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lorelune · 8 months

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|| blade x reader || M || captive reader x necrobiome blade || wc: 3.2k || ao3 || previous + next ->

The Stellaron Hunters and their newest prize settle in and find routine.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

a/n: HELLO >:3c this lil story has me gripped!! this piece is meant to be read after "scrap metal" but can be read as a standalone. mind the tags and enjoy 💕

CW: dark content, captive/pet reader, violence, implied/partially depicted physical abuse, force-feeding, general talk about food and eating, thoughts of violence toward the reader

"They didn't eat again."

Silver Wolf tosses the metal bowl on the counter with a frown. It’s full, heaped with eggs, kixi wafers, and some yogurt-based sauce. It’s untouched, sauce gelatinized from being out in the open air.

Kafka clicks her tongue from the cockpit, pausing her scrolling. Her gaze flicks up, "Not a bite?"

"Nope." Silver Wolf frowns and fidgets. "They didn't even look at me when I gave them their lunch either."

"They haven't eaten since the day before yesterday then. That’s no good." Kafka sounds concerned, but there's an edge to it.

Blade feels antsy. Out of his skin. He doesn't know why.

“They haven’t been drinking much either.” Silver Wolf frowns. “They’ll shrivel up and die at this rate."

Kafka nods, "That’s more than likely their intention, even if it's a long and foolish way to die. That’s a shame. I thought they'd be better than this."

Blade drums his stiff fingers over the hilt of Shard Sword. He hardly remembers summoning it.

"Bladie, dear? Try and convince them to have a bite or two tonight." Kafka's attention almost drifts back to her phone before she meets his eyes. Her own are clear, pupils intact. "Be careful, though. Hungry pets will still bite the hand that feeds them."

Blade doesn't reply with anything other than a jerky nod. He ferries himself across the ship to a padded training room and shreds two dozen practice dummies until they're nothing more than piles of polymer leather and filler.

...

Kafka had implemented a rotation. A 'feeding schedule' to acclimate you to your new environment, and get you used to your new comrades. You’re pricklier than she originally anticipated, but she doesn't seem concerned.

(If anything, she seems... delighted. She has a spring to her step that she usually doesn't. She leaves your room glowing.)

It’s Blade's turn to bring you dinner. Your meal is piled into the same metal bowl. Heaps of rice, covered in a sticky sauce with chunks of meat and veg. It’s still steaming as he walks silently to your cell— room. cell. He's not sure.

He undoes each lock (seven) and enters your room without any announcement.

The room is... less destroyed than it was yesterday. When Blade brought you lunch the day before, your mattress had been dragged onto the floor, sheets torn to shreds and spread around the room. You’d thrown a book at his head when he'd entered.

(Which he caught and gave back to you. You looked terrified when he got at all close to you.)

Blade didn’t like it. And he isn't sure why.

Today, you're less frantic. Instead, you’re balled up on your mattress, tucked in a corner with your knees up. Your head is down. You only flinch when Blade enters, but don't regard him otherwise.

Blade's frown deepens.

"Dinner," he says, and sets the food on your nightstand. Kafka has replaced the diffuser you broke the day prior. A new one pumps out an herbal-scented mist. "Eat it."

"Just leave it,” you reply, voice scratchy and raw. You rarely speak to him.

"No. Eat it now."

"I will later."

"You won't. You aren't eating."

"And what's it to you?" You unfurl just a fraction and shoot him a glare. It’s angry. vitriolic and guarded. (But a scared stray will bear its teeth and bite, won't they?)

(What is it to Blade? Other than Kafka's order. There’s something there. There has been something there since he saw you muzzled and dead-eyed, and Blade's always half-aware of it. How it refracts and shudders and fills him with such intense unease. He knows the feeling— recognizes it like the scent of an old lover. But he does not like it. It does not feel like it is his.)

He’s struck with the particular urge to throw you against a wall and watch your skull splatter against the metal paneling.

He doesn't. Because his mara isn't that uncontrollable, not now anyway. Instead, he frowns at your scowl.

"You'll die if you don't eat."

"Ah, and if I die, you'll lose an asset, right? I'm not stupid, I know how these things work." You sound... almost petulant. Blade does not know how to approach you, or it, or this attitude.

"You'll die. You shouldn't die. You should eat and live."

"Fuck you." You snap at him, fist balling up in the sheets at your side. You've picked your nails short and raw. "Fuck you."

Blade doesn't know what to do.

He pushes the bowl closer to you on the nightstand before departing.

Kafka catches him as he heads to the training rooms (again, because he needs to shatter a few holograms with his bare fists if he wants to feel close to sane in the next few hours.)

"Any luck, lovely?" Kafka's expression is kind. She must already know.

"No."

Kafka sighs, and shakes her head. "I'll take care of it, Bladie. I suppose we’ll have to do things the hard way.”

...

Kafka is the one to bring you breakfast the next morning. Blade does not normally keep track of Kafka's morning routine, because she is insane, but considering it involves you, he's more keen to it. Kafka prepares a light breakfast of garlic and shash rice, and secondarily, a shake of greens and nutrient powder.

(He... he thinks he knows the substance. Recognizes the acrid, must-driven smell of it, and remembers how awful it tastes. Like bile mixed with metal shavings. Who knows where Kafka acquires it from. He has smudged out memories of choking it down when Kafka first pulled him out of a crater, covered in blood and scarred— but not dead. Never. Never, never dead— )

Blade fractiously goes to your room and waits outside your door. Kafka is still inside when he arrives, speaking to you in that sweet, syrupy tone that drips into muscle and bone like molten metal.

"You need to eat, darling."

"Fuck you—"

"The more you fight, the harder this will be. Why don't you be good and let me help?"

"Don’t fucking touch me—!"

There’s the muffled sound of a struggle, which Blade assumes isn’t much of a struggle because Kafka is far stronger than she looks. Blade leans against the wall, next to your door. He can feel vibrations of a fight in the soles of his shoes through the floor. The thump of a body hitting the wall echoes.

Blade hears crying. You’re crying.

"Oh, tears? I’ve hardly done anything."

"You’re fucking monsters. Just let me go—!"

"You know that won't happen. Play nice.”

"Don't—!"

You sob, probably, and there's another sharp sound of flesh on steel. Blade would've flinched if he wasn’t an abomination.

"Let me take care of you, sweetheart. The sooner you give in, the easier this is. This doesn't need to be difficult."

"Get off of me—!"

More struggling. Blade closes his eyes and tries to imagine it. Kafka is ruthless in getting what she wants. She knows how to pry people apart, pick at their inside, and pull strings until they fracture. It is why Elio is such a fan of hers. It is why Blade keeps her close, as she knows the delicate, bowstring dance of keeping his mara in check.

He wonders what Kafka sees in you.

(He wonders what he sees in you. You're nothing like— like— who? Who are you so different from?)

Blade has a headache.

The sounds echoing from your room dissolve into muffled sobs and the occasional sharp cough. A gag. Inhaling and what must be your fist beating against the metallic paneling of the floor. He hears Kafka hush you, over and over. Quietly praising you after each gag and retch.

Blade's not sure how long it goes on before things feel still and quiet.

The sound of a kiss, audible, "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"... F-fuck you.

"Such a filthy mouth. Do you need me to wash your mouth out with soap? I'm happy too."

"Wait, don’t— no—“

Blade realizes his shoulders have hiked up. He forces them to lower. You scream and fight just feet away, really. All that separates you is seven locks.

Kafka seems to be handling things. The sounds continues, and become dull background noise. Shouts and pants fade into his thoughts as they get sap-sticky.

(Someone beloved, something far away. Bitter liquor on each other’s lips. Blade can’t recall the name.)

(A comet with a tail burning yellow. It is cold. A blade, driven into his chest. A blade stabbed into his eye. A blade put sidelong through his skull. A blade splitting his throat. Cold, cold, cold, cold.)

(Do you know cold? Do you know how frostbite turns flesh black? Do you know necrosis? What pain do you know?)

Blade, startlingly, does not want you to know pain. He wants you to eat your meals.

Kafka exits, almost startling him. She does not look surprised to see him hovering. She rearms the locks and glances at him from the corner of her eye.

“Down, loverboy. A scared dog will bite.”

“Do not call me that.”

"Alright, alright,” she laughs and her grin grows sharper. “I’ll be taking care of their meals for the next few days. Listen, grab a medkit, the poor thing needs it. Though, I’ll let them hurt for a while first.”

Kafka walks off, and Blade follows at her heels. There are indentations in Kafka's gloves-- half-moon bite marks of teeth.

He decides he is going to break his own fingers, maybe. He can watch them heal back into place.

It’s meditative.

...

Several days pass with your ‘new routine’. Kafka handles each meal. Blade stays away from your room. The entire wing you’re located in feels nuclear. He stays in the training room. Throws himself at matted walls until his shoulders dislocate, only to pop them back into place to repeat the cycle.

He makes a point to check the kitchen after each of your meal times. There’s always an empty dish, a clean plate. A chunky-looking film left on a glass in the sink. Kafka is diligent, Blade doesn’t doubt this.

The whole thing fills him with unease.

He asks Kafka to wipe his memory, but she denies him. She’s in the cockpit, swiveling in her seat.

“You don’t need that yet, Bladie. Give it some time.”

“But—”

“Discomfort isn’t mara suffocation, dear.”

“You’re patronizing me.”

She sizes him up, sighing, “Listen to me, keep it together. You’re alright. How about this, you can feed your pet starting tomorrow for lunch. Would that make you feel better?”

It would. He’s not sure why.”

“It would.”

Kafka looks pleased with the outcome of the conversation. She tells Blade to get some rest, pats his cheek, which does take the edge off the mara rooting around in his psyche for purchase.

Blade takes a long route through the ship to his chambers. A deliberate path that brings him in front of your door. He doesn’t dare to enter, only listen. It’s late, you could be sleeping given the hour— but Blade can hear you shuffling around. Grumbling to yourself. One of your feet is dragging on the floor as you walk. Blade wonders how it was injured.

He departs after hearing the shifting of your sheets, and the light under your door goes out.

(He feels insane. Insane in a way that isn’t mara-ridden, which is more terrifying. He knows the gnawing beast of Abundance that crawls around inside his skull and bones, he doesn’t know madness that has burrowed itself between his ribs. It feels light, like the carbonation bubbles in the bottled soda back on the Luofu. His palms sweat when he becomes aware of it with each thought of you.)

(Maybe he’ll try tearing out his organs again. That could fix it.)

Blade returns to his room and paces, before stripping and climbing into bed.

It’s only when he’s half-asleep that he realizes he’s hard.

He’s not sure why.

...

Lunch is some takeout. It scalds his hands through the bowl he heaps it into. Braised trelk ribs with scallion and carrot, ladled over a bed of chewy-looking noodles.

"Bladie," Kafka tells him from the cockpit. She glances at him with a curling smile. "Be careful, they're sensitive."

Blade does not know how to be... careful. Not like how Kafka is implying he thinks anyway.

Silver Wolf snorts from her seat, speaking through a bite of noodle, "You’re asking a human-shaped hydrokenia bomb to be 'careful'?"

"Blade's a good boy, I'm sure he'll do great." Kafka's eyes are that spatial, nebula magenta. He feels pleasantly high when she looks at him. "Won’t you?"

"Yes."

Kafka looks pleased, "Listen, take your meal too. Eating with them will get them comfortable."

Silver Wolf raises an eyebrow, "Is that really a good idea?"

"I think so. Blade can handle it if they get testy."

She looks at him with a grin that's collapsed empires and immolated planets. Blade leaves the room with two bowls in his hands.

When he arrives at your cell— room. It's your room. He unlocks the locks methodically and enters without a greeting.

Today, you are not tucked in the corner of your bed. You’re instead perched in the rounded window, gazing at the starscape. Your knees are raised, and your arms are wrapped around yourself. You look small and defeated, eyes darkened and downcast. Blade watches you rub your shoulders.

You look up when he enters. Blade sets the bowl on the ledge next to you, and sets a pair of chopsticks on top, "You will eat."

It's not a command, but a statement of fact.

You scowl, looking so angry. Alive with it. He recognizes vitriol so easily. It's in your eyes and in the way you bare your teeth at him, ready to strike. Maybe you'll bite down on him, into him, until you taste blood. Blade's sure you wouldn't leave a scar— he heals too quickly from the types of flesh wounds to give him a lasting mark.

(There's something enticing about you trying. Blade does not know the floating, filmy part of himself that suggests such a desire.)

You carry Kafka's mark. There are bruises around your throat, the clear shape of hands. There are lumps across your jaw, darkened in color. Scratches of nails over your neck, down to your collarbones. Your eyes are red-rimmed. Your lip is split, barely scabbed over. You're shaking.

You open your mouth, ready to snap. Maybe you'll spit venom— Blade doesn't know your species. You could.

(Blade remembers your expression on different faces from the glitter of your canines. It reminds him— of—? Jingliu was colder. Frigid in her rage. Dan Feng was always so calm with his, Only shattered near the end, like a tide that swelled too high on the shore to swallow the world whole. Your expression is white-hot, like metal pulled fresh from a stoked forge. Desperation and terror make dull teeth sharp. Actions become erratic and desperate.)

(Blade has not remembered so much, so clearly in a long time. He really needs Kafka to wipe his memory again.)

The mara in him writhes. It’s a necrosis, a vitality that has long since sank into his marrow and will not leave. It rolls through him. Blades tips back his head and rolls his shoulders. There's a high to it, followed by an immediate and tumbling withdrawal and dread and clarity—

And it's all interrupted by the little gasp you make. The abrupt jolt you take backward, into the window, closer to the depths of deep space. Your body thumps against the glass.

('Fragile', Kafka had said.)

Your mouth closes, and your bloody lower lip wobbles. Tears glitter on your lash line as you retreat. Maybe, Kafka broke you. She’s good at that.

"Fucking— I-I mean, fine. I’ll fucking eat." You stumble over your words with a sniffle. Your voice is raw and strained. You rub your nose on your sleeve and scramble for the bowl and utensils.

Blade stares as you eat your first bite. Then your second. Followed by your third. You start crying after the fourth, sobbing with the fifth, and hiccupping between mouthfuls. You're eating too fast, occasionally looking at him with an expression he recognizes as terror. He's used to seeing a look like that at the end of his blade. Frozen before draining of blood and death.

He frowns. You should not look that way..

"Slow down," he says, sitting next to you.

You look at him and wipe over your mouth, lips parting, but seem to think better of speaking. You take another bite, chewing slower. Blade picks up his own bowl and eats small, meticulous bites.

(He shared a meal all the time. Shoulder to shoulder with Dan Feng, splitting casks of viridian wine in the moonlight. Food tastes better when someone you... like is near.)

You finish before him, and don't stop crying. If anything, you cry harder. It sounds painful.

Blade pauses his meal, idling. searching. There's something there. A feeling coated in the roots of mara, but... perhaps it's a delicious agony. Not so much a memory, but a want. Something other than— than what and why—

Blade stands. He departs to your bathroom (there are blood stains on the counter) and grabs a cloth towel. He dampens it with water, letting the sink run until it's pleasantly warm.

He sits closer to you when he returns. You flinch away in retreat, leer away as he comes close, hands up—

"Please, don't, what are you—"

"Hold still." Blade grabs your wrist and you wince.

With entirely conscious thought and great effort, he loosens his grip. And... gently, Blade brings the cloth to your face. He dabs around your eyes, then your cheek and nose, and lastly your mouth. you're frozen, wide-eyed, and still shaking.

When he's done, he grabs a blanket from the bed. He wraps it around your shoulders. It feels... somewhat right.

"You should rest." He tells you. "You need it."

Blade thumbs over a swollen round on your jaw. You tremble, eyes wide.

But maybe a little less scared.

"... Are you gonna stay while you finish eating?" You eye his half-full bowl.

"Yes."

"... 'kay... and you're not gonna rough me up like Kafka did?"

"No." He has no plans to.

"... Fine."

You cautiously make your way back to your little bed, sitting at the head of it, and half-slipping under the covers. It's... cute.

(Blade has not thought of anything as cute in several centuries.)

Blade wants to break your legs.

When he finishes, he collects both bowls, and looks around your room. It's sparse, though. There are a few books on the nightstand.

"... Are you bored?"

"Huh?" You ask. You'd been lost in thought, eyes lost. "Oh, I mean. yeah? There's not much to do."

"I'll bring some things. Bear it until then."

"Oh! Okay." You wrap the blanket around your shoulders tighter. "You're... Bladie, right?"

"Just Blade."

"Oh, okay. sorry." You wring your hands. "Thank you, Blade."

The thing in his chest blooms. A monstrous flower, mycelium under acres of land in a network that eats and never dies. Undergrowth that does nothing but rot and grow, grow and rot.

Blade doesn't reply as he leaves the room. He gets halfway to the training wing before he has to pause, withdraw his phone, and send Kafka a frantic text: 'Meet me in the weaponry room.’

He pockets his phone before punching the wall. Clumsy fingers break upon impact, and the indentation of the fist remains in the metal.

#lore writes #blade x reader #blade x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #tw dark content #tw yandere #blade's pov is so :3c #guy is nuts!! bonkers!!!#(affectionate)#alright gonna go farm for fu xuan eheh ENJOY!!

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pynkgothicka · 2 months

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Hey!

I love ur blog and ur writing they

Soo good can I request a yandere husband taehyung x reader where it's the typical wife worship husband kind lf thing also can u pls make him really dark too with a non-con

Sorry if it's too much

Love ya

Ｍｉｌｌｉｏｎ ��ｏｌｌａｒＭａｎＫＴＨ

Pairing - Dark! Husband! Kim Taehyung x AFAB! Reader

Featuring - None!

Word Count - Around 1.8k

Tags and Warnings - Domestic Violence, Non-Con, Breeding Kink, Mentions of blood, forest sex scene, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Allusions to kidnapping

Authors Note - Late Valetines Day story! This is my last req!! Sooo some more personal inspiered stuff coming soon! Also please let me know if you guys like the longer more descriptive fics.

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

He was your world, your everything.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Soon, you found yourself having to repeat these thoughts, constantly reminding yourself of them, almost blinding yourself to the harsh reality of just how miserable you had become.

You cut potatoes, sprinkling herbal seasoning on top. You put them in a pan and cover them with virgin olive oil. Placing the pan in the oven, you set a timer.

The beep reminded you of the constant threats and warnings he provided. He required dinner to be prepared by the time he returned home from work every day. Especially today, Valentine's Day. The day you are supposed to be the most appreciative of what Kim Taehyung has given you.

During your cleanup, you suddenly felt a pair of hands encircle your waist, and a broad nose press against your neck. You instinctively leaned into the touch, fully aware of who it was. "Hello, my love," he murmured, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.

"Hello, how was your day at work?" You inquire, speaking softly with a touch of sweetness. He grunted, wrapping his arms around your waist tighter. "Did you have a tough day?”

Taehyung uttered dismissively, "They were just bothering me, honestly. All I wanted was to be back home with you." He says, planting a kiss on your neck once more. You could feel his cock harden against the curve of your back. You shivered noticeably. His black hair brushed against your neck. "Are you cold baby?”

You glance downwards and shake your head. "No... Your hair just tickled me a little bit.”

Taehyung nodded to himself as he responded, "I brought you some beautiful roses and your favorite chocolates." He lamented slightly, his hips pressing against your back. You stayed quiet. "What do you say?”

“Thank you… I-I’m making dinner… I’m sorry I couldn't get you anything more.” You apologized. But you both knew the reason why.

You had no access to your funds.

No access to a vehicle to leave.

No knowledge of where you lived.

Not even the luxury of owning a phone or the login to any of the house's computers.

Yet Taehyung cooed. “It's okay, I know you love me. I don't need all that stuff.”

Shit. Not even light gaslighting could make him feel sorry and give you more privileges. You nod in agreement as he speaks. “I’m going to get cleaned up for dinner. Don’t wait on cleaning, you know I hate having a dirty kitchen.” Taehyung walks away, gesturing towards the mess on the kitchen counter.

“It’ll get cleaned. I promise.”

💲

After dinner, you prepared to go to bed. You'd expected Taehyung to be asleep by now, but he was up. Book in hand he lay in bed, his nightwear glasses making him look as sophisticated as ever. You gulped, walking towards the bed and crawling in. Crawling into bed next to him, you asked, “Aren't you sleepy yet?”

“No, I can't calm my mind," he stated abruptly. You could tell he was upset at something. It was something you had to pick up on, being with him. He was too emotional, his mood swings frightening you at times. “Where is my laptop?”

Of course that's what it was.

Desperation drove you to try and access Taehyung's laptop. He had left it unattended and you saw it as a chance to try and discover your location. The day you married Taehyung, he had swept you off your feet and whisked you away to an unknown place, leaving you with no knowledge of where you were or how to escape.

The house was nestled in a dense forest, surrounded by trees as far as the eye could see. Sometimes, you would gaze out the window, searching for signs of life in the distance. But all you ever saw was the endless expanse of darkness, an eerie stillness that only made you fear Taehyung more.

The computer taunts you with every failed login attempt, each one feeling like a slap in the face. Frustration and desperation build as you frantically try every password you can think of until finally, with a loud beep, the screen displays "Access Denied." Fury bubbles up inside of you as you realize you've been locked out. Trembling with anger, you snatch the computer and hide it away, unable to face another rejection from this merciless machine.

The silence between you two is deafening.

He flips a page in the book he was reading, seemingly calm but you know better. You can feel his eyes boring into you

"Why are you so quiet?" he questioned, flipping a page in his book. "I know you did something - you turned off the cameras. I received a notification on my phone.”

Quietly, you mustered up the courage to reply. “I-I wanted to…”

"What did you want? To abandon me? On Valentine's Day? After everything I've done for you? After everything I've sacrificed for you?" Taehyung bombarded you with questions, and you couldn't make sense of them. He slammed his book shut and got right in your face. His hands aggressively pulled at the bottom of your nightgown, as if trying to search you for something. You let out a gasp and fought back by kicking at him.

Then you got him. Your foot connecting with his face.

Taehyung jerked back, sitting up abruptly. A metallic taste floods his mouth as he runs his tongue over his now split and bleeding upper lip. “Won't you look at that…”

“T-Tae… I-I’m sorry. Please, I didn't mean it. I-I can pa-” But before you could finish, his hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off your words and squeezing tightly. The impact of your head hitting the wooden headboard sends a jolt of pain through your skull, but it's nothing compared to the fear that grips you as one of his hands grips your throat, his face twisted in a violent rage. Taehyung's grip tightened as he knelt over you, both hands now grasping at your neck.

“What was that for huh? I thought I broke you in… but obviously I didn't do a good enough job huh?” With each point he wanted to get across, he lifted your head and slammed it into the bed. You tried to fight him off, desperately scratching at his arm with your anxiously bitten nails. With each brutal blow, your vision became spotty and distorted until you spotted the vase of roses nearby. The ones he had just brought for you. Without hesitation, you grabbed it and brought it down upon his skull, shattering the delicate glass and sending shards and water flying.

You had only a few seconds to get away.

Your feet thudded against the soft carpet as you sprinted out of the bedroom. Gasping for air, you knew there was no time to stop and catch your breath. Every second counted as you tried to make up for what had been lost.

Racing to the living room, you shoved your feet into house slippers and tore out of the door, darting into the dense woods that surrounded the home. Branches whipped and sliced at you, as you climbed over fallen debris. The idea of stopping flashed through your mind, but you knew you had to follow through.

Trying to see through the minimal amount of light was nearly impossible. The darkness consumed the woods, with only the moon's glow and the trees creating harsh shapes on the forest floor. "Baby! Where did you go? I'm sorry!”

His voice. It was too close, sending a chill down your spine. You quickly ducked behind a towering tree, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to steady your ragged breaths. One hand clamped over your mouth to stifle any noise, the other clenched into a tight fist. "Fuck," Taehyung's voice taunts, followed by the sound of his footsteps approaching. "You got me good, but don't worry. But I can be better okay? We can drop this entire thing and go back to bed…” Taehyung's voice was next to you.

But you aren't falling for that. He wanted you to feel bad. Taehyung's predatory steps echo behind you, coming closer and closer until a vice-like grip seizes your hair, yanking you down to the ground. “I thought we talked about this? This running away shit,” he spat.

"Tae, please, let's just go home... I'm sorry! I promise I won't run again, just please-" Your pleas fall on deaf ears as Taehyung circles around you, his imposing figure casting a looming shadow, pinning you to the dirt and making you feel utterly helpless, the dirt making you feel grimy. You could hear him pull down his pajama pants and you began to cry out. As you struggle to break free, Taehyung's grip tightens and he slams your shoulder back into the ground with a sickening thud. Tears stream down your face as you realize there is no escape from this nightmare.

His hand went to his mouth as he sucked on his middle and index finger. With his other hand, he roughly yanked up your gown until it tore at the seams. You screamed and cried, squeezing your eyes shut in desperate prayer, hoping against hope that this was all just a twisted nightmare inflicted by cruel and malevolent gods.

A shrill cry escapes your lips as your husband rips off your panties and plunges his fingers inside you. They skillfully find your sweet spot, causing you to moan in pleasure. “Already creaming around my fingers, fuck, that's so sexy,” he growls, a mix of desire and dominance in his voice. His head lowers to kiss you messily, leaving a trail of spit on your frightened face. His tongue invades your mouth, despite your attempts to protest.

With the sudden absence of his fingers came the sudden intrusion of his length.

The force of Taehyung's thrusts feels like a battering ram, relentlessly pummeling into you until your body is split in two. Your gasps turn into desperate cries of shock and agony as he continues to ravage you, his lips locked onto yours in a twisted display of affection.

It all left you gasping for air.

Your screams of agony were muffled by Taehyung's unrelenting kisses as he pounded into you mercilessly. You claw and beg for him to stop, tears mingling with the dirt beneath you as he continues to take what he wants from your menatlly broken body.

He persisted, driven by his ultimate goal to finish inside you. His desire was to take control of you, impregnate you with his child.

As you rolled your eyes back in pure ecstasy, Taehyung's cock became coated in slick, sticky cum. The sight only heightened his own arousal and soon he was filling you to the brim with his hot release. Taehyung had a dazed yet blissful look on his face as he gazed at you.

“Don’t turn off those cameras again.”

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cryptidghostgirl · 1 month

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Hello hello!! You're probably swamped with asks, but if you have the time and energy, you should do a slow burn Alastor x reader set in the 1920s where the reader is a performer at mimzys speakeasy and that's where Alastor goes to chose his victims. He sees the reader for the first time and immediately thinks that they are his next victim but he keeps getting thwarted by small incidents, such as the reader leaving early and him barely missing his chance. After a while he notices small things about them and their personality after sort of observing them, and then they meet and he loses his interest in killing them. Of course the slow burn happens, the drama ensues, he's still a killer but keeps it a secret and then after a while the reader finds out. You can choose if you want a happy ending or not, but I had that idea in my mind and your one of the only writers I see that could do it justice. Thanks for sharing your talents!!! Your amazing and gifted in ways that inspire everyone who interacts with your blog🫶🫶🫶

A/N You’re literally so sweet?? Wtf?? I love you?? Thank you??? I hope you like what I did with this fun and fluffy idea!!! ahhhhhh!!!! also, I am running with the ambiguity of the ending. I am such a little slut for ambiguity.

Burn (Human!Alastor x Human!Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: SLOW BURN. SLOW. BURNING IMAGERY. A LITTLE OVER THE TOP ON THE BURNING IMAGERY THING. Dead bodies, blood, murder, killing, mentions of stalking. This one got away from me a bit.

Word Count: 4,197

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Ravenous, that was the word. Not in the way where everything dissolves, leaving only the object of your affection. Not in the way that someone is controlled by desire. Hungry in the way fire eats paper, in the way kindling catches light. Starved in the way that leads to a progressive repeated sense of the word, a starving. A constant state of being famished that turns into a well loved and cared for blaze. Alastor burned.

The box of matches pulled from the pocket had been Alastor going to the bar, all those months before. Nearly a year now, once he sat and really thought about it. He had been going to Mimzy's little speakeasy on the outskirts of town since it had been just that, a little speakeasy on the outskirts of town rather than the full fledged, illegal club she ran today.

Back when it was a speak easy, there had never been a problem. On that fateful day, though he hadn't known it then, the club had changed its form. It had become the kindling. Sitting down at the table had been pulling a match from the box and Y/n.... Y/n had been the rough hewn striker paper he lit it on. It was all so obvious now, looking back. The expression 'hindsight is 20/20' existed for a reason.

So, Alastor had entered the club (matchbox out of pocket). As soon as Mimzy had spotted him, she had run over with a bright smile and a glass of whiskey on the house as always. Alastor had always liked Mimzy. She was wild and positively hilarious when she wanted to be but, at the same time, she had a good head for business. Her morals were just wobbly enough that Alastor felt comfortable with her, a camaraderie he felt with no other.

The lights had gone down suddenly and Mimzy, cutting herself off mid sentence, had turned to the stage in excitement.

"Good show tonight?" Alastor had asked.

Alastor never came to Mimzy's club for the music. She knew he didn't care, not really. Still, he had the curtesy to ask and so, she whipped back towards him.

"You betcha." she grinned up at him, "I just got this new kid? Came from all the way up north, can you believe that? Anyway, they have a set of pipes like you wouldn't believe! Just the bees knees, I tell you."

Grabbing Alastor's arm, Mimzy dragged him to a table by the stage. Alastor sat down across from her (match from the box) with an air of mild reluctance. Mimzy tapped her hands on the table impatiently.

A spot light flickered on and a scrawny young kid stepped onto the stage. He couldn't be much younger than Alastor or Mimzy themselves but he was one of those people that always look younger than they are. He had been working for Mimzy for a while now but, Alastor had never bothered to learn his name. He was simply 'Mimz's Manager' in his view of the world. The kid cleared his throat, leaning in towards the microphone which had been placed at center stage.

"How are we feeling out there tonight?" he asked the room at large and there had been a miscellaneous cheer from the room at large, "Well that's good to hear! We've got a real treat for you tonight folks. All the way from the Big Apple, we bring you, Y/n!"

The kid left the stage and a new figure stepped out from the shadows (revelation of match striker paper). The minute Alastor saw them, in the well cut suit that shone dark in the light, he knew. They were perfect. Slim, but not too fit and shorter than he was. Morally ambiguous enough in their aims that they had come running from New York to work at a speakeasy. This 'Y/n,' if that was even their real name, was his ideal next victim. Alastor smiled in the dim light as somewhere off stage, a piano began to play.

"I'll be loving you, always" the person sang and Alastor was taken aback.

Mimzy had been right. He had never heard a voice like it before. They sang with an emotional depth that could be heard from few. Somehow, they still managed to keep it sounding like music.

"When the things you plan Need a helping hand I will understand, always, always"

Mimzy leaned across the table to Alastor, her eyes alight.

"What did I tell you?" she whispered.

Alastor nodded his head to the side in vague agreement.

"Not for just an hour Not for just a day"

When they finished their set a half hour later, it was to raucous applause. The house lights raised and with them, Mimzy stood from her chair.

"I'll be back in two shakes." she promised before disappearing off into the crowd.

Alastor leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking beneath his weight. Contemplatively, he took a sip from his drink. The time before a kill was nearly as an enjoyable as the act itself. It was ritualistic, it brought him closer to god.

Before he knew it, Mimzy was back, dragging the singer behind her. They looked slightly frazzled, their hair a bit messy and their brow furrowed.

"Mimzy!" they exclaimed as they struggled to keep up with the woman holding their wrist in her vice-like grip.

Their speaking voice was... different than Alastor had expected. From the way they had sung on stage, he had thought it would be sharp, loud, ebullient. Instead, it was rather soft. Alastor couldn't help but think of the creek out back of the house he had grown up in.

"Al, meet my new favorite!" Mimzy announced, coming to a stop beside Alastor.

"I..."

The situation had been unexpected to say the least. Alastor had had a long day. He hadn't come here to socialize, he came here to drink. Now, he was at a loss for words, the haze of sleep and irritation clouding his mind.

Y/n looked at Mimzy before fixing their gaze back on him. The took a step forward, fixing a smile on their face, and held out their hand.

"Y/n."

So it was their real name. The one they presented to the world, at least.

Alastor smiled, standing from his seat and taking their hand in his.

"Alastor."

They had a firm handshake. There was something authoritative about it, something just a bit too confident.

"Pleasure to be meeting you." they said.

"Quite the pleasure." Alastor nodded.

They broke contact and Y/n turned to Mimzy, suddenly seeming very tired.

"I'm gonna head, Mimzy." they hummed, their voice nearly drowned out by the cacophony surrounding them.

Before Mimzy could say a word against their statement, they were gone. The crowd sheltered them from sight almost immediately. After that night, Alastor started coming to the club a lot more often.

He always sat in the same seat, the table near stage left. It was right next to the exit. Anyone getting off the stage had to go right past him. It was a calculated choice. Step one of his little projects, so to speak, had always been learning more about his victims, finding out their patterns.

The problem was, Y/n never seemed to do the same thing twice. Every time Alastor would think himself ready, would ready everything for the action, something different happen. The first time, it had been that Y/n had simply managed to slip out earlier than normal. Mimzy was always introducing them to someone or another after their shows, delaying their departure. That night, it seemed, they had somehow been able to avoid the mayhem.

Another time, the problem had been that Y/n had stayed at the club too long. Alastor was a working man and once the clock hit midnight, it was time to cut his losses and go home. A third time, Y/n had just happened to call out sick the very night he had gotten everything back in order.

A month in, and Alastor was ready for his fourth attempt. He sat at his usual table, drinking his usual drink. When Y/n left the stage, he kept his eyes trained on them as always. It went like clockwork - Mimzy pulled them away, they tried desperately to escape and eventually, they succeeded. That was when everything went south again.

One second, Y/n was by the bar and the next? Gone. Alastor got to his feet, tossing a bill or two to the bar tender and disappearing out through the door. He was determined. Tonight had to be the night. If tonight wasn't the night? He was done. Alastor was not a foolish man, he knew when he was beat.

Quietly, nothing but the sound of cicadas and the occasional echo of a car from elsewhere in the city accompanying him, Alastor slipped down the ally he knew the club's back door let out into.

"There you are."

Alastor spun around.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

Y/n leaned casually against the wall, the dark fabric of their dress blending softly with the night. When Alastor didn't reply, standing in their gaze like a deer in headlights, they stood themselves up and walked the step and a half it took for them to be face to face with him.

"I'd like it if you stopped following me. Or, trying to follow me. It's getting kind of old.'' (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

Alastor resumed his composure. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he leaned forward, fixing a teasing grin onto his face.

"Oh, would you now?"

Y/n, much to his surprise, held their ground.

"Yeah, I would. Whats your interest in me anyways?"

Thinking on his feet had never been an issue for Alastor. Besides, he really did have some questions for the illusive singer. Or, he had one question for them. One that might lead to others.

"Oh, you know." he hummed, straightening back up, "All the way from the 'Big Apple.'"

Y/n scoffed at his parody of their nightly introduction to the stage. They crossed their arms, glancing off to the ally's entrance as a drunk couple stumbled by.

"Yep."

"Why?"

Turning to face him again, Y/n narrowed their eyes.

"Why do you wanna know?"

The hint of an accent. At least he knew they weren't lying about where they came from.

"I suppose you can call me a curious fan."

"I think being a bit less of both those things would suit you."

They fell into a brief, nearly uncomfortable silence. Letting out a sigh, Y/n was the one to break it.

"Look," they began, "I know you're friends with my boss and all but... I am going to go back into that dive and I am going to stay there until you are long gone. I'll stay the night if I have to, d'ya get it?"

Alastor's smile tightened.

"Loud and clear."

"Good."

Y/n didn't see Alastor for another week. Slowly, the tension that had permeated their every waking moment since meeting Alastor that first night, the constant ache of his eyes on their back, began to fade. Just a little, but it was enough. When they saw him sitting at the bar almost two weeks after their little altercation, the amount it had faded was just enough to make them angry at his return.

Alastor hadn't really meant to come back. His plan was to give it a month, maybe even two. His plan was to come back and resume life like it had been before he had ever even known Y/n existed. His mind had other plans.

He had tried to find another target, occupy himself with a new victim. There was something unsatisfying about it, he couldn't quite get his head in the game. Every time he went to trail a potential victim, he heard their voice ringing out in the silence of his mind.

There you are.

Alastor had been killing for about three years now. He had a good number of victims under his belt and was in no ways a newbie. Even back when he had been one, no one had ever caught him out like that before. There had been a couple close calls, sure. There always were but waiting for him? Thwarting his plans repeatedly? Beating him at his own game?

"I thought I told you to leave me alone."

Alastor looked up from his glass of whiskey, smiling politely up at Y/n. He could feel the anger radiating off them in waves.

"Mimzy would be rather sad if I just up and disappeared like that, no explanation."

He caught sight of her across the open space and waved. With a bright smile, Mimzy waved back before returning to the conversation she had been embroiled in. Alastor turned back to Y/n.

"Oh, wouldn't you hear that? You're getting sober. Congratulations."

"Ah, but there is still the music and that wonderful new singer who came down from up north not too long ago."

Y/n took a deep breath, calming themselves.

"It's not that hard of a question to answer. Or at least, it shouldn't be for most people. What, are you on the run from the cops? I heard life is oh so dangerous in those big cities up there, after all. Maybe part of the reason was you."

"If I answer your question, will you leave me alone?"

Alastor was silent for a short moment before he replied.

"If I like the answer? Sure. I'll leave you alone."

In a single, sharp movement, Y/n dragged the stool beside him out and sat down. Tapping their fingers on the table, they got the bartender's attention and ordered themselves a drink.

"You want to know why I left New York?" they hummed thoughtfully, "It's because of guys like you."

A shock of sudden nerves fought through Alastor's system. Did they somehow know? After all this time, had someone figured it out? After just under two months?

"Guys like me? What ever on earth do you mean?"

"You know, pretty boys. Pretty boys who turn out to be creepy boys that don't know the meaning of the word 'no.'" (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

It wasn't the first time Alastor had been called pretty or handsome or something of the like. In fact, he knew he was pretty. It was part of why the whole ruse worked. Normally, however, when people told him he was, it was accompanied by far too much blushing and looks to the side. Y/n held his gaze firmly the whole time.

"So, you're escaping an ex? A jaded lover?"

"A jaded 'someone-who-watched-me-perform-once-and-decided-it-meant-we-were-married'? Yeah."

The bartender placed the drink in front of Y/n. They picked up the glass, downing it in one go. They grimaced.

"You like my answer?"

"Hmmm... no." Alastor grinned, ear to ear, "I don't think I do."

Y/n sighed.

"What is it you want from me?"

Alastor's brow furrowed in confusion. He was very good at keeping the inside from showing on the outside. The question had just caught him so off guard, or maybe it was something about Y/n that had him on his toes, he couldn't help it. They kept seeming to make his head spin.

"Want from you?"

"Money? Sex? Fame? A fall guy? What."

"I don't want anything from you." (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

Y/n eyed him suspiciously. The answer had been automatic. Alastor himself was struggling to comprehend the words that had left his mouth. He wanted to kill them, right? What he wanted from them was their life, right? That was what he had been working for over all these days, fighting for. He knew it was true so why did the statement not feel like a lie as it had traveled from his tongue?

"Yeah right." Y/n placed their hands on the bar, pulling themselves to stand, "I totally believe that."

"Just your time, Songbird. Just your time."

They turned to him.

"I don't understand you."

"You don't have to. I don't understand you either."

They paused.

"It frustrates me." Y/n admitted, "Who even are you? I don't know anything except your name."

Alastor gave their now empty chair a pointed look. Y/n stood in contemplation for a few seconds before they nodded their head once, seemingly to themselves, and took their seat once again. Confidently, they tapped two fingers on the lip of their empty glass.

"Another."

(match strikes paper, match lights.)

Alastor was the match, Y/n was the paper. The club stopped being kindling the moment the pair took their conversation outside its boundaries for the first time, about a month or so later. For a while, there was no kindling, there was just match and paper. Alastor liked it that way.

It had been hard enough to come to terms with the fact that he really did have no interest in killing them anymore. That the moment such an idea occurred, he could see them in his minds eye, smiling or picking at the hem of their shirt the way they did when they were nervous.

The kindling reappeared when Alastor realized the match had been struck in the first place. That was a whole other thing. The friendship suddenly seemed easy, the loss of bloodlust directed toward them was like nothing in the face of a realization like that. Once he recognized the flame, Alastor stopped being a match and Y/n stopped being paper. The match became the little flutter of their stomachs when they caught sight of one another, the tension of the moments where they could make contact. Y/n and Alastor were kindling now and they were standing oh so very close to that dangerous flame.

It was Alastor's sleeve that caught fire first. It happened when they had gotten caught in the rain. Y/n had opened their umbrella and, seeing Alastor had none, insisted he join them in its cover. Alastor had, of course, refused. With a roll of their eyes, they had grabbed his hand and yanked him forcefully into place beside them. Alastor hadn't realized they had only touched once, when they first shook hands, until Y/n's skin made contact with his once again.

The worst part about it all, was that it made sense. It made so much sense. They were quiet, contemplative, and calculative. Before long, being with them felt like being with an extension of himself in an odd way. Alastor couldn't quite describe it, he didn't have the words.

Y/n always seemed to notice things no one else did. When Alastor had forgotten his umbrella the next three or four times it had rained, they had confronted him.

"Almost like you're doing this on purpose." they had hummed softly.

Though they didn't look at him, Y/n knew Alastor was blushing.

"Shut up."

The next thing to catch had been Y/n's collar. Y/n had been chatting with him, sharing a drink before their set and they had lost track of time. At the sound of the stage manager, Alastor still did not know his name, beginning their introduction to the stage, they had jumped up in fright, hurriedly tightening their tie which they had loosened in the casual atmosphere. Noticing that the action had caused part of their collar to fold awkwardly, Alastor had gotten to his feet as well. With a gentleness he had not made use of since his mother died, he had fixed Y/n's collar.

"Wh-" they had stopped mid question, having realized what he was doing.

His hand lingered on their collar. Y/n's eyes traveled up his arm, at last meeting his own.

"Thank you."

Those big wide eyes, full of curiosity and comfort. Alastor could get lost in those.

"Y/n!" the stage manager announced.

"Shit!" they exclaimed and the magic of the moment was broken as they pulled themselves away.

All it took was that. It wasn't much but, fire has a way of working with what it has. When a few days later Y/n had stepped out into the street without looking, being too caught up in the story they were telling Alastor, and he had pulled them back just as a car passed, it was too late. The house couldn't be saved, the flames had gone too far. A few blocks later, after thanking him, Y/n had realized they were still holding hands. They stopped, pulling Alastor to a halt beside them.

"What are we doing?"

"We're going for lunch. Are you quite alright? You were the one who sugge-"

"No, Alastor. I mean: what are we doing?"

Alastor followed the path of their eyes to their interlaced fingers.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

There was a pause. The world turned around them.

"I don't... I don't know if I can do this anymore."

Alastor took a deep breath before braving the sight of their bewildered and slightly saddened face once again.

"I said all I wanted was your time."

"That's the problem."

Y/n let go of his hand, running their own through their loose hair.

"That's the problem, Alastor." they said again.

"What is?"

Y/n had a habit of telling him the most serious things eye to eye with a stoney demeanor. He was surprised to see them break from this confident custom of theirs as they looked away, their arms wrapping protectively around themself.

"I want more. I want you to want more."

Alastor was stunned, he was speechless.

"I... I'll see you tomorrow, Al."

Before they could make it more than a step away, Alastor grabbed their shoulder, spinning them to him. Y/n looked up at him, confusion painting their features with the most delicate brush.

Alastor struggled, he fought. Still, there were no words.

"Don't you get it?" he asked, "I want your time. Y/n, I want you."

Alastor kept finding himself in trickier and trickier situations. First there had been trying to kill them, then the hurdle of not wanting to kill them. Friendship had given way to its own bag of worms and now that they were more than friends?

He had thought that it all would stop. He had thought that if things ever worked out the way they had, everything would be okay. He had forgotten his nature.

At first, hiding the killings was just as easy as it had been before. It did not stay that way. Alastor was good at hiding things, always had been. That wasn't the issue. What was the issue was that he cared about Y/n, he didn't want to hurt them. Keeping secrets... well, his mother had always told him that no one ever fools anybody. His mother was a wise woman. His mother had been right.

Y/n had stopped by as a surprise. They had a home cooked meal in a basket and a bag over their shoulder full of records they thought he would like. When they stepped into the foyer of Alastor's large, garden district home, they had called their usual greeting.

Alastor's heart had stopped at the sound of their voice. He froze, his cleaver still firmly wedged between the shoulder and chest of the man he was chopping into pieces for easier disposal. Hoping it was his mind playing tricks on him, he waited. They called again.

"Al! I have a surprise for you! The surprise is me! And also? I made you dinner. Come out! I know you're home!"

Under any other circumstances, them showing up like this would have filled him with unbridled joy. However, it wasn't any other circumstances. It was these circumstances. Alastor was covered in another man's blood. There was a body just a few rooms from his beloved. Either way, they would find out the truth. They were a nosey thing, always so inquisitive.

"Alastor!" he heard them call again.

They were closer now, much closer. He watched in a mixture of horror, despair, and a twinge of excitement as the doorknob jiiggled.

"Alastor?"

How would Y/n react to such a sight? Would they cower in fear? Was their love alone enough to hold them here, to tie them to him in loyalty? Would they run to the cops? Would they cry? Would they ask to help? Would he have to kill them too?

It was sickeningly delightful, all the unknowns. His heart pounded violently in his ears. The door swung open.

"There you are!"

"My dear! How wonderful to see you."

----

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog

Sorry if the end made you angry,,, I just think the not knowing is so much more fun!

Also the song is "Always" by Irving Berlin.

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bodydoublegame · 9 months

Text

hello! it's amy! if you follow my personal account, you'd already know what this is. body double is a side project that i do for fun inbetween infamous, just for when i need to refresh my brain! i decided to make a blog for it so i don't flood my personal account with this game lol.

This game is a side project that I do when I need inspiration for Infamous. That means development on it will be sloooow. Infamous is my main priority right now!

Body Double is a an interactive story that takes place in a cyberpunk inspired world where top secret operatives of an elusive Cypress Industries have the unique ability to jump bodies.

Agent Sawyer is the best Agent in the business, tasked with protecting Cypress Industries and all of its assets.

Until three weeks ago.

Framed for the president's murder and in a last-ditch effort to save their ass, they switch bodies with our regular, ordinary IT-tech MC...who is now walking in the body of a suspect the entire city is looking for. Stuck in a citywide manhunt, MC is now on the run with a pesky Agent who refuses to tell them where their body is. To make matters worse, Agent Sawyer's subconcious is stuck in their head, speaking to them like a pest MC can't shake off.

Wonderful.

With a help of a host of characters from Sawyer's past and MC's present, MC will have to throw themself in a conspiracy to clear Sawyer's name and get back to normal. Relatively. No pressure.

The usual IF stuff: customize your mc from personality to appearance. Unsurprisingly from me, BODY DOUBLE is a character driven story with a focus on relationship dynamics, angst and drama...but this time with action.

Mold Sawyer in the prologue and be stuck with them in your head for the rest of the story. Are they humorous? Stoic? Vulgar? Emotional? Arrogant? You decide.

Romance characters like Sawyer's ex (messy) or the human-mech hybrid trying to kill you (messy) or your measly IT tech friend who has no idea what the hell is going on but they're a trooper. Or an AI. Your call.

Try to uncover a conspiracy and solve a murder in a cyberpunk setting.

Don't die?

SAWYER [RO][customizable]: the agent accused of murder. The wires get crossed when they switch bodies with you, and somehow you have their subconcious in your head. They refuse to switch back until you help clear their name even though you're in their body, which means people are after you now. Asshole move, really.

ROACH: Sawyer's twin brother and perpetual hermit. As a hacker, he has eyes all over the city. He also misses his sibling, so he's determined to see it through.

AGENT BECK [f or m] [RO]: A cool and intimidating fellow Agent of Cypress Industries...and Sawyer's ex partner. Sawyer dumped them, broke their heart, and since then, ghosted them (as one does.) With that said, Beck is determined to help you. And them. Just make sure to try to ignore the longing looks they send your way. It's not towards you, of course.

CAI [RO] [f, m or nb models] : Cypress AI or CAI is Sawyer's former field partner. Honest, cold and emotionless, you can't believe CAI is actually helping you. It must be going against their every makeup to go against Cypress, but having someone like them on your side is beneficial, at least.

HAWKE [m][RO]: the mech-human hybrid tasked with hunting you down. Well, hunting Sawyer down. Their one mission is to see you (Sawyer) dead, which poses a problem so as long as you're in this body. So there's that.

SOLANA [f][RO]: the elusive club owner...and the last person to see the president alive. You can't tell if Solana is an ally or an enemy, but you do know the one thing that drives her is power. Good to keep an eye on her, anyway.

AXL [nb] [RO]: the wealthy child of the now dead president and new heir of Cypress Industries. They hate your (Sawyer's) guts. They have hired all the best operatives and assassins to take you (Sawyer) down, and will stop and nothing to get their justice. If only you could convince them otherwise...

MAV [f or m] [RO]: your best friend and fellow IT employee. A trooper, who decides to be your sidekick on this weird...journey. No biggie. Make sure they don't die.

As usual, BD is 18+ for adult themes, explicit language, suggestive situations, violence and more! <3

#interactive fiction #interactive game #interactive novel #cog #cog wip #dashing don #choice of games #Keyboard still broken ignore the typos !! lol

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jtargaryen18 · 9 months

Text

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 31

Part 31: Girl on Fire

Series Masterlist

Words: 6.7k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, references to sexual violence. Strong language, dismemberment, and physical violence. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Bucky’s phone rang, it didn’t surprise him. When he saw Kat’s number… They didn’t have plans tonight. Why the hell was she calling?

“Hello,” Bucky said, pausing the cage match he’d been watching.

“Bucky?” Kat sniffled, tears in her voice.

“Yes?”

“I’m at the hospital,” she said, clearing trying not to sob.

“Have you been hurt?” he asked, pulling the lever to sit up in his recliner. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s my sister, Paulina.”

Ah. “What happened?”

“She’s unconscious,” Kat managed. “I don’t know what happened. But neither of us have insurance…”

Neither of them was legal residents of the US either. Bucky sighed.

“I’ll send someone down there,” he told her, ready to get back to his fight. Before his hand reached the lever on his chair, she started sobbing in earnest.

“Please,” Kat begged him. “Will you come down here?”

Kat wasn’t usually so needy. Usually, she stuck to their agreement. Something had her shaken up.

“Give me a few minutes,” he said before hanging up. Shaking his head, he shot a text to his men telling them he needed the car ASAP.

Erik Killmonger was there in less than five minutes. He’d been a soldier for the Barnes family for the last five years. The entire time, he’d handled the tasks that he was given. He never failed, followed orders to a fault, and was always quiet and respectful, Bucky’s three favorite qualities in a soldier.

Erik’s ambition had been obvious from the beginning. It was in the confident way he walked, the efficient way he took care of business. It was there when he asked Bucky if he could serve him personally. Since then, he had Erik reporting directly to Hansen, and he showed the same respect to him.

The two men were comparable in their abilities, evenly matched when it came to killing a man. But where Hansen liked to put on a show and preen around, psychologically breaking down his prey, Erik was silently lethal. Bucky had to wonder if half of the men he’d sent him to kill even saw him coming.

Now that Hansen was wherever the fuck Hansen was, Bucky didn’t believe for a fucking minute the bastard was dead, Erik was his top lieutenant. Maybe he should have been all along.

He’d put the man in charge of finding Hansen. Erik knew him better than he did. Bucky’s only request was that Hansen be brought in alive. Bucky wanted to kill the fucker himself. The betrayal signed his death warrant. The fact that Hansen thought he was going to just make off with the woman Bucky coveted, the bright jewel in the crown he'd soon wear... Bucky was just sorry he could only kill him once.

“Where we off to?” Erik asked, ready to go.

“The hospital,” Bucky said, following him out to the garage. “Kat’s sister is there. I don’t know what happened yet.”

Erik held the door open for Bucky to climb in the back of the huge SUV. Walking around, Erik took a seat in the front next to the driver.

Bucky caught Zemo’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to the hospital. St. Agnes," he told him.

When they reached the hospital, pulling up to the door at the ER, Zemo again met his gaze in the mirror. “Should you be going in there, boss?” he asked respectfully.

“He can go wherever he wants,” Erik said, opening his door. “Nothing’s going to happen to him.”

Damn right. Very soon, Bucky would be the goddamn king of Boston.

He waited while Erik inquired about Paulina, speaking to the older woman at the emergency room desk. His man led him past the desk, swiftly through a maze of corridors until they found Paulina’s room. Kat looked grateful when they arrived, her dark eyes still shiny with tears when she opened the door.

Paulina lay in the hospital bed, curled in on her side. Her hair was a wild tangle around her head and her face was streaked with makeup and tears.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, moving to stand at the foot of the hospital bed. Erik closed the door, staying close to it.

“We went shopping,” Kat explained in her tear-filled voice. “Our car dropped her off first at her apartment building. And then… I w-went home.”

“So she was attacked in her apartment?” Bucky asked.

“I didn’t see it happen,” Kat went on. “But she didn’t make it into her apartment. Someone found her in the hallway… One of her neighbors called an a-ambulance.”

Great. More people in his business.

“My number was the emergency contact on her phone,” Kat went on. “They called me.”

“I’m sorry this happened, Kat,” Bucky said, his patience slipping. “But you didn’t need me to come down here to pay the bill.”

“What if this wasn’t random?” Kat asked.

“What else would it be?” he countered.

“Steve,” she said. “I think Steve is behind this.”

Bucky shook his head. “Why would you think Steve had anything to do with this?”’

“Why?” Kat threw her hands up. “Isn’t it obvious? With everything you’ve done to him? With you taking me away from him? He’s hitting back.”

That had Bucky chuckling. Yeah, he’d put Rogers through some things. And it wouldn’t be long until he finished Rogers, put him and his fucking family down and took the lead that should have been his when the old boss died.

“Yeah, he’ll try.” Bucky stared her down. “But what does that have to do with you and your sister? I didn’t take you away from him. You were all over me when he threw you off to get married if I remember correctly.”

Kat looked affronted. “You took me away from him. Paulina? She was seeing his consigliere.”

“Still not seeing a connection,” Bucky told her, ready to end the conversation.

Ready to end things with her period. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t need Kat.

“Banner betrayed him,” she said. “Maybe that’s why they went after Paulina.”

It was plausible. But why hit his family there? As Kat pointed out, Paulina had been Banner’s side piece. Banner was out of the Rogers’ family and no longer any use to the Barnes family. Honestly, Banner was lucky Rogers let him live. But messing with Banner’s mistress after the fact? It didn’t make sense.

It wasn’t Rogers’ style.

That reminded him. Banner had been laying low on Stark’s turf after Rogers ousted him. Then he’d disappeared. Bucky made a mental note to follow up on that.

“Did anyone see who did it?” Erik asked. “Did the neighbor see anything?”

“No,” Kat told them. “They just found her. Beaten… Don’t you understand? She wasn’t robbed or violated or anything else. Just beaten. To hurt her was the point. What else could it be? Am I next?”

Bucky moved closer to Kat, taking her chin in his fingers. She trembled in his grasp, and he knew she was scared. He wanted her to be.

“Pain and death are always the point,” Bucky whispered, gazing into her eyes. “But Steve’s not after you, Katerina. He’s not after you sister.”

Releasing her, he watched indignation and hurt bleed into her expression.

“When Rogers strikes at me,” he explained, “he’ll make it hurt. He’ll make it personal.”

“This is personal,” her voice was rising. “This does hurt.”

“You and your sister maybe,” Bucky told her. “It’s not personal for me. It doesn’t hurt. I’d have to care about you and your sister for this to hurt me and I don’t.”

Tears slid from her eyes now. “You’re wrong.”

Bucky moved closer to the woman on the bed. Her makeup was a mess but on closer inspection, there were no cuts on her face. There could be bruises under the makeup, he supposed. Pulling back a tangled section of her hair revealed her throat. No bruises there or any injuries at all.

Kat said she was beaten. Were they fucking with him?

Grabbing the edge of the blanket covering the woman, he pulled it back to reveal her unconscious form covered by a thin hospital gown with shorter sleeves. He half-expected her arms and the rest of her to be unmarked as well. He was all ready to flip shit on Kat and her sister for wasting his time.

Paulina’s arm? That was a different story. The bruises were red and angry, lacing up from her forearm like macabre artwork. The gown opened at the back, and she lay on her side facing him. Throwing the blanket back, he leaned over to look at the woman’s back. A wild patch of pink and red marks covered most of it. The one contusion right where her kidney was? That had him wincing.

Tomorrow, her skin would be purple, black, and blue and she’d be feeling it. Shaking his head, he pulled the blanket away from the rest of her. More evidence of the beating she’d taken over thighs and upper shins. Nothing close to the ankle…

Kat, still lost in her indignation, glared at him as she grabbed the blanket to cover her sister up again.

“Still think this is random?” she asked, still swiping away tears.

Bucky shrugged as he headed for the door. “I’ll handle the billing,” he said over his shoulder as he walked out.

The entire situation should have left his mind never to return the minute he was back in his car and headed home. Bucky just couldn’t get his mind off it. It was just so off. Why was it done? What did it mean?

Was it a message for him?

***

After finishing his run, Bucky headed for his study to check messages before getting a shower.

“Bucky?”

He jumped at how off-guard she’d caught him. There Kat stood in the door of his study, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Her big dark eyes were on him, a shiny red shopping bag dangling from her manicured fingers.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked irritably. He didn’t like her coming by his house uninvited. She knew that.

“I’m sorry.” She looked it.

As he stood watching her, a sweaty mess behind his desk, she meekly approached him. Stopping on the other side of his desk, she carefully placed the bag on the top of his desk between them.

“It’s for you,” she said forlornly. “Thank you for helping Paulina.”

Blowing out an exhale, he looked at the bag. “She out of the hospital yet?”

Kat nodded. “She’s home. Resting. I’m staying with her since we don’t know who did this… or why.”

Bucky hated wasting the manpower but in the off-chance Kat was right… “I’ll send someone to keep an eye on her place for the next couple of days, okay?”

“And mine?” she asked, flashing him a smile.

“You said you were staying with her,” he pointed out. “You stay with her, someone’s looking after you too.”

The smile faded and he couldn’t even feel badly about it. Kat was one of many. He’d had women who were more beautiful, better in bed. She wasn’t unique. She wouldn’t even be memorable.

And she’d served her purpose a long time ago. He took up with her to piss off Steve, to hurt his wife. While Rogers had been pissed and insulted that Bucky brought his former mistress to his wedding, he hadn’t succeeded in his second objective. The new Mrs. Rogers hadn’t been hurt.

No, the daughter of the old boss and the new bride of his enemy had turned out to be a lioness.

Think of that. The girl had been hidden away like Quasimodo in his bell tower, mutilated and not fit for society. That was what he’d always been told about the old boss’s surviving child. His bitch wife, who’d ripped Bucky’s family apart by having an affair with his father, died trying to get out and killed the man’s son. The daughter was never supposed to be anything for Bucky Barnes to be concerned with.

Even so, Bucky hated her. He’d been glad she was disfigured, glad she’d never be out in the world. He’d even toyed around with the idea of paying her a visit once her father died. Taking care of the disfigured little lamb once and for all.

Rogers had executed his plan well. That he was kissing ass to claim the crown, Bucky got that. He had no idea, however, that Rogers planned to marry the boss's daughter who was supposed to be horribly disfigured. Within a week of her father dying, Bucky gets word that she’s engaged to Rogers and the wedding Is being rushed.

When he went to confront Rogers about it, he was surprised to find her alone and barely dressed in the kitchen. She was uncovered enough for him to see there wasn’t likely a scar or blemish on her. She was amazingly beautiful wearing her whore mother’s face with innocent eyes. That first impression of her had him both hard as a rock and ready to commit murder, right there in Rogers’ kitchen.

Rogers knew what he was doing. He didn’t care who she was, that her mother destroyed the Barnes family. Rogers didn’t care about anything but the throne and it was then Bucky decided he’d do whatever it took to take Rogers’ crown, to take him and his bitch wife out.

But he couldn't get her out of his head. Not once he saw her.

Bucky had assumed for most of his life that Mrs. Rogers was his half-sister. The daughter of his father. After meeting her, he looked into it, knowing her father would have had a paternity test done under the circumstances. With a little patience and a lot of money, Bucky had an answer.

Mrs. Rogers was not related to him by blood. The old boss was her father after all.

By the time he figured this out, Bucky had found his attitude toward Mrs. Rogers shifting. Yeah, he could kill her when he destroyed her husband. No one would be surprised or even blame him.

But he’d never met a woman like her. There was a fire, an iron will, buried beneath the persona. Mrs. Rogers was stunning, beautiful. But according to Loguidice, Rogers’ bride wasn’t just a pretty face. There was a beast in her heart. The lioness could handle her husband, win his men’s loyalty, and even fucking shoot Lloyd Hansen which had been hilarious when his lieutenant had to explain it to him.

And she would be Bucky’s at the end of this. It was going to happen.

Glancing at his current mistress, he knew it was past time to end things. But he’d wait until Paulina had mended. Make sure nothing else was heard about that little incident. Then he’d drop the hammer.

“Do you really care so little about me?” Kat asked him, pulling him from his thoughts.

It wasn’t a bad acting job. Bucky smiled.

“Do we really care about each other?” he wanted to know. “Relationships aren’t based solely on love. That’s the movies. Relationships are based on mutual need. You need someone to give you money to maintain your lifestyle and I need sex and occasionally some arm candy. Don’t make this something more than it really is.”

Hooking a finger in the bag, he peeked into it to see a wad of tissue paper.

Kat watched him expectantly.

Grabbing the bag, he pulled out whatever she had wrapped in that tissue paper. It felt odd in his hand, more than one thing. The first thing he encountered was a small jewel box. Setting the rest down, he opened that to see a set of ruby cufflinks winking up at him from the black velvet.

He had to give her credit. She knew his tastes.

“These are nice,” he told her with a grin. “Thank you… What else do we have here?”

Kat’s brow creased as she watched him pick up the wad of tissue still in front of him.

“There was nothing else,” she said, looking confused.

But there was something else. Peeling away the tissue paper, Bucky stared at the fucking fingers – five human fingers – he held in his hands. In disgust, he dropped them onto the desk as Kat covered her mouth with her hand, backing away in horror.

“What the fuck?” he demanded, staring at those digits.

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I didn’t do that. I didn’t… I feel sick.”

Kat dashed from his study like the devil was chasing her as Bucky muscled his way past the revulsion to study those digits. The fingers of a white man, toughened from work. There was no blood. No rings. No scars or other identifying marks.

Grabbing the bag, Bucky looked to see if there was something else. There was. A business card for a donut shop on Rogers’ turf. He recognized the name of the shop.

Fuck.

Bucky hadn’t ordered a hit on that shop or the girl. No, that was all Hansen who took the girl that worked there. Bucky hadn’t known a thing about it until after Rogers’ faceoff against Hansen who had since disappeared.

Bucky studied the fingers again. Were they Hansen’s? He didn’t think so. Hansen had big hands, he didn’t remember the fingers being slender.

Well, they’d find out.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he shot a text to Erik to come right away.

Now he wondered if the attack on Paulina was related. Was it tied to this? Was there more to come?

It would make sense if it was Rogers. But Rogers wasn’t usually so theatrical. He’d hit hard, head on. Anyone who was at odds with him always saw him coming. In his defense, he always hit really fucking hard.

This? It was puzzling. And not Rogers’ style at all.

What game was he unwittingly playing? And with whom?

***

The tap at the door pulled Bucky away from trying to catch up on his investment portfolio, sheets scattered all over his normally immaculate desk. His mind wasn’t on it. He’d been pretending to look at the numbers for damn near an hour.

Erik looked as tired as Bucky felt. He was hoping his lieutenant had some news for him. The episode earlier with Kat and the dead man’s fingers still had him rattled.

“Found out who those fingers belonged to,” Erik got right into it. “Belonged to one of Hansen’s men. One of our guys found the rest of him in a dumpster on your turf. The prints matched.”

Bucky nodded. Hansen likely had the guy pick up the donut shop girl for him. And the ax fell on him because they didn’t get Hansen. Bucky nodded. It was something he’d do.

The donut shop girl. What did she know, if anything, about everything going on? Maybe he should chat with her.

“Hansen’s still alive,” Buck said flatly.

Erik nodded. “There’s no proof he’s not.”

“Anything else?”

His man’s dark-eyed gaze met his. “I sent men looking for Banner, but it looks like he skipped town.”

A wise move on the man’s part.

“You don’t think he targeted Paulina, do you?” Erik asked.

Bucky shook his head. “Not with that temper of his. If Banner decided to do that, she would know it was him. He’d make sure she knew it was him.”

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Bucky leaned back in his office chair, tried to relax. To think. “Any word on Rogers?”

“You knew Hansen and Frankenstein grabbed Dyson to draw Rogers out,” Erik said.

“Frankenstein?” Bucky asked.

“Neal Logiudice,” Erik explained. “Pop some bolts on his neck and he looks like Frankenstein.”

Bucky snorted. He could see that.

“Then he was supposed to off Dyson and Logiudice,” Erik continued. “Grab Rogers if he could. Hansen changed the plan. He drew Mrs. Rogers out instead of her husband.”

Bucky was still furious about what happened. Dyson would never betray Rogers and Logiudice was collateral damage. The move was meant to break Rogers down. Dyson’s loss on top of Logiudice’s betrayal would demoralize him. Bucky thought it might just finally finish his rival off.

Instead, Mrs. Rogers showed up, playing right into Hansen’s hand. Then her husband showed up and he brought friends. A shootout ensued. Rogers, his wife, and Dyson made it out. So did Hansen and Logiudice, apparently. And Bucky was out several men. Several good men.

“Does anyone know?” Bucky pressed. “Was Rogers shot?”

“Most likely,” Erik told him. “There’s different versions of the story. Some say he got shot. Some say Dyson got shot. Other say Mrs. Rogers was shot to protect Dyson and Rogers got shot trying to shield her.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky blew out an exhale. Needless to say, whoever did or didn’t get shot in Hansen’s grand fuckup was a moot point. Rogers was fine. He’d apparently had enough of Bucky fucking him and now he was firing back at the Barnes’ family.

There was nothing altruistic about their chosen business. You were either a ruthless bastard or dead. Back when they were both younger and coming up under their fathers’ wings, Steve Rogers had been a cocky, dangerous bastard and Bucky always hated all the attention he got. How Rogers always got away with everything.

Bucky always knew that the minute his father was gone, the minute it was just him calling the shots, that Rogers would fail. Then he’d found another mentor in the former leader of the five families but that didn’t last, and he died too. Bucky just knew that without the mentorship of better men, Rogers wouldn’t make it on his own. He was one hell of a soldier, terrifying if he came after you. But a leader?

Still, something was different. So far Rogers had pulled himself out of the trap Bucky set for him with Hansen, sent him the fingers of one of Hansen’s men in Kat’s little gift bag, and maybe had someone beat the shit out of Paulina, Kat’s sister.

While Kat swore to him she had nothing to do with the fingers, Bucky wasn’t leaving anything to chance. He had her taken to her sister’s place and there she would stay under close watch. He didn’t think either woman had anything to do with whatever the fuck was going on. But he’d keep them under glass for now to make sure.

Rogers?

There was an underlying menace to sending Bucky the dead man’s fingers. It wasn’t just the barbarism of the act. It was multifaceted. It was Rogers letting Bucky know that he knew about the donut shop girl and exactly who abducted her. It was knowledge that she’d been taken under Bucky’s command even if it wasn’t his personal decision. It was accusatory and direct.

It left him feeling unsettled. Bucky had been so close to shutting Rogers down, to finally taking everything he wanted.

And now? Well, he sure as fuck couldn’t slow down now. He couldn’t let Rogers even the score.

“My Vinny’s gotten here yet?” Bucky asked. He’d sent out for food from his favorite restaurant. Vinny’s was the best Italian restaurant in all of Boston and the owner's brother was one of Bucky’s best soldiers.

“I’ll go check,” Erik said, heading off to do that.

It was only a few minutes later that Bucky had his takeout, enjoying it in his recliner while he took in an action movie he’d been wanting to watch. His meal didn’t disappoint. The veal was perfect, just what he’d wanted.

After he’d digested a few minutes, he took his dishes to the kitchen, ready for dessert. The tiramisu was in the fridge and Bucky grinned as he pulled it from its foam box to carefully place it on a plate. With a fresh glass of wine, he returned to his recliner and resumed the movie.

Bucky was two bites in when his fork hit something that felt unexpectedly solid in the layered dessert. Frowning, he worked at using his fork to grab the next bite. But something was wrong. Something was in there…

Taking a closer look, he found something solid in there. Plucking it at with his fingers, he found… meat?

He almost lost his meal to realize that something was the tip of a human ear.

“What the fuck?” Bucky said to himself, his heart starting to race in his chest.

Sitting up in the recliner, he kept digging through the dessert to find an earlobe, just as bloodless as the tip.

It was the dark eye staring up at him that from the bottom that had him screaming, fighting nausea as he slung it all away and sent it flying across the room.

“Fuck me! Fuck me!” he was shouting as Erik and Zemo both raced into the room to see who was killing their boss.

Covering his mouth with a hand, Bucky fled to the bathroom…

***

“I am so sorry,” Erik said for the hundredth time. “I looked in there, but I should have looked a lot closer.”

Soldiers were crawling his house, crawling the grounds. Zemo was at Vinny’s, no doubt tearing the restaurant apart. And he’d specifically requested that Zemo take Vinny’s brother with him. If there was a rat in his ranks or at the restaurant, heads would roll.

Bucky shook his head, sitting in his recliner with his elbows on his knees. He felt like shit. More body parts sent to him set his nerves on edge.

Was it Rogers? If so, he didn’t like the fact that his enemy was running up the score. That really pissed him off. His mind was spinning with the theories forming in his head.

“We’ll try to figure out who those…” Erik shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” Bucky asked, rising from the recliner to glare at Erik. “That’s all I’ve been fucking doing the last three days. You know?”

Erik didn’t drop his gaze, didn’t back down. Bucky admired his quiet accountability.

But it wasn’t exclusively Erik’s fault. It was on all of them. Even him. No one had ever been able to get him directly. People around him, yes. But never him. Taking another drink of his Scotch, his mind spun webs with his instincts. He was starting to form a few ideas on his current situation.

“Boss,” Zemo called, walking into his living room.

Bucky spotted his man, standing a few feet away with a white takeout carton in his hands. He wasn’t going to like whatever was in the box, he knew from the way Zemo shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, trying to be ready for anything.

“We went through Vinny’s, and we found this in Vinny’s office,” Zemo explained carefully. “It’s for you. Vinny swears he didn’t see who left it and he doesn’t know anything about it.”

“You believe him?” It was an honest question.

Zemo nodded.

Bucky motioned him forward, not looking forward to his latest surprise with the dark red stains at its bottom corners. He plucked the card off the top. It simply read, “Hint: It’s not Snow White’s.”

Bucky really shouldn’t have been surprised to find what appeared to be a human heart in that box. He really shouldn’t have. Once he started laughing, it was hard to quit. His laughter was manic, a stress response. Something he hadn’t done in years.

It’s not Snow White’s.

Erik looked concerned. “I’ll get on figuring out who that is,” he offered.

Laughing, Bucky sank back onto his recliner, still laughing as he set the carton on his end table like it didn’t have a human heart in it.

“I think… I might know who this is,” Bucky said when he caught his breath. “It’s not Snow White’s. What did the magic mirror tell the evil queen about the heart the huntsman delivered to her? The mirror said it was the heart of a pig.” Laughter threatened to halt his conversation as pieces of the puzzle started to slide together in his mind. “This is the heart of a pig.”

His men didn’t speak, looked like they had no idea what to say to that.

“This is making a little sense now,” Bucky told them. “Erik, you and Zemo stay. Everyone else, fuck off.”

The soldiers cleaning and checking everything cleared out fast while Erik and Zemo moved closer.

“Who do you think that is?” Erik asked.

“That?” Bucky pointed to the carton. “That’s the heart of a pig. I’ll be really fucking surprised if it’s not Bruce Banner.”

Zemo’s brows shot up. Neither man spoke.

“Kat was right,” Bucky said. “This is Rogers hitting back. But… it isn’t.”

Rising from the chair, Bucky started pacing. Both men watched him in silence.

“Think about each incident,” Bucky told them as he paced. “Paulina was attacked. Then the fingers, eyes and ears, now the heart. All of it’s personal. It’s very, very personal.”

“Personal?” Zemo asked.

That stopped Bucky. “Don’t you see? Paulina was Banner’s side piece. Someone did a number on her.”

“In a way that could be covered up,” Erik muttered.

“Yes!” Bucky pointed to him. “Exactly. Hold that thought… And now, here’s the cheating, deceitful pig’s heart.” He continued pacing. “The tiramisu? I think that must be Logiudice. He was my eyes and ears in the Rogers household.”

Understanding lit up Erik’s face. “What about the fingers? That guy?”

Bucky shook his head. “The guy Hansen sent to kidnap the donut shop girl isn’t the point.”

“What is the point, boss?” Zemo asked.

“Each of these messages were sent on Rogers’ behalf,” Bucky explained. “But I don’t think they are from the man himself. No, this is someone else… All three messages have one thing in common… A woman scorned.”

Erik nodded, listening. He was always quick on the take. Zemo still looked confused.

“Bruce Banner was married to Rogers’ sister, but she didn’t love him,” Bucky told them. “She loved her high school sweetheart, Clint Barton. Banner knew this. That's why he’d beat his wife where it didn’t show. It's why he shot Barton.”

“Then,” Bucky stopped in front of Zemo. “Hansen got away but I was sent the fingers of the man who took the girl from the donut shop by Hansen’s order. Hansen was my right-hand man. A reminder of the wrong done to that woman.”

“Explain Logiudice,” Erik said.

Bucky smirked at him. “Oh, I can. He betrayed Mrs. Rogers herself right before we grabbed Dyson. Her husband had restricted her to their bedroom he was so pissed..” An idea with merit.

“You think a woman gave these orders?” Zemo looked puzzled.

“Maybe,” Bucky muttered, as something occurred to him. “I need to talk to one of these women first.”

“Who?” Erik asked.

“I need you to find the girl from the donut shop,” Bucky told them. “I need to see if she knows anything we don’t before I make any decisions.”

***

Bucky was both surprised and pleased to see the girl waiting for him. The park this time of day was quiet with only one man walking his dog, and she was sitting on the bench by the giant sandbox, just as he instructed her.

When he walked around, she didn’t look up. Hell, she probably had no idea who he even was. He didn’t mind keeping it that way. There was no reason she needed to know anything else about their world. All she had to do was be nice, be cooperative, and he’d help her find her way out of his world.

Carefully, like he was trying not to frighten a doe, he sat a couple of feet away from her on the bench, setting the bookbag he brought with him between his feet.

She didn’t look up until he called her name and then, her eyes were wide in alarm. The lower half of her face was covered by a medical mask, maybe because of the flu going around. She’d made herself small, slouching on the bench with her hands folded on her knees.

He introduced himself just as Bucky, that was all she needed to know. Her cold hand was trembling when she shook his. He knew she was scared, and he didn’t intend to keep her long.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

She nodded, her gaze on the floor in front of her.

“I want to apologize to you for what happened,” he said without preamble. “The man who… While he was a soldier of mine, taking you wasn’t an order I gave. I know that doesn’t change a lot for you. But you should know that.”

Again, she just nodded.

“And I do want to help you,” Bucky said slowly, leaning a little closer to her. “I’ve brought you a substantial gift. Enough to help you get back on your feet and back to school somewhere else.”

“What do you want?” she asked quietly.

Bucky grinned. It was a smart question.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “There is something I want. I want to ask you a few questions about your time with him. Will you answer?”

She squeezed her eyes shut at the mention and guilt pricked at him. Hansen was a fucking weirdo, and he could only imagine what he might have done to her. It had him wishing he’d framed the question in a different way. But it was out now so…

“Do you know his name?” Bucky asked her.

“Lloyd,” she said. “Sir.”

Oh, he did not want to know about any of Lloyd’s kinks or hangups.

“He didn’t give you any other names?”

“No,” she said.

“Another man brought you to Lloyd’s house,” Bucky said quietly. “Did you see anyone else. Besides him and Lloyd, in your time there?”

The young woman shook her head.

“Tell me about the day you got out,” Bucky said.

She shrugged nervously. “A man broke down the door and helped me out,” she said. “That’s all.”

Bucky frowned. That didn’t sound right. “You didn’t hear a fight elsewhere in the house? The sound of bullets?”

After a moment, she nodded, still staring hard at the ground before them on the bench. “It was the day before. There was shouting and a fight. Guns…”

So no one found her until the next day. Bucky wasn’t happy about that. None of his men swept the house?

“Where did the other man take you once he got you out?” Bucky asked.

The young woman blew out a long sigh. “To a friend’s,” she said slowly.

He nodded. “I don’t need specifics. I just need to know if you ran into anyone else since you were taken. Did you ever leave his house until the guy got you out?”

She shook her head.

He hated to ask. “Did he let anyone else…”

“No,” she said quickly.

“All right,” Bucky said in a kinder tone. “What can you tell me about the guy who got you out?”

She was still for a moment, before shrugging. “Not much. I wasn’t… trying to look at him.”

“Did you see any women?” Bucky asked. “Any other younger women like yourself, about your size?“ Did she see Mrs. Rogers there?

“No,” she said after a moment. “Why?”

“Why what?” Bucky asked, giving her one last chance to tell him something useful before he handed her the bag of money and told her to get lost.

“Ask about other women?” she asked.

“I was just wondering if you'd seen someone I’m interested in,” Bucky said simply.

“Why are you interested in her?” the young woman asked.

“For many reasons,” Bucky told her as he rose from the bench. “For our purposes here, I’m curious about the part she played in the last few days.”

She sighed again but didn’t move as he stood above her.

Hauling the bookbag off the ground, he held it up for her. It was filled with money, a lot of it, hers for the taking.

“Take this and make a fresh start,” he told her. “But this talk didn't take place. You understand?”

Slowly, she stood, her head ducked making her smaller than him. With a hand, she reached to take the bag from him. She froze. Her hand gripped one of the straps, but she’d stopped moving.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I can’t…”

She couldn't take the money?

“I’ve got it,” another female voice came from behind him, with a Russian accent. Before he could turn to see who it was, he felt the blade pierce his clothing, pierce his skin before sliding into his flesh at his side. The fuck?

The pain didn’t subside when the blade was pulled free as he expected. The pain grew in intensity, spreading out from the wound.

Was the blade coated in poison?

The woman in front of him now held the backpack in one hand, pulling the mask from her face with the other. Bucky's pain was breathtaking and had him gasping as he dropped to his knees, gripping his side with his hand and listening to shouts from his men drawing closer.

Bucky stared up in pain and rage at the woman he now recognized as Mrs. Steve Rogers.

“You!” he managed. “You fucking bitch! You’re… You did this?!”

Her eyes were fierce on him. “I did,” she said.

"Evil bitch," he hissed.

"When all of you commit violence, you're protecting your family," she explained angrily. "When I commit violence, I'm an evil bitch."

His gaze darted to the backpack and back.

“And you’re taking the fucking money… too?”

Yelena Belova was there, trying to pull her away.

“I’m giving it to her,” she said as Belova pulled her away. “Just like you wanted.”

Bucky's mind was a mad whirl of thoughts as pain strengthened its grip on him. It was her. Not her husband. Did that mean...?

"Is Steve even alive?" he managed.

She held his gaze. "He is."

"He's not in good shape," Bucky shot back, hating how the pain rendered him unable to wring her neck. "He wouldn't let you... He's bad off if you..."

"We have to go," Belova urged her, grabbing Mrs. Rogers' arm and pulling her behind her in earnest.

“I’m… I'll get you!” Bucky promised, his vision fading to black at the edges. "I'll survive this... and I'll get you!"

"If you survive this," she called back, "Steve will get you."

Then she was gone and his men were there, crowding around him, their shouts fading as he let the darkness claim him.

@valsworldofcreativity @21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @bval-1 @caffiend-queen @sadlittlecountess @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebstan @imanuglywombat @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @maxwelllee2020 @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blog @shygirl-00 @supernaturaldean67 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellev @vitamingummies @what-is-your-plan-today @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks @eralen @kawairinrin @bluemusickid @geminievans1 @daughterofthenight117 @sunmoonandbuckyrecs @jesevans @kandis-mom @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @kmc1989

#His Inheritance #Bucky Barnes #Yelena Belova #Erik Killmonger #Zemo #Mafia AU #Mob Boss!Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you

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moonywritez6 · 4 months

Text

When You're Gone (Reupload)

Characters: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Nanami Kento

Reader: Fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, readers death, violence, blood, swearing, pet names

Context: The reader ends up dying due to missions/illness. This is their reaction after you are gone.

Word Count: 3,109

A/N: Hello my sweets! Unfortunately, I got locked out of my old blog account, so I had to make a new one! So, chances of you having seen this before are high as it's on my old account! (I am so sad about it honestly). But I am going through all my old accounts posts and reuploading them here! I hope you can still enjoy my works!

Part 2

______________________________________________________________

Gojo

Gojo stood there with his eyes wide and mouth slightly open as he listened to Shoko give him the news. "Gojo… I'm so sorry." She whispered, unable to make eye contact with her old friend. He said nothing; all Gojo could do was stand there, his body trembling as his sapphire eyes trailed towards the open door behind Shoko, whose lips were still moving. There, through the small opening, he could see it. The table in which your now dead body lay unmoving and cold. 'She's right there…' Gojo thought while his fingers twitched, eyes wavering.

Shoko, who hadn't been able to look at her friend, slowly lifted her eyes only to stare in shock at what was before her. Gojo stood there not uttering a single word while tears leaked from his eyes. Shoko took note of the blood dripping from his lip as he unconsciously bit down on the tender flesh. "Gojo you-" He was gone Before she could finish her sentence. Three days later, he watched as your body entered the ground, or at least what was left of your body. "They say it was a special grade curse. It came out of nowhere and killed her comrades and the other sorcerers with her." Someone whispered. "I heard that Gojo was supposed to accompany them but got busy with another mission." Another added.

Gojo stood silently before your grave, his eyes masked with a blindfold. Though he appeared like he wasn't listening to anyone, he was. He listened to everyone at your funeral, ensuring that no one had bad-mouthed your name in his presence. 'Good…your name is still clean, my star.'

About a week after your death, Gojo requested to go on a mission due to his eagerness to get back into the field, so soon after your death, rumors began to spread amongst the sorcerers. Some said that Gojo was running away, while others claimed he never cared for you. As these rumors spread back home in another area of the country, Gojo stood in a deep crater; blood littered the space around him as curses kept coming from all directions. Gojo stood there, his usual sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

He let out a deep breath while stepping forward, his body wobbling as if he wasn't fully aware of his movements. "Enough…" He whispered, his voice filled with venom. The curses paid him no mind while charging towards the sorcerer, each one determined to end his life. Gojo grits his teeth; if his jaw were to clench more, it would break. "Just hurry up and fucking die! All of you!" he shouted, tears running down his face. Gojo's eyes, usually so clear and bright as day, were bloodshot and contained a dark hue. "Die! Die! Die! Dammit!" He screamed as loud as he could while annihilating every curse.

Gojo's mind was blank of all rational thinking, his breathing heavy while his chest ached with each movement he made. "Why do you keep taking them from me?!?! What did I do to you, dammit?!?!" Gojo cursed all the gods, his heart unable to process any more pain. An image of you flashed through his mind. You were so beautiful as you stood in front of him. Your body language was everywhere as you shyly avoided eye contact with him.

"Haha! What's got you acting all shy like this? Am I that handsome that just standing next to me is too much?!" He cried out dramatically while pretending to shy away from false embarrassment. You stood there with a pout while looking up at your childish boyfriend. "Oh, shut up! As if!" Gojo just laughed while you punched his chest. You looked at him with a slight frown on your face. "Why do you always do that?" Gojo hummed, looking at you with a curious brow. "You always let me touch you…why?" Your question caused him to look up in thought before he smiled. "Don't know! I guess I love you that much!" He laughed, watching the giant blush cross your face as you looked away.

"A-anyways, Here!" You yelled, shoving the neatly wrapped gift towards him. He looked at the present, slightly surprised, before smiling as he happily snatched it from your hand. "Oh~ What's this~?" he sang while carefully unwrapping the gift. He smiled, seeing the glasses case, remembering how he had mentioned needing a new pair of sunglasses almost a month ago. He carefully opened the case, noting that this was the brand he loved. You were always so thoughtful and careful when it came to details. He loved how your eye would twitch whenever he purposely forgot an item you needed for events or cooking.

"So you won't complain anymore." Your words snapped him out of his thoughts as he looked at you. You stood there with a slight pout as you nervously messed with your fingers. "You keep forgetting so…I thought it would be a nice present." He felt his heart flutter as he watched you grow embarrassed, the blush on your face making him want to smother you in kisses. "Awe! My Y/n is the sweetest and most thoughtful!" He gushed while picking you up bridal style. You just screamed at him, face red, "I-idiot! Satoru put me down! I hate you!" You cried out while he just laughed.

Gojo stood there panting while the last curse vanished before his eyes. Just then, the bridge connecting his lens snapped, causing the sunglasses to fall from his face. He quickly caught them in his hands, staring down at the broken pieces. Tears formed in his eyes again as he bit his lip before falling to his knees.

"How am I supposed to get new glasses now, Y/n? I can't remember anything without you."

_______

Geto

Geto ran through the hospital corridors, screaming your name as he pushed past anyone in his way. His heart clenched when he turned the corner and saw his friend hunched over while sitting on the waiting bench. "Satoru! Where is she?!" Geto cried as he reached his best friend. Gojo looked at him with a pained expression as he slowly went and stood in front of your boyfriend. Gojo made sure to take in his friend's current appearance. Geto stood there, hands on his knees as his body heaved heavily with each gasp of breath. His hair started falling out of his usually kept bun while his eyes strained and filled with fear. It pained Gojo to see his best friend looking like such a wreck, and for good reason.

"Suguru…" He spoke in a defeated voice, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Getos's heart stopped when he heard his name. he could feel his knees shake as he reached for his friend. "Hey…come on." He started as he gripped Gojo's uniform, his knuckles turning white. "She's fine, right, Satoru? She's really strong, remember! So she has to be…fine…" Geto trailed off as his mind processed the wet feeling on his hands. His body stiffened as he slowly looked down at the clothing he held in his fists. There, he noticed the blood staining the fabric. Tears started to spill from his eyes as he shook Gojo while screaming. "No! No! No! You promised me, Satoru!" cries echoed throughout the empty hall as Geto fell to his knees.

"You both promised me you'd be fine." Those words stung the blue-eyed sorcerer, who couldn't help but fall to the floor with his friend as he held him in his arms, mumbling apologies after apologies. "Tell me this is just one of her jokes, Satoru… It's one of her fucked up jokes." Geto continued to cry as loud as he could, unable to accept your sudden death. The next day, Geto had you cremated and brought you back to your shared home. You had no family and had always talked to him about how if you were to die first, you wished to be turned to ashes so you could still be near him. "What a stupid thing," Geto whispered as he sat on the floor, hugging your urn like it would vanish instantly, just like you had from his life.

________

Weeks went by, and no one had heard anything from Geto. He stayed locked inside his home, his eyes void of emotion as dark circles lay under his eyes from the immense lack of sleep. He sat on the floor of your shared room, scanning all the clothes and items that littered the area. His eyes felt so dry from all his tears within the last few weeks. He let out a small groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose before taking note of the small hairpin in his hand. It was a black hairpin with gold flakes splattered around it, a small crescent moon resting at the end with two small star chains that hung off it. He remembers seeing you always wear it, claiming it was your favorite.

"You know I can always buy you a new one, right?" Geto asked as he sat on the edge of your shared bed, his arm resting on his knee as he placed his chin in his palm. "Huh? What are you talking about?" You asked your boyfriend, a questioning look on your face. You were never one to ask for anything, nor did you like it when people bought you things, which was tough for Geto as he just wanted to spoil you. "The hairpin…you wear that one all the time. Don't you want a new one?" You just looked at Geto with a slight smile on your face.

"I don't mind wearing this one all the time! Besides, it's my favorite one!" You laughed, a slight hue on your cheeks while you went and gently touched the hairpin. "It's so beautiful and brings me joy…p-plus it reminds me of someone." With those last few words, Geto's ears twitched as a sly grin crossed his face. "Oh~ and do say who that someone is, my little angel~" Geto teased as he went and grabbed you by the waist, making sure to pull you back onto the bed with him. You just squealed as you laughed lightly, hitting his chest.

"Suguru! Stop it, you dummy!" Geto closed his eyes in bliss, loving how your laugh sounded so angelic to his ears. "Gosh, I love your laugh." He whispered as he hid, nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You blush, a slight smile on your face as the hairpin makes a little noise while you move to kiss Geto. He hummed as you pulled away before you started playing with each other's hair. "I love your hair… It's so pretty." You cooed, giving a strand a small kiss. Geto blushed before doing the same to yours. "I love yours as well."

Geto sat there, tears falling from his eyes once again as he clenched the hairpin in his hand, bringing it towards his lips and placing a shaky kiss.

"Y/n…my angel… who's going to play with my hair now…I wanna place this hairpin in your hair once again."

________

Nanami

Nanami stood there, eyes wide, as he held your hand in the hospital bed. You had been diagnosed with an incurable illness when you were very young. He knew this when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. He had thought that the disease wouldn't kill you for a long time as it had been over ten years since you had been diagnosed. He was such a fool. About five years into your relationship, your condition took an immense turn for the worse, and you were left bedridden with a time limit of only three months. Nanami couldn't believe you would be going through his life so suddenly. You, his precious flower.

He had made sure to visit you every single day, minus the days when he was forced away on missions that you would fight him to go on saying things like, "You can't stop saving people and doing your job just cause I'm sick Kento! That's so unattractive!" You would huff while pointing a finger at him. Nanami would flinch as if he were struck with an arrow by your words before setting off the next day to complete the mission as fast as possible. Each day, he would bring you gifts like flowers, books, desserts, you name it. Each time he did, you would scold him, saying things like 'I don't want you to regret spending your money on me.' or 'Kento darling! Just seeing your handsome face is enough for me!' He knew you hated receiving gifts, but at the same time, he loved seeing that soft smile that crossed your face each time it would process in your mind that he was thinking of you.

"Kento darling?" You whisper while your boyfriend lies with you on the hospital bed, his head resting on your chest as his arms wrap around you tightly. "Yes, my flower?" He lifted his head just so his tired eyes could meet your own. You smiled at him as you raised your hands to gently hold his cheeks, your thumbs rubbing the dark circles under his eyes. He instantly relaxed at the feeling of his eyes fluttering shut. "Have you been getting enough sleep?" Kento opened his eyes and saw your frown, causing him to let out a small chuckle as he went and kissed one of your wrists. It was true he was losing so much sleep, but he couldn't help it. Not having you next to him in your shared bed was killing him.

"I'm sorry, my flower…you know I can't lie to you." He whispered before nuzzling his head back onto your chest. You pout at this while resting a hand on his head, carefully running your fingers through his soft hair. He knew you hated when he overworked himself and wouldn't get proper sleep, but it was the only thing keeping him together. "Don't worry… I'll get some sleep right now." He whispered before shutting his eyes, drifting off to your heartbeat. "Kento…please take care of yourself for me." You would whisper once you knew he was fully asleep.

_______

Kento held your hand, tears falling from his eyes as the nurses rushed into the room, one of them gently trying to push him away. He couldn't hear a single word anyone was saying as he gripped your now cold hand, refusing to let go of your soft skin for the last time. You just lay on the hospital bed, a faint smile on your face, while Nanami was pulled out of the room, screaming your name. After your funeral, Nanami completely submerged himself in his work, refusing to take any time for himself or others. Gojo would make sure to stop by to at least annoy Nanami into eating and drinking any of the snacks he would bring to ensure his friend would not suffer from starvation or dehydration.

"Nanami~ I brought you some delicious sweets from this shop I really liked~ Try 'em ~" Gojo sang as he danced into Nanami's office with a plastic bag. Nanami let out a deep sigh from his desk as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Placing his pen down, Nanami slowly lifted his head to look at Gojo, dark circles under his eyes. Gojo whistled, hand on his hip as he placed the bag in front of Nanami with a small thump. "You look like shit." Gojo laughed, earning a low grunt from the man who was already opening some of the snacks given to him. "Hey I'm gonna be going out tomorrow with Itadori if you would like to join us. It's my treat, so at least consider it!" He laughed, giving his friend a thumbs up.

Nanami just hummed, already deciding in his head that he wouldn't be going. Gojo just smiled as he went to leave while giving a lazy wave. "Get some sleep, will you?! Y/n wouldn't be too happy with you right now!" Nanami frowned at the mention of your name being used to guilt him into sleep. He finished eating some snacks and placed the rest aside for his dinner tonight. He rubs his eyes, leaning back in his chair, as he loosens the tie around his neck. He glances down at his desk, staring at the small photo of you happily smiling while wearing that sundress he always loved seeing on you. He smiles slightly at the memory before shaking his head.

He sits in his chair, preparing to focus only on his work. 'Energy pills,' he thinks to himself, having remembered keeping some stored in his bottom drawer from when he used to work all the time before he had met you. Nanami reaches into his drawer only to discover a small sleeping kit neatly placed on everything else. Nanami looks at it, surprised, before noticing a small note slip out from behind. He carefully picks the letter up while inspecting the sleeping kit. "Did Gojo slip this in here?" He mumbled to himself, unimpressed with his childish friend. He sighs as he opens the note, only for his eyes to widen at the familiar handwriting.

My Darling Kento,

Are you surprised? I knew you would be! I had Kiyotaka slip this into your desk to prepare for the future. I'm sure by now I have left this world along with you, my darling, who cherished me like no one else could have if my life had more years. I'm sorry to have caused you such stress, and I know you would scold me for apologizing. I do not regret anything from what we shared. You filled my life with joy, making this illness seem like some crazy thing I made up! I know you are probably working so hard right now, and I want to remind you to take care of yourself, Kento. Even though I am no longer by your side, it would hurt me to know I have caused you so much pain. Please find more happy memories, my darling Kento. I love you so much. Sleep well~

Kento gripped the corner of the letter, feeling it crinkle under his fingers. His giant tears dripped down his face, some landing on your handwriting, causing small smudges. Nanami quickly tries to rid his tears while gritting his teeth before letting out a loud yell as he sweeps everything off his desk, gripping his head as he cries, looking down at the photo of you.

"That's not fair Y/n…you should be making more memories with me."

#jjk #fanfic #fanfiction #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #gojo satoru #geto suguru #x reader #female reader

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ebonyslasher · 9 months

Note

Hello! Hru? I love ur blog soo muchh♡ may I request human! Reader (from Kagome's world) who's really strong? Like the reader surprised the Inuyasha men (inuyasha, naraku and sesshomaru:> if you're not comfortable with these you can always change!) When a demon tried to attack her & the men tried to save reader but stop when they see her beating the demon up with bare hands or with a weapon she found brutally💀😭 And they just stood there dumbfounded like how tf🧍‍♂️? And when they ask how is she so strong, reader just shrugs and goes like "martial arts?"

Thank you and feel free to use any pronounces! I just wanna read sumn for once that doesn't have weak reader pls I'm so tired 💀💀

Hey anon! Sorry this is so late. I do agree with you on the last part. I'm tired of the weak reader all the time too. People gotta switch it up you know?

Strong ass Human!Reader in the Feudal Era with Inuyasha, Sesshomaru, and Naraku:

Inuyasha:

Reveling in the heroism of saving a nearby village, the group started their journey elsewhere. Trekking through the forest, your rag-tag group ran into a boisterous pig yokai. Who, unfortunately, became smitten with your looks.

"I will have you as my bride. And we can make all the hanyou I want!"

Ew. The initial response was to ignore the pig. There've been many demons who would bother the group. And, after the fight you all came from, you just wanted to make camp. Inuyasha grumbled a quick, "Piss off," as the group passes by.

But, it seemed that the Pig was serious about his stupid claim. He bares his teeth and shoots forward at you, grabbing your legs. World tipping over, your head thumps against a patch of lush grass. How lucky. However, you felt a strong pull on your leg, dragging your body away from your friends.

Hell fuck no! In the midst of the dragging, your bag was in the perfect position to grab easily. With how quickly things happened, Inuyasha jumpstarts to save you. You grab the bulky hammer in your bag, hiding it from view.

The pig yokai guffaws and throws you over his shoulder. "When I see someone worthy of being a bride, it's my right to claim-OOUGH"

One hit to the dome scratched some skin off and left his brain to rattle. "WHAT THE-." The next swing made contact with his cheek, sending sanguine liquid onto the ground. The pig stood there shocked, with blood leaking from his mouth.

He gets angry and charges at you, again. This time, he wouldn't get you. Grounding yourself, you kick him back, which sends him flying back a few feet. Taking charge, you jump and start to gruesomely work on his head with the hammer.

"What da HELL!!! Y/N!!!" Inuyasha yells. He's totally flabbergasted. His eyes and mouth are so wide, it's comical. There's the desire to step in and protect you, but it's so impressed how strong and ferocious those swings were. Inuyasha didn't want to interrupt. It was kind of hot.

Although, Inuyasha is a little peeved that you didn't let him know how strong you were. The way you sent him back with that kick was unexpected. He starts cheering you on.

"Way to go Y/N!" He's standing there smiling with his hands on his hips. Once the beast was knocked out (or dead, who cares). You turn back to head to the group.

"Y/n that was so cool! When the hell did you get so strong?"

"Uhhhh....fighting with my cousins growing up?" You shrugged. "I just want to go lay down, can we hurry up and make camp somewhere?"

Now, he's wondering what type of humans your cousins are.

2. Sesshomaru

This is one of the worst fears you had. Spiders. In your time, you could easily avoid an encounter with one of these wretched creatures. Modern houses and bug repellents helped tremendously. Not going out into nature and definitely NOT living in Australia did too. Since you've traveled back to the feudal era and were forced to interact with nature, your luck has been tested. And it just ran out today.

A fucking spider demon appeared. It was grotesque, smelly, and an abomination. And it was big too. It wanted to attempt to best Lord Sesshomaru in battle. Sesshomaru, of course, refuses. So, the dumb thing tries to shoot webs at you. Thankfully you dodged.

The hate for spiders took over your body. The fear you had compounded on top of that, making you scarier than the demon. It tries to stick its hairy and pointy leg through you, but you were quicker. With desperate and angered bare hands, you tore off its leg.

The spider yokai shouts in pain. Taking advantage of it's pause, you quickly tear off each limb. One by one.

Sesshomaru, in all his glory, stands there and says nothing. Does nothing. It really doesn't look like he's reacting but he is. The Demon Lord is extremely surprised that he's tense. His eyes are wide. Only thing that's slack is his hands.

The dagger in your side pouch begs to be utilized. It's appeased by you yanking it out and stabbing the yokai in one of it's many eyes. The screams, the power, and the needed imagery of you decimating this spider was iconic.

To Sesshomaru, it was obvious you were untrained. The ferocity of your actions cover it well. He's impressed and takes mental note to start training you. Maybe, have you be a little more graceful with your movements.

"This one had no indication of the strength you hold." Sesshomaru states.

".......I just really fucking hate spiders." you sardonically reply.

"...Hn. Noted. This one concurs with your sentiment."

Silently, he is pleased with this discovery. A small smile graces his face after you turn away

3. Naraku

Narakus' lower demons were soooo annoying. Their existence was one that irritated you. Irritating when they sucked dick to Naraku and when they tried to be condescending towards you. Just because you were human. The audacity sent you over the edge.

The edge it sent you over was one close by. One of those things became unruly in your presence. Acting as it was better than you, the ugliness of it all. The decision to put it back in its place was swift and malicious. An example to others who felt the same.

Precise, your hand shoots out to grab the lowly yokai. Chucking it, the demon bashes against a nearby rock. It's body twitches on the ground, confused on what just occurred. Slowly, you walk over. With no urgency or care. It felt like you were Michael Myers in that moment. Once you made it over, you stare before stomping it. One more. And again. Again. Again. AGAIN. AGAIN. Until there was a crater in the dirt it crumpled in.

Naraku, some distance away, observed the scene with shocked eyes, his mouth slightly open. "This human...!"

He is pissed that you hid this information from him. And how did he miss this? He frequently spied on you, sent his wasps when he couldn't make a puppet! But now that he knows....you can be of use for him. You're a bit too....alluring to be considered a lackey, but he needed to have control over you somehow. A sly grin graces his face upon observing the aftermath. The squished gruel of guts and blood staining the ground and your shoes.

He approaches, with a questioning stare. "Y/n...pray tell, how did you aquire this power?"

"Oh, my parents had me do martial arts since I was a kid. Plus, I was angry."

All Naraku can think is how nice it was of your parents to prepare you for him and his deeds.

#black reader #inuyasha #sesshoumaru #naraku #inuyasha x reader #sesshoumaru x reader #naraku x reader

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neteyamsyawntu · 7 months

Text

Synopsis ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Taking place in an alternate universe where the RDA do not return to Pandora until 20 years later; the Sully’s are forced to abandon the Omaticaya in an attempt to keep the clan and themselves safe. This however meant that you were to say goodbye to your lover and closets companion and while Neteyam swore he would return to you, you grew restless and search for them yourself. Have you had known that events would unfold as fatally as they did, you may have stayed in the forest.

Now with Neteyam resurrected on the side of the RDA, seemingly having lost himself to their mind games, you make it your sole mission to bring him back to you, no matter the cost.

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

A general warning: This series is intended for audiences over the age of 18. 🔞Minors please do not interact🔞

Chapters ➼

Prologue

You left your home in the forest of Pandora, driven to find your childhood companion, unable to face the reality of possibly never seeing him. Successfully reaching the Sullys, your reunion with is short and sweet. However the moment you lock eyes with Neteyam, a rush of emotions seem to overwhelm both of you equally, prompting Neteyam to bring you to somewhere more private to catch up.

Chapter 1

You are mated to Neteyam before his death and the impact it had on you was catastrophic. Your entire world had shattered, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to dwell on mourning, making it an obligation to your deceased mate to take up his role in watch after his siblings. After a first RDA raid on Awa’atlu, Neteyam has been resurrected by the RDA now being mind controlled to fight against his family and you. After your first encounter seeing Neteyam back from the dead, you know that he isn’t his true self… maybe there is a way to bring him back.

Chapter 2

You try to make sense of this ‘new Neteyam’. Where did he get all of this hatred from? Could he really have been so easily swayed to change sides or was there something deeper? All you know if you have to get him to realize his true self, so you set out on a solo mission to bring him back yourself.

Chapter 3

After being captured by the RDA you try your best to press Neteyam for his motives, but it leads you down a dead end and a dangerous encounter with Quaritch that brings out Neteyam's possessive nature.

Chapter 4

After Neteyam takes it upon himself to reclaim you as his mate, the two of you find yourselves in a risky situation.

Chapter 5

While you finally reunite with the Sully's and the rest of the Metkayina clan, Quaritch works with General Ardmore on how they can further subdue Neteyam's rebellious behavior.

Chapter 6

To be continued •••

Hello lovely readers! I figured it was about time I gave my series a proper masterlist, I hope this new format makes it easier to navigate through chapters!

Chapters will be progressively updated as they are posted.

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year

Note

hello!! um I really liked the whole Military Creator you've written!

I'm wondering how would some of the boys/men react to that!

for example, Zhongli/Xiao as they have fought in wars before or Childe for his bloodlust. Feel free to add anyone you want too!

Headcanons: Zhongli, Xiao, and Childe Reacting to Reader being a Veteran Military Soldier.

Ah, I see, Anon! Here y'all go :) I hope you enjoy it!

Click Me For the Women Version!

Disclaimers: Might be OOC, Implied Violence/Battle, Mentions of Scars!)

Zhongli

This man. This old immortal man that is a dragon. He knows war like the back of his hand. Kinda quite literally, since once upon a time, some people hailed him as the God of War (Sorry Murata).

To hear that Reader was a former Military Officer for a nation you didn't run nor found, you just increased Zhongli's respect by a HUGE amount. There's no denying it.

"If you don't mind, Your Grace, may you tell me a few stories of your past experiences in battle?" Very attentive listener. He won't push if you leave a few details out, even if he is curious.

Honestly loves to listen to you and your stories! He commends you for your victories, and solemn your lost of the cherished ones. Zhongli is all too familiar with war, and it's very relatable.

Your tea talks with him are now more and more interesting, to say the least. You might be invited from Zhongli for tea instead of the other way around!

Xiao

General Alatus himself...the Vigilant Yaksha doesn't take war all too well. You can say that he's got extreme PTSD from it, and really—that's pretty much an understatement alone.

Won't push the topic much, since this boy does not want you to be stuck in a traumatic time, but he is curious about your military days, since you don't seem all that bothered of what you experienced.

However! This doesn't mean he won't want to check up on you. He may not be...good with emotions, but he's certainly going to try, for the Almighty Creator's sake!

"Your Grace....forgive my prying, but are you...okay?" He cringes just listening to himself ask the question. It felt like he was trying to make your achievements an understatement or a cheap byproduct.

Constantly remind this guy that what he asked hadn't upset or hurt you. This man is notorious for self-sacrifice and self-blame.

Overall, spending time with Xiao is probably good therapy for the both of you, in a way. keep up the tea time, because this man will eventually open up and actually relax and enjoy tea with you!

Childe

A little too thrilled to hear that the Almighty Creator has gone through war.

Immediately pounces on the matter. No cap.

"Your Grace, care to share some battle experiences with me?" Has an absolute gleeful and menacing smile on his face as his dead eyes shine brightly at you, boring into your soul.

Of course, he won't push for details—boy just wants to know the battles and fights you were in.

However, that doesn't mean he's heartless. He'll share your sentiment if a battle brought loss to your loved ones. Childe himself can't imagine losing one of his siblings. Ever.

Tea time with Childe is basically verbal sparring. You both are fighting by comparing your battles with one another. And it never ends.

And that's it! I hope you all like it :) Sorry for being so inactive these days—motivation keeps killing me, I swear. See you all around soon!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: If you're waiting for The Lost Shining God of Celestia or Forver In My Hold finale part—It's coming, don't worry! My brain isn't just motivated just yet, but it will be it out!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

#yandere sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau genshin #sagau #genshin sagau #sagau cult au #sagau xiao #sagau isekai #sagau x reader #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #genshin self aware #sagau zhongli #sagau childe

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24hlevi · 1 year

Note

Hello I hope your having a great day!!

I was wondering if you could write some itoshi sae and itoshi rin jealousy hc's . Like if their s/o is being too friendly with another guy or vice versa . I'm really sorry for the long request but I really like your blog and its very fun and relaxing to read after a long day 😅❤❤

omg yes of course!!! i love the itoshi brothers so much

and thank you for the kind words i really appreciate it 🫶

— 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

Blue Lock Boys (Sae & Rin) X Gn!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jealousy hcs with the itoshi brothers

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Language, Suggestive in sae's

when rin is jealous, it's quite obvious that he is just by his mannerisms and the way he speaks to you

rin talks with everyone the same, but he's different when he's with you, therefore when he starts acting like how he does with the people he hates, you know you fucked up

rin is not very vocal when it comes to being jealous at all, and he'll never admit it if you question him on it, claiming he's just "in a mood"

it's not that he's worried you'll leave him for someone else, he just can't seem to understand why people don't realize you're dating him even if he literally sucks at showing it

he might give you the silent treatment depending on how upset he is, it really depends on how jealous he is

rin isn't the type to verbally express his feelings very well, so you'll likely have to pry it out of him before he tells you

he won't straight up go to the person who is flirting with you or anything but stare from a little bit away, giving them a death glare until they leave you alone and act like he didn't do anything

now, if rin was the one having someone flirt with him, he would straight up just walk away as soon as he realizes they're flirting with him

he literally does not give a fuck if he hurts their feelings he will just leave, not even say why he just disappears because he doesn't want to make you upset by thinking he was flirting back

overall, he doesn't get very jealous, just protective over you

never get sae jealous, on purpose or on accident it doesn't matter, just don't

if he sees someone flirting with you and you're clearly uncomfortable, he won't hesitate to wrap his arm around you and ask what's going on, putting an emphasis on the word "babe" when talking to you

if that doesn't work, then he might just tell the person to fuck off and leave you alone, even if you're in public he will still do it

much like his younger brother, it's obvious when he's jealous by his actions like not holding your hand but keeping his arm around you, continuously shaking his head to himself in disbelief that someone didn't realize you were dating him, shit like that

in his mind, he knows you won't leave him, so really he just gets annoyed when people try to flirt with you when he's there as if he isn't

that being said, he doesn't get annoyed with you, because he knows you wouldn't purposefully flirt back with him around, so he's still normal with you and acts like nothing has changed

but that doesn't mean when you two get home that he's just going to let it go, he'll take out his anger in other ways with you

now, if sae was the one who had someone flirting with him, he would probably just stare at the person looking literally dead inside until they got the hint and left or just tell them to leave him alone, it's a 50/50 shot depending on how annoyed he is by them

he would never think of cheating on you with some random person, so don't feel worried about that, he will even tell you about how annoying the person was and how he would never go for someone like them

overall, just don't get him jealous, it could end good for you, or bad and dealing with sae being annoyed

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sweetenerobert · 4 months

Text

stuck in the elevator

4.1k / dark!bfd!joel miller x sunshine!male reader

summary: a visit to sarah at college with her dad turns different after you both get trapped in an elevator

warnings: dead dove/do not eat, DARK!Joel, strong language, pwp, age gap (reader is 21, joel is in his 40s), joel asks for consent (you’re a bit hesitant), dirty talk, fingering, scent kink (if you tilt your head and squint), spanking, unprotected p in a, biting, creampie, hair grabbing (no physical description of hair type/hair length), joel’s body pressing up against you (trapping you in a sense), pet names (baby, angel, son), joel has an exhibition kink, no use of m/n or y/n

my brain was rotting after @toxicanonymity answered this anon and i just had to write this.

➴ navigation page/masterlist in bio

➴ notifications blog in bio, follow and turn on notifications

You didn’t expect a quick visit to Sarah’s college would end up with you and her father, Joel, becoming stuck in a dark elevator — emergency lights gleaming down on the both of you.

It was supposed to be a quick and easy visit; you and Sarah would converse with each other — Joel joining in on occasion, talking about classes, the friends she’d made, and overall her experience at college. As you both were leaving, you could tell Joel’s knees were bothering him, so you decided to grab the elevator that brought you both to the ground floor, but you never expected the elevator to stop midway down.

Were you frightened? Yes. But Joel banging on the door wasn't banging on the door wasn't making your nerves calm down any faster. You hugged your arms around you as a way of comfort as you just heard Joel’s yells and cries being — practically ignored as his hands banged against the metal surface.

You’d hit the emergency button, but no answer on the other side came through. You were nervous; you’d never been in a situation where you had been stuck in such a confined space, especially with someone’s powerful voice like Joel’s.

“Hey! Can anybody hear me? We‘re trapped in this fuckin’ thing!” Joel yelled.

“Joel?” You called out. Joel ignored you and continued banging on the metal doors. “Hello,” Joel exclaimed, banging his fist on the door. “Joel?” You tried again.

“I swear to fuckin’ Christ, I’ll rip these fuckin’ doors apart—” You got off the rail you were leaning on and walked to Joel’s position behind him, quickly whipping him around for him to stare at you. “Joel!”

“What?” Joel quickly snapped, causing you to jump back, being spooked by how powerful his voice was. “Shit, sorry, son.” Joel reassured you. “I just want to get out of here.”

“We will; we just gotta be patient,” You nodded. “Do you get claustrophobic in small spaces?”

Joel turned around, placing his hands on the metal doors sprawled out, breathing strenuously — as if he were going to pass out. You noticed the veins bulging from his head and neck; you were worried about how stressed he looked; his veins might burst.

“No, nothin’ like that, son.”

Well, now you were confused. You were confused about why Joel was currently so mysterious and different from when you both drove here and when you were in Sarah’s dorm room earlier.

“Then what's the problem? Because it looks like you’re about to burst another minute that you’re in here.”

Joel didn't know what to tell you; his cock was itching against the denim of his jeans, and he couldn't face the person who made him feel this way. When you first rushed in the truck, smiling all gleefully — bouncing in his passenger seat, Joel’s cock was getting hard, and he couldn't understand why.

Hearing you sing along to some of the songs you knew either in your head or when the radio played, Joel wanted to pull over and fuck you so he could hear the moans that would escape your lips.

He wanted to hear you scream his name with his cock sliding in deeper with each push and thrust, wanting to make you cum from his cock. And the fact now that Joel can't escape the elevator that he so badly wants to, he’s trapped with the one person he desperately wants to get away from.

Joel knew that it would fuck everything up if Sarah found out that he fucked her best friend, and Joel never wanted to be selfish, but Joel yearned to touch you, make himself feel good, and hear what he so desperately craved.

You swore the elevator got darker as Joel slowly turned around, like a villain in a movie revealing himself. It was like a switch had gone off in Joel as he stepped closer to you while you stepped back as a pure reflex; with each step Joel took, you stepped back. Your back felt the cold rail you were leaning on moments prior.

Joel’s hands were on each side of your head — preventing you from escaping the trap he’d put you in. Your breathing shuddered, and it showed as Joel slid his hands down from the wall to your bottom lip and traced his thumb over your skin, making your body feel clammy.

After your breathing had returned to normal, Joel brought his hand up on the wall and moved his head next to yours, making you feel nervous and uneasy. You’ve never felt this way about Joel before.

You’ve known him for a while, and it was always a good time to be around him; he never made you feel like you couldn't talk to him about anything you couldn’t talk to your parents about. So, seeing Joel’s behavior drift suddenly made you feel small and easy to destroy.

You felt Joel’s warm breath against the cartilage of your ear; you tightened your knuckles in a fist, trying to calm yourself down. “You, son. You’re the problem.”

Your best friend’s dad’s statement had caught you off guard. “W-what?”

“You’re too fuckin’ perfect; smell fuckin’ amazing,” Joel growls in your ear. He moves his head towards your neck and takes a long and drastic inhale, making goosebumps litter the back of your neck and spine.

“J-Joel, what — why are you saying these things?”

“My cock is so fuckin’ hard, baby. And your talking is making my cock hurt even more.”

You wanted to keep talking; you were beyond perplexed at the situation. You had no idea what to do; the man whom you once felt comfortable made the situation you both were currently in a thousand times worse.

His hand slid from the wall onto your waist — making your skin shudder. “J-Joel, I- I don’t -”

“Please baby, lemme fuck you; I-I promise nothin’’ll change. My cock is just desperate for you, baby.”

“Joel, please think about what you’re saying.”

“I’have, c’mon baby, please?”

Joel’s hand on your waist made your skin draw cold — made you feel like you had been stuck in a block of ice. You’d finally understood now why Joel wanted to leave the elevator faster. He was holding restraint while revealing his true emotions.

You glanced up at Joel, seeing desperation underneath his eyes; you didn’t know what to say, so your mouth just opened while your brain had just shut off.

“If we do this? Nothing will change?” You question.

Joel nods. “I swear, baby. Nothin’ll change.”

You release a small puff of air you didn't realize you were holding in. “Okay, I- I’ll do it, Joel.”

Your best friend's dad wasted no time smashing his lips against yours. You were surprised by how hungry Joel’s kisses were. It surprised you that his lips could barely stay on top of yours. Your hands were not even connecting with Joel’s body; that's how surprised you were. Joel’s hand on your waist slid down to your inner knee; he hoists your knee up so it's around his waist.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby. You taste amazin’,” Joel growled.

Planting your hands on Joel’s curls, you can't help but reflexively slide your hands through his curls. This felt right — kissing your best friend’s dad to help get him through what he was feeling. You didn't know what was going through Joel’s head, but you were happy to help him.

Joel’s hungry kisses trail down to your neck, and you can't help when but moan, with your moans bouncing off the metal walls of the elevator. “Fucking, shit, Joel,” You exclaim. You felt Joel’s teeth against your neck; you hissed in retaliation. “Fuck, baby. I’wanna eat ya’; you taste like heaven.”

You feel Joel’s hips grind against your throbbing cock, you feel like Joel could make you cum with him rubbing his denim-covered cock, and it made you feel a way you didn't know how to explain. “You feel how hard I am for ya, baby?”

Any clear and rational thought left your head, but your mouth couldn't say anything. “Mhm,” You nodded.

Joel’s slow grinds became rougher as you felt your body connect with the wall behind you. Moaning and gasps escape your lips as Joel’s hips slam into your own. “C’mon, angel. Use your words.” Your mouth quickly opened, and you just spoke whatever. “Yes, Joel. I feel how hard you are.”

“There ya’ go baby,” Joel growled. You feel Joel smashing his lips against yours. Then feel your leg drop as your hands rise, ultimately feeling your wrists on each other — above your head.

Joel’s iron grip on your wrist made your legs squirm as your dick was rubbing against your pants. Each kiss, every breath you breathed, and hearing Joel’a shuddering breathes through his nose made your cock want to explode in this unexplainable way. Back his head away from yours, you open your eyes, seeing a grin on Joel’s face. “Turn around, baby.”

With your hands above your head, you turn around, now with your palms on the wall before you — Joel’s tight grip never losing strength. You feel your pants feel loose as Joel slides them down with a few tugs with one hand. Your dick throbs away from its prison, your balls shrivel up, and thighs get a cold sensation littering the lower half of your body. “Y’have the best ass I've ever seen, baby,” Joel grunts as his hand comes across your ass, causing you to yelp.

Joel’s free hand has your ass in a grip that is similar to the hold on your wrists. His thick fingers tease the bend of your ass as you feel his finger pads slide up and down, causing you to squirm. “Don’t have to squirm, baby.”

“Can’t help it, your hands are cold,” You grit.

“Than I better warm them up for you.”

In one motion, Jole hooks in fingers on the inside of your cheek, causing the back of your throat to get that rush of cold air the bottom half of your body was feeling.

Swirling his fingers around the inside of your cheek, your palms start to clam up, and you swear your palms slide a bit. Suddenly, his fingers slide out of your mouth — a line of saliva liters your cheek. Wet-saliva-covered fingers of Joel’s slide into the bend of your ass and your asshole. Gasping, you bear your teeth and squirm while Joel’s fingers swim inside you.

“Is that warm enough for ya?”

The answer couldn't form from your mouth as Joel’s fingers made you squirm under his touch. Your balance was way off as his fingers slid in deeper. You wanted Joel’s fingers out of you so you could take a breath, but you knew Joel could be persistent; he wouldn't accept your request.

Bearing your teeth even harder, they could pop out of your mouth; you felt your eyelids stapled shut as you thought about the ache in your eyelids. You heard a slight squelch sound from your ass; as you felt that release from your ass, you took a quick drag of air into your lungs as you began to collect your thoughts.

A hard smack across your ass causes you to yelp through your born teeth; your clothed-covered stomach and cock suddenly collide with the wall in front of you — Feeling Joel’s body pressed behind you. His breath against your ear — growling against your ear.

“S’fuckin’ squirmin’ so much, this is me asking nicely, by the way.”

“Sorry,” You apologized.

“Don’t have to apologize, baby. But, you’re makin’ this more difficult than it needs to be.”

You feel your body having a massive weight off your back and being unpressed from the wall. You inhaled another quick breath before Joel could slide his fingers inside you again. You were inhaling a breath through your teeth — but keeping your feet still the best you can.

Strangely, you felt your feet rise as if Joel was lifting you to make you stand on the tips of your toes. You place your head on the wall before you as it feels like a colossal weight is balancing on your neck. “Fu-aah-ck, Joel. You’re so deep,” You whimper.

“I fuckin’ love it when you whimper, baby; makes my cock even harder.”

You felt Joel slide another finger into you — pushing deeper, causing you to groan in a mix of pain and pleasure. His fingers slid back and forth faster, and you wanted to squirm, but you stood still, the back of your throat on the verge of revealing a squeal. Your cock rubbed up against the wall before you and made you want to cum right then and there, but you do your best to hold your moans in the best you can.

“Are you ready for my cock now, baby?”

To be honest, you weren't — at all. You didn't even know why you agreed with what Joel was pleading with you previously. Your hands were still above your head, your forearms were getting sore, and all you wanted to do was get out of this elevator much faster. So, you complied with Joel’s question. “Y-yes,” You nodded.

The grip Joel had on your wrists had been released, but immediately, you placed them on the wall by your sides — planted on the wall. You didn't turn around to notice Joel sliding his jeans off his waist

Joel’s spit lands on the head of his cock, and his hand smooths it down his shaft seconds before he powers into you with a deep, gravelly groan — sounding like a lion. A silent gasp escapes your lips, and you bear your teeth, snapping your eyes shut.

Your nails dig into the metal before you as Joel’s hands are planted on your waist — nails digging into your skin. Joel’s thrusts start slow, giving you a chance to breathe and grasp the situation you’re in.

The tiny elevator you were in made you realize the predicament: you were getting fucked by your best friend's dad. How you felt couldn't be explained, only observed, but you didn't want anyone to see you right now.

Knocks coming from behind you, causing you to strain your neck as you locate the noise — Joel’s neck following suit.

“Hey, is everything alright in there?” You heard it muffled behind the sliding door.

“Yeah. We fine,” Joel shouts. Grunts follow suit as his hips collide with you, causing a muffled groan through your teeth.

“Are you both alright?”

“M’ fine; they seem under the weather,” Joel grunts.

You roll your eyes at Joel’s statement, turning your head back towards the wall.

“Okay, stay calm and keep away from the doors; we’re gonna get the door open as quick as we can.”

“Take your time,” Joel announces.

One of Joel’s hands plants flat on your hair, and you feel a tight grip on your hair as you bend your neck back. A light gasp leaves your lips as Joel’s hips rock faster into you.

“I wish I could spend my time on you, angel, but we really need to hurry this up.”

Joel’s once leisurely pace began to speed up, causing you to force your hands to ball into a fist — your nails piercing your palms. The claps that vibrated throughout the small space you and Joel were in made the sounds seem deafening.

The decorum that Joel had left him entirely when he finally achieved what he yearned for for so long.

He acquired treasure that he had been obsessing over for so long that it was driving him insane.

Bearing his teeth, you hear Joel’s grunts in your ear — causing your cock to twitch. With Joel’s free hand, he brings it up and slams his hand down on your ass cheek. You have to groan as silently as you can because the people working on the door didn’t hear the two of you.

“The only thing between us and them are doors that can open up at any given moment.”

“They would see my handprint on that sweet ass of yours, the marks on your neck given by me, God. I could cum in that tight little ass thinkin’ about it.”

“J-Joel. You’re hitting so deep.”

“Y’feel my cock stretch you out, baby?”

You don't answer; your mind keeps drawing blanks, causing you to moan with each thrust Joel’s hips made contact with your ass.

Each thrust made you feel like Joel was stretching you out inch by inch; the pain felt a mix of unbearable and pleasurable, but all you knew was that you wanted to leave this situation as soon as you could.

Joel’s cock twitched inside you, but you didn't notice it, but you felt his thrusts become faster, rougher — almost animal-like.

“I’m cummin’ soon, baby. I’m creamin’ that tight ass soon.”

With a tug on your hair, you feel Joel’s breath against your ear. “Hopefully, I can get you pregnant by the time those doors open.”

Joel's hold on your hair had finally released and held onto your waist. His nails feel embedded into your skin as you moan as quietly as you can, with each thrust connecting with you.

“Y’see how hard ya make me baby? Can't believe your ass is mine,” Joel growled

Your clammy palms connect with the metal wall as you feel the shaft of your cock start to pulsate.

“Fuck, baby. I’m about to cum,” Joel’s teeth are about to shatter as his hands go on the wall before you to keep his balance.

His mouth is next to your neck, causing chills to trail down your spine as you feel like you're about to cum. Whimpers leave your mouth as you turn your neck to look towards Joel.

His lips collide with yours as his thrusts slow down — becoming more passionate, remembering the man you knew.

As your lips leave each other, a line of saliva leaves both of your mouths. You force your head to look at the wall, and Joel plants a hand on your back, and his pace quickens again.

“Fuck! I’m cumming,” Joel exclaimed as quietly as he could.

With a few pushes of his hips and one final one, you bite your lip and moan against your teeth, and lip as strings of cum land on the wall, and Joel’s cum shoots inside you.

You can feel how warm his cum inside you, making your stomach feel like mush inside.

Turning your neck, you hear Joel’s breaths and feel them against your neck. You notice his curls attached to his sweaty forehead, your mushy feeling stomach just became sludge in your stomach as you swallowed your bile down.

“Thank you so much, baby,” Joel breathed.

“I-It’s okay.”

Joel places his lips softly against your neck. And you force yourself to act like everything is fine.

Joel backed up from you, his now soft cock exiting you, cum threatening to spill out from inside you. You quickly picked up your pants and acted like everything was fine.

Your eyes reflexively watched Joel as he picked up his pants and buckled his pants and belt. He catches you staring at him and smirks.

“Ya already want to go round two wit me already, son?”

You don't answer. You roll your eyes, cross your arms, and turn your body away from Joel.

The idea of trying to stomach what just went on was a broken CD in your head. Nothing was making sense of how you were supposed to feel. All that you know was that you felt like throwing up.

You heard the elevator doors creak a bit, causing Joel to turn around.

“We’re getting the doors open; steer clear,” You heard the voice from before.

The elevator doors opened with a sharp creak as you saw two pairs of hands force the door open. You settled your nerves, but your stomach still felt like sludge — making you want to throw up.

“Are you guys alright?”

“Ye-” Joel started.

“Yes, we’re fine,” You interrupted.

“Can we get out now? Please?”

“A-almost, just need to make sure you boys aren't hurt.”

“No cuts or anythin’ like that, sir. The boy is just a little flustered, is all,” Joel acknowledged, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, causing your body to shudder.

“Well, then. If everything is fine, don’t see any reason to keep you boys waiting-”

You speed walked out of the elevator — practically running from Joel’s grasp on your shoulders. You just wanted to go home, curl under your sheets, and pretend you didn't exist.

The feeling that nothing would be back to the ordinary — despite Joel’s words moments ago came back when you reached the college campus doors you were begging to see. Pushing the doors of their hinges.

You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets before scrambling to reach Joel’s truck and enter the passenger side.

Your exhales fog up the passenger-side window as you feel as if you ran fifty miles to get away from Joel. The point of running was pointless because Joel was your ride home, but you wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

You noticed Joel’s broad figure stalking toward the truck — like a serial killer approaching their victim. The occasional glancing at the windshield made you regret your decision to steal glances at the parking lot.

You were forcing yourself to turn your body towards the door to avoid any glance from Joel or any form of communication. Your ears pick up Joel’s door opening, him grunting to get in, and the door closing.

“You alright, son?”

You nod with your head against the window.

“Look at me,” Joel stated.

Your head didn't budge from the window; you knew there would be a spot where your forehead lay.

“Look at me,” Joel’s statement sounded more like a command from how deep his voice went.

Reluctantly, you turn your neck and stare at your best friend’s dad. “Are you sure, ya alright?”

“Just like you said, just a little under the weather.”

“It’ isn't because of us, right?” Joel’s southern drawl hung on the last word of his question.

“I don't think so, maybe?” You shrug.

“Son-”

“Maybe it is, I don't know. I’ve never had sex before, so I don't know.”

In Joel’s head, his face read the realization of why you had been so closed off. He used his daughter’s best friend for his personal gain without actually thinking about how you would feel after the fact. But in reality, Joel seemed fine with the news that you haven't had sex before; he felt like he owned you, once and for all — something he always wanted.

“I’just hope you don't tell Sarah about any of this.”

You wanted to throw up; bile was threatening to crawl up your throat. You told Joel a big part of you, and all he had to say was that you wouldn’t say anything to Sarah.

“Can you just take me home, please?”

Joel said nothing; he just started his truck and drove out of the dorm parking lot.

—

After what felt like an eternity of driving in silence with Joel, he stopped the truck in front of your house; you felt comfort once again as you saw the front door of your home.

You were blinking a few times before looking at Joel and nodding before you attempted to grab the handle and open the door. Joel made you turn around — grabbing you by the neck and forcing your lips to crash against his in a hungry and less passionate kiss.

It was what felt like Joel would deem absolutely necessary.

Backing your heads away from each other, you see darkness in Joel’s eyes as you see your reflection; the man you once knew was gone, and that was terrifying.

“Thanks, Joel,” Was all you said as you walked out of his truck.

Walking towards your door, you don't hear Joel’s engine drive off into the night; it was still — you knew Joel was watching you — waiting for you to get inside your house.

Quickly slithering inside your house, you lean on the front door as you hear Joel’s truck drive off down the street. You opened the door and saw his vehicle was gone; a sigh of relief escaped your lips, and then you felt bile rise to your throat again, and you were leaning your stomach over the railing of your stairs, spilling the contents of your stomach onto the dirt below.

A coughing fit ensured you knew would wake a neighbor or your parents away but you didn't care, you just wanted your stomach to feel clean of any feelings of disgust.

“Dang it,” You breathed, standing up and wiping your mouth with your jacket sleeve.

“I opened up a giant can of worms. Gosh, I’m not ready for this.”

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