#and it’s time to slit this bastard’s throat and end this

[dante-mightdie]

BC!simon smut is my new prescription (no but fr when i’m having a shit day i just go through that tag bc i need him bad)

I’m having the absolute worst week. work fucking sucks and now I have a cold. so it’s comfort hours with bc!simon. but like kinda mean dom simon 🥺

c/n: smut, bondage, kindameandom!simon, female reader, edging, crying during sex, simon pulls all that negative tension from your body with his dick

just imagine getting snippy with him when he gets home, mumbling under your breath and glaring at him when he tracks in mud on your clean carpet

he doesn’t say a word just lets you have your moment. tucks the kids into bed and stands in the doorway of the kitchen, watching you wash up

can see the tension in your shoulders so he just comes up to you, presses a kiss to the top of your head and tells you to go and wait for him in your room

finishes up the washing for you before coming to find you. finds you waiting for him on the end of your bed, wearing nothing but your panties and the shirt you always sleep in. some oversized limp bizkit shirt that simon stopped wearing years ago

“had a bad day, lovie?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he walks over to you. his calloused hand reaches up to pinch the soft cheeks on your face

“simon-“ you begin to speak but he just shakes his head, shushing you softly

“heard enough out of your mouth for one night. answer the question. yes or no?” he says, hands reaching down to unbuckle his trousers. you give him a slow nod

“see? know you can be good for me, can’t ya, dolly?” he grumbles out, flicking his head up as an instruction to raise your arms

he undresses you, a heavy silence filling your shared bedroom as he helps you shuffle up the bed before tying your wrists to the bedposts with his leather belt

“can see how tense you are, darlin’. don’t worry, ‘m gonna take care of ya’. you just need your husband to make it alright.” he hums, tugging on your wrist to make sure your restraints weren’t too tight nor too loose

“‘red’ if ya’ wanna stop, yeah?” he checks in, pulling off his t-shirt and trousers. you nod your head again, rubbing your thighs together to ease the ache that rests between them

he’d kiss down from your neck to your abdomen, slipping off your panties with ease before diving straight in, soft groans leaving his throat as he drags his tongue through your slit

spends a good 30 minutes sucking and lapping at your sopping cunt, bringing you to the edge over and over but never giving you that sweet release, always pulling away right before your body falls into that out of euphoria

“simon! you said you were gonna take care of me! you’re being mean!” you whine out, bucking your hips to try and meet his lips after he left you teetering on the edge. again…

he lets out a grunt in response, switching positions so he’s kneeling between your spread legs,

“I know. ‘m such an horrible bastard, aren’t I?” he says with a teasing tone, fishing his cock out from boxers and dragging the tip through your slit

“breathe.” is all the warning he gives you before slipping his cock inside you, burying himself to the hilt with one swift thrust of his hips

the sudden invasive feeling of his cock filling you up knocks the air of of your lungs, your hands desperate to reach out to grip his shoulders for leverage but the tight belt around your wrists restricts you

he wastes no time in pushing the top of your thighs to your chest, setting an animal pace as he begins to fuck your pussy

“si-simon!” you gasp out, your body moves in time with each of his thrusts, one of his hands resting on the crown of your head to stop you hitting it against the wooden headboard

“promise me one thing, yeah, sweethear’? one thing and i’ll let ya cum…” he grunts, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss just below your earlobe

his brutal pace combined with the former orgasm denial meant it didn’t take long for you to start teetering towards the edge again. your hands tug on your makeshift restraints, letting a soft whine escape your throat

“please, anything. please, si…” you beg and plead. almost pathetically, in simon’s opinion but it’s okay… he knows how bad you need it

the loud slapping of his hips hitting yours echoes throughout the room as he leans down, his pace never falters as he rests his forehead against yours

“next time you’re having a bad day, you’ll ask your husband to fuck ya better instead of walking around givin’ me lip…” he grunts, “promise me that and i’ll let ya cum, pretty…”

you nod your head erratically, tears welling up in your eyes and the overwhelming realisation that you’re so close to getting what you want, to feeling those euphoric waves crash all over your body and suck all the tension and stress from your bones

“promise, fuck, I promise…!” you sob out, tears slipping down your cheeks. you can’t even wait for further permission from simon. your orgasm claws it’s way out of you, vocalising itself with loud sobs

simon places his hand over your mouth, worried your load moans will wake the sleeping children in the next room

his pace never falters as he fucks you through your orgasm, your tears down your cheeks and onto his knuckles. your pussy pulses around his cock, milking his own orgasm from him shortly after

the feeling off his hot cum flushing the walls of your pussy adds a whole other layer of pleasure to your climax. you yank on the restraints and look up at simon with your teary eyes

he takes his hand from your mouth, your loud sobs having turned into the soft cries as he reaches to untie your wrists. you instantly lower them to wrap around his broad shoulders, pulling his body against yours as his once harsh pace slows down to slow grinds

“tha’s it, lovie. good girl, jus’ let it out…” he whispers in your ear, cradling your face into the crook of his neck as you cry softly

“th-thank you…” you choke out, gently digging your nails into the muscle of his back as a silent plea to just stay exactly where he is

he doesn’t pull out of you, just lays there with you, softly petting your hair and pressing kisses to the side of your face

#mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #bluecollar!simon #mw2 x reader #call of duty mw3 #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost call of duty #simon riley smut #simon riley x you

[httpsghostie]

Enemy pt 2

pt 1

if I saw him walking towards me like this I would run

I'm speechless this is so long I'ms orry I got carried away

Summary: you put yourself in a delicate situation with your superiors despite knowing more and end up in wrong hands.

Word Count: 4,3k

Warnings: dubcon, smut, König x female!reader, strong language, blood, gore, violence, knife play, spanking, dacryphilia, edging, unprotected piv sex (wrap it b4 you tap it), no use of y/n

masterlist

You've underestimated him, that's for sure. But you found out too late.

You found out when you were walking around, trying to find your captain to discuss some issues, and instead found a pile of dead soldiers and a pool of blood.

The door to his cell was ajar and of course the lights were off. That fucking bastard, how was it so easy for him to take down four trained soldiers? And how did he get away from the chains?

Maybe it happened when he was being fed, maybe he was strong enough to break the chains. And even if he was, why didn't he snap out of them when you were literally milking the info out of him?

You reach for your pistol and carefully follow the dark hallway to his cell after calling for backup, but you decided they would take the time you couldn't waste with this bastard. On the way, you rolled one of the soldiers with your foot, he'd been stabbed on his vital parts, and you deduced he did this to every other one of your guys.

Your ears ringed, your blood boiling through your veins with anxiousness, but at times like this you couldn't show your weaknesses. You were in it until the end.

You stand in front of the door, your fear getting even worse. You know you shouldn't show it. He smelled fear, he got off from that, of how your pretty eyes widened at his sight.

In an instant, the door is kicked open by your right foot, and before you could inspect the cell, your body was thrown on the ground in a loud thud, a heavy weight collapsing onto you, pinning you down on the floor.

Your head got dizzy from hitting the concrete too hard, but you could recognize that man from a mile away. You could recognize his nauseating scent even if someone brainwashed you for years. 

He pressed your weak body with his weight as his blood covered hands caressed the black fabric on your mask, slowly lifting it up to reveal your puffy lips, waiting for him. He can't help but smile at the memories of your lips wrapped around his girthy cock as he held your head in place. He wants to do it again. But not now, now he's worried about other things.

"You're so pretty when you keep your mouth shut." He runs his finger along your lips, you could almost feel the metallic taste of blood. "I want to kill you so bad, slit that beautiful throat you got." He grabs you by the neck.

"Then do it." You said with gritted teeth.

"And end the fun of hunting you?" He pushed you back on the floor as your face started to get red. "I'll give you another chance to live, how merciful I am." He laughs, standing up and leaving you there, almost like the way you left him.

He disappears in the dark, and the last thing you remember were his eyes piercing through your soul, marking you forever, and your vision blurs. There were dry tears on the corners of your eyes, and your mind was filled with red.

You wake up in a white room and as soon as you open your eyes, you're blinded by the bright lights that reflect on the white walls and floor. There's no one with you. Great, they didn't even bother to put a recruit to watch out for you, ouch.

When you're prepared to leave the room, a doctor sees your movement and says he's glad you've finally woken up. He tells you about a concussion, and you listen to it until it slowly starts to sound like a distant babble, so far away, and your brain can't handle any more information as someone lurks behind the doctor.

He. It was him. He was there for you again. He was going to get you.

He's standing behind the man, holding a knife up to his face. His gaze. You can only feel how creepy his gaze is on you and how intimidating he looks with his gigantic size.

You know he's smiling, of course he's smiling, he's fucking insane, that's why. He's not leaving you alone, he's going to get you, he's going to kill you. You're gonna pay for what you did.

And the thoughts don't leave your injured brain as you try to run but your body does not respond to any of your commands.

He's there, he's going to kill you.

He's going to kill you.

"-and some might experience hallucinations." You blink rapidly and he's gone. You look back to the doctor. "Are you alright?" He asked you as he saw your sweaty forehead and your out of breath figure.

"Mhm." You cut him off, reaching for the clothes on the side of your hospital bed. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A day. Listen, you should rest." He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder and you push him away.

"I can't afford to rest."

You get dressed quickly and leave through the white corridors, trying to find your phone in the never ending pockets of your vest. Your head was hurting like hell, you felt your brain pounding on your skull. 

You're going to end his life.

"Tell me you got that motherfucker!" You screamed on the phone as your captain picked up.

"Listen, you need to calm d-"

"I am fucking calm! Where the hell were you when he killed our men? Where the hell are you now?" Your anger makes your head hurt even more.

"I can't talk right now." You were able to hear other voices in the call, like someone else was talking in the room he was in.

"Then shove your dead men in your fucking ass!" You scream again, throwing the phone on a wall. Everyone around looks at you and you feel embarrassed, picking your phone up and shoving it in your pocket.

The sun falls down and you're met with a beautiful night and a sky full of stars. But that sight irritated you deeply when you had spent the last five hours looking at it when you couldn't sleep. He always came back. He always found his way into your brain. That manic look on his eyes whenever he had control over the situation. It's okay, you could handle it.

"You'd look so pretty with a knife up to your throat."

"What?" You blink fast, looking frantically to the sides and trying to find him lurking in the shadows. He wasn't there. He wasn't real. You shake off the thoughts, taking another long sip of the now cold coffee in a bottle right by your side.

But as they say, idle hands are the devil's tools. You couldn't stay still, how the fuck did he escape? How did he break those chains and most importantly, how did he break that iron door?

You wander around the hallways, finding your way to what used to be his cell. The floor still had a blood stain that couldn't be washed away, and thankfully they didn't care enough about such a thing. Holding a flashlight to the door, you see it wasn’t forced, so maybe he escaped when someone got in.

You take a deep breath before entering the cell, leaving a foot holding the door from the inside. It had a mechanism of automatically locking when closed, and there was no way to open from the inside. 

The dim light is enough to illuminate the room, but you need to get closer to the chains if you want to examine them.

"Fuck." You mumble, trying to stretch your best to get to it, but it's too far from your hands. In a blink of a moment, the foot that supported your weight slipped and you fell to the ground, leaving the door unattended.

You look desperately to it, but it stays open. You sigh in relief, standing on your feet again and moving closer to the chains. You pick them up, but they have no sign of damage, someone unlocked his cuffs.

It's strange, this doesn't make sense at all.

Fear starts to settle in your mind and you think you should leave by now. As you leave the cell, your heart starts pounding mercilessly in your chest and your vision blurs. Your head is spinning and your legs betray you, making you fall on your knees and hands.

Bullet wound.

Bullet wound?

The night creeps onto your brain, you rolling the guard on his back, watching his lifeless body turn. Besides having stab wounds on the stomach, he had a bullet wound on the cheek, wait, what? Was it necessary to shoot him if he was dead already? Or was it necessary to stab him? And either way, how? König didn't have any guns, let alone a knife. Well, of course he could've snatched it from them, but how?

Plus the guard's cheek wound seemed to have come from a bigger caliber than what they dealt with down there.

This was suspect as fuck.

You regain consciousness, looking around, and you smile as your eyes meet with a red light from a security camera in the corner of the hallway.

But they wouldn't be so stupid, would they?

You sprint your way to the vigilance room, sighing as you face an at least easy obstacle. There was a guard there, of course, watching the cameras, but he seemed to be more interested in what you had to offer.

"Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes." You fake a smile, leaving the room. Like a needy man, he doesn't hesitate to go where you told him you'd be, and you lock him inside, saying you just need a few more minutes.

You try to get the images as fast as you could, putting them in a flash drive and running back to your room.

It seemed almost too easy.

As you're turning left in the hallway that leads to your room, you hit a wall, well, a man, but he was so tall and bulky he could be considered a wall.

"Where are you going in a rush in the middle of the night?" Ghost asks. Solid as a rock.

"Asking you the same thing." You scratch your head in embarrassment, he was too close for your liking.

"What you got there?" He points to your clenched fist, the flash drive was in your hand.

"Nothing." You say too fast, trying to get past him, he grabs your arm tightly, making you open your palm and yelp in pain, the small device falling on the ground. He stomps on it, smashing it on the ground, and gets even closer to your ear.

"Don't mess with them." He growls. "Go back to your room before you get yourself killed."

He knew something was up, and that confirmed your suspicions. He let you go and stood there looking at you getting away.

"'Cause you're gonna pay for it, maus." You turn back and he's still standing, holding both of his hands in front of him.

"What did you say?" You frown, walking back to him, ready to tear him apart.

"What? I didn't say anything?" He looks genuinely confused. "What's wrong with you, nitwit?" 

Aw, Ghost and his delicate words.

"Yeah, I hope you didn't say anything."

You couldn't give yourself rest, you've been awake since you woke up at the hospital a day ago. The footage was gone, there was no way you could get it back, Ghost knew about something, and you were close to finding out the truth.

But you didn't give up so easily, you needed to know what happened. 

While everyone else was getting breakfast, you went to the vigilance room again, trying not to get caught. The room was left alone for a few minutes as the guard miraculously had to go to the bathroom, you know, maybe it was the laxative you put in his coffee earlier.

You searched through the files and finally found the one you were looking for, the night he escaped.

The hallway was calm, a few men guarding the door to his cell. A man slowly approached them, and he wore a mask, but everyone could recognize him. The captain. What was he doing there?

They open the door for him and he gets in, there's a few minutes between him walking in and out, but when a guard opens the door, he's suddenly shot in the face. König walks out too, helping the captain take down the other guys.

It's pure brutality, and it's also so explicit. The violence of their hands committing such a crime, not hesitating to kill an innocent life for their own benefit. You hated them even more when you saw the captain's eyes widening, probably it was the moment you asked for backup on the radio. 

He gave König a little tap on the arm and said something, then ran to the opposite side, leaving König alone to do whatever he wanted to you.

Then why did he spare your life?

He could've killed you so easily, why did he decide to let you go?

"And end the fun of hunting you?" You remembered his words.

The door gets kicked open behind you and two soldiers drag you out of the room, you try to get away from their strong arms, kicking and trying to scratch their skin.

Ghost was walking by when he saw you, giving you a disappointed frown. You knew what he wanted to say, you saw it in his eyes.

I told you not to mess with them.

You went too deep.

They drag you to the captain's office, throwing you on a chair.

"It's enough, you know too much." 

When you think about biting back, you feel a stinging pain on your neck and the men holding you down. The pain was unbearable in your veins, like it was tearing you inside out, and soon your brain started to shut down.

Your head hurts when you wake up, and you panic when you feel your hands tied behind your back. You'd been tossed on a mattress, and your body was hurting more than usual, your stomach was hurting, you couldn't believe you were hungry in times like this.

You swallowed the weird taste on your mouth, looking around the room with half lidded eyes. Your head falls to the mattress once your eyes meet his and you sigh heavily, trying to shake off the hallucination.

"You know, this didn't have to go the hard way." You hear him say, you quickly turned your head and he was still there. "I told you'd be going to pay for that. You know how badly you humiliated me?" You chuckle.

"Aw, poor König." You laugh, but your laugh is cut as soon as he crouches in front of you, gripping your chin to face him. He makes you stay on your knees, and you gulp nervously.

"You really look prettier with your mouth closed." He throws you back on the mattress like you're made of paper and gets some silver tape from the chair. You widen your eyes, shaking your head from side to side. "Are you gonna shut up?" He lands a harsh slap to your face and you nod. "Good girl, maus. See? Not too late to learn."

He throws the tape back, grabbing you by the hair so you could stand. He's looking deeply into your eyes, and for a moment you fell for it. You didn't know if it was from the sedatives, but you fell for the way he looked at you.

"What's that puppy look for?" He asks, letting go of your hair. "I haven't even fucked you yet and you're already dumb?" He chuckles. 

You can't express how badly you want to give him a sarcastic response, but judging from your red cheek, he wouldn't be pleased by it.

He reaches for his knife and presses it right against your throat. You swallow hard, trying not to move.

"Can't help but remember how cute you look taking my cock. I think I might have to do it again." He moves the tip of the knife across your collarbone, then down to your chest, stomach, slowly stopping at your crotch.

You're looking at him with not a single thought behind your eyes, the pain in your head was gone miraculously, and it's like time has frozen. He's so tall, so masculine, so insane. Maybe your taste in men is completely unhinged, or maybe he was hot.

He moves behind you, one hand to your mouth and one holding the knife against your throat.

"You can scream, cry, and no one can hear you here." He really got off from your fear, and you feel his devious smile. "I can do whatever I want to you." He gives you a creepy laugh.

Your shirt is ripped off from you, leaving you in a sports bra that also got cut by his knife, letting your chest free from fabric. He runs the knife along your tits and smiles from how hard your nipples are.

Pants were also a thing he didn't want to see you in, but this time he just pulled them down, leaving you naked. He stood in front of you once again, eyeing you up and down, like you were to be his last meal.

God, this was so embarrassing. Humiliating.

He takes his gloves off after putting the knife on his boot, revealing his veiny hands that were at least double the size of yours, and runs an eager finger around your folds, chuckling when his fingers meet your sticky fluid.

"You're fucking wet." He inserts a finger into you without any warning and you moan, trying to close your legs. "I can't believe you're into this."

"Shut up." You grit your teeth and look at him through your eyebrows, trying to keep your balance. And there goes another red cheek, you swear you could taste the blood from a cut.

"Watch your mouth." 

He fingers you quickly, sometimes pausing to rub a few circles on your clit. He was enjoying the power he had over you, to watch your limbs get weak to his touch, to feel how wet he could make you without doing much.

You could feel something growing inside of your stomach, and showing it off would make him get his fingers away from you, but he saw it in your face.

He removes his fingers, slapping at your wet cunt, and makes you kneel for him. You whine, but there's not much time to complain when he's burying his cock down your throat. Thank God you don't have a gag reflex. He fucked your pretty mouth with so much taste, making you drool all over your tits.

He loved hearing the sounds you made, like your throat was made for him. He couldn't forget this feeling, that night when he met you, he wanted to live in that moment forever, him securing your head in place, pressing your body against that cold wall so you couldn’t get away from him, and coming right down your throat.

You cough when he pulls out, your face covered in tears and your own saliva. He pushed you on the mattress, spreading your legs further apart. He was so fucking hard, he needed to see how hungry your pussy was for his cock.

He pushes his pants further down, and pulls his shirt up only to expose his abdomen. His fat, girthy dick wanders on your wet folds before entering you in a long thrust. You suppress a moan, it's not like you've fucked anyone else that had such an advantage down there, it's hard to take him.

He holds your knees to your shoulders, increasing the pace on which he fucked you. You felt so good, so warm and especially tight, so fucking tight around him.

In a moment, he's pounding so hard into you that you can barely breathe, you feel the sweat sticking your bodies together, how his body hair stuck to his body with your slick, and how you're quickly reaching your high.

Why is it always written on your face?

"Not yet." You cry out as he leaves you empty, turning you to have your ass in the air for him. You tried to struggle, but he held your hips in place as he entered you at full speed, hitting your cervix repeatedly. He slapped and scratched your ass, leaving red marks. "I'm gonna ruin you, make you only ever want me." He growls as he takes the knife again, holding you close with his free hand as you try to escape him. "I'm gonna ruin you so bad that I'll be the only one you'll be willing to fuck."

His knife glides on your skin, pressing a little too hard for your liking, and you can't help but flex the muscles on your thighs as you feel it giving you a light scratch.

"Shh, shh, easy, maus. I’m not gonna kill you right now." He whispered and gripped your thigh way too hard. You winced in pain and he let go, lurking his hand around your body and pulling you close.

You've felt worse pains, but neither of them ever turned you on. This was something else. You had no clue on what you've been drugged with, but you lost every inch of self preservation you could ever have.

"Ahh, just like this." He moans, still fucking your brains out. "That's it, hase, let me hear you, hm?" Until now you've only let out soft whimpers, trying your best to keep quiet in fear he’d tape your mouth, pressing your lips together and scrunching your nose. "It's not like anyone else will hear you down here."

"Fuck, König." You finally cry, like you were holding your breath for hours. Your hands are touching his abs, nails digging on his flesh as he pushes past your physical limits. It’s such a strange feeling, he was definitely too big, too much to take, but at the same time you craved even more of his touches, like you were starving for any kind of touch.

“So pretty when you scream my name.” His hand takes a few soaked hairs off your face, then stops at your neck, squeezing tight.

“Please, it’s too much.” Your voice cracks and he throws your body on the mattress, your face buried in it, inhaling the sweet smell of dirt and making a tiny pool of tears.

“You didn’t seem to listen when I was the one asking you to stop.” His hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you down on his cock, like you were some kind of toy. He whimpered as his long fingers entered the tight hole of your ass, pumping it back and forth with his thrusts.

You could feel a burning sensation crashing against your skin as you reached your orgasm almost forcefully, contorting your face as your body was shaking uncontrollably. “See? And you wanted me to stop.”

“Shut up.” You mewled, and he wasn’t very happy about it.

König pulled you by your tied hands and stood in front of you, grasping your chin tightly.

“Why do you have to be so impolite when I’m trying to give you pleasure?” He lifted just a bit of his hood to spit on your face and slapped you. “I’ll have to teach you some manners.”

He tapped his dick on your face, covering almost half of it, he smeared your tears across your cheeks and pushed his long shaft past your lips. “Scheiße.” He murmured under his breath as his tip brushed your throat. He couldn’t contain the need to ruin your pretty little face.

You looked at his arms with blurred vision, he was so strong, so tall and masculine, yet he used all of that for the wrong reasons in war, fighting for the opposite side. You cursed yourself for ever letting this happen.

His pace becomes irregular and he’s panting even more, looking down at you with that lunatic look. He’s holding your hair in his fist, fucking your throat until you couldn’t even talk, leaving your jaw sore. He pulls out, using his free hand to jerk his member in front of you until he’s coming all over your mouth and chest.

The taste is almost the same as last time.

You both take deep breaths before he’s getting dressed again, preparing himself to get away from you.

“Wait, König, please.” You try to crawl to him in a pathetic attempt to make him feel pity for you.

“Please what, maus?” He asks in the most innocent way, looking deeply into your eyes. You can’t form a sentence, you’re not even sure what you want. “I told you’d pay, hm?”

He laughs deviously, leaving you there alone. Hands still tied tight behind your back, your naked body that he used to get revenge and your chest, covered in his bitter cum. Your jaw is sore, your limbs are weak, and there’s nothing you can do to get out of there. He left you with more questions than answers.

Oh, you’re so gonna pay for that.

taglist: @butterbunana @alyObe @snoisisabitch @nuhteyam @iamabsolutelynothere @blissful--moon @jellyluvr @khomugi @xaintxun @kichimiz @frog-spot

#könig mwii #konig cod #könig smut #könig cod #könig x reader #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig #konig smut #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig x reader

[stories-and-chaos]

Shrike pt 1

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” I did my best for an ace x ace relationship, based on personal experience. Both parties are moderately sex favorable since writing from my own experience is easiest, so I’m not sure if this counts as QPR. Written mostly in spite over all the Alastor smut. And overly innocent reader inserts. I don’t mind some smut but c’mon people.]

[Part 1/2 Word count 5506/12026]

[cw: blood, violence, mild gore, attempted sexual assault, fluff]

Behind every great man is a great woman? Well, behind every sophisticated murderer is an equally charming murderess. Maybe not as accurate a statement but that’s how you and your partner were. You met Alastor during prohibition. You weren’t the headline performer at the speakeasy he liked to frequent. You were attractive but other girls there were more stunning.

What caught his attention was the passion in your voice. You were deep and sultry as New Orlean’s summer nights. Your notes slipped into his core as inevitable as the Big Easy’s flow. Combined with your poise and aura of untouchability, he felt drawn to you. The lean radio host had never felt a pull like this to anyone.

But he noticed other men drawn to you. But they had no appreciation for you, just your flesh and the pleasure they might take from you. So he took to following you home. At a discreet distance; he hadn’t yet introduced himself. At least a dozen times he intercepted ruffians that moved to harm you. They weren’t nearly as cautious and thorough as him.

One night Alastor had just prevented another uncouth man from approaching you and was wiping off his hands when he heard your voice. Not how he normally did, trained and melodic. No this was harsh, panicked. Fuck! Another one?! There really was no end to the lowlifes.

You had screeched at your assailant, “Get your hands OFF ME!” You were shrill enough to make him wince, but only for a second. He was stronger and just gave you a dark grin with more teeth missing than not. “Let’s have some fun babycakes.” He started dragging you to an alley.

You managed to stomp on his foot with your heel. “Augh, you bitch!” He shoved you up against the brick wall. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled.

“I believe the lady has made her opinion clear,” came another voice in the foggy night. “Let her go.” The voice was vaguely familiar, something you heard regularly…

It distracted your assailant long enough that you could reach for your hat. It was a tad out of style but had it’s advantages. Namely, needing a nearly foot long hat pin to keep it in place. You pulled the pin out while he looked out at the other man.

“Fuck off before I kill yo-“ his words were cut off by the sharpened steel pin suddenly piercing his eye. You jammed it into his eye socket with all your strength. Maybe you could have hit what little brains he had but the other man ran up to slit the bastard’s throat.

The man gurgled desperately before falling to the ground. He twitched, blood flowing from his neck and eye. You leaned back against the wall, chest heaving.

The tall lean man seemed oddly calm. He cleaned his knife before pulling your hat pin out of the corpse’s head. Blood fountained out from the eye socket as he cleaned the gore off your pin. He turned, presenting you the slim steel by the decorative knob.

“Are you all right cher?” You took the pin back but didn’t replace it. You didn’t want any leftover gore in your hair.

“Alors pas! Give me a moment cher.” You took a few deep breaths and looked up to see a (thankfully dry) red tinged hand waiting for you. You placed your shaking one into it. The owner assisted you to your feet, guiding you away from the ever growing pool of blood.

“Quite a fright you’ve had my dear!” His crisp voice, with its transatlantic accent echoed as he escorted you away.

You shuddered slightly, realizing how bad things could have gotten. “At least it was just a fright. Thanks to you mister…?” You trailed off, still trying to place his voice.

“Alastor.”

Your eyes widened in sudden recognition. “Ah! You’re the radio host!”

“I’m flattered you remember me! I’m afraid I have you at a disadvantage. You are Y/N, correct?” Dazed, you nodded. “I’ve been enthralled by your performances for months now, I had to learn more about you cher.”

“Why thank you, I’m glad you’ve been enjoying them.” Suddenly you felt dizzy and stumbled along the path. Alastor swiftly caught you.

“I believe you’re a tad unsteady after being handled so roughly. May I?” Confused, you nodded and he immediately swept you into a bridal carry. “If you’ll permit me, I’d like to escort you home.” He paused and added, “I will need directions of course.”

The thought of a man you just met bringing you home made you flush all over. No matter how gallant he was, the radio host was a stranger. But you didn’t think your legs could support you long enough. “If…if you would please.” You glanced back at the alley. “What do we do about…”

“Hmmm,” Alastor hummed as he strolled away. He had no difficulty carrying you. “I suppose a dead man is an inconvenience but I believe getting you somewhere safe takes priority. Certainly over a lowlife’s corpse.”

It was hard to argue with that logic. You directed him to your apartment, amazed that he was able to carry you that long and with ease. Once there, you allowed him inside. Once inside with a lamp lit, you realized what a mess both were. Your coat was splattered with blood and grime. Your dress was stained wherever the coat hadn’t covered it and your hat was long gone. The hat pin in your hand was mostly clean, but you spotted some blood and gore by the finial. Your shoes weren’t worth mentioning.

Seeing the result of your ordeal made the bile rise in your throat. You barely made it to the sink before vomiting. Thankfully you hadn’t eaten before leaving work so it was just bile. You faintly heard clinking and water being poured. Alastor appeared with a glass of water for you. “Ma cher, you look like you need a wash up. If you like, I can stay in the main room or I can make my way home. I wouldn’t want you to feel unsafe.”

You found yourself asking him to stay as you cleaned up. Maybe you were being naive but he did just save you and you felt he didn’t have anything untoward in mind. When you asked about him, he merely chuckled and told you not to worry.

After you were cleaned and dressed in a nightgown and housecoat (and had added a torrent of tears to the bathwater) you emerged to find Alastor reading the newspaper in a chair. He’d made jambalaya for you both. “My mother’s recipe! So good it nearly killed her!” he quipped. Once you’d eaten you couldn’t keep your exhaustion at bay.

“You’re welcome to spend the night Alastor. I’d hate to send you home in the middle of the night.” The only problem was there was only one bed, yours.

“That is much appreciated Y/N. I can make myself comfortable in the front room for one night. I’ll leave you to rest while I clean up myself.” He pressed his lips to your knuckles and murmured “Bonne nuit, cher.”

Alastor left your sleeping form and made use of your washroom. He cleaned up methodically; it wasn’t the first time he’d had to wash up after a kill. His jacket was ruined, but at least the rest of his clothes were in decent enough shape. At least he wouldn’t scandalize anyone on the way home tomorrow.

Still, he was surprised that you had fought back as much as you had. Evidently that passion from your songs emerged elsewhere too. And the way you dispatched your attacker… he shivered at the beauty of it. The unexpected metal gleam in your hand, the furiously graceful arc as you swung and your perfect aim into the lowlife’s eye.

Alastor wasn’t much interested in pleasures of the flesh, he never had been and wasn’t still. He wanted to see more of you like that. Not scared and in need of rescue, but the hunter he recognized in your eyes.

“It seemed the songbird I’ve admired has talons.”

—————

The next morning you insisted on making breakfast; biscuits and gravy. Alastor seemed to enjoy it but he didn’t leave after eating. You thought he would need to get home before heading to the radio station. When you asked he said he was staying “just in case.”

Just before lunch there was a knock at your door. Alastor was closer so he answered it, almost like he was expecting it. Two policemen stood on the other side. “What can we help you with officers?” Alastor asked jovially.

“Is this the home of a Miss Y/N?” At your affirmative nod, the stockier of the two continued, “We’d like you to come down to the station Miss. We have some questions to ask you.”

“Ah, this must pertain to the dreadful ordeal my dear Y/N went through last night,” Alastor interjected. “Ma cher, why don’t you grab your things and I’ll accompany you.”

“And who might you be?” The lanky officer asked.

“Alastor, my good man. You may have tuned into my radio show!” He smiled thinly as the short one had a flicker of recognition. “I rendered some assistance to Y/N, so it’s probably best if I’m there as well. It would save you gentlemen a trip to my home to escort me in for questions, ha ha!”

By then you had your shoes and bag ready. “Dear you look lovely. Do you have your pin from last night, I’m sure these gentlemen will want to examine it.”

“Oh, that’s an excellent point Alastor.” You placed it in your bag, making sure the cover was on the tip.

Once at the station, you found out the trail from your attacker’s body to your apartment was fairly obvious. Some blood on the bottom of Alastor’s shoes led the way. As for what happened:

“The man accosted me on my way home. I tried to fight back, but he was ever so much stronger. It seems I was loud enough to grab Alastor’s attention. I’m so grateful he stepped in! The beast was distracted and I was able to get ahold of my hat pin. My mother always said not to leave without one and she was right! I meant to just scratch him but I’ve never had to do such a thing before; I hit his eye instead. Before I could do anything else Alastor was between us and then the ruffian was dead.”

“Indeed! I heard Y/N order the lout to release her and I ran up to assist. I had just been dealing with another lowlife who had also been following her. To think there are so many ne’er-do-wells on our streets! In any case, I dispatched the man and assisted Y/N home.” You hadn’t realized there had been another man following you. You shivered at the thought.

“And why were you in the area Mr. Alastor? Records show that neither your home or place of employment are in that area.”

Alastor’s eye twitched but his smile never faltered. “I’d had a lovely evening at the jazz club and felt a late night stroll was in order. I wasn’t even paying attention to where my feet were taking me! Perhaps it was providence guiding my way so I might save the lady’s virtue.”

“Why didn’t you report this to the police?”

“I could barely manage to walk, I was in such a state. Alastor had to carry me home; I was in no condition to report anything, officers.”

“The lady had been assaulted on her way home and forced to defend herself. I felt it would be unworthy of a gentleman to leave her alone in her time of need.”

After a barrage of questions and a thorough examination of your hatpin, Alastor’s knife and the minor injuries you had suffered while being manhandled, the officers let you both go. They would provide all the evidence to the district attorney. But it seemed unlikely that either of you would be charged. You had been defending yourself and Alastor had defended you.

The charming radio host escorted you back home. “Won’t you be late for work at this point?” His broadcast covered a good portion of the afternoon and early evening.

“Hmm, perhaps.” He patted your hand nestled into the crook of his arm. “I still feel your wellbeing is more important however, my dear.” You felt a blush warming your cheeks. “On that subject, I believe you’re due to perform again tonight?” You nodded, he really did enjoy your performances if he knew your schedule. “I believe I will go mad with worry cher, might I escort you there and back home?”

This man was insinuating himself into your life so easily. Perhaps killing a man together had that effect. “Please do Alastor. I don’t believe I will be able to go on my own after yesterday.” You had reached your apartment while talking. “Then I shall return after I complete my broadcast. Until tonight cher.” He kissed your knuckles and saw you through the door before leaving. You turned on your radio and tuned the dial to Alastor’s station. About ten minutes after his broadcast normally began you heard the crackle of his voice.

“Salutations listeners! Thank you for your patience ladies and gentlemen, I know everyone has been eagerly awaiting the show. I am Alastor, a pleasure to be sharing this time with you all.” You sighed in relief. You would have felt terrible if helping you jeopardized Alastor’s job.

You left the radio on, letting his voice fill the apartment while you took care of minor tasks. Eventually he signed off with his normal outro “Until next time dear listeners, thank you and goodnight!” You didn’t know how long it would take for him to get from his station to your apartment but you felt it best to finish getting ready.

So you were dressed for the evening when he arrived. That was the start of a new routine for you both. Alastor walked you to work and back, enjoying the illicit beverages and your voice. Sometimes he would stay the night in your front room but he mostly dropped you off before making his way home.

He was a lovely conversationalist and those walks were much more cheerful than they had been. You felt easy around him in a way that was foreign but fulfilling. Eventually your friends and coworkers at the speakeasy asked if you two were courting.

You honestly couldn’t answer. You’d never had a beau before. According to friends over the years, you had been asked out by a lot of fellows and turned them all down. Was that why none of those men talked to you again? Apparently you hadn’t realized their intentions.

One night, a couple months after the attack, you mentioned this to Alastor. “Isn’t that strange, cher? They think we’re a couple!”

He stopped dead, his lips barely keeping their ever present smile as the rest of his features went blank. “Is…is this what courtship is?” He blinked down at the hand in the crook of his arm, the high heeled feet he had shortened his stride to keep in step with, the new gleaming hat pin he’d gifted you.

“I…am not really sure. I’ve never had a beau before.” You looked up at him, seeing the lips that gently kissed your knuckles every time you parted, the dark auburn hair you would stroke when he was stressed, the patterned bow tie you had given him the same day he gave you the pin. “Although, if this is what courting is, I’m glad it’s with you Alastor.”

“Hmm…” he resumed walking, this time humming one of the songs you sang that night. Once at your place, he finally replied. “I believe I agree with you my dear. Since we are a couple it seems, I’m glad it’s with you, Y/N.” He not only gave your hand a kiss, but leaned down to kiss your cheek as well. “I suppose you can tell your friends tomorrow they were correct. Bonne nuit, ma cher.”

Roughly a month later, Alastor was spending the night in your apartment when you felt the need to ask a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind. “Alastor, cher,” you sat next to him, pulling his attention from the book he was reading. “Had…have you killed other people before that night?”

He froze, which really was all the answer you needed. “Are you still?”

For a man so glib, it took him a moment to find his silver tongue. “And if I am?” He choked out. “What will you do, Y/N?”

You studied him, making sure not to move and not to touch him. “I would ask what sort of people they are. And if they are of the same mold as the men who attacked me…then I’d also ask you to be careful, cher.”

He relaxed slightly. “Unfortunately there are a great many like-minded men in the world, although a few less in this city in the past few years.” He paused. “I can’t help myself dear. I see them acting as they do and feel the need to remove them from this life.”

Gently, you placed a hand over his. “I can hardly blame you for that. Especially after you saved me.” Your other hand turned his head to look into your eyes. “Your secret is safe with me, Alastor.”

The man was usually so composed; it was kind of cute to see him so surprised. He then cupped your cheek and lightly kissed your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned into the kiss.

It was one kiss and it didn’t last long. Pulling back from each other, he licked his lips while you pressed your fingertips to yours. “That was quite nice.” Despite singing so many songs about love, you had never been eager to try out all the steps of romance.

“Indeed it was. Shall we add that to our list of favorable courting actions?” You smiled and pulled out a paper, a fourth of the way filled with a list. You added “kisses on lips” to it.

Before too long, you were helping him with his activities. Initially you assisted in the clean up, but then you started taking part in the kills. Alastor admired your channeled fury and impeccable aim. You admired his precision and calculated execution. The two of you had to be sparing with your activities however. You didn’t want to draw suspicion. The kills were never closer than a week from each other.

Roughly a year after you met Alastor, the subject of marriage came up. It was while you two were disposing of another uncouth man; he made the mistake of trying to get you away from your beau and received knife stabs from both of you. You no longer had to rely solely on your hat pin; you had a stiletto blade of similar size now. Alastor finished covering the body in dirt; he refused to let you help with digging at all. Instead you kept an eye out as he did.

You provided him with a cloth to clean off the dirt. “Merci, ma cher.” Once he was ready you put it back into your bag and linked arms with him. As you walked together, satisfied, he asked, “Y/N, shall we get married?”

The question caught you off guard and you stumbled forward. Just like that first night, he caught you smoothly and lifted you into his arms. “ Alastor, darling, where is this coming from?”

“Some at the radio station inquired as to our relationship. I was informed that a successful courtship as ours generally results in a marriage.” He hummed as he carried you. “After some thought, I realized the prospect of wedding you is…very appealing.”

You nestled into his embrace. “I haven’t given it any thought. It would make life simpler, you wouldn’t have to dash around between our homes and work.” You mulled it over. You would like seeing him every morning instead of on occasion. The thought of your dresses next to his suits in the wardrobe, helping each other clean up after a kill, relaxing quietly on the couch while you both read… “Yes. Let’s get married Alastor. I’d like that.”

He smiled down at you, looking oddly tender considering what the two of you had been doing just half an hour ago. He leaned down to kiss you softly. “Let’s get you home and we’ll work out all the details tomorrow, my dear.”

Initially the two of you planned something simple. But once both your and his coworkers got wind of the nuptials, they insisted on a grand party. Apparently they all felt the two of you were adorably hopeless. Neither of you had realized how invested those around you were in your relationship. You and Alastor concluded that resisting your friends well-wishes was as pointless as resisting a hurricane.

So while the ceremony was a small affair, the party after was held at your club and lasted deep into the night. The proprietors had managed to get a bottle of champagne for you and Alastor. Despite it being your wedding reception, you couldn’t help performing one of Alastor’s favorite songs. He then kept you on the dance floor the majority of the evening. He danced as well as he talked. It was a good thing you’d had over a year as his primary dance partner.

You heard some ribald jokes about his stamina. At least that’s what they sounded like. You still couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered much to either of you. All you cared about was your husband was having a great time, out dancing everyone in the building. Once it was time to leave, he carried you into a cab, then carried you into his home.

Despite what the guests had suggested, he was tired after all that. Frankly you were too. So once divested of all the fancy clothing, he tucked you into the bed and climbed in next to you.

For the first time since you met him, he looked nervous in the faint starlight. Of course. This was so far beyond both of your experiences. You probably looked the same. “Alastor? May I?” You held out your arms to him. He gave you a nod and you embraced him, slowly nestling your body against his. “Let me know if it’s too much, cher,” you murmured as he wrapped his arms around you.

He started to relax with you. His breathing matched yours, your heartbeat synchronized with his. You felt his arms growing heavy, their grip softening. Alastor nuzzled your hair and kissed the crown of your head. “Thank you for marrying me, Y/N.”

You smiled. “Thank you as well Alastor,” you replied before drifting off to sleep.

The two of you did have sex eventually. The first time was a few weeks after the wedding. You were both back to work after a brief honeymoon; when you got back the other singers, the band, even the bartender were all curious about your bedroom activities. They surrounded you while Alastor was conversing with another patron. When all you talked about was how nice falling asleep with him was and the cute sight of him sleeping as the sun rose, they stared at you slack jawed.

Your coworkers consulted amongst themselves. You heard snippets of “do we need to explain this too, did no one tell them about that, they’re both such lookers too, I don’t wanna tell her, you do it, no you, I ain’t gonna tell her.”

After some discussion it seems Mimzy, another singer was appointed to talk to you. “Y/N, sweetie, doll, did your mama ever tell you about the birds and the bees?” She guided you to the bar and requested drinks for you both.

“Mimzy! I do know about sex. Gracious, I’m aware of adult urges and where babies come from.” You threw back your drink. The curvy blonde breathed a sigh of relief; at least she didn’t need to go over the basics.

“That is usually what a honeymoon is for dearie.” Mimzy tossed back her own drink. “Look cutie, what you and your mister do at home is your business, but your friends don’t want you missing out! You two are good together; I’ve never seen either of ya this happy before.” She downed another drink before hopping over to the stage.

Alastor came up to your side. “Looks like your friends are all in a tizzy dear.” You smiled up at him. “Did you have a strange conversation with your colleagues today too?”

“Ah yes,” he leaned on his new cane, a wedding gift. “Concerning my bedroom prowess and your presumed enjoyment thereof.” You couldn’t help but laugh huskily. “The station manager even told me to ‘remember my duties as a husband.’”

You gave him a peck on the cheek. “I believe you’re going above and beyond your duties cher.” He kissed your hand and held it while the two of you listened to Mimzy’s set. “I’d best get up there darling.” You gave his hand a squeeze before going to take the stage.

You sang a mix of familiar tunes and a couple new ones you’d picked up on the honeymoon. To finish the performance, you sang the same number from your wedding night, which you had come to think of as Alastor’s song. Many of the patrons were familiar with the two of you, so listening to you sing to your husband made a number of them go misty eyed.

Once back at home, Alastor cleared his throat while unbuttoning his shirt. “Do you want to, cher?”

You continued to remove your jewelry. “Perhaps one day.” You applied cold cream to remove your makeup. “And you cher? Do you want to?” You asked back as you wiped your face clean.

He was putting up his suit, more intent on making sure it lined up on the hanger than usual. “Perhaps one day,” he echoed. He stopped fiddling with the suit and stood there in his underclothes. Alastor’s ever present smile was still there but his eyes looked lost.

You finished your nightly routine and went to him, asking gently before taking both his hands in yours. “Ma cher, when have we ever been a normal couple? We already have almost a full page of physical affections we enjoy. If we want to see if sex will be on that list one day we can. But not unless we both want to try it.” His smile became more genuine and he pressed both of your hands to his lips. “Thank you my dear.”

You gave him a playful look and started humming the opening bars to his song. Alastor gave you a quizzical look back as you started singing it. Before the first verse was over you pulled him into an impromptu dance. In the privacy of your bedroom, you and your husband danced into the night to your voice. To your delight, he joined you in duets and sang a solo for you as you slow danced together.

“Ah, my sweet songbird. I am glad I married you.”

“I’ve never really seen myself as a songbird before. If anything…” your eye caught sight of your hat pins on your vanity, “more of a shrike.” He looked at you in surprise. “A butcher-bird,” you clarified.

“No no, I’m aware. I never thought of that comparison for you. It fits though, they’re pretty little killers that impale their victims.”

“I’m glad you agree darling. Now, we should get some rest.” You put out the light and pulled him into bed. There was a bit of hesitation on his part as he laid down. But he was soon settling into what was becoming your normal sleeping positions: you nestled against his side with his arms around you.

A few days after that, he asked if you’d like to give sex a try that night. You didn’t have any problems with the idea so almost a month after your wedding the two of you tried it.

Of course you were both terribly awkward; Alastor pulled your hair more than once and you elbowed him in the neck. But the two of you managed it. Multiple times that night in fact. Evidently that was what those stamina comments were about. Afterward, as he held you close Alastor mused. “Hmmm, that was rather enjoyable. I still don’t understand everyone’s fascination but I’m not opposed to the occasional romp as they say. What did you think darling?”

You thought back. “Once we figured things out it was fun. I agree though, I don’t understand why everyone is so obsessed about it. It’s rather messy in the end. And I think we can add it to our list, as an occasional activity.”

He chuckled. “You can add it tomorrow.”

The next day, you joined the other singers chatting before the sets started. One of them was gushing over her new beau and you realized this was a great opportunity to let them know. “Alastor and I had sex last night,” you stated, cheerful and straightforward. Again with the slack jawed looks. “Multiple times actually. I’m glad I’m in such good shape, it was more exertion than I expected.”

After a beat one of the girls asked “Well? How was it?”

“Hm? Oh! It was fun. My legs are pretty tired so I don’t think I’ll be dancing much tonight though. Alastor enjoyed it too, so we decided to do it again someday.” You heard the band warming up. “I’m up first tonight, best get up there.”

As you left the group they started talking rapidly to each other. “Do you think they actually did? Don’t see why not, they are the strangest couple I’ve ever met, at least they’re strange together, I thought for sure one of them would be more excited about doing it…”

Your lives settled into a comfortable routine together. You both continued with your jobs; his broadcast was quite popular and as you increased your skill and song repertoire, you became more successful in the nightlife scene. He accompanied you everywhere which was exactly how you liked it. Every so often the two of you would kill a ne’er-do-well or three. Occasionally you had intercourse. You often danced together, both at the club and at home.

This continued for a number of years. By now almost everyone around you was used to the idiosyncrasies in your marriage and just didn’t question it.

One night in late summer the pair of you were in the woods, hiding the latest kill. As you kept watch in the humid air, Alastor was dumping dirt over the corpse. “Are you sure you don’t need help cher?”

He grunted while lifting more dirt. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I made my darling wife fill a hole like this?” You could only shake your head in amusement. You shifted your feet but lost your footing in the process. Both legs swept out beneath you and you landed firmly on your rear. You did your best not to cry out in case your voice carried.

“Cher!” Alastor dropped the shovel to help you up. “Are you alright Y/N?” You nodded as you grabbed his outstretched hand. “Just slipped, I’ll be fine Alastor.”

You looked up at your husband and noticed that the branches of the nearby trees gave him the illusion of antlers. You were about to mention it when the sharp crack of a rifle rang out and suddenly his forehead blossomed into a spray of blood and brain matter. “ALASTOR!” His name ripped from your throat. He couldn’t hear it though; his smile was wiped away as his body dropped to the ground.

“Aw shit! I thought he was a deer!” The man who killed your husband yelled out, realizing what he’d done. You screeched and ran in the direction of the voice, pulling your hat pin out as you did so. The hunter wasn’t far. You leapt at him, screaming and crying. He was bigger than you but he wasn’t expecting a furious murderess to launch herself at him at full speed. He fell to the ground with you straddling his chest and you plunged the hat pin, the one Alastor gave you for your last anniversary, into the man’s eyes and throat. Over and over you shoved the steel into his face. The blood spray and viscera didn’t scare you anymore.

You faintly heard, “Jesus Mary and Joseph crazy bitch!” through your own screaming. You whirled in that direction to see the second hunter aiming his own rifle at you. You started to move toward him when you felt an intense pain at your brow, followed by nothingness.

—————

Part 2

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin fanfic #alastor x reader #alastor #fluff #acespec #ace representation #asexual

[jymwahuwu]

CW: yandere, dub-con

This idea has been on my mind for the past two days… Jing Yuan tries to coax you step by step. After an exhausting day, you threw yourself on the soft bed and fell into the land of dreams.

Faintly, you hear your husband’s voice. Softly, some whisper. A little warm breath. "Baby, are you asleep…", "Can you help me… Just touch it for a while. I have been thinking about you for a long time:(( "You still closed your eyes, but your little voice was a promise, reaching out your hand.

Jing Yuan grabs your palm, letting your hand wrap around his cock and stroke and rub himself, the heat radiating from there. He didn’t forget to let your thumb massage his tip. Even though you were just held to move your hands, your arms would still feel a little sore from all the twitching and massaging. You didn't care, just pressed the side of your face against the pillow and continued to sleep, but… "This isn't working… Baby, can you help me with your mouth? Just a little longer…"

It takes more than ten seconds for your brain to respond. You grunted in complaint, but still opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, filling your mouth in the next second. Maybe it was thoughtful enough not to hit your throat considering you didn't wake up, but it was still too much. Your sleepy tears drip onto his cock. "Um…" His hand pushed the back of your head, and his cock pressed against your tongue and pumped slowly. You pushed his arm twice in dissatisfaction. When the tip of your tongue was sore from being rubbed, you finally felt the thing leave.

"I'm sorry, babyyy, can you allow me to rub it outside? I won't thrust in…"

You opened your eyes for a few seconds at the harassment, but still spread your legs. After getting permission, Jing Yuan immediately took off your already soaked panties and teased your glistening folds, even pulling them apart with his fingers to look inside. He watched for a few minutes before rubbing his cock against your private parts, rubbing the tip against your slit, and even pressing the whole thing against you, getting wet with the transparent liquid.

"…It still doesn't work, baby, just let me cum inside you once…"

Before you could react, you were picked up by your husband's strong arms. Jing Yuan lay on the bed and lifted you out, slowly placing you on his cock and sinking you in. You lowered your head, feeling the pleasure that traveled through your body and then seemed to explode, and then as the thrusts began, you had to bounce on his cock and chest, moaning. "…you…you…bastard…" Your voice sounded like a kitten's purr under the influence of fatigue. Warm and familiar seeds are sent and spurted into your body.

However, this was not the end. Jing Yuan took a break and started a new round. This time your husband pinned you down.

After completing two rounds, the general placed you contentedly on his chest, closing his eyes and resting with a sweet smile. And you, looking at him, huffed.

You are completely awake.

#yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #yandere hsr x reader #yandere jing yuan x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you

[shotmrmiller]

I GASPED

Need the reader to just have a change of heart and keep it for no good reason- stops coming home and instead makes Simon swear not to tell a soul. SHe’s such a good dad- helping her with any and everything. Vows to kill the bastard who did that to his little girl but promises to give his grandSON everything like he did with his daughter.

I can imagine him cracking jokes (that you can’t find funny at all in the state you’re in) about how you made him a DILF and now he’s gonna be a GILF.

Price doesn’t care at first, just shrugs it off. Idk how he’d redeem himself but at the same time you can’t keep his kid a secret forever

no no! i need my happy ending i on god just ruined my own day.

price cares, he's been itching for a baby.

but he can't expose himself as the dad! he's too old, simon will actually slit his throat, it's simply not possible.

so when he hears the news, he sticks his hands in his pockets to hide the way the tremble.

lowers his head, his bucket hat covering the way his eyes glisten with tears of joy.

from his loins, a life shall spring forth.

simon is furious and snarls at you in front of the guys.

"how could you be so stupid?" i'm on birth control, it's not like i got pregnant on purpose. that seems to melt away some of his anger.

"who's the father?" it doesn't matter, he is unavailable. simon grinds his molars so hard you can hear it.

"are you keeping it?" yes. my actions, my consequence— not what is to be my baby.

john's heart soars in his chest. what a blessing you've come to be, and he swears upon himself that he will take care of anything and everything if it's within his capabilities.

when you go back to college, john brings you whatever you want. lozenges for the morning sickness, peptobismol, apple juice, saltines— you name it, it's yours.

you record your checkups and when he hears the fetus' heartbeat for the first time, he goes home and calls a divorce lawyer.

he's officially a single man within a month.

whatever chance he gets, he takes you slow, savoring every moment, caressing the new curves, kissing the swell of your growing belly.

he offers to drive you places instead of letting you use uber or the bus.

"it's not safe for a vulnerable woman such as yourself."

simon questions him once about his unnatural attachment to his daughter, but what john says is nothing but the truth.

"she's your daughter, of course. i'd do anything to keep her safe and sound, especially now that she's growing a baby. i love her as if she was mine."

simon doesn't doubt him again.

it's all smooth sailing, and the baby finally arrives.

the boys visit, bringing teddy bears, balloons and the like. when kyle and johnny coo over the baby, simon bumps shoulders with john.

"now's your chance to come clean, Price."

guess the cat's out the bag, now.

-

unbeknownst to john, simon had seen how john's arm twitched that one time you said, "pass the salt, daddy," during dinner.

#dbf!price

[gayforminatozaki]

"so what's your name?"

sana x spiderwoman!reader

summary: SANA gets MUGGED??? SPIDERWOMAN SAVES HER? ?? THEY'RE ACTUALLY PRETTY CUTE TOGETHER??(EMOTIONAL) (NOT CLICKBAIT) 😱😨 (tw: implied r//pe but nothing actually happens)

wc: 1.6k

authors note: please be nice i haven't written anything in 2 years. also y'all like how i decorated this post i put pictures and everything oo i feel so fancy.

(@moonpheus)

it's 10pm, or maybe 11? who knows. all that sana knows is that it's late as fuck and she needed to get home as soon as possible. unfortunately, the only way home from her shift at the bakery was through a shady neighbourhood that she almost always managed to avoid. unfortunately, some pretentious customer came in just before it was time to close and demanded they make two dozen fresh doughnuts for her daughters birthday party. she was a bitch about it, sure, but seeing how stressed she was she caved. though she was beginning to regret it now as she missed her daily drive home from jihyo, and with no taxis around now had to resort to walking through unfamiliar territory.

it's just a 10 minutes away sana thinks, trying to compose herself. what she failed to realise, however, was that there was someone tailing her. no, not just one person. but two. and as she takes another step she's immediately grabbed from behind and a knife is put to her neck.

SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT

her immediate reaction is to stay as still as possible, but on the inside she's experiencing nothing but sheer panic. multiple "what if"s and "i should've been more careful"s and "fuck you jihyo i'm gonna die"s occupy her head, that it takes a couple more screams from the attacker to snap her back to reality.

"LISTEN TO ME BITCH OR I'LL SLIT YOUR THROAT."

"w-what do you want?" sana says, half crying half babbling.

"your purse. pull out your wallet and show me." he spits. sana complies, slowly pulling out her wallet with shaky hands. "how much?"

"a hundred" she replies, showing him the bills. she didn't want him thinking she was lying, not that he deserved the truth anyway. sana hands the wad of cash over to him and stays silent as he shoves it in his musty washed out jean pocket. after a while of still having a knife to her throat, she musters up the courage to talk to him, though meekly.

"is that it?"

the man stops, and then chuckles.

"is that it?" he says with a smug smile, getting closer to sana and moving his other hand to her pants. wait, is he going to.. oh god. "well, unless you have something else to offer me..."

tears start welling in sana's eyes, but before she could start begging him not to, a spiderweb shoots down from above, pulling the knife out of his hand. a few more go on his face, blocking his vision. a figure leaps down and starts mercilessly beating the everlasting shit out of him. punch after punch, sana's pretty sure she can hear some bones break. groans and cries erupt from behind, but sana doesn't dare look- not yet anyway. by the end of it, the man's laying down with his face bloody and disfigured. as the figure stands up straight, a wad of spit hits her leg.

"fuck you." he sneers, mouth full of blood, "i didn't even do anything yet."

and with that final word, the figure turns around and aggressively steps on his head. a helpless scream leaves his mouth.

"fucking bastard," you say, pulling the money out of his pocket. sana's left speechless. absolutely frozen. you notice and concerned, ask "ma'am, are you okay?"

what you didn't expect was to receive a hard slap to the face.

"s-spiderwoman you..." sana cries, "you s-saw that and you didn't bother to do anything u-until h-he.."

your eyes grow wide, "what? no no that's not what happened!" you say desperately, 'i thought he was only going for the money and didn't want to risk anything with a knife that close to your neck."

"b-but you managed to grab the knife no problem!"

"because he had his focus on something else!" you sigh, "i'm sorry, i should've done something in the first place."

"...thank you." sana say, "i was so scared. thank you so much."

y/n beams. though it sucked seeing people get hurt, it was nice being able to help them.

"it's no problem. i'm just glad i was here to help." sana nods, "it's too late for you to be out here, especially in this place. what are you doing?"

and so sana begins explaining her situation, to which you suggest you swing her back home. after all, you didn't think sana would be in the mood to continue walking after that. though sana was hesitant at first, you assure her it's completely safe.

"don't worry, i have a lot of experience" you say reassuringly, "though i don't always carry a grown woman with me."

sana laughs. you're both now up in the sky, leaping from building to building. she can't lie, it's absolutely terrifying. one wrong move and she'd fall to her death. fearing this, she clings onto you even harder.

"are you okay?" you say, turning red under the mask.

"y-yeah it's just so weird being up here. how fast did you get used to it?"

"didn't take long honestly. i'm not usually focused on what's below me but rather the criminal i'm chasing. though i do like to just swing around for fun sometimes."

"it's terrifying." says sana

"yeah, but thrilling" you smile, holding sana a bit closer. you don't want her feeling unsafe. this doesn't go unnoticed by sana, who now had the courage to peer down for a bit. "by the way," you ask "what bakery do you work at?"

"hm? oh, rosie's bakery. It's by the-"

"rosie's!? I LOVE rosie's. you guys make the best cheesecakes hands down." you say enthusiastically, to which sana can only laugh, "sorry, i didn't mean to cut you off."

"nono it's fine, honestly i didn't know people were such fans of our cheesecakes." she laughs. you smile back. she's so cute.

"oh we just passed by my apartment. it's the one over there." sana says, pointing to one with a chair on the balcony. you leap down onto it, still holding sana. looking in from the balcony, the woman has a pretty nice apartment.

her living room is neat and organised, with a large bookshelf to the side of it filled with books (she's well-read). her plants are seemingly still alive (she's responsible) and organised in a way which encapsulates the feel of her apartment (she's organised and pays attention to detail). she has a kitchen island- wait she has a kitchen island?? in new york city?? she really is your dream girl.

you don't realise you're lost in thought until sana speaks.

"thanks for the.. i want to say swing but that sounds wrong."

you laugh, "it's no problem. i'm glad you came home safe."

you both stand there silently, not knowing what to do next. sana breaks the silence clearing her throat.

"ahem. well, it was nice meeting you. thank you for everything."

she bows and turns to leave. you stand there frozen until you call out to her.

"wait! what's your name?"

sana stops in her tracks and turns around.

"hm? well what's yours?" she says with a hint of smugness.

you scoff, "i can't tell you that. it ruins the whole anonymity thing i have going on."

"then i won't say."

"okok fine just your first name then?"

sana crosses her arms, a grin forming on her face. "why do you want to know my name so much?"

you open your mouth to say something- wait, should you? oh fuck it you're under a mask you can be as cocky as you want.

"well, it's a shame not to know the name of a beautiful woman."

sana goes red.

"honestly," you continue, "you deserve better. i can't even imagine how hard it must be for you to go this long without knowing my name."

sana stops going red, and scoffs.

"maybe if you weren't so adamant on not telling me yours i would've told you mine by now." she says smiling. she doesn't actually think it's that big of a deal, but she liked messing around with you and seeing your reaction.

"i have an actual reason though! it's too personal, it could link to my actual identity. that's the point of the mask." you say, gesturing to it.

"it's too personal for me too." she replies with a shit eating grin.

she's being so difficult you think. you think a bit more, until a lightbulb goes off in your head. if she wanted personal, you'll give her personal.

you take off your mask- no not all of it, you're not crazy- but just enough so that the bottom half of your face is showing. what you're doing right now is probably worse than just sucking it up and giving her a (probably fake) name. you didn't want to lie to her though, not to those eyes.

you start taking slow steps towards sana, who had just let out a small gasp. you get closer and closer until both of your faces are just a few inches from each other.

you hold her face and pull her in for a kiss.

lucky for you, she kisses back. it's short and doesn't escalate much, but the feeling of her soft lips on yours has you losing your mind. when you pull apart you can't help but feel like you've been kissing for a whole century. you look into her eyes, deep brown and unforgettable, which happen to be looking right back at you. her lips are slightly parted, and you have to do everything to stop yourself from going back in.

"sana."

"what?" you say, dumbfounded.

"my name is sana."

you smile. you didn't actually think that would work. you take a few steps back.

"see you soon, sana." you say, swinging off the building. sana stands there dumbfounded, touching her lips.

who knew that being mugged was the best thing to happen to her?

#minatozaki sana #twice sana #sana #sana x reader #sana x fem reader #twice x reader #twice

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 12. corruption kink

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “not so angelic”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ the little angel that came down from heaven to spread the joyous spirit… surely omega won’t try anything

pairing: omega ghoul x gn!angel!reader

a/n: this one has been in the back of my mind for a while now. this one is a little more dark than the previous ones. viewer discretion is advised.

cw: nsfw content. corruption kink. dub-con. kinda primal play-idk (?). stalker omega. virginity loss. rough sex. outdoor sex. penetration. marks and hickeys. bites. slight masochism from reader.

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“look at those soft, pearly wings… i bet they’d look even prettier after i fuck you up.” —❤︎

┅✦┅

every winter season, omega finds himself trudging out of the ghoul den, unglamoured and keeping himself hidden in the shadows as he observed the joyous season of christmas.

it was a rather simple holiday to the quintessence ghoul. a time where friends and family come together to enjoy the fleeting wonders this winter holiday had to offer. chestnuts roasted over a crackling fire, accompanied by the fresh aroma of peppermint and mistletoe. omega found solace in christmas. to be able to have so much fun and create a beautiful warmth in the most dangerous season of the year. he found beauty in that.

but, all of those festivities weren’t what caught omega’s eyes about christmas.

just like how demons and ghouls roamed the blackened skies during halloween and the events of november, their counterparts descended from the heavens to help spread christmas spirit, veiled in their disguises to be sure to not give away their holy features.

you were an angel that omega just so happened to stumble upon. he watched you from the branch of a pine tree, being sure to keep himself cloaked in the darkness as he observed you jumping around happily in the snow. he’s been watching you for a while now. you didn’t know him, but you spotted him once during last year’s christmas and gave him a friendly smile— not knowing of his true demonic nature. since then, omega has been hooked. he didn’t have a definite reason on why he was so drawn to you, but the ghoul has found himself trying to find your presence, catching you doing your heavenly duties for the ones above.

omega just found you strikingly beautiful.

while he was observing you from the snowy trees, he noticed how you were frolicking around the snowflakes and singing a sweet christmas tune. how cute, you were having some time to yourself, singing childish carols, but your sweet angelic voice was beautiful enough to serenade the woodland creatures nearby. hell, it was enough to serenade omega himself. your voice was delicate, but it was laced with a certain sweetness that honeyed each word you sung.

it was such a beautiful sound.

omega couldn’t help but wonder how your voice would sound if you moaned his name.

the quintessence ghoul has taken a liking to your… innocence. you were so pure, as white as snow, just like the pearly color of your feathery angel wings, they were like a dove’s. something about that youthful purity drove his mind… crazy. the very thought of numbing your oh so innocent mind, into a broken, sex-crazed bastard was enough to get his dick hard. that just sounded so hot to him. he didn’t care if that made him a creep, he was just yearning to feel your angelic body on his corrupt, demonic one.

omega needed you. he needed to have a piece of that.

he growled lowly and licked his lips as he observed you dancing and singing. omega found himself growing more excited as he slowly got closer to you, creeping down from the branch and slowly approaching you, as you were still oblivious to the piercing slits of omega’s violet eyes staring into your form.

as you neared the end of your song, your eyes slowly opened to look up at the sky. you were about to take a deep breath in to appreciate the chilly air, but an instinctive yelp escaped your throat as you felt yourself get tackled into the snowy grass.

omega hovered over you and snarled as he stared down at you, his face filled with a tainted, greedy desire that only you could satisfy. he let out a low, husky growl and smirked.

“got you.” he teased darkly, and your eyes widened as you stared up at him.

it was a ghoul. you shouldn’t be seen with a ghoul like this— let alone any kind of demon. it was a sin. you struggled and writhed around to try and get free.

“l-let go, demon!” you shrieked, feathers ruffling as you tried to get away. “i can’t be seen with you!”

omega pouted at this. awww, were you trying to escape? too bad, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. “awh baby… don’t be like that. i promise i’m a nice demon.”

he chuckled lustfully and lowly, his pupils turning into hearts as he stared down at you, keeping you pinned to the ground. you just winced as you looked up at him, still not exactly picking up what he wants.

“w-what do you want from me..?” you squeaked out, trying not to cry from how scared you were. omega noticed the glossiness in your beautiful eyes.

fuck. that was so hot.

“you, angel.” he stated bluntly and huskily, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “i want you.”

he giggled sadistically at your shocked, almost intrigued expression as you reached to his words. you? what could he possibly want from you?

his calloused, dark claws moved to grab a chunk of soft feathers that were on your wings. your entire body jolted from the touch. ah, sensitive wings. that’s okay, it only made things more exciting for omega. he practically moaned when he caressed the softness of your wings, appreciating the delicacy that tangled between his fingers.

“look at those soft, pearly wings… i bet they’d look even prettier after i fuck you up.” he said between rugged breaths, just getting so incredibly riled up from the feeling of getting to touch you.

“you have no idea how badly i wanna fuck you right now..” omega whispered seductively into your ear, hot breath tickling your ear as you squealed. “ruin that angel body of yours… making you mine. i bet the heavens wouldn’t wanna see their precious little angel getting all fucked up by a filthy, lowly infernal now, would they?”

you squirmed again and let a few tears trickle down your cheeks as you got completely dominated by this lowly demon. you couldn’t believe it, to think that one of lucifer’s creations would be here, getting it on with you.

but fuck, the way he touched your wings… that was only the first step into numbing your mind from all of that innocence.

“p-please..” you spoke between muffled cries. “i-i just…”

what were you even trying to say? did you want this or not?

omega just narrowed his eyes down at you, before smirking, and trailing his fingers over to your pristine silky white robe.

he smirked darkly, before completely tearing off the robe in one go, creating a loud rip sound that almost felt humiliating. you gasped loudly and tried to cover yourself, the chilly winds hitting your exposed skin. omega just scoffed and grabbed your wrists, pulling them away and pinning them to the snow floor as he got an eyeful of your sexy, naked body.

“shit. you were hiding all of that this whole time?” omega chuckled, marveling at every curve and dip he saw. “this is a body that’s practically screaming to be fucked.”

his words were so dirty, you weren’t used to it. but there was this strange feeling that drew you to it, his presence, despite how much you were fighting it.

omega makes quick work of his own clothes. he uses his tail to restrain your wrists as he stripped himself of his clothes, being quick and haste, desperate to feel himself inside of you already. after a bit of fumbling, omega is now sitting naked on top of you, his hard cock leaking precum onto your stomach. he stroked himself a few times to smear the precum onto the chub and shaft of his dick, lubing himself up. without even giving you a warning, omega completely thrusted his cock into your virgin hole, making you scream from the searing feeling.

“a-aahhh!!” you shrieked, trying to hold onto the ground as omega thrusted into you wildly. “i-it hurts!! p-please it hurts!”

“you can take it.” omega grunted between thrusts, groaning loudly as he fucked you raw. he was having the time of his life right now, watching your fucked out expression as he pounded into you.

there it was, you were no longer chaste. the very heavenly principle that you valued the most. gone. and yet, you found yourself so fucking turned on by the situation. you didn’t know what it was, why the fear, the thrill, the shame of it all got you so horny. you didn’t even know what it was like to be horny until you met this demon. that feeling of pain soon melted into an intense pleasure that pooled in the core of your stomach, and your legs hooked around omega’s waist while he went to town on you.

“g-god yess! more!” you cried out, tongue lolling out of your mouth while omega hovered over you, fucking you into oblivion. he moaned loudly, and dipped his head down to mark your neck with hickeys while he pounded into you.

“there it is… there’s the slutty little angel i’ve been looking for.” omega grinned into your neck, loving the fact that you were begging for more. you’d claws dug into your thighs, creating bloody scratch marks that only made you moan louder.

you knew that you’d be instantly banished from the heavens if they ever found out about this. mingling with a demon and losing your purity, but you didn’t care, not right now at least. you felt too good, and you were breaking every rule written in the heavens book that shaped who you were. shaped you into the obedient, innocent little angel.

but this? this was not so angelic.

“f-fuck! i need to cum! i need to cum!!” you begged over and over to omega, needing a release. he just growled and bit into your skin as his thrusts got faster.

“oh yeah? you need to cum?” he grunted out, his cock hitting all of the right spots inside of you as he fucked you into the snow. it was like the sheer cold didn’t even matter, because he was fucking you so good that it was warning you up.

“cum for me, angel. show the gods what i can do to their precious angels.”

that line just does it for you. you whined loudly and came hard with a whimper, body spasming wildly as your cum creamed omega’s cock. the quintessence ghoul also groaned loudly and came deep within you, his hot cum filling your insides up completely.

omega sighed heavily and stayed inside of you, watching your form pant heavily and trying to register what happened.

you… you just had sex with a demon.

you didn’t even have the time to properly register what happened, because omega started thrusting again, making you cry out loudly. this was just the start.

omega gritted his teeth and spoke to you in a sultry, lusty voice that you will never forget.

“you’re mine, angel. always will be. i’ll show the heavens that you belong to me, and nothing will change that. if i have to keep fucking you to show that, then so be it. i don’t want you to be bound by their petty little rules.”

he thrusted harder, and you moaned loudly.

“so… how about it? you wanna keep fucking this demon? or go back to being a little servant for some feathery pricks.”

you could only whimper and nod in response, completely consumed by this feeling. this feeling of darkness and lust that you loved to taste.

“please.. more.”

the moment you spoke those words, you felt your crystal clear angel wings, wilt into a shadowy, charcoal color.

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#holiday hoes event #ghost bc fic #omega ghoul #omega x reader #omega smut #omega ghost #the band ghost x reader #the band ghost smut #ghost bc smut #nameless ghoul smut #nameless ghoul x reader #smutty drabble #smutty headcanons #angel reader #christmas #christmas prompts

[alwaysdjarin]

Red

also on AO3

Dave York x f!reader

( banner by me )

RATING: Explicit 18+ ONLY. No Minors Please. My work is 18+.

Summary: You’re hired by Carol York to test if her husband Dave is faithful. The rest is history…

Words: ~3.5k

Warnings: SMUT, dom!Dave, dom/sub vibes, infidelity, oral (m and f receiving), choking…so much choking (I’m sorry), kind of degradation (Daves a cocky bastard, he calls you „slut“ a few times), guided masturbation (f), fingering, squirting, rough sex,unprotected PIV, a hint of angry Dave, a little bit angst.

A/N: I had this idea when I listened to Kate Bush‘s „Babooshka“ and it fits so well for Dave. I’m a slut for this man, I’m sorry. 😅 I hope y‘all gonna like it. 🫶🏼

And as always: Likes, reblogs and comments are very welcome. 💜💜💜

You spot him as soon as you enter the small hotel bar in Atlanta. Even if you can only see him from behind, you don't need to check the photo you received from your client again. Broad shoulders, short brown hair, long and muscular legs, he’s wearing a black suit just like Carol York predicted.

You walk to the bar full of self-confidence and sit down at the counter, leaving two stools between you and the handsome stranger free.

A quick reach into your purse to pull out your little hand mirror and your perfectly manicured finger adjusts the red lipstick on your sinful lips with a skillful hand movement.

Of course Dave noticed you the moment you entered the bar. The knock of your high heels on the hard stone floor catches the attention of every man in the room.

He does a double take as you reach the chair to his left. Your floor length black dress reveals your right leg through a slit up to your thigh. If Dave looks closely enough, he can spot the lace on the edge of your stockings and he licks his lips at the sight. Your lips are red like the bottom of your expensive high heels and your hair looks soft in the dim light of the bar. Dave escapes a low growl deep in his throat. Like a predator that has scented its prey and is just waiting for the right moment to hunt it down. Finally, he takes his eyes off you and takes a long sip of his whiskey. That’s gonna be an interesting night, he can feel it.

You pretend not to notice that he just shamelessly checked you out and grab your mobile phone. „Hello?“ There’s nobody on the other end of the line, but the man next to you doesn’t have to know. „Oh okay.“ You play the disappointed girlfriend. „Yeah…see you tomorrow then.“ You let out a loud sigh and press the record button on your phone, if Dave takes your bait, you need a proof for his suspicious wife, your client.

"Idiot!" A deep voice reaches your ear after you've ordered a drink and you have to bite your tongue to keep yourself from smiling. Gotcha! You think to yourself and look in the direction of the man next to you with an innocent, questioning look. „Sorry, what?“

He looks at you with a smirk. "Whoever dumps a woman like you is an idiot."

It's easy to have a conversation with Dave York. He's charming, interested in you and undeniably handsome. You notice his eyes on your lips when you talk and his gaze lingers longer and longer on your breasts or the bare leg while you’re sipping your drink. It’s almost a shame that he’s just a job for you and you catch yourself imagining how it would feel if his big, masculine hands would roam all over your body. When you run your hand through your hair, presenting your bare throat as if you're ready to be claimed by him, and Dave has to adjust himself with the palm of his hand because of your submissive behavior, you decide that it’s time for the final step of your test. Carol wants to know if he would do more than just flirting and you’re ready to find it out.

It’s not really a surprise that there’s a knock on you door about 10 minutes after you left the bar and scribbled your room number on his napkin. And you’re a little bit ashamed that you’re actually happy about it. You take a last look into the huge mirror, you’re just in your lingerie and stockings and wear a see thought nightgown. Let’s take a deep breath, let him in, tell him that his wife hired you to test if he is a cheater, kick him out and call Carol. That’s all. You’ve done this almost a hundred times.

But there has never been a Dave York before.

You slowly open the door, presenting your sinful appearance before his eyes. He just stands there for a few seconds and you get the feeling he's hesitating. Dave looks at you, his eyes traveling up and down, lingering on your panties, your breasts and finally on your red lips again. Then something inside of him seems to snap, with two long strides he is in your room and slams the door behind him shut. Before you can react, he turns you around and pins you with your back against the door.

He's suddenly everywhere. One hand grabs your waist, the other one is at the side of your neck. You look at him wide-eyed, all your alarm bells are ringing to end the situation, he’s the husband of a client, he’s a cheater, he’s your fucking job, but you can't. His scent is intoxicating, the warmth he exudes gives you energy, the way he looks at you makes you feel like a damn goddess.

He slowly rubs his thumb over your lower lip and smirks. „God I couldn't think of anything else all night but your pretty little mouth around my cock. How he's all smeared with your red lipstick.“

You clench your thighs together, you’re already soaked from his cocky attitude alone. You let your tongue dart out of your mouth to lick at Daves thumb. He locks eyes with you while your wet and warm tongue circles around his digit and you suck it slowly into your mouth. He clenches his jaw and the hand on your waist disappears and fumbles to open his belt and slacks. You bite his thumb experimentally and he withdraws it out of your mouth to hold your chin in a firm grip.

„You gonna be a good girl and suck my dick?“ Dave’s voice is almost hoarse when he speaks and you try to nod with his hand still holding you tight. „Nah-nah sweet thing. I need you to say it. Use your words.

Do. You. Want. To. Suck. My. Dick?“

His gaze burns right through you and you manage to say a weak „Yes!“ Dave smirks and looks you up and down. „You had an attitude like a slut the whole evening and look at you now.“ You close your eyes for a short moment. You know he’s right, but he took you by surprise. There’s this conflict deep inside of you because all of this is completely wrong, but then you open your eyes again. You want him, damn you want him so bad.

„Beg for it!“ His hands grab into his slacks and briefs and then he pulls his cock out. He’s big and hard, the tip swollen and red, in need for a relief. Dave lets you stare at him for a moment, then his grip on your chin hardens again and he raises your head so that you look him in the eyes again. „BEG!“ He grits his teeth and you ask yourself if you should be afraid of him.

„Please…fuck please let me suck your dick. I-I want it…I need it so bad.“ You whimper, squirming in front of him, clit throbbing and needy for some attention.

Finally satisfied with your behavior, Dave puts his hand on your shoulder and pushes you down onto your knees. The door is still behind you and you try to find the most comfortable position possible, but all of that is long forgotten when you notice the big cock right in front of your face. You grab him at the base and lick along his vein just with the tip of your tongue. Dave hisses at your touch and you finally hear him moan in delight when you close your lips around his leaking tip. His taste is intoxicating. You give him an experimentally suck and look up to see Dave’s face.

God he’s a sight. He’s looking right at you, jaw clenched and brows furrowed. It doesn’t bother you that he’s still wearing his full suit. You open your mouth wider and let him slide slowly along your tongue and down your throat. Dave sucks in a deep breath and whispers a „fuck“ and for a short moment you’re thinking that you’re the one in charge, but then he seems to remember what he has started with you and reverts to his previous behavior.

He puts his hand on the back of your head and caresses your hair in a short loving gesture, but then he grabs your hair hard to keep you in place and starts to move his hips. You try unsuccessfully to withstand him. Dave's length takes up so much space in your mouth that tears suddenly well up in your eyes. You do your best to relax and breathe through your nose while trying to steady yourself with your hands on his thighs, but his pace is too reckless.

„Look at you little slut. Drooling all over your tits while your choking on my fat cock.“ Dave grunts and pants. His movements stutter for a moment when you choke again and swallow around him and you think he’s already coming, but then he stops. He stops right when his fucking big dick is deep down your throat and you can do nothing but look up into his deep brown eyes. It's a demonstration of power, no question.

You breathe hastily through your nose while tears fall down your cheeks. „What a fucking sight you are. Made for me to be used.“ You manage to make a strangled noise which only leads to more saliva dripping down your chin. And then he smiles, Dave actually smiles at the sight of you choking on his cock and you’re ashamed that you’re so turned on by his dominant behavior.

The hand in your hair loosens his grip and he starts to caress your face, his dick still balls deep down your throat.

„Are you wet baby?“

You try to nod.

„Do you want me to show you what I’ve planned for this little pussy of yours?“

You nod a little bit harder.

„Are you gonna be a good girl for me and take what I’ll give to you?“

Nod.

Then Dave finally slides his cock out of your mouth and you instantly gasp for air. He helps you to stand up and you lean breathless against the door behind you.

„Take your clothes off!“ Dave commands and you obey his command without hesitation. Once you’re just in your stockings, he‘s satisfied.

„How do you want me?“ It’s the first time you‘ve spoken in the last half an hour and your throat feels raw.

Dave‘s thumb gathers the saliva on your chin and let you lick it off him while he studies your face. „Lay down on the bed, make yourself comfortable while I take my closes off.“

You watch him while you lay on your back. He methodically strips down and drapes his clothes over a chair. He’s gorgeous you think to yourself. His shoulders are broad, his back muscular and the the gentle curve of his stomach makes him so fucking sexy. His still erected dick bobs proudly between his hairy thighs when he walks over to the bed.

„Spread those beautiful legs for me.“

You do what he wants and see how he licks his lips at the sight of your glistening folds.

„Touch yourself. Spread your pussy and let me see.“ His voice is deep, so much deeper than it was at the bar.

You let your hand trace over your mound and use two fingers to spread your pussy lips. You can hear the wet sound they’re making and Dave bites his bottom lip at the view in front of him. He sits down on the bed right between your legs and caresses your lower leg. He watches as you start to stroke gentle circles over your clit and you got the feeling he won’t touch you tonight. But you know that’s all a part of his game, so you go on further and let one finger slide into your wet hole.

Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of some relief and you feel the hand on your leg grip you harder.

„Eyes on me baby. And now add a second finger.“

You obey.

„Good girl. Now edge yourself. Show me what you need.“

You moan as you add a third finger and pump them in and out of your soaked pussy. You curl them to find the perfect spot inside of you and whimper when you almost reach it.

Dave chuckles. „Needy little thing! Need my long fingers to make you come?“

You look at him breathless. „Yes! Fuck yes, please touch me Dave.“

He lets his hand wander over the soft skin of your leg and you shudder while your still fucking yourself. Dave lowers his head and you can feel his hot breath on your wet skin. His hand grabs your wrist then and you stop moving. He lets your fingers slowly glide out of your pussy just to stick them into his mouth. Dave hums at the taste of you and licks every inch clean. „Fucking delicious.“

The feeling of his fingers inside of you and his mouth on your clit is what throws you finally over the edge. He has you pinned down on the mattress with one hand flat on your stomach, your back arches and you’re moaning -no screaming- out of pleasure.

„Damn!“ Dave’s groaning while he curls his fingers against your g spot again and again. „Let it all out baby. I can feel it. Give it to me. COME ON!“ You don’t know what he means and can’t tell if it’s still the same orgasm or another one. But the knot in your lower belly bursts again and you have the most intense feeling of your whole life. You gush all over Daves hand and forearm while you ride your orgasm. He pants little praises between your legs and looks like he also can’t believe what he just coaxed out of you.

„Fucking hell, this was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.“

„I…I don’t know…I’ve never…“ You are speechless and totally overwhelmed by the whole situation.

A harsh slap on your thigh gets you finally back to earth and Dave is already back to „business“.

„Hands and knees! Turn around, I want to watch us in the mirror.“

You do as you’re told, facing the mirror at the other side of the bed. Dave smacks your ass cheeks hard and you yell at the pain.

„Need to fuck this pussy so bad.“ You feel the hot head of his cock on your entrance for just a second before he enters you with one brutally thrust. You have to time to adjust to his length, he just slams into you again and again. The sound of wet skin slapping on wet skin fills the room completely and you whimper because he doesn’t seem to give you a break. His hand slaps your ass again and you swear you’ll see his hand imprinted on your skin for the next weeks. A reminder of what a horrible person you are.

Just like he could read your mind, Dave puts his hand around your neck from behind and pulls you up so that your back is right against his sweaty chest. He doesn't even stammer in his movements and fucks relentless into you while he locks his eyes with yours through the mirror. You’re looking totally destroyed, your hair is a mess, make up all over your face.

Then Dave squeezes your throat "Look at you little slut. Fucking your client's husband. Does that make you horny, huh?“

You widen your eyes in shock.

He knows. How? Why?

Your body reacts in its own way, squeezing his cock deep inside of you, which elicits a loud moan from Dave. He smiles mischievously while brutally pounding into you. The vein in his neck is prominent, his hair sticks to his forehead with sweat. One hand is still on your throat, the other is squeezing your tit.

"Do you do that with all the men you're supposed to seduce? Filthy little slut!"

You notice the sweat running down your back, it's suddenly much too warm in the room. You’re thirsty, so fucking thirsty. The sounds your bodies make are obscene but such a turn on.

You try to shake your head but the grip on your throat is so strong. You can't speak, you can't breathe. For a moment you think Dave is choking you to death. That's it. It was clear that the job would eventually be fatal for you. You've never slept with one of the men, even if so many of them wanted to. But Dave, fuck, he's so different. You hear and feel his breath in your ear, he grunts.

Just as the edge of your vision turns black, he finally takes his hand from your throat. You take a deep breath, your lungs are hurting and before you can think straight again flips Dave you onto your back and is inside your pussy within seconds.

The new angle lets you see stars. The only thing you can do is to take it. Take every inch he has to offer, every thrust he gives you.

You don’t dare to close your eyes, you know that he wants you to see him. There’s a droplet of sweat running down his forehead and dripping on you.

„Fuck Dave…“

He brings both of you to to the edge within a few thrusts and then he starts to praise you again when he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder.

„…so good to me…“

„…so beautiful…“

„…how should I keep being a faithful husband when you come around and try to seduce me?“

„…love this pussy…“

„…taking me so good…“

„…made for me…“

You feel your orgasm rushing right to you with every word he’s saying. It feels so good that he gives you the feeling that you’re not that bad as you think you are.

He commands you to come when he feels your walls flutter around him and follows you right over the edge with your name on his lips. Dave grabs your thigh hard, his other hand on the base of your neck. Hot spurs of his cum coat your insides and you can feel him trembling while he still rocks into you in a slower rhythm. He’s never closed his eyes for just a second, he watches you the whole time.

You look at each other for a long moment, searching for breath before he pulls his softening cock out of you with a hiss.

You roll on your side while Dave goes into the bathroom and when he comes back with a wet towel to clean you up, you’re already almost asleep. Dave drapes the blanket over your naked form and looks at your beautiful face.

He smiles, of course he knew that you would come after him sooner or later, he knows everything Carol is doing with her phone and notebook. What he hasn’t got planned is that he couldn’t resist you. He wanted to give Carol the feeling that he’s faithful, stop all her doubts. He failed.

The bed is cold and empty when you wake up the next morning. You’re not surprised to be honest, but it stings a little bit though.

You watch yourself in the mirror while you wash your face. Guilt overcomes you. What have you done? You fucked a married man. Red lipstick is still smeared all around your mouth and you rub almost furious to get rid of it. He didn’t even kiss you. The thought enters your mind like a parasite. He just used your for his pleasure, all that meant nothing to him. A single tear runs down your face. But then you remember his eyes, how he looked at you, how your name on his lips sounded when he came. He’s a cheater. He has a wife!

You walk to the table to get your mobile phone so that you can call Carol and tell her what an asshole her husband is. There’s a piece of paper lying next to it.

You read the note with your phone on your ear.

Same hotel room.

In two weeks.

- D

„Hello?“

„Carol? Hi it’s me…..I just want to tell you that everything’s fine.“

„Oh thank you so much. You can not imagine how happy I am.“ She sighs and you can feel her smile through the phone.

„Yeah, you can be proud to have such a great husband.“

You turn the piece of paper around. There’s another note.

Wear that red lipstick again.

#pedro pascal #dave york #dave york pit #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfic #dave york fic #dave york smut #dave york x f!reader #dave york x reader

[dyns33]

Family honor

So Alfie x Y/N Shelby wife will be a little series now

There were several differences between a Gypsy wedding and a Jewish wedding.

The most obvious being that gypsy marriage was not recognized by anyone except gypsies.

But if it wasn't celebrated, you could walk past a priest, a rabbi, an imam or the fucking King himself, to live for years with the same person, under the same roof, with children, that would not have the slightest importance for the gypsies.

Alfie Solomons muttered several times that none of this was kosher, but he respected all the rites and traditions of Y/N's family. Even drinking alcohol, he who hated having a foggy mind.

"Already quite foggy the rest of the time, love. But if your savages of brothers insist…"

“The savages insist.” John said, giving him a whole bottle of whiskey.

“I can’t believe this asshole is going to become one of us.”

"Oh, Arthur, I'm touched that you accept me so quickly into your heart."

It took several people besides Tommy and Y/N to stop them from killing each other, when they were completely drunk.

Then they insisted on walking together in the horse field, the older Shelby brother ending up giving his blessing before falling asleep under a tree, making it clear that he would slit Alfie's throat if he did not treat his beloved little sister correctly.

The wandering jew left him to return with the others, who were dancing and singing. A perfect wedding, completely normal.

If he was offended when Y/N told him that the Jewish marriage was practically the same, he didn't show it, just made a strange sound with his nose.

There may have been less alcohol, and it was legally recognized, but the rest was a gathering of a lot of loud people, not speaking English, jumping around and congratulating them on their union.

Y/N, however, quickly noticed the biggest difference between gypsy marriage and Jewish marriage.

Although they had been a little surprised and worried by her choice of husband, her family had decided to give a chance to Alfie Solomons, whom they judged solely because of his actions. The rest didn't matter in the slightest.

With the Camden community, it wasn’t so simple.

“Your lovely wife is going to convert ?” an old woman asked, although it sounded more like an order than a question.

"Ah, frau Aldermann. It is true that I am such a pious man myself, it is a very important subject that my wife and I have talked about a lot. Isn't that right, treacle ?"

“Good, good.” sighed a man, patting his shoulder, not seeming to understand Alfie's sarcasm. "This is very important, especially for such an admired member. Perhaps your mother was of Jewish parentage ?"

She could have replied that she had not really known her mother, and therefore even less her family, but her husband saved her from this discussion, which he considered ridiculous, by inviting her to dance.

A true act of love, for him who hated dancing, in addition to suffering terribly because of his back.

It didn't take long for her entire family tree to be dissected in every way. The old harpies of Camden were like all the harpies of London.

The fact that she couldn't answer their question was almost a good thing. This mystery made it possible to say that if we could not verify that she was Jewish through her mother, we could not verify that she was not either. And everything always went through the mother.

The deplorable past of her father and the Shelby family could then have been forgotten.

The problem was mainly that her mother was not Mr. Arthur Shelby Sr. wife, which made Y/N a bastard. A gypsy bastard at that.

Even when she didn't understand the language, she guessed that people were talking about her. These looks and these laughter, she knew them well. Her brothers had suffered them when they were younger, before they used their fists to silence the ignorant and conquer Birmingham.

But she wasn't in Birmingham. Her brothers were not there, and it was her husband's kingdom.

Alfie wasn't the last to comment on gypsies.

"You know, I expected to have to sleep in a caravan for our honeymoon. It would have been terrible for my back, I don't know if Thomas took pity on us or if his petty posh side is to be thanked."

“They had a tent for us, but Finn threw up in it.”

"Fuck off, love. You're kidding me !"

“Then we would have danced naked around a fire asking the moon to give us happiness, health and above all a lot of fucking money.”

"… Yeah, you're totally kidding me, you little rascal." Alfie said, mock irritated, pulling her in for a kiss.

He didn't seem to notice that every little word spoken against her family and their traditions was beginning to weigh on her.

At least it was never completely mean when it was him. Almost innocent, full of prejudice and stupidity, but not crossing certain limits.

The rest of the community was not so kind. Many had not appreciated that the King of Camden, such a prized party, war hero, respected gangster, charming man, ended up with a girl like her. It must have been business, blackmail, or black magic.

There was no other possible explanation.

For several months, she decided to be the reasonable adult, remaining calm and polite, taking the blows as best she could. Tommy had taught her how to do it.

He had also taught her the pride of gypsies. Honor.

So there came a day when she was walking through the bakery, and some of the employees made a little joke about stealing and fortune telling, laughing like the idiots they were.

Normally, she would have ignored him. But Y/N was exhausted, and Polly's voice repeated in her head that no Shelby would ever allow themselves to be treated like this, so before they had time to react, she grabbed the hair of one of them, placing a knife to his throat.

"Tell me another joke about gypsies. Then I'll tell you a joke about Jews. Then I'll kill you."

The boy squealed, calling to his colleagues for help with his big, frightening eyes, but no one dared to move. Because they knew she would go faster. And even if she wasn't moving fast enough, she was Tommy Shelby's sister and Alfie Solomons' wife. Literally untouchable.

"Come on." she whispered in his ear. "Make me laugh. No ? No more jokes ? You're going to play the victim. It's funny, people who complain about being mistreated, then do exactly the same thing to others while thinking they're superior. You're all the same."

She didn't comment on the puddle under his legs, nor the little cry of panic when she released him.

Everyone stood still, watching her leave, and when she met Ollie's gaze, she knew she had just made a mistake. She only proved that she was indeed the savage they all described, the bad person.

Alfie probably wouldn't be happy when his right hand man told him what happened.

He did indeed seem to be in a terrible mood when she found him waiting for her in the living room, sunk into the sofa, indicating that his back was hurting badly, but that he would refuse to talk about it.

"Come, love, have a sit. Come on, sit down here."

Not wanting to act like a child, she remained silent as she took a seat in the chair he indicated to her.

This was obviously not what he expected, because he didn't speak either, staring at her intensely, hands crossed, displaying a small pout.

“Do you want to tell me what happened at the bakery today ?”

“Why ask if you already know ?”

“I would like your version.”

"I threatened to slit the throat of one of your workers and disrupted production. Do you want to spank me ?"

"Tempting. Why did you want to slit his throat ?"

“Unimportant.”

"Unimportant, uh ? Unimportant, love ? Because Ollie came to tell me that some guys were talking bad about me wife."

Groaning slightly, Alfie stood up just enough to push a piece of paper and pencil in her direction onto the table between them.

"Names."

“Alfie…”

"I want the names, treacle. I've already gone around the bakery telling everyone that insulting me wife and her family was insulting me, and I don't like being insulted. Names."

“You always make fun of gypsies.”

"Wrong." he retorted, holding up a finger as if that proved his point. "I do it when your brothers are around, because Thomas can be a little prick, and it's hilarious to see Arthur react like a mad dog. But I have nothing against gypsies. Lovely people. The proof, look at you. And look at me. The two most wonderful creatures our communities could spawn, right ?"

Despite all her strength, Y/N couldn't help but smile, which seemed to please her husband. He then placed his victorious finger on the paper, insisting on names.

If she had shown mercy by not cutting, this would not be the case with the wandering jew, king of Camden Town.

No one insulted his wife. No one looked at his wife badly, no one criticized her, no one tried to take away from her, no one thought of her with bad thoughts.

“Not even you ?” Y/N asked with a mischievous smile.

"Not at all. Now you brought up spanking. You brought it up first, love, not me."

“My brothers would be furious to hear that you beat me.”

"Don't tempt me, I can spread false rumors all the way to Birmingham just for the thrill of them all running here, and finding us…"

“You’re the one who deserves a spanking.”

"Ungrateful wife. Threatening me, under my own roof, when my back is killing me and I have just condemned half the city for the love of her."

The Shelbys never knew about their sister's difficult first months in Camden. Tommy noticed that he seemed to be treated with a little more respect when he walked the streets, but neither Y/N nor Alfie talked about what had happened before this outpouring of acceptance from the community.

On the other hand, Arthur noticed marks on his little sister's neck, and he tried to strangle Alfie, even after realizing that it wasn't what he thought, because it wasn't really better for him.

And Solomons reminding him that he was his brother-in-law didn't help at all.

#peaky blinders #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfiction #shelby reader

[starkskeep]

Right when I felt the moment stop (r. stark)

Right when I felt the moment stop r. stark imagine

Pt. 2 of Oh, all I used to do was pray

Pairings - Robb Stark x female!Reader

Summary - Robb Stark and the rest of his family bear the consequences of their actions toward you.

Word Count - 1,899 words

Warnings - Angst, violence, mention of infidelity, mention of an animal attack

Songs I listened to while writing: mad woman, Right Where You Left Me (Taylor Swift) Washing Machine Heart (Mitski)

Jon was in the courtyard when he caught sight of Arya and Rickon rushing in on horseback. He had been trying to avoid Robb after their confrontation so he avoided going over to his younger siblings as Robb and Catelyn were trying to figure out what happened. Instead, Jon watched from the side. 

"Rickon, Arya, what happened? Are you alright?" Catelyn's voice is comforting, but the look in her eyes screams one word: What happened?

Arya whispers, still in shock, “Rickon and I were in the Wolfswood. We were surprised by Ramsay Bolton and his men. They were talking about using us for ransom or hurting us to get back at Robb. Then Y/n showed up. She used a rock to distract the guards holding me and Rickon. Y/n told us to take her horse and ride back to Winterfell.”

Jon walked up to the group after he heard the commotion. He spoke urgently as he heard your name but did not see you after scanning the courtyard. “Y/n? Where is she now?”

The look of dread on Arya and Rickon’s faces is enough to confirm the worst. 

Catelyn holds back her instincts and tries to remain calm so as not to frighten her children. She takes deep breaths and looks at her eldest son. “Robb, this is very bad. You need to do something.”

Jon speaks up quickly, cutting off Robb’s response. There isn’t time for him to be respectful, even if his brother could take his head as the king. “I’m taking men and I am going to search the Wolfswood for her. This is Ramsay. We may already be too late. He thrives off the pain of others.” Jon immediately goes to round up some men and head off.

Robb stares after Jon. He can’t believe what he has just heard. You would risk your life for Robb’s siblings after how they all treated you?

Jon and the men with him come upon the clearing that Ramsay and his men were obviously just at. Although, it may just be Ramsay now. There were several bodies strewn, bloodied with scratches and bite marks. By the luck of the gods, your body is not among those fallen but it means you are most likely alone with Ramsay. The rescue party continues on by following tracks left in the snow. Farther into the forest, there is a fallen bear with arrows embedded in it. This is obviously the animal that killed Ramsay’s men. 

A shrill scream sends Jon and the men running toward the sound. They end up at the bank of a frozen river. Ramsay has you trapped against him, a dagger held to your throat. The fear and panic were quite clear in your eyes, even from all the way across the river.

“Hello, bastard. I see you’re still at the beck and call of your brother. It’s unfortunate that he won’t be here to see as I slit his wife’s throat, although from what I hear, he would probably thank me for doing so. Be sure to describe in detail the events that happened. I would hate for him to be left wondering. Shame the other two runts escaped. I’ll be sure to make your good sister’s death painful for the loss she caused me.” Ramsay sneered as he pulled you tighter against him.

As Ramsay was distracted by his taunting of Jon, your good brother subtly directed one of the men to move to his side of Ramsay. The soldier pulled back his bow and sent an arrow flying right into Ramsay’s side. This caused Ramsay to let go of you, unfortunately slicing your collarbone as he fell. The impact of his body against the river ice created fissures in the frozen water. Jon went to step onto the ice in order to get you to safety.

“Wait! Don’t—“ Your words were cut off when the pressure created a crack so large that the ice beneath you broke and sent you into the cold river. You frantically tried to get back onto the ice but could not maintain a grip on the slippery surface. You fell back into the water and the current swept you underneath the ice. Jon immediately sprung into action and sprinted onto the ice, jumping over broken slabs while still trying to be as light as he could. By sheer luck, Jon was able to reach an area in front of your path and break through the ice. He hauled you to safety and rushed back to the group. They were smart enough to have a cloak ready to wrap you in and bundled you onto a horse. Everyone set off to Winterfell. 

When Jon made it back through the gates of Winterfell, he ignored the questions from everyone. His only focus was on getting you to a maester. Once you were being tended to, Jon turned to his family. They had followed him to your chambers and were waiting to hear what had happened to you.

When Jon spoke, his voice was deeply serious. “The men and I found y/n being held by Ramsay on the river. His men had been attacked and killed by a bear. Only he and she escaped the animal. We were able to kill Ramsay. He sliced her collarbone as she fell. The wound isn’t deep enough to kill her but she fell into the river when the ice broke. I tried to get to her as quick as I could. She was breathing as I brought her back but she was pale. So pale. Her lips were blue. I don’t know what will happen to her now.”

Robb nods his head as Jon explains, he has to know. ”Do you think she'll make it?" He knows this is a question only the Maester can answer, but he wants to hear it for himself. And right now, he wants nothing more than to hear good news.

Jon glares at Robb and spits out, “We wouldn’t have to worry about that if she hadn’t left Winterfell because of you.”

Robb's face pales, and his expression turns to anger. He hadn't expected Jon to lash out at him, and his mouth opens and closes as he tries to respond. He looks down at the ground and away from his brother, clearly ashamed. Robb knows that Jon is right but he doesn’t yet want to admit that out loud.

You woke up a week later. The maester had healed you to the best of his abilities but you were still quite weak. When you awoke, you were confused as to where you were and what had happened to you. You were even more confused when you saw Robb sitting beside the bed you were lying in.

“My lord husband. I…I” You say as you try to push yourself up.

Robb looks down at you, his face full of mixed emotions. He is grateful that you are alive, but he knows the damage the attack from Ramsay has done to you. You look... unwell. He puts his hand on yours and his expression is soft. “Y/n, don't try to get up. The maester has tended to you as best he can, but you need to rest in order to heal. You nearly died, and you need to let yourself recover. Is there anything you need? A... any water?”

You pull your hand away from Robb’s and recoil slightly as you bring your hand close to your chest. Your eyes don’t leave Robb, watching him warily and expecting him to blame you for the events that happened. “No. I’m fine, your grace.”

Robb sees your hand slide away and he pulls his own hand back with a disappointed expression on his face. He stares at his lap, upset at himself that he couldn't do more to help you, and hurt by the fact that she doesn't want anything from him. What else could he do? His eyes drift to the door, and he gives a quick nod to the guard outside. The guard nods back and leaves the room, closing the door behind him and leaving you and your husband alone in the room.

You speak up in order to make this interaction less awkward. “Are Arya and Rickon alright? Did they get back to Winterfell safely?”

Robb's face drops when you ask this. He nods and forces himself to smile. Don't show her your pain. "They are alright. Don't worry about them, y/n.” He forces himself to smile again, but his voice is shaking. After a moment, he closes his eyes and takes a breath. When he opens them again, he looks at you more steadily. "But now, I must worry about you.”

You brush aside Robb’s concern. The thought of your husband suddenly caring for you after mostly ignoring you for the past six months makes you wary and uncomfortable. The fact that he is only now showing concern after you almost died makes you angry. “You do not need to, your grace. There are many more important things for you to be doing. The maester has everything under control.”

Robb is shocked. For a moment, this makes him angry, that his own good intentions didn't mean anything to you. After a deep breath, Robb speaks again, “Y/n, that was an unkind thing to say. I'm trying to make you feel better, and you just..." Robb bites his lip and looks down at the bed. He is at a loss for words. He looks back up at you and asks again. “Y/n is there anything I could get you? Anything…" Robb is practically begging you at this point.

Your face hardens for a brief second before it slips into an expressionless mask, “You’re right. You are my lord husband. I should not have spoken out of turn. I merely worry that you have many tasks already. It is a wife’s job to care for her husband but it is not the husband’s job to care for his wife.”

Robb's face has a mixture of irritation and shock etched upon it. it. He can't tell if you are making fun of him or not, but either one is enough to make him boil over with anger. “How can you say such a thing? I am not some cold lord who has a wife only as a showpiece. I am not like him." He spat out in disgust. “Y/n, what is this? Do you want to be alone? I’m trying to be a better husband here.”

You begin to sob and the maester interrupts you and Robb out of concern for your health. The old maester speaks as he ushers Robb out of the tower, “My lord. You need to let the lady rest. She can’t be put under such emotional distress. Please leave and come back once your wife has recovered a bit more.”

Robb feels his expression falter as he sees the tears running down your cheeks, and he turns his gaze to the floor. He feels a sharp pierce of shame in his chest as he realizes what he has put you through, and he nods to the maester.

"I... I understand." He says, looking at the older man and then back to you before turning to leave. He leaves the room slowly, quietly, and with a heavy heart.

Next Part

#robb stark fanfic #robb stark imagine #robb stark #robb stark x reader #got x reader #got imagine #king of the north

[anonymous-dentist]

A snippet from the Star Wars AU:

-

Cellbit, first off, doesn't even know what the Force is. It's an abstract concept, like childhood. Or peace. Or the moons.

Cellbit's home planet of Favela had five moons. By the time he was launched across the galaxy into the war, Favela was down to three.

Now, as Cellbit slits yet another throat under the too-warm Favela sun, there is only one moon left, and it's set to be demolished by the Empire in a week's time.

Grimacing at the smell, Cellbit powers off his knife and tucks it away. He drops the corpse unceremoniously, wrinkling his nose at the way its fingers limply cling to the front of his jacket. He brushes them off; gross.

The job was supposed to be a simple one: meet up with Forever and drop off a ROM for him to deliver to the Resistance he definitely isn't part of. From there, Cellbit would pick up Richarlyson and get him off-planet just in case the Empire's laser causes more destruction than anticipated.

But, well, news travels fast, especially when it comes to Cellbit. Because everybody on Favela's heard all about the young Jedi apprentice who went to war a child and came home a Sith Lord, and Cellbit really doesn't know how to tell them that he's never even held a lightsaber. Honestly, he doesn't know how the rumor started, but it's fucking annoying because he can't so much as breathe in his home planet's direction without getting a laser rifle pointed at his face.

Cellbit picks up the dead man's rifle off the ground and slings it over his shoulder. It's empty, but Forever's a bit of a collector; if he doesn't want it, his "friend" The Demon will.

There's a rustle from behind a nearby building. At the same time, Cellbit's comm rings.

A simple man, Cellbit opens the call in his earpiece.

"Gatinho!" he hears, and he smiles despite the gun starting to peek its way into the street aimed towards him.

Cellbit pulls his knife back out and powers it back on. It hums in his hand. His fingers start to tingle; he needs to get Mike to reseal the handle again, the laser's starting to leak through.

"Guapito," he cheerfully responds, "how are you?"

"Fine, fine, I just had a question about the flowers."

The flowers, right. For the wedding.

In two months, Cellbit is going to get married to the love of his life. He and Roier already have the venue booked, and now they're working on the rest of it. Cellbit has a suit fitting booked for a week from now, and Roier supposedly already has his picked out.

The color scheme is red and white. That being said...

Click!

"What about amaranths?" Cellbit suggests.

He ducks just as the rifle fires. Its bullet singes his hair, fucking asshole.

Scowling, Cellbit charges the bastard and swings at them with his knife. They just barely dodge out of the way. The knife cuts through their pristine white helmet, revealing a scarred smile and blank, empty eyes.

"I mean, yeah, obviously," Roier scoffs. "But what else? Roses, maybe?"

The soldier butts the end of their rifle into Cellbit's stomach and pushes him away, and then they pull their rifle back and level it at his face and they pull the trigger and-

"I don't know, aren't those kind of cliche?" Cellbit asks, tumbling to the side and just narrowly avoiding a laser to the face. He falls into a roll and ducks behind a wall. "Like, they're fine, but I think your dad would kill me if we went with something cheap."

"Roses aren't fucking cheap, man. In this economy?"

Cellbit lets out a labored breath, and it's just a bit too loud because Roier goes deathly quiet on his end of the line.

"Fine," Cellbit pants. "Roses are fine. I said they were fine."

Another volley of bullets pepper the wall behind him. A few go right through the wall and mark the building opposite with smoking black dots.

A beep from the comm marks the end of the call. Fuck.

Cellbit adjusts his grip on his knife.

"You know," he calls, hoping the Empire soldier can hear him, "you're going to want me to kill you now."

No response. Figures. It's kind of hard to speak when you were born without a mouth.

One more round of gunfire, and now they need to reload their gun and-

Cellbit leaps out from behind the wall with an animalistic snarl, pouncing upon the soldier and knocking them to the ground. They twist in his grasp, kicking and punching with the hand not holding their rifle.

He presses his knife to their throat, and they freeze.

"You know who I am," he says. "Nod for 'yes'."

The soldier nods. Good. So they can hear.

"You're one of Cucurucho's," Cellbit says. It isn't a question; he could recognize one of Cucurucho's personalized clones from a light-year away.

Another nod, this one more frantic.

"Is Cucurucho on-planet?"

A shake of the head.

"Did Cucurucho send you?"

Nothing.

Cellbit presses the knife in enough for it to start cutting through the soldier's armor, melting it. No response. Seems they've accepted their fate, then.

There's no higher honor for a soldier than to die in the heat of battle. Cellbit may not respect the Empire worth a damn, but he respects the art of war enough to let a soldier die the way the universe intended.

Cellbit drags his knife across the soldier's throat and watches the little life left behind drain out of their eyes. Once they're dead, he stands, and he pulls out his comm to call his fiancé back, his back turned to the dead soldier.

Roier doesn't pick up, but-

PEW!!

Cellbit gasps a scream as a laser shoots through his shoulder. Instinctively, he drops his knife to clutch at his arm, spinning around to face the soldier he had just killed with wide confused eyes, what the fuck?

"You're dead," he tells them. This is new. "You're- hold on."

Entirely disregarding the rifle pointed at his chest, Cellbit struggles to pull out his camera from off of his belt. He could use this! Maybe it's just a fluke, but maybe Cucurucho finally-

"Get away from my husband, you piece of shit!"

Cellbit looks up just in time to watch a red beam of light stab right through the soldier's chest. Over their shoulder, he can see the messy, annoyed face of his very handsome fiancé, who was supposed to stay on the ship to finish getting it ready for Richarlyson.

Roier pulls his lightsaber out and spins it once in his hand before powering it off and tucking it away. He spits on the soldier's corpse as it falls, and then he kicks it for good measure. His eyes almost seem to glow gold for a moment, for just a second, but then he looks up at Cellbit and his face melts into a smile.

"Gatinho!" he cheers.

He jumps over the body and tackles Cellbit in a hug, picking him up and spinning him in a circle before setting him back down and proceeding to lightly smack the back Cellbit's head with a frown.

"You said you would be fine on your own," he pouts.

"I was fine!" Cellbit protests. But he can't hide the wince as Roier's hand brushes against his shoulder, and he can't hide the scent of burning flesh.

"Uh-huh," Roier flatly says.

Cellbit rolls his eyes and shrugs his way out of his fiancé's hold. He bends down to pick his knife up and frowns at the new dent in its handle. Mike's gonna kill him...

"I guess you'll just need me to protect you from now on," Roier sighs.

"My knife..." Cellbit whines. He looks down at it sadly.

"Fuck your knife, it couldn't even kill that guy!"

"It tried its best!"

"Just get a new knife. That way you won't get shot like an idiot the next time you go out on a job by yourself."

Roier grumbles and swoops Cellbit into another hug, this time not letting go as Cellbit squirms in his arms. He mutters loving insults into Cellbit's hair and pinches his ear once before letting go and taking his hand, allowing Cellbit to put his poor dented knife away.

It's only then in that moment of quiet that Cellbit realizes something.

He looks down at Roier with a wide grin. "You called me your husband."

Roier's cheeks redden just slightly. Just slightly, barely noticeable under the red Favela sun.

"I was just practicing, you know?" he says. "For later."

Cellbit's heart skips a beat. He can't help it. He kisses Roier, and he laughs into Roier's mouth as Roier starts swearing at him about PDA and not kissing in front of dead bodies.

"I love you," Cellbit whispers.

Roier pulls his face free from Cellbit's and puts his lips next to Cellbit's ear: "I know."

And that's all Cellbit needs to know.

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose. #qsmp space wizards au #not too happy with this but i had the idea and i wanted it out yk?

[thebelugawhalefriend]

Hii! Love your writing. Do you do any sub character content? If so could you do Sub Muzan x Fem or GN reader?

Hihi!! I'm very excited to have a first request! I actually had to go back and watch the fourth season and read his wiki page because WOW this is gonna be a DOOZY to write! I mean this is a man who has every demon praying for mercy at any cost. But, I love a good challenge, so let's get into it!

Merciful - Sub!Muzan x Demon!Fem!Reader

CW: DEMON SLAYER SPOILERS, NSFW, Gore, Death

Note: I have really only watched the anime, so anything from the manga will stump me here ^^

It was 150 years ago when you first met him.

"You BASTARD! Let him go!"

Human and feeble. So weak and small to even your own kind. A towering man stood above you with pure spite behind his green eyes. Muscular with sleek black hair tied tightly behind him. In his hands he held your little brother, ready to slit his throat with a sickle.

"What, him? I caught this boy trying to swipe from my shop! If I had half a mind, I would slice him into tiny pieces."

You were but 18, shivering and scared. Your own blade looked pointless compared to his- only being a mere dagger. And yet, you clung to it tight. This rusted piece of junk was your only chance of your brother's survival.

"I said let him go! Not just for his sake, but yours!"

"And what are YOU going to-"

With the quickness of an eagle, the blade in your hand was digging into his shoulder. You clung to this man as if you depended on him not to fall. It's then you plunge into his back. Again. Again. And again.

"Sister, stop! Stop!"

Your brother was trying to flail from the man's arms- trying to free himself from his grip. It was, however, of no use. Even with a crazed woman stabbing into his body, his sickle made quickwork of the boy's neck.

SWING!

Thud...

"BROTHER!!"

And from there, those moments were a blur. Faint images came back to remind you of your crimes. The shop owner's once proud physique now a pulverized, sad corpse. Bystanders horrified by the situation now also blood on your hands and bodies on the road. Even nearby pets ended up slaughtered by your palms. But... You wanted more. Even if you were still human, this man deserved the most painful death and afterlife you could imagine. Taking his sickle, you carved his chest wide open and ripped out his heart.

"Now wait, young one. Wouldn't you want eating him to matter more?"

Now this man... He gave off a completely different feel than the man who'd killed your brother. Despite a similar look, he held ruby red eyes that peered right through you. You pause for a moment with the heart in hand.

"And just who are you?"

"Such raw emotion and strength... And yet still so weak. You couldn't even save your brother, and here you are, eating a man's heart just for your body to waste it."

"You don't know me! I'll-"

With a finger to your mouth, your body freezes.

"Hush. I'm here to help, just for a small price. I can tell you'll be of great use..."

---

"Lord Muzan~"

You call from one of the halls, flashing this man a daring look. From the moment he met you, you would never let this man have the respect he's earned. Even the Kizuki tremble in fear just uttering the wrong word to him, and yet for you? He would tolerate just enough teasing to let you have fun.

"Now of all times, ____? Can't you see I'm busy?"

His tone is cold, but your glare is chilling.

"Ten months, Muzan. You've left me wasting away for ten months! I understand tending to your other wives and taking care of those demon slayers, but ten months?"

His silence speaks volumes... But you? You've never realized the pure fear that comes with messing with Muzan. He's never put you in your place, and maybe... Maybe a twisted part of him likes that. You remind him of the authority he only had when he was human. No one could command or demand anything. Except... You.

"Come with me, Muzan... Please, just spend one night with me..."

Those (color) eyes you give him... His glare simmers down into a rare soft gaze, backing away from his desk to approach you.

"You're the most fortunate woman alive, ___. Any other would fall to their knees if they spoke to me that way."

"That sounds like a yes to me."

---

For every rough move Muzan would make, you were twice as bad. The poor lord of demons was pinned by the hands while you rode his cock for everything it was worth. Your fangs were oh so close to his neck, and yet Muzan was only encouraging that you bite him. Just one move and he could pulverize you. End your life over your own rush for power. And yet, you were headstrong and uncaring. His breathing was quivering and shaky, eyes of blood red looking up to yours with a submissive lust.

"Like that, dear- Fuck! Like that!"

You could barely focus on his blissfully soft voice. The most powerful man to exist and yet he's under you... Your fangs sink right into his neck yet stay absolutely careful not to drop an ounce of blood. After all, wasting anything precious of his was a death sentence. When his hands shift under yours, you let them go to see what he does.

"Don't be shy now... I know you want more..."

His voice is so quiet and soothing that your focus slips for just a moment, just enough time for him to grip your sides and push you down on him. Keeping you absolutely still. Is this a trick? Some sort of act? You sit up for a moment to look down, seeing him with a playful smile.

"Muzan... Are you sure you want to toy with me?"

One of his hands slip down to tease you as his member sits inside. Pulsing and needing more despite his cool demeanor.

"I want to see that fire I know you have. I let you take over too easily this time... Prove you're worthy to actually let me finish inside of you, ___."

Before the blink of an eye, your claws are quick to dig into his own sides in an attempt to keep going. And yet, one of his hands keeps you still.

"I know you have it in you. I can see that frustration in your eyes, dear."

Oh, you have a plan alright. While your hands worked to mess with his body and neck, your legs were building up strength to keep things going. Just a little longer... One of your claws lunges for his neck, Muzan quick to catch it with the hand that was teasing you.

"Too eas-"

While he was only slightly distracted by your lunge, the sheer force of your legs resumed the session despite Muzan's grip. The free hand practically pouncing to hold his chest down while your speed threatened to break the bed. Once playful eyes now looked to you in awe as he twitched and let out just the tiniest of pathetic whimpers.

"Don't you toy with me, Muzan. I know you like this too much to stop me!"

He really couldn't hold back. Just mere seconds pass before ropes of his semen come through and fill your insides. Yet, your body is absolutely sure not to let a single drop seep from your womb. You can't go wasting even his cum, now can you? Shocked red eyes look up to you, now with a renewed sense of pride.

"Y-you're so damn lucky I'm merciful towards you..."

#muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji #muzan x y/n #muzan x you #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer

[bohemian-nights]

In the end, the brown dragon was brought to heel by the cunning and persistence of a "small brown girl" of six-and-ten, who delivered him a freshly slaughtered sheep every morning, until Sheepstealer learned to accept and expect her. Munkun sets down the name of this unlikely dragonrider as Nettles. Mushroom tells us the girl was a bastard of uncertain birth called Netty, born to a dockside whore. By any name, she was black-haired, brown-eyed, brown-skinned, skinny, foul-mouthed, fearless.. and the first and last rider of the dragon Sheepstealer.

The girl Nettles did not share their celebrations. She had flown with the others, fought as bravely, burned and killed as they had, but her face was black with smoke and streaked with tears when she returned to Dragonstone.

Yet was fear of Vhagar the only reason Prince Daemon kept Nettles close to him? Mushroom would have us believe it was not. By the dwarfs account, Daemon Targaryen had come to love the small brown bastard girl, and had taken her into his bed.

Nor could Netty truly be called pretty. "A skinny brown girl on a skinny brown dragon," writes Munkun in his True Telling (though he never saw her). Septon Eustace says her teeth were crooked, her nose scarred where it had once been slit for thieving. Hardly a likely paramour for a prince, one would think.

Maester Norren writes that "the prince and his bastard girl" supped together every night, broke their fast together every morning, slept in adjoining bedchambers, that the prince "doted upon the brown girl as a man might dote upon his daughter," instructing her in "common courtesies" and how to dress and sit and brush her hair, that he made gifts to her of "an ivory-handled hairbrush, a silvered looking glass, a cloak of rich brown velvet bordered in satin, a pair of riding boots of leather soft as butter." The prince taught the girl to wash, Norren says, and the maidservants who fetched their bath water said he oft shared a tub with her, "soaping her back or washing the dragon stink from her hair, both of them as naked as their namedays."

“As to the girl Nettles, She is a common thing, with the stink of sorcery upon her," the queen declared. "My prince would ne'er lay with such a low creature. You need only look at her to know she has no drop of dragon's blood in her. It was with spells that she bound a dragon to her, and she has done the same with my lord husband." So long as he was in the girl's thrall, Prince Daemon could not be relied upon, Her Grace went on. Therefore, let a command be sent at once to Maidenpool, but only for the eyes of Lord Mooton. "Let him take her at table or abed and strike her head off. Only then shall my prince be freed."

"It may be we shall be destroyed whatever choice we make. The prince is more than fond of this brown child, and his dragon is close at hand. A wise lord would kill them both, lest the prince burn Maidenpool in his wroth."

How the prince and his bastard girl spent their last night beneath Lord Mooton's roof is not recorded, but as dawn broke they appeared together in the yard, and Prince Daemon helped Nettles saddle Sheepstealer one last time. It was her custom to feed him each day before she flew; dragons bend easier to their rider's will when full. That morning she fed him a black ram, the largest in all Maidenpool, slitting the ram's throat herself. Her riding leathers were stained with blood when she mounted her dragon, Maester Norren records, and "her cheeks were stained with tears." No word of farewell was spoken betwixt man and maid, but as Sheepstealer beat his leathery brown wings and climbed into the dawn sky, Caraxes raised his head and gave a scream that shattered every window in Jonquil's Tower. High above the town, Nettles turned her dragon toward the Bay of Crabs, and vanished in the morning mists, never to be seen again at court or castle.

The singers tell us that the old prince survived the fall and afterward made his way back to the girl Nettles, to spend the remainder of his days at her side.

Sixteen men perished in the fight that followed, and threescore more suffered burns before the angry brown wyrm took wing and fled deeper into the mountains with "a ragged woman clinging to its back." That was the last known sighting of Sheepstealer and his rider, Nettles, recorded in the annals of Westeros...though the wildlings of the mountains still tell tales of a "fire witch" who once dwelled in a hidden vale far from any road or village. One of the most savage of the mountain clan came to worship her, the storytellers say; youths would prove their courage by bringing gifts to her, and were only accounted men when they returned with burns to show that they had faced the dragon woman in her lair.

-Fire & Blood 🔥🐉

#nettles #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd spoilers #houseofthedragon #nettles f&b #nettles fancast #jessica allain #nettles asoiaf #👩🏾🐑🐉 #no weapon formed against nettles shall prosper 🗡 #valyrianscrolls #netty #houseofthedragonedit #hotdedit #bnmoodboard

[pigeonwhumps]

Rules

Pets of the Silver Screen masterlist

Taglist: @maracujatangerine @clairelsonao3 @whumplr-reader @whumpinggrounds @bbu-on-the-side

Multiple times over the years, Agatha learns the rules.

2.1k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, kidnapping, collar, beating, stress positions, dehumanisation, non-con nudity (non sexual)

Agatha juts her chin out, poise perfect despite the tip-toe position she's been forced into.

"My name is Miss Agatha Stanbury, daughter of Lord Kenneth Stanbury. Let me go and you may get out of this alive."

Foster Montgomery smirks, pressing his knife into her neck, blood beading along its edge.

"I think I'd rather keep you. Nobody's going to find you, certainly not after I'm finished with you." He drags his knife down her front, slitting her clothes. They mostly stay on, but it must be a very sharp knife to manage that. "Take them off."

"No."

He holds up the knife, reminding her. "What did you say?"

Agatha swallows but keeps her poise. She's going to be an actress, she can pretend she has nothing to fear.

"I said no. You have given me nothing to wear afterwards and I will not follow your disgusting commands."

"I have more suitable clothing for you later, if you earn it. But if you won't obey willingly I'll have to do it for you."

Agatha's barely had a chance to process the statement when she's slammed to the ground. All her bones are jarred and her nose explodes with agony. A boot seems to grind her into the floor as Montgomery removes her clothing piece by piece.

She hates herself for thinking it, but at least he lets her keep her knickers.

He grunts in satisfaction, and hauls her to her knees. She shoves his hands away and stands, but is back on her knees in less than a second.

"Stay." He reaches behind him and picks up a leather collar complete with tag.

Agatha doesn't move when he reaches out and buckles the suffocating leather around her throat, but not out of obedience. She just doesn't think she can.

She reaches up to touch it, but Montgomery smacks away her hand before she can.

"Don't even think about it. I'll only ever remove it if you need a punishment that might interfere with the collar somehow, so if you do so yourself I'll assume that's what you're after. But you do still deserve a punishment. Bend over."

Agatha swallows hard, the soft leather and cold metal buckle pressing against her throat. She doesn't move. She only came down for the season, she's not going to obey a kidnapper who's apparently obsessed with turning her into a pet.

He couldn't find a volunteer? There's enough of them.

She pitches forward onto her hands and knees as he pushes her over, pulling her knickers down.

"Bare flesh is best for this. Pets obey. They don't say no. They don't talk back. You need to learn this."

Agatha has never had such a thrashing in her life as she receives then. No-one's ever drawn blood before. She's not passed out enough by the end to receive a reprieve though – he orders her to clean the house, and woe betide her if he finds a speck of dust or blood.

She experiences it all as if from miles away. As if from the gathering she's supposed to be at right now, with entirely different rules. She's not in her body, most of the time, and that's probably for the best.

That day and the next, she learns the rules of being Foster Montgomery's captive.

1) Don't say no.

2) Only speak when spoken to.

3) Don't talk back.

4) Address other people as sir or ma'am.

5) Always obey immediately.

6) Don't remove your collar.

7) Punishments are always deserved, always hard, and given at the slightest provocation.

She adds an extra one from herself, too, which she knows is true. Montgomery giving her a collar is not just him being a sick bastard, it's theatre, another part of the pretense. Because even if he were to parade her in front of those she loves, everyone knows that only pets wear collars.

8) No-one's coming to my rescue. I'm not getting out of here unless I do it myself.

Over the next few months, the rules don't change. The chores are hard, and the punishments harsh, and a lot more of her is scarred now. Very little of what Montgomery does has any logic to it.

But she still can't find an escape. She fears she's sinking into it.

_

When she's hired by Hayes Fletcher, more rules are added to the list.

9) Don't talk to the other pet.

10) If you disobey, it won't just be you who's punished.

Eloise won't receive whippings, of course, and no canings during the shoot, but she can be put in stress positions, or starved, or have a bucket of water dumped over her head before being left in the unheated studio overnight. And Agatha has absolutely no desire to subject her to anything other than a good hot meal and somewhere better to sleep.

_

Rule 7 is underlined dramatically by the inspector's visit. In the aftermath, Agatha's arm and back throbbing, blood pooling on the frozen stone floor that her toes are just able to touch, Eloise whimpering from her own position, Agatha makes sure to add another two rules to herself (though the second is altered after Eloise's angry objections).

11) Don't talk about the situation to outsiders. It will only make things worse.

12) Don't break the rules. Even Only if Eloise agrees to do so.

_

Agatha could possibly escape during the transatlantic crossing. She thinks about it. Even jumping overboard might be better. But she needs to see Eloise again. Be sure that she's alive and physically unhurt (from the sinking at least, Agatha has no doubt she'll have been hurt since). Tell her that she's brave, and a hero, because if it had been anyone but fellow pets she'd saved, if she was anyone but a pet herself, her actions would've been lauded, but instead it's Hayes Fletcher who's being praised for having such a good pet. Which isn't right, it isn't fair, and Agatha can't leave Eloise on her own.

That's when Agatha solidifies the last rule for herself, that's been brewing since she first met Eloise but she's never stopped to think about it before.

13) Her and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other.

_

Then the Great War comes.

Foster Montgomery signs up to fight. He leaves Agatha in Hayes Fletcher's care, who lends her to the munitions factory, for good publicity and probably money (money for Fletcher? Money for Montgomery? She doesn't know. But neither man is big into philanthropy). Eloise isn't there. Agatha follows the rules Montgomery has already given her, hating the fact that they keep her alive.

Another few rules are added.

14) Don't become emotional.

15) Never make a sound.

16) Just because you're working alongside people, doesn't mean you are one.

That last is... profoundly obvious, at times. When the rest of the workers get to go home at the end of their shifts and she is kept working, or if there's no-one else at all, locked in the breakroom until morning. When she's fed less than the others, or when she's beaten, or–

It's so obvious, even more so than when she was hired by Hayes Fletcher. She hates it. And she's so alone here.

The war will be over by Christmas, right?

_

1915. Foster Montgomery is dead, and Agatha desperately wishes she could thank his killer, if anybody even knows. She gets a new tattoo, signifying her ownership by Hayes Fletcher (luckily, she knows his rules, there's no new ones to learn there). The Munitions Act comes into force, and the regular bombing raids start.

Monkey's paw. She's not alone anymore, but it means that Eloise, and several other pets, have joined her in the munitions factory.

She teaches Eloise what she's learned about staying out of trouble where possible. They have a dedicated bunkroom now, pets crammed in on old bedding on the floors of the worst-maintained rooms. They learn that only a few owners have paid for their pets to be taken to air raid shelters.

Hayes Fletcher hasn't.

Night after night they spend, trying to stay calm as bombs rain down around them. Occasionally they're still chained or tied up at night, for punishments, and when that happens Agatha worries the most.

She learns one more rule.

17) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

_

The war ends. By a miracle, her and Eloise are both still alive. Hayes Fletcher goes back to producing films, albeit with less success. Agatha watches as pet liberation campaigns grow, and the next decade approaches with force. The world seems a little more hopeful, things seem to be changing.

Except for her and Eloise. Stuck with the horrible, spiteful little man, punishments getting worse as he gets more frustrated and blames them for it (or maybe he simply has nowhere else to put his anger). The world's moving on, votes for women are coming, and she can't help but think of what her life might be like if she hadn't been kidnapped all those years ago.

She remembers rule 7. And the last time was dreadful, and another attempt could get them both killed, but she mentions her rule to Eloise one night and Eloise agrees. They have to try, don't they? Sometimes, it's the only thing you can do.

A week later, the film studio burns down in the middle of the night. Arson, probably. By the time the fire brigade arrive to the burnt out husk Agatha and Eloise are already sneaking onto a train to London.

_

"If the both of you want rules, I can give you some," says Ira, clearly reluctant, "as long as we can go through the ones you already have first. Is that all right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Ira nods. "Why don't you write me a list then? We can go through them while Eloise is busy."

Agatha takes the paper and pen she offers, wincing as she sits down, heart skipping a beat. She's still not used to it.

At the end of the session, her list reads:

1) Don't say no.

2) Only speak when spoken to.

3) Don't talk back.

4) Address people as sir or ma'am.

5) Always obey immediately.

6) Don't remove your collar.

7) Punishments are always deserved, always hard, and given at the slightest provocation.

8) No-one's coming to my rescue. I'm not getting out of here unless I do it myself.

9) Don't talk to the other pets.

10) If you disobey, it won't be just you who's punished.

11) Don't talk about the situation to outsiders. It will only make things worse.

12) Don't break the rules. Only if Eloise agrees to do so.

13) You and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other. (Ira says she can get rid of this one partially too, but she's not so sure. Not yet)

14) Don't become emotional.

15) Never make a sound.

16) Just because you're working alongside people, doesn't mean you are one.

17) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

The new rules are easy, and straightforward, and Agatha doesn't entirely trust them. The list now reads:

1) You belong to yourself.

2) You will never be punished, no matter what you do.

3) You and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other.

4) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

_

Agatha kneels on the floorboards, trembling. It's her turn today, Ira asked her to clean and she said yes, she's not sure why except she's so used to not being allowed to say no.

She hopes she's done well. She hopes she's done well. She hopes she won't be punished.

Ira doesn't do punishments. But all the same, she hopes she won't be punished.

There's footsteps, then they stop.

"Agatha?"

"I've finished cleaning, ma'am."

A hand on her shoulder. "Agatha, please look at me. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Come on, look up."

Agatha obeys hesitantly. And gasps. Ira's eyes are dark and warm and how could Agatha ever have thought otherwise? Ira gets down to her level as Agatha grasps her hands tightly, pulling her into a rare hug.

"Rules one and two, Agatha."

"I belong to myself," whispers Agatha, still clutching Ira tightly, "and I will not be punished."

Ira's two rules. The only two she'll ever make.

1) I belong to myself.

2) I will never be punished, no matter what I do.

And there's a third, that Agatha has added herself, that she thinks she probably can after so long. Rule number 5, now Ira has been proven correct and number 3 has been partially removed (Agatha does not only have Eloise now).

5) Ira keeps her promises.

#whump #whump writing #bbu community #bbu #box boy universe #box babe #multiple whumpees #pet whump #kidnapping #lady whump #whumpee and whumper #whumpee and caretaker #pets of the silver screen #agatha stanbury #foster montgomery #ira waterhouse #not happy with the list formatting but nvm #historical whump

[internet-sadass]

Psychomachia (Hannibal Lecter x female reader)

Blurb: Hannibal has an interesting way of teaching you, his patient, how to control your animal impulses.

Warnings: smut, age difference (reader is over 18)

A/N: short and sweet little fic. Please ignore how god awful the ending is, I ran out of creative-juice by the end of this. Anyways, hannibal will always be my favourite murderous bastard and I can’t believe I haven’t written any filth about him thus far in my stupid little life??

"Patience" His words came as slowly as the agonizingly drawn-out caress of his finger along your clothed slit. "Is a virtue, and you aren't being very virtuous, are you? I told you to focus on anything but your body, and when you stop reacting and babbling, you may get what you want. This is a test of discipline, and you are performing far below what I'd expect of you." 

As much as you wanted to snap back at Dr Lecter for being a smart ass and a tease, you decided against it. After all, he had you perched, straddling his lap, back pressed against his chest, a hand on your throat and the other up your skirt.

"H-Hannibal." A finger slipped past your panties and brushed against the slippery flesh of your lips. You groaned, bucking into his touch. He was correcting you. "Doctor, how do you expect me to override my body's natural instincts? This is impossible." 

Hannibal chuckled from behind you, squeezing your windpipe. 

"It's not impossible, my pet. You can cease being a slave to your reproductive organs. You are not a dog, you have control. You simply have to apply yourself, separate from the urge and see it as nothing but a sensation, a tickle on your skin that you can ignore." 

All those words went in one ear and out the other as the finger that traced your lips pressed into your warmth. You bit back a moan, forcing yourself to remain stoic as the finger disappeared into your silky insides.

'Just keep quiet, that's what he wants you to do' you thought, fighting with the desire to press down and get his finger to sink deeper into your core. 'Just don't make a sound, and he'll think you've done his stupid little exercise, and then he'll let you cum or let you go.'

The lone finger was joined by another, stretching you ever so slightly. You bit your lip, forcing your mouth to stay closed and keep the desperate whines you wanted to let out trapped inside. Hannibal spread his fingers inside you, scissoring as he slid them up and down.

"Mm, good. You're controlling yourself for once." Hannibal whispered, rewarding your relative silence by pressing his thumb against your clit. 

It took everything you had to contain the shudder of pleasure your body naturally wanted to perform. You couldn't let Hannibal down. He wanted you to do his exercise, and his praise was so delicious you had to hear more. You just have to endure a little more of this, and then he'd be praising you, calling you a 'clever girl' for 'mastering' control over your animal urges. 

The sounds coming from your cunt were beyond filthy. Every time Hannibal plunged his fingers deeper into you, there was a wet plap noise. Milky arousal covered his veined hands and ruined both your panties and his expensive trousers. His fingers scissored and ground into you, stretching you out, pleasuring that spongy spot inside of you that made your imminent orgasm gain momentum. All the while, his thumb pressed on the hood of your clit, sometimes rubbing circles, sometimes just applying pressure. Whenever he chose to rub it, you felt that this was your beloved psychiatrist trying to test you to see if you really had mastered the skill of containing your urges. With brute determination, you managed to stay stoic while Hannibal fingered you and played with your clit, staring at the walls of his office, distracting yourself by counting the number of books on each shelf, your lip torn from where you were biting down on it. Blood leaked across your teeth, staining them a mix of red and dull yellow. 

The grandfather clock in the corner of the room struck on the hour, chiming. 

A satisfied chuckle came from behind you. The fingers inside you went still.

“Clever girl. A full twenty minutes of holding yourself from following whatever impulse your body begged you to pursue. I think you’ve applied yourself well today. This is massive progress for someone like yourself.” Hannibal spoke with a cool and clinical air, as if he wasn’t sitting with one of his patients poised above his lap, his fingers in her cunt and his trousers stained with her arousal. 

“I think that a reward is in order. For yourself and I.”

***

Your nails dug into the varnished surface of Hannibal’s desk as you bent over it, completely nude, your skin puckering into goosebumps and your nipples hardened into pert nubs. Hannibal himself was still nearly fully clothed, with just his trousers lowered enough that he could get his length out and plunge it into your greedy, impatient hole. His hand clasped around your throat but more softly this time. 

“F-fuck, oh god, Doctor-” You whined, breathless, as you savored the sensation of Hannibal’s cock pummelling your insides, his tip nudging up against your sweet spot with every thrust.

“Hush, don’t use such language. Not very becoming for a young lady to be so vulgar.” His admonition was punctuated with a particularly hard thrust. Unable to form a verbal answer, you nodded in response and pressed yourself back against him, groaning softly as the head of his cock rammed against the deepest part of your core.

Much to your surprise, Hannibal was a relatively gentle lover when it came to sex. Aside from the hand around your throat (which, you guessed, served to remind you who was the ‘patient’ and who was the ‘doctor’, as it were), there was little roughness in how he fucked you. He pressed subtle kisses along your cheeks, your jaw, your shoulders. On one occasion, he turned your head so he could kiss your lips. As Hannibal had said, this was a ‘reward’, not a punishment, so the focus was on giving his favourite patient her well-deserved orgasm. In his eyes, you’d clearly learned what he’d wanted you to, and now he was reinforcing her good work by making your cunt cream over his cock and squeezing pretty moans out of you by sliding the hand that had caged your throat down to your clit and teasing it with two fingers. 

Your orgasm finally came, and you whined out Hannibal’s name as you spasmed around him. The sound of you crying his name out so lovingly and desperately brought about his own end. He pulled you flush against him, moaning a nearly silent ‘good god’ as he finished inside you, his boiling seed coming out in spurts and filling your womb. In his immediate post-coital bliss, Hannibal hazily thought about how lucky he was that he, a man who was undeniably getting older, got the pleasure of toying around with a pretty young thing and making her whimper, whine, and beg for him. 

#hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal x you #hannibal x female reader #hannibal lecter x female reader #hannibal smut #hannibal x reader smut #hannibal lecter smut #hannibal lecter imagine

[imfinereallyy]

13

discord drabble prompt: Friday the 13th

and a little bit inspired by @cranberrymoons drabble.

**

"How many times has it been man?" Eddie sucks a breath through his teeth, jaw clenched tight.

"I don't know, I've lost count." Steve bangs his head against the cabin door. He wonders if he smashes his own head against the door hard enough if it will kill him. If it would restart them all over again.

"I thought maybe after the 13th time we died, it would have stopped." Eddie cups the back of Steve's head like he knows what he's thinking. Like Eddie can't stand the idea of seeing Steve's blood splattered against the wood, although this wouldn't be the first (nor last) time he's seen it.

"Why would it stop after thirteen?" Steve touches the back of Eddie's hand, seeking comfort. He can hear the screams of campers in the distance; it's okay. They'll save them next time.

"Well, that's the tale, isn't it? On Friday the 13th, in the summer camp near Lover's Lake, he'll take thirteen victims after he wakes?"

Steve laughs; he's pretty sure there is blood in his teeth. Eddie doesn't seem to mind. "Well, I can tell you we are way past 13 loops, Ed. I remember thirteen, actually. You died first that time. He slit your throat." The laugh dies on his lips, and despair fills his stomach. That was a bad one. Steve lasted longer than Eddie; he had to watch his body be dragged into the lake. Steve is glad they restarted that time.

"Hey, don't give me that face. We will get out of this. Maybe we just have to survive until he has thirteen victims. Maybe this will end."

"We can't let our friends or kids die, Ed."

Eddie has this look on his face that he knew Steve would say that. His look says he had dismissed the idea himself before Steve even answered. Self-sacrificing bastard.

Steve kinda wants to kiss him.

"What if...what if only one of us dies?" Steve says hesitantly.

"What do you mean?" Steve knows Eddie knows exactly what he means.

"What if I just die, and you get everyone—"

"No."

Steve sighs, "Ed—"

Eddie tugs the back of Steve's hair, "I said no. We will figure this out. Okay?"

Steve wants to believe him despite making his own plans in his head. "Okay."

***

#steddie #i promise in my head they figure it out and survive #i could never kill them they are my babies #temporary character death #time loop #stranger things writers guild #stranger things #steve harrington #camp au #my writing