls against his flesh is more acute, little differences, but still noticeable.

Steve’s all the way in, Eddie’s legs and arms wrapped tight around him when he stops to check in, “all good?”

“Yeah. You can go.”

“Oh, thank you, very kind,” it gets a small, chuffing laugh out of Eddie, which in turn makes him clench, and Steve may go a little cross-eyed at the sensation of it.

Steve starts rocking his hips, closing the scant distance, kissing Eddie carefully. Eddie returns them with more fervor, licking deep into Steve’s mouth when he has the opportunity, sucking without Steve feeling his teeth at all.

Steve vaguely wonders if Eddie’s trying to prove a point, but the thought is fleeting. Steve starts drawing out further, thrusting harder, kissing Eddie and then trailing sucking kisses along his jaw and town his throat.

Eddie arches into it, and Steve is vaguely aware of the head of Eddie’s cock burrowing against him; it’s the first time he remembers that happening after Eddie’s already come. Steve doesn’t stop, but he does lift a little, putting his weight up onto his forearms to create a little space between their bodies.

Sure enough, Eddie dick is awake again, nuzzling into Steve’s pubes before the head opens and it grasps at Steve’s tummy. Steve keeps thrusting, keeps moving, neither Eddie nor his dick seem to mind. When Eddie’s dick releases, latching on again an inch further down, Eddie groans.

“Baby, you want to come again?” They don’t usually do this, but then Eddie’s cock is usually floppy and sleepy looking once Eddie’s come, not usually interested in the proceedings once Eddie’s gotten his. This is new.

Eddie shifts, gripping at Steve’s sides with his knees, “yes?” he sounds unsure, but Steve sits back on his knees, hooking his elbows under Eddie’s thighs to pull him down and up, so Eddie’s nestled still against Steve’s body. Steve manages it without his dick slipping free.

Eddie’s dick seems to roll with the punches, keeping it’s purchase on the skin of Steve’s lover stomach.

Eddie’s goes easily when Steve moves him, ending up with Eddie’s knees hooked over his shoulders. Steve rolls his hips, keeping his thrusts long, slow and deep, holding for a second every time he bottoms out. He has to slow down, now he knows Eddie wants to come again he can’t come too fast. He doesn’t want Eddie coming too quick either, clearly that was what was unsatisfying about the blow job but...a thought occurs to Steve. If he gets this right, and if he is right about the spit thing...they could come at the same time.

He holds Eddie’s thighs flush to his body with one hand, keeping him nice and close so Steve can make his thrusts short, and with the other he reaches around for Eddie’s dick, teasing it off his skin with gentle fingers. It accepts the distraction of Steve’s thumb, Eddie huffing out a pleasured moan as Steve starts rubbing, holding Eddie’s dick firmly in his hand, it leaves his thumb free to work.

“Good?”

Eddie’s tugging at the covers, bunching them so he has something to hold onto. He’s watching Steve through half lidded eyes, “yes. Like you in when you touch me.”

“Good,” Steve makes his thrusts short and sharp now, getting a little warm with exertion and his brewing orgasm, his hips smack quietly against Eddie’s ass, “gonna’ come soon, you ready now?”

“Yes, yes Stevie love, in me, please. I want come in me,” Steve holds Eddie’s dick, letting a blob of spit land on his thumb and the head of Eddie’s cock as his own balls go tight, his cock hardening and beginning to twitch.

Steve rubs the spit across the head of Eddie’s cock, and sure enough Eddie’s eyes slide shut as he cries out, his back arching, but his hips held firm by Steve as Steve drives into him. There’s another flood of hot wetness across Steve’s cock, enough that some feels like it’s sliding slowly down onto Steve’s balls from the bottom of Eddie’s slit, forced out by the movement. Eddie’s insides pulse and shiver with his orgasm. It’s enough to push Steve over the edge into his own release, head thrown back and eyes closed as he comes, drawn out by Eddie’s pulsing wet grip on his cock.

They come down slowly, Steve holding Eddie’s thighs close until Eddie finally blinks up at him, smiling, “I feel it. Your come. Warm inside. Feels good to come with you in.”

“Good then?”

“Best come ever.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “good.”

The waters warm enough as to be perfectly adequate, but no where near as hot as Steve likes it. Still, it’s fine, it’s not cold or anything, “you getting in with me?” He calls, vaguely aware of Eddie shuffling around outside the stall.

“Brushing my teeth, then yes.”

“Okay,” Steve wets his hair, and then nearly screams a second after Eddie runs the faucet, “shit fuck,” he hisses, plastering himself against the door, “Eddie turn the water off,” Eddie does.

“Okay?”

“Okay new rule, no running any water anywhere in here when someone's already in the shower, okay? It makes the water go hot. Like burning hot.”

“Okay...sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve tentatively slides back under the water, “yeah, brush your teeth after, okay?”

Steve wets his hair again, idly running his hands down his body, rinsing the worst of Eddie’s sticky come off his cock. There’s one of those dark lumps clinging stubbornly to Steve’s foreskin, and it takes a bit of rubbing with his thumb to dislodge it. It washes down the drain. Steve’s reaching for the shampoo just as Eddie opens the door. The glass stall is going to be tight with two grown adults, but they can make it work.

Eddie ends up shuffling in backwards, pulling the glass door closed behind him. It’s a snug fit, Steve forced completely under the spray, almost touching the back wall, “want me to get your hair?” Steve has to do a weird maneuver to get at the shampoo, but he manages, “Eddie babe? Your hair?”

Eddie doesn’t answer though, he’s still where he’s pressed up against Steve. Steve watches as Eddie reaches up with one hand, making a tinking noise with the tips of his nails against the glass wall of the stall.

“Eddie?” Steve reaches up to squeeze Eddies arm, and all of a sudden Eddie jerks to life, flailing and panicking, he slams the shower door open, stumbling out. Steve reaches back to flick the water off again as he follows. He grabs a towel to get the water out of his eyes, so he can see to turn Eddie. Eddie’s breathing way too fast, his hands shaking, his muscles twitching. He’s mumbling under his breath, eyes wide and terrified, darting everywhere. He backs himself against the wall, Steve following, dripping and naked, “Eddie?”

Steve gets a towel around Eddie easily, Eddie not really reacting, it’s kind of like Steve isn’t even there. Steve gets a towel for himself, haphazardly fixing it around his middle, “Eddie,” Steve risks rubbing at Eddie’s arms, but again, nothing. Eddie’s teeth are chattering now, but he’s blinking slowly, eyes starting to focus.

“Stee?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m here, are you okay? What happened baby?”

Eddie swallows thickly, once, then again, before he gathers himself to speak. He wraps his own towel more tightly around himself, “tank,” is all he says.

“I...oh,” Steve turns to look at the two glass walls of the shower cubicle, “yeah. Okay yeah, I can see that. Lets get you dry, okay?” Steve breathes a sigh of relief, a little unsettled himself. As fast as that happened, Eddie seems to have calmed again just as quickly.

Eddie lets Steve dry the worst of the water off his back, before setting one foot on the toilet lid so Steve can get between his legs with a flannel. It just takes a minute and Eddie’s clean enough for now, “you want to go sit on the bed a second?”

Eddie shakes his head, choosing to sit on the lid of the toilet instead, wrapped in two towels, waiting, “okay, I’ll be two minutes,” Steve kisses Eddie’s forehead before he gets back in the shower, washing his hair and then soaping himself down as fast as he can. It’s a half assed job but it’ll do for now.

“Come on, lets get dressed, I can make hot milk and we can listen to that record, okay?”

Part Thirty

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature #robin buckly #chrissy cunningham #buckingham

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yandere-daydreams · 11 months ago

Text

Title: Loving Suffocation.

A Continuation Of This Piece.

Written for a very lovely, very indulgent anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Loid x Reader x Yandere!Yor (SxF).

Word Count: 4k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Slight Somnophilia, Spanking, Sex Toys, Breeding, Mentions of Pregnancy, Medical Malpractice, Oral Sex, Obsessive Behavior, Slight Gaslighting, Bruising/Marking, and Overstimulation.

You never did get to see your opera. A lack of oxygen turned your cramped world blurry and abstract, and you faded in and out of consciousness while Yor fussed over your ruined dress and gathered you up in her arms, the strip of fabric she’d tied around your neck and stuffed in your mouth – not quite a gag, but enough to convince your uncooperative vocal cords that calling for help wouldn’t be worth the effort. Sometime between being pulled against Yor’s chest and slipping out of that sex-saturated storage closet, you blinked and by the time you could find the strength to open your eyes again, you were in your apartment, in your own bed, your makeshift gag gone and your wrists bound behind your back with a generous amount of duct tape. You briefly considered calling for help, but you were past the point of screaming. Even if you tried, the Forgers were your only neighbors close enough to hear, and you’d seen enough of enough of that family for a lifetime.

Just as exhaustion began to overwhelm your better judgement, you caught stifled footsteps in the near distance, heard the door to your bedroom creak open and shut with enough force to shake the drywall. This time, when you closed your eyes, it was in a deliberate effort to will yourself to sleep. An effort that was, of course, rendered futile by Yor’s hand on your forehead, a soft hum too tender to be purposefully deceptive. “I think they might be asleep. The poor thing could barely hold their eyes open.”

“That’s fine.” Instantly, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. He spoke quietly, keeping his voice low and airy, but even in worst dreams, Loid seemed to be able to carve out a place for himself. It made sense for him to make an appearance in this nightmare, too. “Can you show me where the damage is?”

You held your breath as Yor’s hand drifted from your face to your thigh. After a moment of hesitation, she nudged you onto your back, pulling the ragged remains of your skirt up to your waist. You fought not to bolt up as cold air washed over your exposed, abused cunt – not to ball your fists as you felt Loid’s narrowed eyes pry into you the way they always seemed to when you passed each other in the hall, when he got home before you could find a reason to get out of the Forgers’ suffocating apartment. You managed to hold yourself still as he clicked his tongue, edging that much closer to the foot of your bed. You could picture him leaning over you, perfectly styled blonde hair falling ever so slightly out of place as he took long, agonizing seconds to evaluate the bruises lining the inside of your thighs, the crescent-shaped marks Yor’s nails had left pressed in your hips, your waist. Calloused fingertips brushed over your ankle, but further restraint was deemed unnecessary as his attention shifted back to his wife. “And you said you found them…?”

“Unconscious,” she filled in. You could hear her shifting her weight, feigning concern as her husband evaluated you. “In front of our building. I tried to wake them up, but they panicked, and I remembered the treatment you told me about for—for hysteria.” She paused, swallowed. “I thought I could help, but I’m afraid I might’ve just made things worse…”

Loid’s response was delayed, put off in favor of inching that much closer to you. The mattress dipped as he rested a knee on the foot of your bed. Don’t move, you repeated to yourself, despite the ever-growing urge to get up and run gnawing violently at the back of your mind. If you pretended to be asleep, you’d only have to tolerate a few minutes of his attention before he got tired of leering at your conscious body. If you pretended to be asleep, they’d leave and you could start to forget this ever happened.

It got harder to be so rational as he reached out, running two fingers over your slit and splitting apart the lips of your pussy, giving himself a better view of your abused clit, your entrance – still pitifully drooling slick. You tried to remember what kind of doctor he was, but any specialties that might’ve come to mind were immediately forgotten as his gloved fingers slipped inside of you. You had to bite back a quiet hiss as he scissored open the sore walls of your cunt, his touch probing and experimental. At least Yor had the decency not to draw it out. “You reacted swiftly and efficiently. Even trained paramedics leave residual damage.” He drew back suddenly, and you fought not to jolt at his callousness. “Can you show me what exactly your…” He trailed off. You could practically hear the curiosity in his voice. “…your treatment entailed?”

Yor made a noise you couldn’t decipher. Loid moved away from you entirely, but Yor was quick to take his place. She settled into the space between your legs, her hands – shaking ever so slightly – taking up your hips, her fingertips near-perfectly aligned with the dark bruises pressed into your skin. You felt her breath ghost over the inside of your thighs, the flat of her tongue run gingerly over your slit, and you bolted upward on instinct, mouth open and ready to—

—ready to have your scream stifled and suffocated by Loid’s palm as he forced his hand over your mouth and shoved you back into the mattress. Unable to claw at his arm, to pry him off of you, you thrashed under his steadfast hold, but he didn’t seem to pay you any mind. Rather, his eyes met yours for all of half a second before flickering to his wife, sparing her a slight nod. “Patients usually react with some level of resistance. You can go on.”

Yor’s eyes widened, but any shock she might’ve felt seemed to melt away at her husband’s assurance. She was more nervous, now that she was performing for an audience rather than assaulting you in the privacy of her chosen hideaway, but the little, tentative movements of her tongue got braver over time, her eyes closing as her hands drifted from your waist to your thighs. She nudged your legs onto her shoulders and latched onto your clit, suckling with just enough force to draw a reaction out of your burnt-out nerves, to leave you trembling and struggling to swallow back pained moans and pathetic whimpers. It hurt – more than anything, it hurt – but she had your body trained, knew just what points to hit to get what she wanted out of you. More than that, your body knew that it wasn’t going to end until she reached her goal, until she had you cumming on her tongue for the— god, how many times would this make? You’d lost track after the first dozen, but even if you hadn’t, it would’ve been impossible to tell, impossible to know what she’d accomplished the first time reality started to blur and consciousness was rendered more of revokable privilege than something you’d ever be capable of holding on to without help. In less than a minute, you were grinding against her tongue involuntarily, the movement of your hips stilted and jerky. You couldn’t have called it a real orgasm, not when any pleasure you could’ve felt was so overshadowed by a searing sort of ache, but Yor seemed satisfied – drawing the back of her hand over her chin as she lifted her head, sending Loid a sheepish smile.

“I just, uh,” she started, drumming her fingers over your thigh. “I just did that until they calmed down. I’m not sure if it helped.”

“I see.” Loid, for his part, failed to let his air of stoic professionalism so much as waver. “And how many times did the patient reach climax?”

“…thirty?” Yor let out an airy, nervous laugh. “Maybe more. It… It was a little hard to keep track, in the moment.”

“And they’re still so unruly.” He was kind enough to feign concern, to let his tone soften and purse his lips into a thin frown. For a second, you let yourself believe that you’d just stumbled into a bad situation – that he and his wife were under some shared delusion and genuinely thought they might’ve been helping you, but then you caught a spec of crimson on the collar of Yor’s dress out of the corner of your eye and thought better of trying to humanize them. “Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

The question was posed to Yor, not you. “Please do, you’re the doctor here,” she spouted, hurrying to get out of Loid’s way. Loid was more hesitant, his palm lingering over your mouth as his eyes found yours. He was cold at the best of times – his expression often hollow when he thought your attention was elsewhere, his touch enough to send a chill down your spine on the rare occasion he found an excuse to put his hands on you – but the look he sent you as he uncovered your mouth was nothing short of frigid. The threat was clear, albeit ambiguous. You had no idea what Loid was capable of, let alone what extremes he was willing to go to.

But, you knew what Yor could do – you’d caught her in the act.

And you weren’t eager to find out what’d she’d do to you at her husband’s request.

When his hand finally fell away from your mouth, you didn’t make a sound. Rather, you dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek as Loid wrapped an arm around your waist and hauled you onto his lap – his thighs cutting harshly into your stomach. The position was enough to leave your cheeks burning and humiliation tying knots in the back of your throat, but whatever embarrassment you might’ve felt was multiplied ten-fold as his hand ghosted over the buttons lining the back of your dress and your only remaining protective barrier fell away – mutilated fabric now limp and useless beneath you. You started to writhe, but the heel of Loid’s palm found the small of your back, pressing into the base of your spine with just enough force a pained whimper past your lips. Reflectively, Yor moved to reach towards you, but Loid shook his head. “It’s important to test for reactiveness,” he explained, tone flat and steely. “I can take care of bruises and cuts, but lasting nerve damage will make things—” He paused, clicked his tongue. “—difficult.”

“Oh!” Yor clapped her hands together. At least she seemed to sincerely believe that, even if she wasn’t helping you, her husband might be. You couldn’t tell what Loid was thinking, but it couldn’t have been so benevolent. “Is that what you’re doing now? Testing for reactiveness?”

“Exactly.” Loid flashed her a smile. You felt him shift, fish something out of the pocket of his suit jacket. Aching numbness had put you at a distance from his invasive touch before, but Yor’s mouth had done away with that – resurrecting the buzzing sort of hyper-sensitivity that meant you weren’t able to hide the way your hips bucked against his thigh as he slid something sleek and metallic into your drenched pussy. It was oddly shaped – one end tapered and the other flat, small enough to fit in the palm of your hand but still big enough to leave you squirming uncomfortably as Loid pulled back. “Normally, I’d use more intricate equipment, but there are a few experiments I can run on my own.”

You heard nails against metal, a soft click muffled by stiff machinery. After a second of delay, the object inside of you let out an abrupt pulse of pure vibration – harsh and sudden and awful. Your reaction was reflexive, undisguisable. You threw your head forward as you bit back a bubbling, broken moan; waves of intense reverberation beating at the walls of your cunt. There was no time to brace yourself, to grow into the piercing sting – it was already too much. The walls of your pussy clenched around the source of your agony, and before you could think to stifle your reactions, to give them as little as you possibly could, tears were blurring your vision, dripping down your cheeks. Yor cooed, kneeling in front of you and cupping your cheeks. “Poor thing…” she mumbled, before looking up towards Loid. “I don’t think they’re enjoying it.”

Another wave of pulsing reverberation, a jagged cry forced past your lips. “P-please, turn it off, take it out, I can’t—”

It took you a second to process the sound of a palm against flesh, how it might’ve been connected to the bright flash of pain just below the curve of your ass. When you could bring yourself to glance over your shoulder, his hand was raised, his expression stern. The sight was enough to make your heart ache in your chest – a sensitivity which surprised you. You hadn’t thought there was anything the Forgers could do to hurt you more than they already had.

“We’re going out of our way to help you.” It was the same tone he used with Anya when she refused to do her homework or threatened to drop out of her upper-crust academy. Whatever genuine sympathy he might’ve had for you was buried beneath a heavy layer of practiced stoicism and nearly totalitarian authority, turning the words cold where they should’ve been comforting. “It’s unfair to be so ungrateful when Yor’s already sacrificed so much of her time for the sake of your health. Why don’t you apologize to her?”

Again, you heard that same soft click, and the vibrations pulsing out of the object in your cunt doubled in intensity. You let your head fall forward, clenching your eyes shut as you struggled to spit something out. “I… I’m sorry, Yor, I didn’t mean to—”

You were cut off by a sharp moan, the feeling of Loid’s fingers tracing over your slit. Soon, the pad of his thumb found your clit, pushing dull circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. He let out an airy chuckle as you withered into yourself, your legs spreading involuntarily as your feet struggled to find purchase on carpeting that seemed to be just an inch too far, to ground yourself on something that Loid didn’t even have to try to keep just out of your grasp. “Don’t strain yourself,” he muttered, your unwanted reward for your easy compliance. “How does this—” He pushed a rough pattern into your clit, drawing out a wavering cry. “—feel?”

Miserable. Torturous. The worst thing that’d ever been inflected onto your poor, spent body. You deflated, your chest flattening against Loid’s thighs. “…it hurts.”

This time, he let you finish before pulling back, his palm striking your ass with twice the force he’d used before. You cried out, the noise uneven and anguished, but your pain didn’t seem to rank very high on his nebulous list of concerns. “I’ve already told you not to be so ungrateful,” he said, shaking his head. “Do you know what would’ve happened if we weren’t here to help you?” Another strike, another ragged sob. “You’d be suffering on your own, in excruciating pain and spiraling into your own delusions. If we hadn’t been there to correct you so quickly, you would’ve been unrecoverable.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You were babbling, now, your apologies clumped together and nearly unintelligible. Loid cut in, pointed as ever.

“You’ve already apologized.” Two digits slipped into you, splitting your pussy open. Somehow, the added stimulation only seemed to make his device’s vibration more unbearable. “Now, it’s time to tell Yor how thankful you are.”

“Thank you—” There was no hesitation, no resistance. If you’d been able to, if you hands hadn’t been bound, you would’ve clung to her, dug your nails into her shoulder and your teeth into Loid’s thigh, anything to feel like you weren’t about to fall apart altogether. “Thank you, I’m so— I can’t— Thank you—”

It was Yor, this time – her mouth crashing against yours as her hand found the back of your head. Her tongue slipped past your lips, raking over yours with a ginger sort of tenderness and raking her fingers through your hair, drinking down every little moan and whimper her husband forced out of you with enthusiasm. She lingered there, lips moving gently against yours, as you reached your next climax – the number completely lost on you, now. When she pulled away, eyes glazed over and a dark blush painted over her cheeks, Loid hummed approvingly, fishing his bullet-shaped device out of your pussy and switching it off. Slick dripped down the inside of your thighs, your chest heaving stiltedly against his lap, and you noticed, for the first time, something large and stiff pressing into your stomach. For your own sake, you decided you weren’t going to think about it.

But, like always, Loid was quick to tear even the comfort you found in your own mind away from you.

“You did what you could,” Loid started, with heavy sigh. “But their condition is worse than I thought. It might take more than the usual treatment to set them back on the right path.” A lengthy pause, an arm looped underneath you. With more care than he’d seen fit to show you all night, Loid repositioned you on your back in the center of your bed. You were too exhausted to so much as try to protest. “For cases like this, insemination is the only known cure.”

Yor blinked up at him, more curious than confused. “Insemination?”

“Pregnancy,” Loid filled in. “It can be done artificially, but for cases this severe…”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Weakly, you tried to sit up, but it was Yor that stopped you, this time, pressing her hand flat against your shoulder and pinning you down effortlessly. “If that’s what’s best,” she chimed, her smile wide and brilliant. “Can I help?”

For the first time, Loid’s expression seemed to warm. “Of course.”

Less than a full minute later, you were slotted against Yor, your head resting on her chest and her arms loosely wrapped around your midriff. Loid had reclaimed his position in the space between your open legs, one hand on your hip and the other toying with his clothes, shifting the waist of his now-wrinkled dress pants down just far enough to free his flush cock – already hard, already leaking pearls of arousal. The sight, paired with the breathy sigh he let out as he wrapped his fist around his shaft, was enough to dash any hopes you might’ve had of a last-minute change of heart.

You squirmed in Yor’s hold, your fists balling around your own near ruined sheets as Loid aligned himself with your entrance. You didn’t realize you were talking until you heard your own voice, fragile and desperate, nearly too broken to be comprehensible. “Please don’t, I—I’m not sick, please don’t—”

It was Yor who hushed you, this time, smiling as she pressed a fleeting kiss into your cheek. “He’s going to help you,” she whispered, tone simpering where you wished it would be sterile. “You can just sit back and relax while we—” She paused, squeezed you against her playfully. “—make sure you’re alright.”

There was a beat of silence, of stillness. Eventually, you managed to stutter out, “I don’t want your help.”

Loid let out an airy chuckle, tracing the flushed tipped of his cock over your slit. “You don’t have to want anything.” He bowed his head, leaning down far enough to rest his lips against the top of your head. “You’ll need all the help you can get, in a few weeks.”

You didn’t have time to protest, not before he thrust into you – sheathing himself to the hilt in a single stroke.

You tried to scream, but Yor’s mouth found yours in a moment, swallowing any fractured noises you might’ve been able to make. Loid didn’t seem interested in giving you time to adjust; immediately falling into a rhythm just as forceful and just as cruel as anything else he’d done to you. It wasn’t a question of if it would hurt, anymore, but how badly. The feeling of his not inconsiderably length splitting open your aching pussy alone was enough to bring tears to your eyes, and his rough thrusts, his shattering pace – all of it only working to agitate the few parts of you that hadn’t already gone numb to his assult. You clenched your eyes shut, willing yourself to go completely numb, but Yor cooed, one of her hands falling away from you only to find its way to the curve of your stomach, her palm soon pressed flat against your skin. “Miss Anya did mention wanting a younger sister,” she muttered, nuzzling into the dip of your shoulder. “It’ll be difficult to hide, ‘till it’s over with. There used to be a single mother working at city hall, but the State Security Service paid her a visit and…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “But I’m sure that won’t be an issue for you!”

“Of course not.” Loid’s voice was breathy, his attention mostly elsewhere. He did his best to stay composed, to maintain that painstakingly professionally air, but you could feel him twitch inside of you, feel his hips stutter as his pace grew that much more brutal. “We’ll be taking care of you. When you start to show, you’ll move in with us, and—” A groan, a pair of tired eyes allowed to close. “—and if you cooperate, we’ll make it so you don’t have to worry about anything aside from the baby. Any added stress will only make the pregnancy more difficult.”

Loid’s hips pressed against yours, Yor’s mouth on the curve of your neck. “Our little family is growing so quickly.” You could feel her grin against your throat, fangs ready to clamp down at the first sign of resistance. “I can’t wait until you’re better. You’ll be so happy, when you’re in your right mind again.”

Your mouth fell open, but anything you might’ve said died in your throat long before it could ever reach your tongue. There was no pleasure to it, no stimulation other than the same grating sensation and the pinpoints of pressure where Loid’s fingertips dug into your waist, but if your comfort mattered to Loid, he would’ve stopped as soon as he saw what his wife did to you. He cursed under his breath, throwing his hand forward and hauling your rigid body that much closer to his. You didn’t have a chance to brace yourself, to trick your pain-addled mind into believing there was anything you could possibly do to get away from him before he went still, something thick and searing flooding into your unprotected cunt. He lingered there, his cum leaking out of you despite your pussy’s futile attempts to cling to his cock, and for the first time, you let yourself think about what they were taking about – insemination, pregnancy, growing families and new siblings. You let yourself acknowledge the weight of Yor’s hand against your stomach, Loid’s hips against yours. You let yourself breath in, holding the air in your lungs for a moment before exhaling and going limp against Yor.

Fuck.

If you never saw the Forgers again, it’d still be a day too soon.

Yor started to pull away from you, but Loid stopped her. “Conception can be fickle,” he started, fighting not to pant audibly. “It’d be for the best if we were…” His eyes dropped to you. “…thorough.”

“Do you hear that?” Her hold grew that much tighter, her smile that much brighter. Her lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. The feeling might’ve sent a chill down your spine, if you still had the strength to be afraid of them.

“Loid’s going to take very good care of you.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #spy x family #spy x family imagines #yandere spy x family #yandere loid forger #loid forger x reader #twilight x reader #yor forger x reader #yor x reader #yandere yor #yanderecore #yancore

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elysiaheaven · 1 month ago

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"Pure Insatiablity"-[𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓-𝟏] 𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐍 𝐗 𝐆.𝐍 (Yandere) 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 (𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐓)

Words:6078

Genre: Yandere

Summary: It’s been almost eight months now, hasn’t it? Eight months of being wrapped in this obsession, this love that’s taken root so deep inside you. Eight months of loving him—so much it hurts, so much it feels like you're suffocating under the weight of it.

And when you stare at the screen, when you think about that character—the one your fans can’t get enough of—what you really see is him. Your love. Your darling. The one you’d do anything for.

( Reader is a g.n!)

TW: Obsessive behaviour, Lovesick, Blood, Violence, Crazy! Your daily dose of cringe! (He's crazy ><), (Reader is obsessive in love with him) Mentions of disturbing poetic lines?

EXTRA: He's a character from a game named Killer chat! Please play it! It's so good! I think I need to do more research on him, If what I wrote doesn't really scream him! I'm sorry! I'm still learning abt him! I KNOW IT'S BAD I'M SORRYY!!

I think you’re getting a little too in love...

C'mon! Tell me what you want. Do you hate me? Do you love me? Are you going to kill me? I've got a knife right here. Or are you kissing me, darling? How much do you feel?

Oh, you're so pretty when you're rotten and mine. I think you're divine.

Oh, Writer… How’s your relationship with the infamous butcher?

"Bad," you whisper under your breath, eyes glued to the blank page in front of you. The clock ticks, the hours pass, and nothing. Not a single word for days. And it stings, doesn’t it? Because your book—it’s your baby, your obsession—your masterpiece. It was an instant hit, loved, adored, and devoured by everyone who touched it. Fans left comments, raving about how perfect it was. Especially… him.

The e-emo killer. Your devil, wrapped in leather and shadows, blood-stained hands that still look so gentle. They called him cruel, twisted—yet oh, how they love him. Adored him. Fawned over him. The simps flooded your inbox, begging for more of him. That beautiful, wicked boy who haunted their dreams.

And let’s be honest—you love him too, don’t you?

After all, isn’t he just a reflection of someone else? Someone you know all too well?

Didn’t you mold the character from your darling’s essence? That man you can’t stop thinking about, the one who holds your heart in one hand and your throat in the other? The one you’d bleed for, die for—kill for?

Ah… you’re getting a little lovesick, aren’t you?

It’s been almost eight months now, hasn’t it? Eight months of being wrapped in this obsession, this love that’s taken root so deep inside you. Eight months of loving him—so much it hurts, so much it feels like you're suffocating under the weight of it.

And when you stare at the screen, when you think about that character—the one your fans can’t get enough of—what you really see is him. Your love. Your darling. The one you’d do anything for.

Isn’t that the truth? Isn’t that why your heart races, your fingers tremble when you write about the killer’s knife, the way it gleams in the dark? Because you imagine him—your love—doing the same to you, don’t you?

After all, isn't that why you can’t look away, can’t stop thinking, can’t breathe without feeling like you need him more than air?

Ah, calm yourself, love.

Eight months in, and look at you…

You want him. God, you want him so much it hurts. It’s like a sickness, spreading through your veins, consuming every inch of your soul. It’s the kind of need that claws at your heart, gnaws at your bones, turns your very breath into poison if he’s not near.

How did it get this bad? How did it go from quiet glances to full-blown obsession?

It started small, didn’t it? Little things—his voice in your ear, the calls, the games, the way his fingers brushed against your skin. The way he’d laugh, low and dark, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He’s always known, hasn’t he? How to bend you, break you, make you his.

But it’s more than that now. It’s an ache, deep in your chest, that never goes away. You crave him. You crave the way he looks at you like he sees every part of you—every ugly, twisted piece of your soul—and he loves it. You crave the way he owns you, how his presence alone makes you tremble, how just the thought of him drives you mad.

You can’t stop thinking about him. He’s there in every corner of your mind, lingering, waiting, watching. And you want him to watch. You want him to see every broken, desperate part of you. You want to lay yourself bare before him, beg for his touch, for his gaze, for his breath on your skin.

It’s pathetic, isn’t it? But oh, you’d fall to your knees for him. You’d give him everything. You already have.

You think about him late at night, when the world is quiet, and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart pounding, heavy and relentless. You imagine him with you, his hands on your neck, his lips hovering just inches from yours. You’d let him take you apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but his name carved into your bones, his scent burned into your skin.

You want him like fire. Like a storm. You want him with the kind of madness that doesn’t make sense, that drowns you, suffocates you in its wake. Every breath you take without him feels empty, incomplete.

He’s in your blood now, a part of you, and nothing will ever be enough. No touch, no kiss, no word will ever fill that void.

And the worst part? You love it. You love this sickness, this hunger, this desperate, gnawing ache. Because it’s him. Because it’s all for him.

He could ruin you, break you, destroy everything you are, and you’d thank him for it.

Isn’t that what you want? To be his? To be consumed by him, devoured until there’s nothing left of you but the pieces he chooses to keep?

It’s almost poetic, isn’t it? This love, this madness, this obsession. You, the writer, trying to put words to something that can’t be explained. Trying to capture this wild, violent need that swells inside you every time you think of him.

But how can you? How do you describe something so raw, so feral? How do you put into words the way your heart skips a beat every time you hear his name? The way your entire world tilts on its axis when he’s near?

You want him. Need him. More than you’ve ever needed anything in your life.

And you wonder… Does he know? Does he know how deep this goes? Does he understand that you’d do anything—everything—for him?

You think he does. You think he knows exactly how far you’ve fallen. And that’s what makes it so beautiful.

Because you’re not afraid of falling.

You understood him so much! Yet, you still...wanted him..?

The thing about Ronin is that his love is a poison wrapped in sugar, sweet to taste but deadly beneath the surface. He treats the same, as if they’re fragile toys in his hands, waiting to be bent, broken, and reshaped into something more. They’re not people to him—they’re puzzles to solve, games to play, and he plays them masterfully. Not out of cruelty, though. No, Ronin’s twisted mind justifies it as something deeper, something almost… noble.

He believes, with every fiber of his being, that he’s doing what’s best for them. That through the trials, the manipulation, the pain, they’ll emerge better—stronger. In his distorted way of thinking, he’s saving them, guiding them through the fire so they can burn away their weaknesses and be reborn into something new, something better. It’s not just a game to him—it’s a transformation. A test of endurance, of strength, of who they really are underneath it all.

This is how he shows his love. Not with tenderness, but with torment. He pulls at the strings of their souls, slowly unraveling them, watching them fall apart, believing—hoping—that by the time he’s done, they’ll thank him for it. That they’ll see what he sees: a person made whole again, remade into something that can survive in his world.

he’s doing the same with you, thinking that they’ll understand in the end, that this suffering is love in its purest form. To Ronin, it's not just affection—it's salvation.

It’s not enough for him to possess them; he has to break them. Only then can he feel secure in his love, believing they’re exactly who they’re supposed to be. That’s the only way he knows how to love. By tearing them down, by forcing them through the darkness… he thinks he’s giving them a gift.

A gift wrapped in shadows.

It’s been six days.

Six agonizing days without him. No messages, no calls, not even a single “Hey.” He’s not replying. He’s not talking. He’s … online tho. Why? Why is he doing this to you? You want to see him, you need to hear his voice again, but there’s nothing. The silence is eating at you, clawing at your insides, making your mind spiral.

Control it. Control yourself, you keep telling yourself. They don’t need to see it. They don’t need to know how much this is wrecking you. But it’s getting harder to hide. Everyone’s worried. Even they’ve started to notice how quiet you’ve become. How different you are without him.

Except for Ronin. He doesn’t care. He never does. In fact, with that stupid ego of his, he’s been trying to make you jealous these past few days. And you can feel it—every little jab, every smug comment—it’s uncanny how well he knows how to hit your nerves. But no matter how much Ronin gets under your skin, it’s not him you care about.

It’s him.

And it’s not just Ronin. V and Angel have been suggesting things, too. Methods to… fix things. One of them even had the audacity to suggest separating from him. A clean break. “Maybe it’s for the best,” they said, as if they understood. As if they could possibly know how much you need him.

But you hate the idea. You despise it. The thought of being separated from him—it’s like a knife twisting in your gut. You thought he wouldn’t want that either. He wouldn’t, right?

But to your shock—right there, in the middle of the voice chat, without any hesitation, he said it.

“Yeah, I can stay away for six weeks. That’s fine.”

Six weeks. You could barely process it. Your heart stopped. The number felt like it was mocking you, taunting you. Of all numbers, six? It was so… him. The devil’s number, the one he always played with. You almost smiled, almost thought it was cute—almost. But there was nothing cute about this. No, this was pure torture.

How could he say that so casually? Like it didn’t even matter. Like he wasn’t tearing you apart inside.

Because you need him. You really need him. And you thought—no, you were certain—he needed you too.

But here he is, agreeing to stay away. Six long, suffocating weeks without him. How are you supposed to survive that? How are you supposed to breathe, to think, to function without him? He’s your everything, your entire world, and now he’s just… gone?

You hate it. You hate every second of it. Every second without him feels like a lifetime, a slow, agonizing descent into madness. And you can’t help but wonder—what if he doesn’t miss you like you miss him? What if this is easier for him than it is for you?

But no—no. You know he feels the same way. You have to believe that. He’s just playing his part, the devilish role he always slips into so easily. After all, isn’t that what he is? Just a stupid guy who roleplays as the devil. That’s all, right?

But then why does it hurt so much? Why do you feel like you’re unraveling, coming apart at the seams without him?

And without him, you feel like you’re losing a part of yourself.

Six days. Six weeks. Six months. It doesn’t matter. Time feels meaningless when he’s not around, when you can’t feel him, can’t hear him, can’t touch him.

You miss him.

To help you cope, the entire server of serial killers—now your closest group of buddies—created a separate group chat. One without Ronin. It was for your own good, they said. To keep you distracted, keep you sane, while you waited for him.

Angel didn’t want to include Luca or Feli, though. You knew why. They’d just gotten into a relationship, and seeing them happy together might upset you even more. The jealousy would gnaw at you, and Angel, despite her sharp edges, was too considerate to do that to you.

So now it’s just you, Angel, Misaki, and V—the four besties. Well, they’re worried, no doubt about that. You can feel it in every message, every forced joke. Everyone’s trying to keep things light, but the concern bleeds through.

Just like Vince said… it’s destructive and toxic, right? This obsession you have with Ronin. But then again, Feli said it best—it’s not just toxic. It’s all three. Passionate, chill, horrific—a twisted cocktail of emotions that you can’t escape from. It’s suffocating, it’s addictive, and you know it.

But it’s so you, isn’t it?

Angel—the elegant femme fatale.... Some even say she’s a cannibal just for fun, and she plays along. She’s the type that captivates hearts effortlessly, pulls you in with a glance. If you were with her, maybe you could’ve seen the light, stepped away from this madness. Maybe you’d be happier, calmer… safe.

But no. Your heart is too far gone. Your ideals have shifted, haven’t they? Now you’re lost in the darkness, enthralled by your own version of the seven deadly sins.

Misaki, the cute, chaotic mess. The drunken assassin for hire, always too hyper for her own good. She kills with a smile, pays her rent with blood money, and somehow makes it seem so… effortless. But beneath all that bubbly energy, you know she’s just trying to survive, like the rest of you.

Then there’s V. Rigid. Just. Moral, in his own twisted way. The boomerang uncle who believes in his heart that his justice comes through killing. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t flinch, and somehow, that moral code of his feels strangely comforting. Like if you were ever to lose yourself completely, he’d be there to rein you back in. Or at least try to.

They’re all on the call now—talking, laughing, trying to pull you into the conversation. But you’re not really there. Your heart isn’t. You nod, give half-hearted replies, but all you can think about is him.

You just want Ronin. Already.

Their voices blur together in the background, but your mind keeps drifting back to him. That silence. Six days. Six weeks. Whatever. It’s driving you insane. You need him, need his voice, his presence. No matter what distractions they throw at you, nothing fills that void he left behind.

You sigh deeply, staring at the screen. They don’t understand. They can’t.

Everyone is talking at once, their voices flooding the call, trying to drown out the quiet chaos in your mind. Misaki’s high-pitched laughter cuts through the noise first, followed by V’s calm, grounding voice, and then Angel’s teasing but kind remarks, all woven together in an attempt to cheer you up.

V, always trying to keep things steady, eventually turns the conversation towards your writing. “How’s that new book coming along?” he asks, the one he’d helped inspire, no less. “The story about that ‘good man who kills for justice.’ I thought you had a pretty solid start.”

You blink, snapping back to reality. The new book. Right. The one with the protagonist who’s supposed to be a "good man" who kills for justice, fighting against corruption with a moral code as rigid as V’s. You want to write it, you really do. But every time you sit down to start... your thoughts drift. To him.

But you can’t help it—your mind wanders back to Ronin. The story might be about someone else, a character of pure moral code, someone who kills for justice like V had imagined. But all you see, all you feel as you try to write, is him. Ronin, with his smirk, his chaotic energy, how he gets under your skin and stays there. He’s nothing like the character in your new book, and yet, he’s the only thing you can think about.

He’s your muse, your obsession—your devil incarnate. And you almost laugh at the thought. Isn’t that just who Ronin is? A creator of chaos, a devil in your head, inspiring you even when he doesn’t mean to. A part of you is frustrated—he doesn’t even fit this new story, but somehow, he’s taken over anyway.

But you sigh, leaning back in your chair. "I... I just don’t feel inspired right now." You don’t want to admit it, but everything you want to write seems to tie back to Ronin, no matter how hard you try to focus on something else. He’s in everything you do, like an ever-present shadow.

Angel’s voice cuts through. "Of course, you’re not inspired. You’re too clingy right now, and it’s all because of him. You’ve gotta let it go for a bit; otherwise, it’ll just boost Ronin’s ego, and you know he lives for that."

You can’t help but chuckle weakly at that. She’s right—Ronin would love knowing he’s got you wrapped around his little finger, knowing you’re craving his attention this much. But you don’t care. You want to be wrapped up in him, and the thought doesn’t bother you one bit. Still, you don’t say that out loud. You don’t want to admit to everyone how deep your feelings run for him.

Instead, you steer the conversation somewhere else, tossing around random comments and joking with them. Misaki pipes up, practically bouncing in her seat as she talks about her latest commission. “So, get this—I nailed the shot perfectly. One kill, clean. And with that, rent’s paid for this month!” She laughs, but you can hear the relief in her voice.

You can’t help but tease her. “Next month’s going to come around quicker than you think, though,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

She whines dramatically, clutching her head. “Noooo! Don’t remind me! I’ll need another commission soon or I’m doomed!” Her pout is cute, and you laugh despite yourself. Misaki’s a mess, but she’s your mess (friend!).

Angel snorts. “I feel that. Work’s been tight, but I’m okay for now. Barely.”

Then there’s V,. “I’ve been busy taking care of my birds lately. They’re a handful,” he says, the warmth in his voice clear. He pauses for a moment before adding, “Still... I respect you. Always have. You’ve got this pure heart. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Ronin mess that up for you. Him trying to make you feel like this—it pisses me off.”

You smile at that, appreciating his words. But deep down, you can’t help but think, Pure? Is that really what you are anymore? After everything with Ronin, after letting yourself fall so deep into this twisted, all-consuming love, are you still that pure-hearted person V thinks you are?

Because honestly... haven’t you already started slipping? Saving parts of yourself just for Ronin?

Angel’s voice breaks through the light banter, her usual teasing tone softened with concern. “I’m worried about you,” she says, her words pointed, cutting through the surface-level chat. “This thing with Ronin… it’s not good for you.”

You don’t respond, just sit there silently, staring at the screen, your mind lost somewhere far from the conversation. V, ever the protective one, comes to your defense as usual. “Come on, Angel. They wouldn’t hurt a fly,” he says with a sigh, glancing at you. “Right?”

You don’t say anything, and V’s expression darkens just slightly. The silence weighs heavier than your words could. “Look,” V adds, more serious now. “If you ever killed anyone for Ronin, if you ever did it for some guilty pleasure, it’d be your first and last. Because I would kill you myself.” His voice is firm but caring, like a friend! trying to protect you from something you might not even see coming.

You snap out of your daze for a moment, glancing at V. “I just won’t let you,” you reply quietly, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips. There’s a defiance in your voice, but it’s laced with that lovesick longing. You’d do anything for Ronin. And V knows it.

Misaki, sensing the tension, tries to shift the conversation. “So! Uh, anyway, I’ve been thinking about getting a new place, but the rent’s—”

You cut her off, your mind too focused, too fixated on one thing. “What’s Ronin doing?”

Angel sighs heavily, her frustration barely hidden now. “He’s fine.”

But it’s V who answers. “He’s fine without you,” he says bluntly, though there’s a softness in his tone like he’s trying to prepare you for a blow. You flinch inwardly, but you manage to keep your face blank, pretending it doesn’t cut as deep as it does.

You sit there, frozen, but V doesn’t stop. “He’s… happy. I think he’s gone off to kill someone again.” His voice is cold, almost detached, like he’s telling you a fact that doesn’t matter. “Maybe you’re the only one who’s serious and clingy in this relationship.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and you can feel your heart breaking, shattering into tiny, irreparable pieces. But you force a smile, the kind that barely reaches your eyes. “It’s fine,” you say, your voice trembling just a little. “It’s perfect. He’s perfect the way he is.”

But your eyes betray you. They’re wide, filled with that twisted, lovesick devotion, like you’re drowning in your feelings and don’t even care. In your head, all you can think about is sinking deeper into Ronin’s world, letting him consume you completely, until there’s nothing left of who you used to be. You want it. You want him. You want to lose yourself in him, no matter how much it destroys you.

You sit there after the call, the silence enveloping you, but your thoughts still swirling around Ronin like a storm you can't escape. You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you open your laptop, telling yourself you’ll work on your book, like they told you. But your fingers hover over the keys, your mind already somewhere else.

“I just feel… fuzzy about him,” you had told Angel earlier, trying to explain this maddening, obsessive feeling in the pit of your stomach. But she’d only laughed, though not unkindly.

“Even I wasn’t this bad,” she’d said, smirking like she was trying to make light of it. “Maybe your love is just too strong.” Her attempt to cheer you up had actually worked, even if just a little. You had smiled, a tiny flicker of warmth in your chest.

“Cheer up,” she’d added. “And get back to your story."

“Yeah,” you had murmured, not really listening, already thinking about Ronin. Already missing him.

Now, sitting alone with your laptop open, you try to follow her advice. You start typing, the title of your story staring back at you, but… it’s not the story you’re supposed to be writing, is it?

You start typing, but the words don’t match the character V had wanted—the noble killer with a rigid moral code. No, the character that comes alive under your fingers is someone else entirely.

He’s dark, dangerous, with a wicked grin that sends shivers down your spine. His eyes are sharp, burning with mischief, and his laugh… God, his laugh. It’s him. It’s Ronin. You can’t stop yourself from writing him into the story, from turning him into the devilish figure you can’t tear your eyes away from.

And you? You slip into the story, too. Not as a secondary character. Not as an observer. No. You’re his love interest. The one who falls into his arms, who sinks into his darkness willingly. You let him consume you, wrap you up in his world of danger and chaos because you crave it. You crave him.

You don’t even realize what you’re doing at first. The words just flow out of you, like a love letter disguised as a story. A love note for Ronin. Each sentence is a confession, each scene a reflection of how deeply he’s burrowed into your mind, into your heart. It’s raw, it’s messy, it’s everything you feel but can’t say out loud.

You type and type, not caring that you’ve completely derailed from the plot you were supposed to follow. The good man who kills for justice? He doesn’t exist in your world right now. There’s only Ronin. The devil. The one who owns every corner of your heart, no matter how much he tries to push you away.

Hours pass, and by the time you stop typing, you realize you’ve written pages—an entire chapter, maybe more. But it’s not the story you were meant to write. It’s yours. It’s your obsession, your madness, poured out into words.

You sit back and stare at the screen, feeling both exhilarated and exhausted. You know you should be working on your real book, but part of you can’t help but smile at what you’ve created. It’s a mess, but it’s yours.

Angel sighed, pushing her hair back as she leaned over her phone, eyes narrowing. "V, why didn’t you tell them about how Ronin’s been acting? He’s not even talking to me, and you're just… brushing it off?"

V, sitting , didn’t answer right away. Instead, he smiled—actually smiled—something he rarely did, the corner of his lips curling in amusement. "I wanted to see how they were," he said with a shrug, his voice calm. "And you know what? They’re fine. I’ve been keeping an eye."

Angel didn’t seem convinced. She crossed her arms, a frown pulling at her features. "I’m worried, V. I mean… did you see them? They seemed slightly crazy—like, lovesick, obsessed. I’m telling you, I'm worried about them, I don't know...Suddenly I don't want to become whatever the hell we are."

V’s smile faded slightly, but his expression remained soft. "They’re not that type, Angel. You know them. Yeah, they’re obsessed with Ronin, but they haven’t done anything reckless yet." His tone grew more serious, though. "Ronin hasn’t corrupted them… at least, not completely."

Angel chewed her lip, her fingers fidgeting over her phone before she made a decision. "I’m just gonna text him, just to make sure he’s there," she muttered, quickly typing out a message to Ronin.

Moments passed before her phone buzzed, and Ronin’s reply popped up: Devil’s here!

She sighed in mild relief, rolling her eyes at his theatrics. "Of course… that’s typical Ronin."

But before she could relax, V picked up , sending a message to Ronin with a more pointed tone. "I’m not as patient as Angel," he said as he typed. "If you don’t start talking, there’s going to be consequences." He hit send, leaning back, expecting some sarcastic response.

A few seconds later, his phone buzzed with the exact same reply: Devil’s here!

V blinked, his brow furrowing as he stared at the screen. Angel glanced over, her own phone vibrating with a second, identical message from Ronin. "Wait…" she muttered, frowning. "Isn’t that…?"

Misaki, who’d been quietly sipping a drink, glanced at her phone too and snickered. "Guys, that’s his automated reply prank! He’s done this before!"

For a brief moment, the group shared a collective groan and laughed it off, realizing they’d all fallen for one of Ronin’s infamous tricks. He had a habit of setting up automated responses, just to mess with them.

But then the laughter died down as the realization settled in.

Angel glanced at her phone again. "Wait… if it’s just an auto-reply…" Her voice trailed off as her stomach dropped.

Misaki, the first to speak, sounded nervous now. "Uh, so, where’s Ronin?"

V realized. "Well, I guess he's just as clingy as them. God, I'm gonna kill him."

Your thoughts too clouded by the constant, gnawing ache inside you. You can’t shake it, can’t stop thinking about him. Ronin. The only thing that occupies your mind as you walk out the door, moving through the streets like you're in a trance.

It doesn’t take long before you find yourself wandering Uptown, your steps naturally pulling you toward that one alley—the one they call Purgatory. It’s notorious, the kind of place everyone avoids, where even whispers of its name send shivers down spines. The Butcher’s territory. People have seen the aftermath here—limbs and pieces of flesh strewn like discarded trash, blood painting the graffiti-splattered walls. It’s grotesque, macabre.

But to you? It’s something else entirely.

You call it your love birth!

It’s twisted, isn’t it? You can’t help the smile creeping up on your face as you step into the dark, narrow space. This is where it all began. Where you had your first kiss with Ronin, right here in the heart of chaos. The same place where bodies had been ripped apart, left to rot. That’s where you became his fallen angel.

The memory washes over you like a wave—his hands on your face, his lips crushing against yours with that devilish intensity. You still remember the taste of copper in the air, the blood that stained his hands… and the way it didn’t matter. Not in the slightest. That was the moment you knew—there was no going back. You were his, no matter what.

Your heart races as you walk deeper into the alley, your eyes scanning the area with that lovesick expression. Every corner, every shadow, you search with a strange kind of yearning. Maybe he left something behind. Maybe some small trace of him remains, something he forgot—something you can cling to.

You know it’s irrational, but your mind can’t help it. You want him. You need him. Every thought, every breath, is consumed by him. You’ve become addicted to the way he makes you feel—alive, wild, free. And now, without him, you feel like you’re floating, untethered, falling further and further into the abyss.

You walk slowly, your fingers brushing against the walls as you pass by, half-hoping you’ll stumble across something—anything that could be a sign from him. A discarded cigarette, a drop of blood, some trace of his presence that would prove he’s been here.

But the alley is silent. Empty.

Still, you don’t stop. Your heart beats faster the further you go, your mind racing with the memory of him. His voice. His laugh. The way he pulls you into his world, his darkness, and makes it feel like home.

By the time you reach the far end of the alley, your eyes have glazed over, filled with that lovesick haze that you can’t shake. You’re lost in it, drowning in the feeling. You want to see him, to feel him again, to fall deeper into that sinful connection.

You pause, standing still for a moment, the weight of the emptiness settling in around you.

He’s not here.

But God, you wish he was.

You freeze when you hear it—a faint, metallic scraping sound echoing through the alley. The unmistakable drag of a crowbar. Your heart skips a beat, and a rush of adrenaline floods your veins.

It’s him.

Ronin.

The sound makes your pulse quicken, your body tensing in anticipation as you spin around, trying to catch a glimpse of him. You begin to move, searching the shadows, desperately scanning every dark corner of the alley for any sign of him. Your heart pounds as your breath catches in your throat. He’s here. He has to be.

But then, the sound stops. Dead silence.

Before you can react, a sudden force slams into you, pushing you hard against the cold, graffiti-stained wall. Your breath is knocked out of you for a moment, and you barely register what’s happening before a strong arm wraps around your waist, lifting you slightly off the ground. You gasp, your heart racing, your body pinned between the rough brick and the figure in front of you.

And then… his lips crash into yours.

Ronin.

You melt instantly into the kiss, your body responding before your mind can even catch up. The intensity of it, the hunger—it’s like he’s claiming you all over again, pulling you back into his orbit. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you up, his body pressing hard against yours.

When he finally pulls away, his breath hot against your skin, his voice is low, teasing. “Seems like you were pathetically sniffing around for clues, weren’t you? Like a lost little puppy darling?… so desperate to know if I was here.”

Your eyes flutter open, your head still spinning, trying to gather your thoughts, but they slip away in the haze of his presence. You can’t think straight, not when he’s this close, not when his scent fills your lungs, and his lips are still so dangerously close to yours.

You try to speak, to explain, to say something, but your voice catches in your throat. The words never come. He smirks, seeing your struggle, and presses a finger to your lips, silencing you before you can even attempt to respond.

“Shh,” he whispers, his tone dripping with amusement. “No need to talk, Darling. I know exactly what you want.”

Your body trembles, love-sick and overwhelmed. It’s like your whole world is centered around him, every fiber of your being drawn to him in a way you can’t control. You’re drowning in him, in this moment, and you can’t help but feel exactly what he’s accusing you of.

Desperate.

You don’t care about anything else. You just want him.

Your fingers clutch at his jacket, and your body leans closer, your lips parting as if to say his name, but no sound escapes. You don’t need to speak—he can already see the longing in your eyes, the way you’re losing yourself in him.

“Haha...” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear as his lips hover near your neck. “So love-sick…I did it all Didn't I?"

Ronin sighed, leaning his head back slightly, his eyes narrowing in amusement. "That fucking V," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as a low laugh escaped his throat.

You blinked, still trying to catch up with the intensity of the moment. "What… what did V lie about?" you asked, your voice soft and shaky, still lost in the feeling of him so close, his presence overwhelming.

Ronin’s laughter deepened, the sound dark and teasing as he looked back down at you, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "He told me you were completely normal," he said, the grin spreading across his face. "That you didn’t even miss me." His fingers grazed your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your heart skipped a beat, a wave of exhilaration surging through you. "He told you that?!" you gasped, eyes wide. "He said the same thing to me! That you were fine without me, that you didn’t care!"

Ronin’s smirk grew more sinister, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. "So much for his precious 'justice.' Lying straight to both our faces," he said, his tone laced with mockery. "Maybe V thinks it’s all for the 'greater good.'" He rolled his eyes, clearly unamused by the thought.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. "Maybe," you teased with a grin, "he thought he was saving us or something." But before you could continue, Ronin’s hand shot up, gently pressing over your mouth.

His voice dropped lower, the playfulness fading from his eyes as he leaned in closer. "Stop talking about another guy when you’re with me."

You froze, instantly obeying, your hand instinctively covering your mouth, the playful teasing evaporating as you felt his gaze burning into you. The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrilling, electric charge through your entire body.

He chuckled at your reaction, clearly satisfied by the way you instantly silenced yourself for him. His other hand gripped your waist, pinning you harder against the wall as his eyes trailed over you, dark and hungry. "Now," he said, his tone softening into a more sinister purr, "how much did you miss me?"

Your breath hitched, your heart racing. "A lot," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I missed you so much… I couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. It even messed with my writing… I just kept thinking about you, obsessing over you—"

His grip tightened, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Obsessing, huh? Sounds like you’ve been going full yandere on me." He chuckled, his fingers brushing through your hair as he leaned in closer, his lips barely an inch from yours. "Say it," he commanded, his voice dropping into that dangerous, addictive tone. "Say that you love me."

Your heart pounded as you looked into his eyes, the intensity of his gaze swallowing you whole. "I love you," you whispered, breathless, the words slipping out like a confession. "I love you… I love you…"

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing as you kept repeating it like a broken record, your voice desperate, lovesick. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Ronin let out a low, mocking laugh. "Pathetic," he teased, his voice dripping with amusement. "To think that I like this." He watched you, entertained, as you kept whispering the words over and over, your voice trembling with devotion.

He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear as he spoke. "Keep your attention on me… forever. Don’t even think about anyone else. It’s me you belong to. Got it? Darling?

Your heart felt like it might burst as you nodded, utterly consumed by the intensity of his words.

Ronin chuckled darkly, his lips finally crashing against yours once again, sealing you completely in his world. There was no escape. There never would be.

#killer chat #killer chat ronin #ronin x reader #ronin beaufort #killer chat x reader #dating sim #visual novel #ronin beaufort x reader #Angel #Misaki #V #killer chat vn

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yoshhii · 1 month ago

Text

tw: abuse/controlling themes .ᐟ

IT FELT LIKE ONLY YESTERDAY WHEN THE TWO OF YOU FIRST CONFESSED. he had taken you to a park near a lake, where cherry blossom petals floated through the air, carried by the gentle breeze. the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm light over everything. you both stood beneath the blooming trees, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes.

slowly he raised his right hand and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your soft skin. you knew exactly what he wanted, and without hesitation, you closed your eyes, and leaned forward.

when your lips finally met, it felt like the world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you. the kiss was soft and sweet, full of the unspoken feelings you had both been holding back for so long. as his lips left yours, you opened your eyes to find a gentle smile on his face.

this was the moment you had been waiting for, the one you had imagined countless times. after all the teasing, the lingering touches, and the stolen glances, you had finally shared your first kiss. his soft chuckle broke the silence, he opened his mouth and finally said the words he’d been holding back to speak.

“i love you, (y/n).”

you couldn’t help but smile as his cheeks flushed a deep red, his gaze dropping shyly to the ground. it was obvious he was embarrassed to say it, and that only made the moment sweeter.

with a warmth blooming in your chest, you opened your mouth, your voice calm and sweet.

“i love you too.”

but that was only a longing memory.

everything felt easy then, simple, carefree. his love was a bright, something that made you feel safe.

but over time, the warmth in his voice faded. it wasn’t noticeable at first—the way he would always ask where you were going, who you were with, what time you should be home. he framed it as concern, his eyes soft, his words still loving. you told yourself it was just because he cared. because who wouldn’t look out for the one you love, right?

only then did his “concern” grew sharper, his tone more insistent. he started waiting for you if you stayed out late, calling your phone multiple times, asking why you haven’t called as soon as you left your friends.

“ i don’t understand, they’re just my friends and i don’t hang out with them as much as i used too. they’ll help me out if i’m in danger, what’s the harm in that?” you tried argue.

his angry demeanor quickly turned into an unreadable one.

“i just worry about you, that’s all,” he said pulling you into his arms. but there was a tension in the way he held you, a possessiveness that made your stomach twist.

“i’m fine,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure if you were convincing him or yourself.

you pressed your back against the cold brick wall of the alley, trying to steady your ragged breaths, but all you could hear was the pounding of your heart, echoing in the narrow space like a drumbeat of panic.

you messed up…

you were done with him, done with his possessiveness, his suffocating control.

so you ran, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he would let you go. but you knew better. he would never leave you alone. he had killed your friends to prove that point, tearing them from you because they dared to help. that monster took them because you had tried to escape.

the sounds of footsteps broke your train of thoughts.

no...

there was no way it could be him. you had ran for hours, weaving through streets, slipping into corners. how could he find you now?

“there’s no point in running dear…” his chilling voice cut through the silence.

your blood turned to ice. panic surged through your veins. you had to keep moving there was no one here to help you, no one to hear you scream. you had no one to rely on but yourself. with a desperate gasp, you turned and bolted further into the alley, darting around corners in a frantic attempt to lose him.

you were quick, but he was quicker.

suddenly a hand harshly yanked your hair, you let out a yelp and desperately clawed at his hands but his grip only got tighter. you could only scream and beg for him

to let you go. but that only seemed to amuse him.

with a swift motion he pulled your head back, forcing you to look up at him.

“shhhhh we wouldn’t want to bring any unwanted attention now do we?” his eyes were darker now, colder. the man you used to know seemed so far away.

“let’s get you back home, do you know how dangerous it is for you to be alone at this time of night?” he said it as if he was mocking you, daring you to try and run again.

he let go of your hair and took a few steps back, watching you with that same unreadable expression. your legs gave out beneath you, and you crumpled to the ground. you couldn't go back, locked up in his house, in his room, playing by his rules.

you slowly felt tears form in your eyes, threatening to fall against your cheek.

“why….” you started, voice barely above a whisper,

“why are you doing this…?”

a cruel smile spreaded across his lips, slowly walking back towards you.

“don’t you see (y/n) i do this to protect you away from the outside dangers, i do this so that you’re safe, and i do it because…”

he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “i love you,” his voice cold as ice, it sent a shiver down your spine not from affection, but from fear.

katsuki bakugo, dabi, tomura shigaraki, overhaul, shinshou, monoma, dio, kira yoshikage, pucci, funny valentine, diavolo/doppio, bruno bucciarati, abbacchio, joseph joestar, rohan, kaeya, diluc, childe, ayato, lyney, neuvillette, heizou + whoever you think fits !

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rainrot4me · 9 days ago

Text

Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 13

Slenderman x Female Reader - Choking/Prisoner

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Prisoner, dub-con, choking, gagging, blowjob, tentacles, suffocation, monster fucking

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 1.8k

He kept you hidden away, somewhere the others wouldn’t dare to stoop.

You didn’t know why it had to be you, the cryptid didn’t need a reason- he had no one to answer to except himself. He kept good care of you, always making sure you were attended to- but that also meant you had to repay him for his ‘kindness’.

His personal use, tucked away in the cellar of the basement, the only entrance from the backside of the mansion. Your wrists were worn, and red with irritation from the handcuffs that sliced into your skin. You were hooked onto an old drain pipe, your arms hanging in an uncomfortable position. The concrete of the floor hurt, legs bruised and worn, weak with the lack of good food or movement. You felt so weak all of the time, but that was exactly how he wanted you- pliable and useful.

The rumbling of the cellar door opening was always the first thing you heard—it didn’t matter if you were dead asleep or throwing up from nausea—that noise had you sitting up perfectly straight in seconds. Like a dog to a bone, you were always eager to please.

His loud footsteps come thumping down the old stairs, creaking from the weight until you felt your head pounding with that irritable static. It was the feeling of your brain weighing in on itself, waves of nausea sinking in, and having to close your eyes from the dizziness. It was always his signature, no matter where you were you would know he was near, and the proxies testified to it themselves.

You sat up, digging your knees into the cold floor, trying your best to ignore the sting as you dared your eyes to the doorway. Slenderman pushed through, dipping his head low to avoid the banister, before standing with such presence before you. You kept your eyes low, quick glances at his dress shoes that planted themselves inches away from your knees.

“Stand.” It wasn’t a spoken word, you still weren’t even sure how you ever heard him in the first place, his mouth never moving behind that icy veil of skin. The noise bounced in your mind, pressing against the back of your neck as you climbed onto your feet, the socks doing little to save you from the cold.

You still refused to look at his face, head hanging as tentacles slowly coiled around your ankles, winding their way up your shaky legs. Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear the low cracking and controting of his muscles, long, grotesque tentacles writhe their way out, push out behind him like obscured angel wings. He held such a presence, a terrifying one, but electrifying nonetheless.

You heard the small jingle of the key unlocking the handcuffs, your wrists flexing out of the metal as you rubbed them, arms whining from being released from that contorting position.

His cold tentacles moved quickly, pushing your grimy tank top over your head and shimmying down your shorts, skin freckling with goosebumps at the damp air of the cold basement. The tendons drew you closer, grappling at your back to push you against him, a claw resting on your waist as you pressed your hands against him.

Even this close, he still towered, having to look up to even see the muscles contort and strain behind that smooth skin, a stern look on his face.

“Go on, little thing.” He nudges in your mind, tentacles curiously curling around your thighs and around your waist, rubbing and prodding against your bare skin. It made you shudder, giving him an understanding glance as you reached your anxious hands out.

Fidgeting with the button of his slacks, you could already see it- the outline of his cock pressed firm against the top of his thigh, twitching gently when you tugged the zipper down. You could feel your heart thumping, breathing caught in your throat when a tentacle pushed your hand out of the way, reaching in and tugging himself out, length so heavy and long- terrifyingly so. He was big. Ridiculously.Gaudy with thick veins running down the side, glistening with precum.

You waited expectantly, hard to tear your eyes away as it twitched and throbbed, Slender’s expression unwavering as he stared down at you.

The dark tendrils moved again, this time with intent. They pressed between your shoulder blades, between the plush of your thighs, and rounding the underside of your tits- curious little things pushing themselves wherever they could.

It was the sudden push forward that had you off guard, a silent chuckle from the cryptid towering above when you gripped onto his suit. Was it terrifying that you were eye-level with his waist, yes. But Slender couldn’t get enough of it.

“Open up. C’mon now- don’t pretend like you don’t know what to do.” This time you did hear his voice in your ears, jaw straining to speak as you glanced up at him, nervously picking at your hands. You nodded, a deep wave of heat flooding your face, the static behind your eyes ever present.

Saliva builds on your tongue, spreading your pretty lips as you watch the tentacle gripped around his base nudge up, holding his tip to your mouth. You feel his intense gaze on you as your mouth wraps around his thick head, inching down slowly, and stretching your lips obscenely. You’ve done this dozens of times, the soreness in your jaw a reminder of that, but it doesn’t make the task any easier.

“As far as you can… There you go.” He coaxes, the tentacles slithering up to wrap around your throat, tips of the tendrils pressing against your jaw. Your tongue presses hard against the underside, eyes fluttering shut as you feel like you already can’t breathe. It’s so overwhelming, hands moving to grip against his hips- until those dark tendrils are wrapping around and hauling them behind you, gripped tightly together on your lower back.

It’s hard not to groan, your throat tensing as you try not to gag, the heavy weight of his tip pulsing against your tongue. Eyes tensed shut, you take a shaky breath, glancing up at him through tear-glistened eyelashes.

That’s what does it. He loves when you act like you want it.

With a static groan, his hips thrust forward, your eyes widening with the rush. He pushes his cock down your throat, bulbous veins throbbing against the roof of your mouth as he a steady, merciless pace fucking your mouth, your weight shifting uncomfortably as you stand. The tentacles wrap around your throat, tightening themselves as he pushes deeper, tip bobbing mercilessly against the tightness.

You’re gagging, the loss of air making you dizzy. Grip searing on your neck, Slender groans and huffs as he fucks your face till his cockhead hits your poor, abused throat. His claws move to cup the sides of your face, moving you in time with his hips, seeing just how far in he can get himself before your eyes roll back. You could nearly feel the electricity crackling in the air, the pressure against your mind so overwhelming- you felt your body go limp, exhaustion heavy as the tendrils wrapped themselves tight, holding you up.

“Don’t go passing out, little one. It’s no fun.” He hums, muscles clenched so tight as his claws pressing into your temples, shocks of nausea running through you.

It’s so messy how saliva builds on your lips, glistening in the dim light of the basement as they wrap tight around him. Saliva and precum drip down his length, dirtying the pants of his suit. Tears streak down your cheeks onto Slender’s wrists, cheeks so ruby red against his milky white skin. Pressure roars in your ears, choking at both the throbbing cock and the tentacles blocking your airway. You let your jaw go slack, loud gags and choking sounds fueling the cryptid to just go deeper.

It was so fucking messy.

You’re so easily broken, he thinks, unraveling the tentacle around his base and pressing it into the corner of your mouth. You can’t even register it, thick tendril pressing in with his cock to abuse your throat further, the stretch of your lips such a pretty sight.

“Such a talented mouth, you can almost take it all.” You can feel tears searing down your hot cheeks, thick droplets of spit dripping from your chin. It’s the taste of salty precum that shoots excitement through you, eyes flashing open to stare up at him, eyelids heavy with dizziness. His jaw is clenching, a snarl etched onto his face- his tell.

With as much strength as you can muster, you’re pressing your tongue on the bottom side of his cock, slurring the muscle across his gaudy veins with strangled moans. With an appreciative groan, the cryptid’s thrusts become erratic, movements growing frantic.

He doesn’t like to show you how much he wants to cum, but you’re always able to coax it out of him. You’re his, he deemed it so, and in turn- you’ve learned when he’s about to fall apart.

You rub your thighs together desperately, relaxing your throat more, refusing to let the darkness creeping into the corners of your eyes win. The tentacles are sporadic, flicking and gripping against your skin, their own extent a reflection of Slender’s state. You let your eyes close again, weak body so ready. “Hn- There we go-”

His tight grip on the sides of your head pushes you back, pulling you off his cock. Your lips pop free, leaving his sensitive head exposed to the cool air. Gasping for breath, your chest heaves as you try to regain your composure, your throat so sore and raw you don’t know if you’ll be able to eat.

The tentacle wraps around the base again, long, hefty strokes as you pant. It doesn’t take one beat of your pretty eyelashes before thick, warm stripes of seed paint onto your cheeks, Slender snarling above you as he presses the divot of his tip against your lips. You let your tongue snake out, the salty taste melting against your tastebuds.

Pure pride swells at the sight, Slender tangling his claw into the back of your hair, gripping the strands as he bends down. You tense, heart beating so fast as you hear the cracking and tearing of his skin.

By the time he's at face level with you, his blank face has separated at the mouth, jagged skin forming a terrifying smile. His long tongue comes snaking out, the wet muscle pressing against your cheeks, lapping at his own finish.

“Let’s see how much this can take next, alright?” You shudder at the tentacle that swipes between your folds, glistening with the wetness of your cunt. You can’t respond, he doesn’t let you when that tongue is bullying its way into your mouth, pressing on the sore spot at the back of your throat.

At least it gets you out of those damn handcuffs.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

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