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𝕊𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕌𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 ~ 𝟙/?

Stalker Fic (original work)

Rating: 18+ Pairing: Female Reader x Male Yandere Synopsis/Excerpt:   It felt like someone was looking at you. A predator looking at a fawn. Waiting for the right moment to sink its powerful jaws into its frail neck, and tear it apart. WARNINGS/TAGS: Dark fic, rape/noncon elements, extremely dubious consent, stalking, yandere, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, masturbation, captivity, non-consensual bondage, dacryphilia, forced breeding, forced orgasm, vaginal sex, fuck or die, tags will grow as this story progresses. ⚠️READ THE TAGS: Please be aware this work contains content that the reader may feel uncomfortable with or otherwise triggered by. DO NOT READ if bothered by tags . NO minors. ⚠️

A/N: Wooo! so I finally decided to make story for this post I made awhile back (a thousand thank you's to everyone who liked and commented <3 ). Please read up on the tags, so you know what to expect in the coming chapters. Happy reading!

-Dividers by @adornedwithlight-

It was raining outside, the distant thunder and pitter patter of raindrops hitting the window creating a lullaby that was lulling you to sleep. Combined with the soft rumbling of the bus, you could feel your body’s desperate need for rest after a grueling shift at work. 

Familiar streets and roads were tracked by your eyes, the expected relief of almost getting home brightening up your mood despite the gloomy weather. You estimated that you'll reach your destination in less than half an hour, rummaging through your purse to take out your phone to set up a timer in case sleep overtakes you and you miss your stop. 

Pressing the lever of your seat to recline, you got comfortable and laid your cardigan over your chest, finally giving in to the urge of closing your eyes. Seconds ticked by and all you could think about was how you couldn't wait to be in the comfort of the soft bedding on your mattress. Your muscles were practically begging for relief and you had enough pillows and blankets waiting for you back home to alleviate this problem. 

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes that passed– your mind completely disassociating from reality while you snoozed– when your peace was shattered. A shiver of unease ran through you, waking up your consciousness abruptly and causing you to jolt awake. 

The same feeling that’s been haunting you for weeks now was back.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood and your heart rate picked up.

It hadn’t always been like this. You could still remember a time when you climbed inside the vehicle without your gut twisting anxiously. At first, you chalked it up to it being caused by some low level of anxiety you were experiencing or lack of restful sleep. Something that could be easily remedied by swallowing a pill stashed inside a drawer back home.

However, as of late, a feeling of wariness and fear seemed to consume you, your fight or flight response triggered whenever you climbed up the stairs of the bus, each step weighing heavy on your legs as you went to take your seat.

It felt like someone was looking at you. 

A predator looking at a fawn.

Waiting for the right moment to sink its powerful jaws into its frail neck, and tear it apart.

The paranoia getting to you, you turned your head to the right, swallowing down your nervousness as you tried to find the source of your panic. 

There was a man seated in the opposite seats across from you. His stretched out and bulky frame took up much of the space, the black cap on his head and the mask he wore obscuring his features and giving him a mysterious vibe. The turtleneck shirt clung to him, emphasizing the broad muscles of his upper body even in his relaxed state. His back was to the window, his left leg bent in a careless fashion along both seats, facing you directly as he was browsing through his phone. 

At least, you thought that's what he was doing. You didn't want to believe that the man was taking unwanted pictures or videos of you while you slept. 

You didn't realize you were staring for too long, the stranger’s attention shifting away from his phone when he could feel your gaze, freezing you in place as your eyes connected with those dark depths. For some reason, you couldn’t look away, too afraid to blink as a chill took over you from being under the perusal of those piercing eyes. There was something wrong, you just couldn’t explain it. He tilted his head to the side, regarding your stunned state for a moment before his eyes crinkled with amusement. He waved good naturedly at you, a normal gesture of greeting that you would've returned if not for the twisting of your gut that warned you against doing such a thing. 

When you didn’t return his gesture, the stranger’s eyebrows furrowed in dejection, bringing his hand down to lay against his lap almost disappointedly. 

A good few seconds passed with both unwilling to look away from each other. 

Your eyes, firm and guarded while his were inquisitive and curious.

As if finally sensing your unease, the stranger backed off by turning to sit properly in his seat and shifting his focus back to his phone. 

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, you grabbed your purse and whipped out your phone, your shaky hands nearly dropping it when you first grabbed it. Turning the screen on, you realized you had taken a ten minute nap with seconds to spare from your alarm ringing. You were mere minutes away from arriving at your stop.

Taking a quick glance at the stranger once more, you tried to rid your paranoid thoughts that he was the reason for your being on edge these past few weeks. It couldn’t be, you tried reasoning to yourself. If anything, you were in the wrong for staring at him funny when you’ve never seen him before. Maybe this was his first ride on the bus and you made his experience weird because you kept looking at him as if accusing him of something heinous. Maybe he was just trying to be friendly and not spook you when you caught each other’s eye by accident. Maybe your groggy mind was making things up about a complete stranger. 

Could the stress of work and your responsibilities piling up for the past few months be messing with your awareness? There was nothing special about you. You weren’t an important person. There was nothing, no gifted ability or priviledge, that separated you from the throngs of people you saw every day while heading to work. Why would someone want you with your bleak existence and no future aspirations?

Your anxiousness and worry slowly left you when you drew those conclusions about yourself, replaced with self pity as you realized you really had nothing going for your life. The somber expression staring back at you through your phone’s black screen only dimming your mood further. 

It was a while before the bus slowed to a stop, the driver’s familiar voice announcing your destination and making you stand to walk to the front. Not paying attention to your footing, you tripped over your own feet and felt gravity pull you under. A small yip tumbled out of your lips, feeling pain on your left elbow from the hard impact on the floor. Your purse went flying in a comical fashion, your disoriented mind not sure in which direction it landed or if anything fell out of it. 

Embarrassment quickly flooded you, feeling the eyes of other passengers stare at you and hearing a few snickers amongst them. Wincing from the blossoming pain in your arm, you had barely braced your hands on the floor ready to stand up, when you felt warm hands encircle your waist.

“Here,” a deep voice whispered against your ear. “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

You were lifted from the floor easily, your weight meaning nothing to the man as he held you gently until you got your bearings straight. You looked up at him, having to crane your neck upwards due to his tall height and seeing it was the masked stranger.

“I, uhm.. Thank you,” you stuttered over your words, a flush of heat blooming in your face at his proximity. You wanted to kick yourself for how high pitched your voice sounded, unable to maintain eye contact with him when he gazed so intently back at you. If you dared to say, it felt like he was trying to memorize every small detail about your face– birthmarks, the slope of your nose, shape of your lips, the emotion in your eyes. Realizing that you still held on to his arms wrapped around your waist, you nervously laughed before going to break yourself away from the intimate embrace. 

“I’m okay now, you can let go,” you assured him, the fake smile plastered on your face concealing your tense disposition from his closeness. 

You chose to ignore the way his fingers dug momentarily into your waist, gripping you a little too tight to be normal before he loosened his grasp, allowing you to generate a more respectable distance between you and him. Seeing your startled reaction to his handling of you, the stranger immediately apologized for his actions.

“You’ll have to forgive me for my forwardness.” He told you, imploring you with his eyes that he meant no harm. He bent down to pick up something on the floor, his other hand holding up the strap of your purse for you to take it. “I only wanted to make sure you wouldn’t trip over yourself again.”

“Oh! I-It’s ok really, I-,” your words were interrupted by the harsh voice of the driver telling you to hurry to the front if you planned to get out. You quickly snatched your purse back, ignoring the little jolt of electricity that zipped through you when you grazed his fingers. “Um, I have to go but thank you, again! Bye!” 

You turned to walk briskly down the steps of the bus, thanking the bus driver for his patience and stepping out into the familiar streets of your neighborhood. Luckily for you, the rain had slowed to a soft drizzle, an umbrella not needed for the small trek you took to arrive at the apartment where you’ve been renting for the past year. 

Locking the door behind you, you sighed audibly before throwing your purse at the chair nearest you. You walked over to your room, kicking off your shoes to land haphazardly along the floor because you were too tired to bother putting them away. Removing your damp clothing, you grabbed a towel and some night clothes to head to the shower.

Relaxing under the spray of lukewarm water, you found your mind straying to the stranger in the bus. 

Who was he? 

You weren’t lying that you had never seen him before. A man of his formidable size would have been easy to spot, sticking out from the rest of the passengers like a sore thumb. He was dressed peculiarly too, his attire giving off the impression that he values secrecy and privacy. And his voice! Goodness, you could feel yourself nearly melt remembering the richness of it. The way he held you like a dainty object didn’t escape your notice either, your cheeks aflame at how good his hands felt around your waist. The feminine thrill that his presence ignited was hard to subdue, unbidden thoughts of his hands squeezing and trailing over your naked body filling your mind.

Would his hands be soft and gentle? Or would they be strong and rough? 

As if your hands had a mind of their own, they moved up your body to cup your breasts making you gasp at the contact. You looked down at your chest, seeing the peaks of your nipples hardening under your soft touch. You tried envisioning his hands squeezing the doughy flesh, your head tilting to one side as you wondered if he'd be satisfied with your size. Small moans escaped you as you continued to fondle yourself, closing your eyes and imagining him whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he teased your breasts. You were sure he’d trail a line of kisses down your neck, pressing his naked front against you so you could feel his excitement poking at the small of your back. A sudden hard pinch to your nipple brought you out of your fantasy, the thought of his cock causing your fingers to twist the sensitive tip excitedly. 

You shook your head under the shower, trying to calm your racing thoughts before they got more explicit. 

To think such things about a man you hardly knew wasn’t good. What if you see him again tomorrow? Could you bear to look at him knowing where your thoughts were straying at this moment? 

You winced, memories of the loaded eye contact you threw his way making you want to smack yourself. Maybe you should apologize next time you see him. To prove to him that you weren’t a crazy lady that regularly gave the stink eye to neighboring passengers. Explain that your stress was getting to you. Perhaps be the first to wave at him next time to show there was no animosity between you. Maybe something could develop once you introduced each other, a giddy little voice tickled your ears.

Once you were done showering and drying your hair, you went back to the living room for your purse. You had placed your phone inside so the rain couldn’t wet it. You needed to wake up at a good time tomorrow to get ready for work so setting up an alarm was crucial. When you grabbed your purse, you noticed it felt lighter and looked down to see it was unzipped and wide open. 

Oh No. There’s no way…

You dug your hand inside, hoping to feel the familiar mass of your phone only to come out empty handed. Then you remembered your fall from earlier.

“Damn it, it must have fallen off when I fell,” you cursed under your breath, gnawing on your fingernail in worry for a minute before sighing tiredly. You needed to sleep and staying up late thinking about your lost phone was not going to help. You’d have to wait until tomorrow morning to ask the driver if anything was found.

Turning off all the lights in your place, you finally headed to bed, a yawn leaving your mouth as you placed a knee in your mattress. Under the covers of your blanket, you tried clearing up your mind so you could sleep quickly. A sudden image of the masked stranger flashed through your head, your growing curiosity of him affecting you even in your most tired state.

Right before you slept, a nagging at the back of your mind told you to be wary of him.

~

A man lay on his bed alone, hair plastered to his forehead as he breathed harshly. His shirt was raised to his waist, exposing his naked pelvis and muscled thighs as he pumped his rigid dick at a furious tempo. 

His choked groans and huffs were muffled by his mask, the man tilting his head back on his pillows to bask in the pleasurable sensations of his hand firmly stroking his length. Perspiration ran down every inch of him, the sweat dampening his bed and making him grunt at how his sheets clung to his heated skin. He slid his hand down his shaft– tightening his grip when he got to the base– hissing when it caused his cock to twitch before sliding it up once more to tease his cockhead and repeat the process. The squelch of the lubricant coating his dick was a decadent symphony next to his pleasured grunts, the aggressive handling of his pleasure nearly causing him to erupt as he continued to fuck his fist. 

He was nearly there, half lidded eyes eyeing the drop of precum threatening to slide down his shaft and mix with the lubricant. 

No, he didn’t want to cum so soon. Not without the image of the pretty bird he’d been stalking for the past month etched in his brain. God, she was so beautiful. Never had he seen a more perfect woman than you. His hands tightened remembering how soft and demure you were when he picked you up. The slight tremble in your body and your skittish behavior making him want to devour you where you stood. 

Biting his lip, he slowed his pace and closed his eyes in concentration, conjuring up an image that would help to reach his climax.

In his mind, it was no longer his hand wrapped around his dick. 

Instead, smaller hands were slowly stroking him in an almost reverent manner, seeming to worship every protruding vein and jerk of his member. A small gasp escaped you when cum drizzled out of his tip, smearing your fingers with the warm liquid to combine with the lube drenching his dick. He could feel the stickiness of it running down his thighs and balls, causing him to shudder at the sensation. 

He could see you biting your lip anxiously, staring at him with those expressive eyes of yours waiting for his instruction. Unable to resist, he'd grab your hair and yank you his throbbing cock, your flushed face gasping at the heat emitting from his rod of meat pressed against your cheek. He hoped you were a smart girl, knowing what he desired from you as he slapped his dick on your lips. 

He'd stare you down, arching an eyebrow as he waited for you to open that sweet mouth of yours. He knew he wasn't a small man–his girth was enough to intimidate even his most experienced past partners– but he was sure he could teach you how to swallow him down like a good girl.

You'd hesitate for too long, testing his patience. He’d need to be firm with you then. He'd pinch your nose between his fingers, blocking your airways and driving you to open your mouth to take a breath. It was all he needed to shove half of his cock inside your heated orifice. A guttural groan would echo in his room, the warmth of the hot cavern of your mouth and wiggling tongue on the underside of his dick making him see white for a second.

He could picture your muffled whimpering, your hands bracing against his thighs to pull away. He'd lift his upper body to get a better grip on your head, not allowing you to escape and forcing more of his dick down your throat. He'd praise you for being so good and lovely for him. Telling you to relax your throat, to make it easier for you. Before long, you'd obey his commands and start bobbing your head slowly to adjust to the fullness in your mouth. 

He'd allow you to work at your own pace, content with seeing your tear ridden face for a few minutes more before taking over when you were going too slow for his liking. Your eyes would widen with alarm when he thrusted his hips up, a gargled whine vibrating through his manhood from the fierce jab in your throat. He’d repeat the same action again, a pleased groan rumbling out of him at the feel of your mouth struggling to accommodate him. From there on, he'd use you like a fleshlight, gripping your hair tightly to pull your face down to every one of his savage thrusts. Spittle and cum would rain down your jaw, messing your appearance as you gagged and moaned around the dick hammering your throat. 

It was the fantasy of seeing you look up at him, eyes pinched with distress and tears streaming down your heated and sweaty face, that made him finally snap.

His hips jerked up in his hand, his body vibrating violently just as his cock shot out endless ropes of cum in the air. He grunted with each twitch of his pelvis, feeling the warm liquid pooling in the crevices of his contracting abs and staining his shirt. His chest heaved with exertion, the stranger breathing heavily as a result of cumming from his heightened lust. His mask hid his delirious smile, the stranger chuckling to himself at the euphoria he felt and the mess he created.

Only you could make him cum so strongly to drive him to lose himself.

Minutes passed until he was able to get his breathing under control, begrudgingly getting out of his bed to clean himself up. 

Something about you had him hooked. What started off as a fleeting crush morphed into a distorted and unhealthy obsession, the stranger falling deeper in love with you every passing day, as well as the urge to take you growing exponentially worse. .

He longed to know what it felt like to have you in his arms, the thought keeping him up often at night.

Luckily for him, his wish finally came true tonight, remembering the softness of your body in his hands. You were a small little thing compared to him, barely reaching his chest. It wouldn't take much to overpower you, the statement giving rise to depraved thoughts of your squirming body underneath him, naked and helpless under his ardent touch. It took everything in him not to pull you closer, wanting to feel your delicious shape against his frame as the fantasy played in his head. He hated his mask at that moment, realizing he could've caught a whiff of your scent too if he wasn't keen on hiding his identity. 

The stranger's eyes furrowed in displeasure at this, angry at himself for missing an opportunity to know you more intimately. Turning off the sink, he didn't bother to dry his hands when he ripped his mask off and flung it in the trash. 

In a foul mood, he exited his bathroom and marched towards his study. It was already past midnight but there was something important he had to do before he slept.

Entering the room, he didn't bother to close the door and sat down, sliding the chair closer to his desk to get to work. He was inputting his PC’s password when he glanced at the rectangular object next to him.

It was your phone. 

He inspected it, taking note of your phone cover and thinking it suited someone like you. He pressed the on button, seeing your phone screen light up and ask for the passcode to access it. He typed in a few guesses and not to his surprise, none worked. 

No worries. This would only be a momentary issue. Nothing that he couldn't crack open once he plugged your device to his computer. Sure enough, within a few moments, all your browsing history and personal information was revealed to him. His eyes traveled greedily over all your files, desperate to know who you were and what you liked.

His impatience to claim you was nearing a tipping point. He already had a small taste of you and it was not enough. HIs hands clenched into fists. He wanted more. Desired to thoroughly possess you and infect you with his love. 

One way or another, you were going to be his.

He would make sure of it.

So I've been thinking about an au where the 141 are basically the only cops/law enforcement in a small town. And reader has just moved in, and for one reason or another, somehow manages to capture the attention of soap. He tries to flirt but she's not interested, and every time she turns him down, she'd suddenly slapped with a ticket. (It's not that he isn't handsome, bc he certainly is... it's just that he kinda gives off manic vibes...)

Completely illegal and immoral, reader goes to the station to complain to his captain about his obsessive behavior, but his captain is kinda like "boys will be boys, if you were a little nicer to him, this wouldn't have happened in the first place" type shit (bc price is also bullying flirting with a different harassed shy school teacher).

Soon after meeting with price and "tattling" on soap, you start to notice his lumbering, stoic coworker trailing you everywhere. He nearly gives you a heart attack when he catches up to you one night and demands you "play noice wiv jawny" bc he's been moping around their flat "like a roight twat" and he's sick and tired of his whining. (Ghost kinda wants you to kick up a fuss bc he's been itching to use policy brutality to wrangle you into his trunk, so he's a little disappointed when you just stare up at him wide-eyed with your purse between you like a makeshift shield.)

After weeks of this stalking and harassment, you happen upon another officer helping an old lady across the street. He's a new face you haven't seen (he's just been off training new recruits the next town over), so you rush to him and explain the situation. He looks so gentle and kind, so it's a complete whiplash when he says "ah yeah, the fellas told me about soap's new girl, nice to finally meet you!" As you stand there gobsmacked, he tuts softly and his gentle gaze turns a touch sharper. "You know, I bet cap would be willing to forget all those tickets, if you just went on a date with his sargent. Whaddya say, one little date couldn't hurt?" (Gaz is trying to usher you off bc he's so eager to get back home and watch the live feed from the cameras he installed in his victim's girlfriend's house from the next town over.)

that's so disgusting cuz i had been thinking of one mr. 141 cop who just keeps pulling you over and how many times must it take for you to realize it's not mere coincidence??? he's willing to listen to any suggestion you might have to take off those tickets and whenever you need the body cam off just let him know.

military issued wife but you didn't know that using the "dating app" your friend brought up once in idle talk would end with you in an office with a (signed) marriage license on the desk, actively not looking at your 'husband', the burly lummox with a skull mask who's dwarfing the chair he can barely fit in.

you'd thought it'd be like tinder. a potential dating site. as in messaging on the app, getting to know each other, exchanging personal numbers before going on a date. not marriage. not opening your front door expecting it to be your door dasher and instead it's him with a rucksack in one hand and duffel in the other.

he'd looked down his thick nose at you, grunted a quiet, "not bad", and pushed past as if you were a swinging door to a saloon. what the fuck had he been doing there? you'd only spoken a couple of times with him and left on read for the some of it. you'd chosen to move on, try to match with someone else but the app had stopped working (you couldn't swipe right or left anymore) so you'd just put it on the back burner. you had better things to worry about than another disappointment of a man then.

except now said disappointment of a overly large man is taking up most of the couch and his legs aren't even all that far apart. and he's at your house. the house you'd never sent him the address to. as a matter of fact, you'd received a text from an unknown number earlier that had said someone would be home in a few. you'd ignored it thinking it was a wrong number situation but now you're sure it was him. how he got your phone number is also a mystery.

you'd tried to argue. to threaten him with the cops. to get him out and away, far fucking away, but he'd only scooped you up and let you pelt his broad back with your fists. chuckled low in his throat while he smacked your arse to keep still. "i'd hate to drop m'wife."

whatever fight you had he ate right out of you with the heels of your feet digging into the large curve of his shoulders and his hands curled around the back of your thighs. maybe it's because it'd been a while but he'd played your body like an instrument and had you bucking your hips against his tongue, slick coating his face in minutes. (your cheeks burn furiously hot when you think back on what he'd said then. "tight little thing 'nd you've only taken my two fingers." it's flattering, sue you.)

he'd lapped at your sodden cunt until you had overstimulation clumping your lashes together, inner thighs tender from the bristles of his shorn hair and unshaven jaw, your palm on the crown of his head having both pulled him to you and pushed him away.

and then he'd wiped your release with the back of his hand, thumbed the swollen flesh of your bottom lip and rumbled that it's time for bed.

which eventually led to you being here. in front of a man he calls Price, a marriage certificate unlike any you've ever glanced upon, a large gloved hand curled snugly around your leg, fingers grazing a little too close to where he'd left aching and swollen just yesterday.

you're reading the terms and conditions of anything from here on forward. even the fine print.

and then soap comes around and plants a seed in his head of him planting a seed in you :/ at least you can tell your nosy ass aunt that at least you've got a man while she's on her 4th divorce on thanksgiving 💅🏼

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

Aemond Targaryen

♡ TW: arranged marriage, implied incest, HOTD in general

♡ fem reader

Aemond took Vhagar, and you took his eye for it. It became the day your family tore down the middle. Your mother, heir to the throne, retreated with all of you back to Dragonstone, where you’d been hiding for a longer time—once again leaving Kingslanding in the hands of its dying King and the surrounding Greens.

You think it’s all the same, really—you’d rather stay away from that place anyway. Of course, you regret having taken your uncle’s eye. It was, after all, not even your fight—nor was it very ladylike. But you can blame your mother for that. She never taught you temperance—or any manners at all, for that sake. Still, blinding one’s own family isn’t right. And yet, it’s a sin you learn to live with over the years spent removed from its victim.

On Dragonstone, you’re free—on dragonback, for the most part. You’d long left the matters of the court to your brothers. Jace was the one who’d be King after your mother, while Luke would be Lord of Driftmark, and you’d stay here—on Dragonstone. By yourself and to yourself. You’d still have to marry, of course, there’s no way around it—but like your mother, you’d get to choose for yourself. That much, you have no doubt.

If you could, you’d always stay on Dragonstone, isolated from anywhere else, but it seems, once again, Kingslanding calls for your return. The King has taken a turn for the worse, and with it, your mother has grown wary of her claim. And so, the heir to the throne and her family along with her were all to voyage home.

You sigh as you look at the approaching castle. It’s not how you remember it, but whether it’s uglier or smaller or something else entirely isn’t clear to you as you watch from the ship. When all this bickering and uncertainty would end, you couldn't know but hoped it would be soon so that you could return swiftly. In a way and in a thought you would never voice out loud, the King’s death would bring about a much-needed calm in your family. Your mother would take the throne as is her birthright, and all else would be put to rest.

Oddly, no one came to welcome you when you arrived. Even your red Targaryen banners had turned green in your absence, as if the groundskeepers had neglected their duties and let the weeds grow as they pleased. No doubt, it would be yet another troubling topic over dinner.

But not one you’d bother yourself with. You make your way to refamiliarize yourself with the grounds instead—walking down a hundred turning memory lanes in the castle as if trying to find the center of a maze. You remember why you left this place—barren halls, all filled with nothing but the whispers of your hair color not being silver. Such things didn’t reach across the waters—they couldn’t touch you back on Dragonstone. Being back doesn’t feel much like a homecoming at all—more like a return to something foreign—even though that makes little sense.

You tell your assigned kingsguard to escort you to your chambers, but on the way, you hear the chimes of something more compelling. And following it, you find yourself on the balcony of the training arena.

And oh—you hardly recognize him. Tall and lean, all riddled with taut muscles he’s sharpened like the blade held in his grip. His hair is neatly combed, long, and perfectly silver like moonlight off a lake. The only thing disrupting it is the black leather patch covering his eye. And while you watch him swing his sword all so mercilessly but with a certain grace you’ve never before seen, you can't help but imagine you're the straw doll he's practicing on.

His eye meets yours without warning. One moment, he’s focused on his training and the next, he’s zeroed in on you.

You can’t help but flinch, skirting back as if the railing had suddenly burnt you. And then, well, shamefully, you very nearly ran away—skittering back into the maze as though wanting to find someplace to hide.

You want to return to Dragonstone. More than a yearning now, it’s almost a must. You’re nearly fetching your dragon from the pit to leave immediately, but you know that wouldn’t be proper. Your mother would be upset with you, and you’re not one to disappoint her. She has enough worries as is. You wouldn't make yourself one of them. And so you stay.

Your maids bathe you and then help you get dressed. And then you join the rest of your family for supper—dreading the presence you’d felt earlier, knowing he’d be there as well.

You keep your gaze fixed on your meal, and yet you can feel his one-eyed stare from across the dinner table. Neither of you looks anywhere else. And neither of you speak.

Aegon says many things—none of which you hear—though, possibly slights about your origin. It seems he and your brothers are arguing. But it’s nothing new. The King, your grandfather, the poor old man, shares words of family and love to defuse the tension once and for all. But you can’t agree—not when the one-eyed glare feels to lash out at you like the fire of an untamed dragon.

The Queen, of all people, salutes your mother. It seems genuine enough. And still, you don’t feel her sons share in her show of respect.

Jace rises and offers Helena to dance—ever the dutiful son. Luke follows in his lead and offers the same to Rhaena. And then, much to the twist of your own empty stomach—your plate of food untouched—Aegon also rises and takes a drunken step in your direction.

Still, he’s the lesser of two evils around the table. But shortly after taking his second step, he’s beaten to the punch by said greater evil. His hand reaches out, yet you don’t dare acknowledge the offer. Coated in goosebumps, you feel frozen.

“Didn’t you hear the King, dear niece?” he speaks—lowly in a hush. “The family feud has been resolved now. We ought to usher in its newfound peace while it lasts. You and I more than anyone. Take my hand and let us dance atop grievances, dead and buried.”

You recognize the threat in his words. To deny him would mean rejecting said peace. And so, with a deep exhale, you lay your hand in his death grip and follow him to the floor. And now you really feel no different from that battered straw doll in the arena.

“You’ve grown up rather beautifully since last we saw each other,” he says.

You know you ought to utter a thank you, but no words dare escape the choke of your throat as he positions an all but crippling paw on your waist—the other in the air pressed flatly against your own.

“I, on the other hand, am too hideous to look at, it seems,” he adds when you don’t answer. Voice lowering even more so into a brisk whisper that no one but you would be able to hear, “Won’t you face me, dear niece? And gaze upon the atrocity you dealt when we were children.”

Finally, you pick your head up. “I—” You falter just as quickly—his smile catches you completely off guard. Still, your eyes go to the scar escaping his patched eye—deep and unforgiving where you’d ruthlessly slashed your knife. You swallow thickly. “You have my deepest regrets, uncle. There hasn’t been a day I haven’t asked the Gods for forgiveness.”

To that, he laughs. “There’s no need. I long forgave you.”

There’s an utterly misplaced joy in his eyes you’ve never before seen. And you’re left wondering if he’s really the same Aemond you remember.

“Not a blade has struck me since,” he says, simpering. “In a way, I ought to thank you for it. It seems it’s given me luck.”

He doesn’t seem grateful, despite his words. Yet, he doesn’t sound spiteful, either. You don’t know what to make of it. If anything, he seems satisfied with something.

“Anyway, it’s not right for a man to bear ill will towards his wife.”

Your brows furrow. And a creeping chill befalls you. Certainly, you heard him wrong, or he misspoke, or you’ve misunderstood something somehow.

“Oh? They haven’t told you?” he asks—his lips curling further at the corners. “Oh, dear niece—why do you think you’re here? Just visiting?” he snickers.

You still don’t understand. Or maybe it’s that you refuse to. Looking at him desperately in wait for him to stop laughing and explain the joke, even if it’s on you.

“The King spoke of peace, but peace, as you must know, isn’t brought about without payment.”

You remain silent. Still waiting to have your doubts eased.

“Oh, do I have to spell it out for you?”

Despite his sigh, he doesn’t look any ounce worth of exasperated—no, rather amused.

“You’re unwed. As am I,” he finally clarifies, and yet it does nothing to dispel your troubled head. “Marriage has always been the Targaryen way. I’m surprised you didn’t know,” he continues unbothered, a certain nideness to his tone, “But then again, you and your kin aren’t very Targaryen at all, are you?”

You don’t humor the insult. After all, you were way more concerned with what he’d said about marriage.

“Don’t worry. It’s not what matters. Not to me, at least,” he says. “I, for one, welcome our union.”

Your feet follow his lead as he dances with you in the palm of his hand.

“It’s rather poetic, isn’t it?” he smiles again. “You took my eye. And so, dear niece, I shall take your hand and everything attached to it.”

of fucking course simon riley has your location on. he needs to make sure you're safe. likes to keeps tabs on you. he says he’s completely normal about it, but that is a lie--he obsessively checks it.

and he knows all your common locations: your apartment, your friend’s place, the grocery store, the target you like to go to. so when he sees you at a random address one evening, your little marker on the map not moving,--meaning you’re not just driving past--he raises a brow. he immediately texts you. and when you don’t respond, he’s calling you.

and when you don’t answer… he’s in his truck faster than he thought he could move, beelining it straight for your mysterious location.

and when he pulls up in front of someone’s house, watching as you walk out the front door, laughing at something the man trailing you says, he’s furious. he was worried you might have been hurt. in a sticky situation. but cheating on him didn’t even cross his mind.

he storms out of the truck and you look at him with a gasp. “simon? what’re you doing—?”

“who the fuck is that?” he demands, gesturing to the guy behind you.

“simon…” you say exasperated. “i told you yesterday I was meeting up with friends to plan her bachelorette party.”

his eyes soften slightly, but he’s still reaching for you, hands wrapping around your arms. “doesn’t answer my question.”

“this is her childhood friend.” he glares over your shoulder at him, like he doesn’t believe you. like he wants to kill him. “her gay childhood friend.” you add, hands on your hips, a little annoyed he’d embarrass you like this.

when he hauls you into his truck, he takes a few beats before he apologizes. “m’sorry, love. you weren’t answering your phone and when i saw you at some random—“ he stops mid-sentence as he glances over at you in the passenger seat, expecting you to be glaring at him, ready to tear him a new one. but much to his surprise, you’re taking your shirt off.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, his hands tightening on the wheel to stop from reaching over and touching you.

“that was the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” you whisper, a little embarrassed to admit it. but protective simon? the simon who was ready to beat a guy up just for making you laugh? yeah, that turned you on even if it shouldn’t.

he’s thankful it’s nighttime so no one driving past can see you topless in his truck. he’s also thankful the roads are rather empty this late on a weekday.

“wait till we get home, yeah?” he asks, his voice strained.

you shake your head. “simon, please,” you whine. “i can’t wait.”

he groans in his throat, knowing your place is only 5 more minutes away. he’s already hardening in his pants, and he’s tempted to pull over and drag you into the back seat. but he doesn’t. instead, he reaches his large hand and slides it over your thigh, his eyes on the road as he pushes your skirt up. and you bite your lip, holding back a moan as he rubs you over your underwear. “so fuckin’ wet,” he says astonished.

you buck your hips up and he almost laughs. you weren’t kidding, you really couldn’t wait. he slips his fingers past your panties and dips them into your heat and you grab the door of the car for support, shutting your eyes. he starts a steady pace, his fingers making obscene sounds as they fuck you. you groan and mewl and simon worries he might not make it home either.

it takes you just about a minute to climax, your heat pulsing rapidly around his two fingers, earning a growl from simon. “fuckin’ hell, love,” he breathes, amazed at how fast and hard you came. loving that it was all because of him.

he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex and he’s storming around to your side, trying to get you to put your shirt back on, desperate to get you inside. he hauls you over his shoulder, his hand resting on your skirt so no one accidentally gets a free show. “naughtily little thing,” he hums to himself. “can't wait to properly punish you.”

cod masterlist

being simon's riley barracks bunny, belonging only to your lieutenant, mean bastard to everyone, but not you, he can't treat the docile sweetheart that warms his bed poorly, not after he turned you from a proper soldier to just his personal, cum dump.

you naively believe that not a single soul knows about your unstable relationships, that you wear sucked kisses and bite marks on your skin under layers of clothes, speckling your skin from the curve of your neck and down from between your thighs, not to even talk about the leaking, creamy mess in your cotton panties.

but everyone knows, memorized your moans by the way they turn pitchy when simon spreads your dangling legs and presses your knees on either side of your head, dark irises of his eyes blown with pooling hunger, every snap of his wide hips makes the fat girth of his twitching cock slide in your tight pussy with obscene squelch, stretching your snug, pulsing gummy walls.

they know how you sound when he get's particularly rough, fucking into your from behind, headboard of the bed rattling against the wall with each sobbing whimper of yours, babbling mindlessly for simon to not stop, that you feel his cock so deep, and he growls like a beast, chest rumbling behind your dewy, arched back, as his calloused hands palm at the globs of your ass.

simon makes sure every noise is heard, the rapid, ringing slaps that sting on your skin, the way he pants a sultry commands for you to obey for, each of them emphasized by your sweet, syrupy whine, gasping slurred “yes, sir„ that only spur him on, until your brain doesn't turn in complete mush, eyes glassy as you sob with each jab of his bulbous, leaking tip against your spongy spot.

no one ever brings up your relationship without looking at the fact that simon never hides it, dragging you with him like an adorable pet, holding you on his lap, or sending you away in a loud enough whisper to warm his bed in his chambers before he arrives, and when anyone sees your absolutely nude picture on his cracked, phone home screen, they don't open their mouth.

main masterlist. quidelines.

Yandere Jealous Alien x Fem Chubby Wife Reader

Photo by: Norma Mares on Pinterest

CW: Pussy Slapping, Very Possessives Alien Boy, Cockwarming, Orgasm control/denial, tell me if I should add anymore in the comments?

“You left our cottage little one and you were talking to that man. I’m very disappointed in you.” Your husband as he pinned you down onto the bed. Questions swirled in your head as you looked into eyes and his lips which had a frown on it. “Is he jealous?” You thought to yourself. Before you could answer you felt him start to undo your pants. “Looks like I’ll remind MY wife who she belongs to..” He said while he pulled your pants down to reveal your plump soft tummy and the slight damp spot in your panties. “Hmm, you're already wet for me.. Naughty girl.” He teased you as his thumb gliding over your clothed clitoris. The action made a shiver go up your spine while a soft moan left your lips.

He continued his assault on your sensitive clit until the pleasure started to build up in your body. You were so close until you felt him pull his fingers away. You whined at him as you bucked your hips desperately wanting him to continue. “Ah, ah ah..” He tuts as he wags his finger. “Good girls get to cum first and bad girls get punished before they can cum.” He said with a condescending tone. You were going to protest until he started slapping your pussy. You winced as he continued his action until your pussy was slightly reddened and then he rubbed his finger on your clit again. The sensation of pain and pleasure made your legs quiver. Your fingers found their way to your bed sheets and you gripped it tightly. The pleasure started to build up again. You prayed that he let you cum this time.

He kissed your lips as he removed his fingers from your clit and teased your entrance. You groaned slightly into his mouth. He then pushed two fingers inside of your reddened pussy. You gripped onto him as his long thick fingers stretched you out. He groaned as he felt you clench around his fingers. He slowly started pumping in and out of you. He pulled away from the kiss as he pressed his forehead against yours. “My wife.. My little one.” He whispered possessively. “Yep, he definitely was jealous..” You quietly thought to yourself as you looked into his green eyes. Loud squelching noises and your moans filled the room.

You felt the pleasure start to become too intense as you whimpered his name. “G-Gonna cum” You felt your husband speed up his pace. “Mine Mine Mine Mine..” The words fell from his lips in a possessive manner. You came harshly onto his fingers. He slowly pulled out his fingers and licked them clean. You felt your face heat up from his action and from the smile that now adorned his face.“Love you.. I love my chubby little wife.” He whispered into your ear as he kissed both of your round cheeks. 

“You know what’ll make me really forgive you.” He whispered huskily into your other ear. A soft sigh left your lips as you smiled nervously at him. “What..? What would make you forgive me?” A devious smile appeared onto his face as he started to take off his pants and boxers to reveal his hardened cock. “This” He said as he showed off his boner. Before you could reason with him he grabbed you by your plush hips and slowly pulled down onto his cock. The way his cock stretched you out was way better than his fingers. You started to whimper and he picked up on that and started lovingly rubbing your clit as he continued to push himself inside of you. Once he was fully inside of you he let out a soft groan. His cock made you feel so full he was way better than any of your human partners.

“Want you to keep my cock warm inside of this pretty fat kitty of yours.” He said as his hands slid up your soft tummy to your large breasts. His hands explored your body as if it were made of gold and diamonds. He worships your plump and curvy body with all his being. He loves everything about you and he refuses to lose you to some irrelevant idiot that doesn’t even know how to please you like he could. “You’re my wifey.. Don’t forget that.” He whispered as he kissed your temple. “Y-Yeah.. I won’t promise.” You promised him. He smiled softly at your submission. “Thank you little one..”

Photo by: somethingsoff on Pinterest

sweet!lamb!reader being tricked by mean!wolf!yandere. like a wolf in sheep clothings concept?? the reader just believes anything he says without hesitation.

NSFW

warning: yandere behavior, dubcon, reader is a lamb but she’s an adult hybrid, I’m not good at writing mean characters…

You happily wagged your tail as you followed the wolf out into the woods, away from your flock. He had promised you affection and some sweets that you had never tried before!

Everyone warned you, saying wolf hybrids were bad news… but you were too innocent and kind to understand!! The wolf hybrid was nice, giving you candy and showing you all the best spots to graze!

The wolf had first planned on devouring such a stupid little creature, but he’d grown a bit fond of you. He imagined your fluffy little self could carry his litter quite well, so he lured you away from your flock.

“Can’t you see, you’re such a cute, dumb little thing…”

You whimpered, your fat cunt being knotted by his thick cock as he bit along your soft flesh. “B-but you said I could have sweets…”

Your little eyes welled with tears, your lip wobbling pathetically as his fingers teased your clit.

“Shh… my little dummy, just be quiet and let me fuck your sweet cunt. That’s all you’re useful for isn’t it, being my breeding bitch?”

He groped your heavy tits, squeezing them. “These will fill up with milk soon, my pet… all mine, my little lamb…”

It seemed your future would be filled with lots of pups… but in the end, he did feed you some sweets… but you had to suck his cock to get them first.

So mean…

You were all his now, with nowhere to go. A lamb without its flock was a helpless thing, and he’d do as he pleased with his prey.

——————

YANDERE TAGLIST: @katerinaval @sunset-214 @avalordream @atransmuter @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @sandramalikstyles-blog @anonymouskiwi @pedropascalbabygirl @flamefoxx @facelessfionna

You’re a chubby elf girl that was picked on by the others growing up. You weren’t tall enough, not thin like the others, and you couldn’t even perform proper magic. Maybe you’re half human?

Well, good thing your childhood friend comes rushing in, beating up anyone that dares said a word about his bestie! You had to pull him off a boy before he chewed through one of his pointed ears.

As you both grow up that sense of protection and care he feels for you grows into something more. You’re beautiful, he’s always been head over heels for you, he just didn’t know it yet.

But you’ve become so comfortable and trusting of him he almost feels like you see him as your brother. You even still change in front of him, your cute elf ears wiggling in happiness as you tell him about your day.

It’s hard to take his eyes off of your soft tummy and breasts that have grown so much over the years. God he just wishes you understood how hard you make him every day, how he longs to kiss and touch you…

Poor boy… he’s struggling to practice his magic because all he can think about is his chubby best friend bent over and taking his cock one day <3

pregnant!assistant reader who suddenly finds her boss and his team moving into her home, Price immediately upping the security system and locks around the house

Simon starts on the nursery, letting you sit in the nice big rocking chair you picked out, bossing him around on how you want the walls painted

Kyle and Johnny start working on baby proofing until your house is the safest place a baby could be, and you still had 7 months till they were here

Kyle would be the most willing to go out to the shops when late night cravings hit, it also makes him your favorite for the next 24 hours because “he was sweet enough to go get my pickles!”

“pretty you have two other jars-“

“i wanted SPICY pickles John!”

however these men are total messes when it comes to the hormones, the first time you burst into tears, crying about “simon raising his voice at you”, all he had done was scold you for trying to use the stepladder

I’ve had this art saved in my phone for months now, and I’ve been trying to find it on here so I can reblog it… but no luck!

Art credits go to ilewdha on twitter!

This art is one of my absolute favorites 😍 I love the size differences, the tummy bulge, the horns, the utter closeness and devotion 😵‍💫 And she’s so beautiful… looks exactly how I’d design my character!!

inspired by that sound on tiktok

simon standing at a bus stop in london, he fucking hates this city but sometimes he has business to take care of here. as usual, it’s pissing down with rain and he didn’t bring an umbrella or a hoodie

he’s more bothered about the fact that his cigarette is getting wet and keeps dwindling out. he’s got 5 minutes until the bus gets here and he really doesn’t feel like rolling another one

he’s already agitated and he’s gonna take it out ont he next person who talks to him. or so he thinks, until he feels a light tap on the back of his shoulder. he straightens up and turns with purpose, only to slump in annoyance when he sees you. a pretty thing that he already knows he can’t be a cunt to

there’s normally only one reason someone as sweet as you might approach him and his eyes scan about for any wrongen who might be bothering you but he finds none, just your hand held out with a closed up umbrella wrapped in your palm

“hi… sorry to bother you, I just thought you might want my spare umbrella. I brought it with me by mistake and you look like you need it more than I do…” you smile nervously, clearly off-put by the furrow in his brow and steely look clouding his eyes

he stares at you for a few seconds, unmoving and he thinks you might give up. he sighs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out an old receipt before scribbling something on the back. snatches the umbrella and shoves the piece of paper into your hand

“take this.” he grumbles, not looking at you. he doesn’t need a reminder of your unwavering gaze and welcoming eyes so soon

“anyone gives yeh any bother, call me. I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em for yeh.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to respond before stubbing out his cigarette and getting on his bus which arrived a bit too soon for his liking

price would be strangely possessive over his assistant.

referring to her as things that really aren’t work appropriate at all. “swee’eart,” “dolly,” “sugar.” once, a “baby” slipped through his teeth, but he was switching the subject before she could really catch on.

it’s hard to pinpoint exactly when it was he started tacking “my” in front of his pet names. “my angel,” “my love.”

even when she wasn’t in the room — it was impossible to know he was talking about a colleague with the way he spoke about her. “my woman’s always on my case abou’ shit like that — cholesterol levels, sugar intake. fuckin’ bullshit, but i do it to make ‘er happy.” or “can’t stay long, lads — got my lady waitin’ on me.”

in the summer months, her skirts get a bit shorter and her tops a bit tighter. he doesn’t blame her, the AC is shit and the heat can be suffocating. what does bother him, though, is the way his men ogle her as they stroll past her desk. how they’re coming up with excuses to visit her throughout the day.

it’s an easy enough fix. “why don’t ye come work in my office for the day, lovey?” he’s already collecting her paperwork. “keep an old man company, would ye? i’ve got a nice little fan too, keep ye nice an’ cool.”

though the job came with benefits, perhaps more than an assistant should be getting, price didn’t think it was enough. when her phone started to slow and the screen cracked, he left a new one on her desk. didn’t bother mentioning it came out of his paycheque. if she complains about her outfit — all my good clothes are in the wash — he’ll take her shopping, doesn’t let her worry about the totals. and, hey, if they end up at a lingerie shop, no one has to know, right? he’s just being a good boss. it’s only crossing a few boundaries when he gets her to model it for him in the fitting rooms. when she disappears behind the curtain, john adjusts himself in his slacks — it’s a natural reaction. on that note, it would make too much of a fuss if he were to correct the worker when she asks if his wife needs any help.

when day turns to night and she’s refusing price’s suggestion of hitting another shop, he pulls into a nearby restaurant, insists on treating her to a glass of wine to end the night. finding out she’s a lightweight is a pleasant discovery — two glasses in and her skin is warm to the touch, she’s giggling and hanging onto his every word. he likes her like this, he decides — but it’s not safe to leave her alone. no, she should stay with him tonight. another few sips and she’s agreeing, changing into one of her new lingerie sets and falling into john’s bed, dozing off with his hand splayed over her tummy, beard tickling the back of her neck.

it’s been too long since he’s had a woman in his life. his wires have gotten a bit crossed. you can’t blame him, can you?

Modern day

The Callaghan brothers(yandere farmers)🌾

Intro fic, Weston oc profile, background

Background

So it’s fairly clear that Weston and Lucas are not normal people. Surprise, surprise they’re killers. I wanted to have a little Texas chainsaw massacre slasher vibe but form know if that worked very well.

Basically they lure(or people just end up there by themselves) folk to their farm and kill them. Though there are instances where they let some walk away without a scratch, but that’s only if they’re needed, will definitely be missed and could potentially be traced back there, and haven’t the slightest clue what’s truly going on at the farm. The Callaghan brothers can’t have anyone running their mouth, you know.

Their parents were pieces of shit and only had kids to lessen the work load. The farm belonged to their fathers side of the family. their mother had never planned to marry their father but an unexpected pregnancy and pressure from others made them stay together. The two of them were miserable with each other, always fighting and blaming the other partner. The mother was mostly mad about having to spend the rest of her days on a ‘dirty farm’ and work. The father hated being married to a vile, selfish woman who barely helped with anything. His own parents were old and his siblings had quickly moved far away to prevent having anything to do with the farm, which meant everything landed on him.

It was the mother who began using her son as a helping tool. Tasks like sweeping, feeding the animals, collecting the eggs and cooking simple meals were passed to him. At first, when Weston’s dad found out he was furious. But not because it came at Weston’s expense, no, it was because he saw it as a sign of ultimate laziness.

The earliest memories Weston has is of his parents fighting over him. He remembers when his father would reprimand his mother about using him to do her labour(he wanted her to suffer the same tiring days he does) while she screamed back. But then it stopped and his father would no longer complain. Nearly a year after that his little brother was born, and of course he became the one taking care of him after he didn’t have to nurse anymore.

Lucas followed his older brother everywhere. He was his second shadow when he went around and did his chores. It was fine with weston, he wouldn’t admit it but it became a comfort knowing he was a hero to someone. It made life easier. Unfortunately their parents wanted to put Lucas to work too, the moment they considered him old enough. That wasn’t the worst part though. Their mood soured significantly over the years and they verbally abused them on a daily basis, a couple shoves and blows were hard to avoid. You’d think they’d be happier with the easier load.

Weston would have been able to take it ifd only been him, but seeing his younger sibling being treated as dirt too, that wouldn’t fly. The hatred grew stronger each day. When it had boiled over the edge, the older one had decided on a plan. They would kill their parents. Sadly, they were too young at the moment, there was no way they’d be able to overpower two adults as they currently were. They would have to wait until they were older. And so they did. Years they waited for the right opportunity. The abuse and work never stopped, in fact, the older they got the more take they had to preform. Eventually everything was done by them and nothing was done by their parents. They finally got what they wanted, total freedom from the harsh farm life.

The day Weston told Lucas the plan to kill their parents, he had expected a little pushback from him, but he was surprised when Lucas was totally in on it. One might say he was even excited.

It was really easy to murder them. You just had to corner each one when they were alone and then slice their neck. The kids had far outgrown the adults, they were no match for them anymore.

After their mother and fathers death the brothers took over the farm. Despite all the bad memories they still liked it there. It was rather peaceful(especially when no one criticised you on how to feed the pigs), plus, they didn’t have much of an education beyond reading and writing. Where would they even go? At least on the farm they had food and shelter.

The killing didn’t stop though. It appeared the first murder had awakened something in the both of them. They both had found out they enjoyed it. The power and pleasure in seeing their parents fear stricken faces was too good of a high not to experience again.

Although, they might make one exception to the killing if you’re cute enough~

In the dungeon

yandere!king oc x fem!reader

Summary: after disrespecting him, you've found yourself in his dungeon. Edmund comes to visit you because he has heard that you haven't eaten in three days

Warnings: self starvation, punishment, toxic relationship,

Word count: 1.1k

He doesn't like it, but what choice does he have? If people found out that he doesn't punish his own wife, what would they think of him? That he's not a well respected leader because he can't even punish his own wife? No, he can't have that. He has to do it. But by doing it, he also feels pain, so it's a punishment for both of you. That's how he explained it.

You had disrespected him, belittled him and his masculinity. And now you're here. Easier said than done. Saying the words to him was easier than doing the time for them.

Your head hangs low as footsteps echo down the spiral stone stairs. You don't look up to see who it is, don't care who it is. Another guard to switch swift.

“Oh, my love …”

You look up. Edmund is standing on the other side of the metallic bars, wearing his clean, colorful clothes made out of the finest satin. He places a plate with a silver cloche on the bench beside him. You pull yourself up from the floor slowly, back sore from resting against the stone wall for eternity and stomach empty. Edmund's ice blue eyes follow your every step. It's not often that they contain any type of emotion, but seeing you like this brings out a deep worry that seems to make his eyes glow.

You drag yourself over to the door, which is nothing more than metallic bars. You hold onto one of the cold metal rods. Edmund places his hand over yours.

“The guards have told me that you haven't eaten in three days”, he says softly, as if you could break if he raised his voice even a decibel louder. “You can't do that, Y/N. You can't worry me like this.”

As if he would have eaten that stale bread and drink that moldy water, you think.

“Can I come up now?” you whisper. “I want to get out of here”, you cry weakly. “Edmund, please …”

Edmund shakes his head carefully.

“No, not yet”, he answers with a heavy sigh. “It's going to be okay, darling”, he reassures you softly, kissing the hand he's holding. “Soon, you'll be back with me, okay? Believe me, I want nothing more than to let you back upstairs and have you in my arms, but they would think I was incompetent in my role.”

He wipes one of your tears apologetically.

“Do you care more about your power than you do me?” you whisper.

He looks taken aback, unable to know what to answer.

“Don't be like that”, he says. “You know I love you more than anything else.”

But not enough, apparently, you think and sniffle.

He looks behind you, around the cell.

“I brought some food from the kitchen”, he says. “I want to see you eat it before I leave.”

He gestures for the guard to unlock the door as he bends down to pick up the plate. You back away from the door, finding your safe spot on the floor by the opposite wall. Edmund walks over, checking the floor before hesitantly sitting down.

“Do you have to sit on the dirty floor?” he mumbles dislikingly.

“I like it”, you reply.

“Alright, alright.”

Despite grimacing and dusting of his satin clothes, he makes himself comfortable on the hard, dirty floor and opens the cloche. The smell of boiled potatoes and marinated meat meets your nose, and the sight is even more exquisite. He takes out a silver fork from his pocket, stabs one of the potatoes and holds it to your lips. You open your mouth, letting him feed you. It tastes better than you remember it to. It has only been a week since you got locked down in the dungeon, but without anything to do, without necessities and comfort, the hours creep by. For all you could care, a month could have gone by. The only form of company you've had have been the rats crawling around on the floor, just big enough to squeeze through the metal bars. They bite.

“Tasty?” Edmund asks.

You nod. Anything that the kitchen prepares is delicious — or at least a thousand times better than the rock hard bread and dusty water.

“Good”, the young king says, pleased, feeding you another fork full of meat. “It makes me feel better to see you eat.”

Eating the food he has brought for you reminds you of how badly you want to vet out of here … and how much your comfort relies on Edmund.

Edmund wipes away a sauce smudge on the corner of your lips and sticks it between his lips to lick it off. You doubt he would do that to anyone else. Ever. He has certain liberties with you which he has with no one else. He can hug you, touch you, smile at you, joke with you. You give him life in a way no one can.

“You should see how restless my hours without you are”, he sighs and rolls his eyes. “I'm a walking bomb without you. I almost feel bad for my secretary.”

“Then let me back up …”, you whisper, a last attempt to try to plead with him. “Please.”

“I can't. Not yet. I've already given you special treatment and advantages no one else has gotten. If I let you back upstairs before an appropriate time my authority will be questioned.”

“I'm sorry, Edmund.”

Your voice is barely audible. His hand stops dead in its track on its way to your mouth. A drop of sauce falls down on the floor. You can see that it hit him right in his heart, shattering it.

“Oh, I know”, he reassures you and feeds you the piece of meat. “I know, darling. I believe you.”

You chew slowly, swallow slowly. The food seems to get stuck in your throat.

“Good girl”, Edmund praises. “You can hold out a little while longer, can't you? Just a few more days?”

You nod in defeat. What other choice do you have now that your pleading didn't work?

Edmund stands up. You follow him panicked, quickly reaching out and grabbing his hand.

“No!” you shriek. “Dont leave me. I don't want to be alone!”

“It's getting late”, Edmund answers. “I thought that I would let you get some rest.”

“No … not alone … please. Please stay. Just a little while longer.”

He thinks for a second. “Okay.”

You breathe out in relief. He sits down with his back against the wall, letting you fall asleep against him, wrapped in his warm, strong arms. Leaving him alone with his thoughts — his conflicting, torturing thoughts.

When you wake up the following morning by the sun shining through the little window pane you're alone, lying on the floor, covered by a colorful cape made out of the finest satin.

Prized Beast - True Blood Eric Northman fanfic

!NOTE!: (18+), inspiration from TRUE BLOOD TV Show, Eric Northman x male reader, Male-reader/(Y/N) is replaced with alternative terms.

~~~

Eric couldn’t help it, usually he wasn’t so sentimental or wondrous about sex, but the little beast beneath him was nothing short of beautiful. He couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing the expanse of the muscled back rippling and arching before him, each push and pull earning a new shape and curve to that untouched skin. Colour a gorgeous olive tan, a shade blessed and kissed by the sun, it was warm and familiar- the same kind of skin tone of viking women during the long-summer. It was soft, velvet and youthfully delicate. Stretchy and forgiving to his rougher nature.

Eric groaned lowly, eyes flickering briefly to the back of his head, as he realised his nails had dug through and pierced the boy’s smaller body and drawn a flavour unlike any other. It smelt warm, satly like the sea of his origin, earthy like the sandelwood of forests- but sweet, if only naturally. Like vanilla bean and fruit. Juicy. His Tiger smelt like home. Natural and untampered. Pure and his alone.

Eric moaned obscenely as a hand left the boy’s hip to gift his tongue with the pleasure of tasting the treat he’d stained his own fingers with, cutting his own flesh in the hurry of consuming such an addiction. Fangs in the way, but all of Eric’s self control had left him hours ago, instincts ruled him and his horny bloodlust wouldn’t let him calm.

His beast usually waited until near dawn to arrive, but tonight had been different. Eric had smelt him, heard that rapid animal heart-beat, well before the young man had even neared the establishment. But he waited, patiently so.

For that grumpy expression to become expossed to his ocean eyes, for that pout to rile his excitement, for those yellow feline-eyes to seduce him. Eric waited, for he was no new fledgling, he was old and experienced in the art and reward of waiting. Godric had instilled the importance of such a lesson and Eric would never forget something so valuable.

Then, there he was. Tucked into a hoody much to large- it was his, and Eric relished in the fact that his scent was prominant and consuming the boy properly. Eric felt a wave of pride fill him, as not only was the little beast uncaring of other vampire- He was loyal, Eric preened. But he was also respecting the rule Eric had fussed over, others needed to know who the shifter belonged to. Who owned him.

The beginnings of a purr was igniting within Eric’s throat, especially as his beast neared him. He could now see black combat pants, with pockets that Eric could sense was filled with something silver- always the cautious little boy. Good.

The red glimmer of an earring, and Eric couldn’t stop himself from smiling smugly- his clever beast had thought of the idea. To have some of his blood on hand, safely and inconspicously hidden within the small vile of an innocent earring. Never used. But it made Eric feel better during his day-absence.

But this night, right... yes, Eric recalls, it was unusual.

He was practically vibrating with the hum leaving his lips as arms curled around his boy’s waist and hugged him close. That made his Tiger’s expression now available to him, the shifter looked conflicted- but with eyes blown so wide, Eric knew things were progressing smoothly. Sexuality didn’t mean much to a vampire... But his beast was a hesitant soul, stuck in the mindset of human tradition which had been imprinted. Eric was quick to fight such thoughts, battle it with force and persuasion. While his work wasn’t yet complete, Eric knew he had won something when the boy chose him. This night, his Tiger had confided reluctantly to him. And this was a change.

Eric rumbles at the brilliant hotness of his creature, so warm, so comforting. Like access to a sun away from suns. His own personal source of the long forgotten but well-missed heat of the day. The new position granted Eric the expanse of throbbing skin to his mouth, neck expossed and vulnerable to an attack which was undoubtly going to occur.

“My pet, this is unusual of you.” Eric chimes, eyeing his property stood before him. The eyes of some still lingered, but most were too caught up in lust, alcohol or simply the desire to move with the music. His pet looked uncomfortable, but in actuality, Eric was already well aware of this fact. He could sense the emotion from the blood bond. But he could not decipher why...

His Tiger’s expression remained bored, but Eric knew better, his grumpy kitten couldn’t fool him. But others were not so privy to understanding the subtleties of his prized possession.

“I need your help.”

It was but a whisper, soft and sweet. Embarrassment know flooded the bond and Eric was eager to understand why. Why, why, why? This was so highly unexpected. His shifter was a strong supernatural- humans were mostly no threat to him... And Eric had already honored his side of the bargin. So no other supernatural’s should bother the young boy further, unless, they had? But even then... He was confident his boy was powerful enough.

Of course, Pam was by their side in an instant, just as surprised and delighted to hear such words fall from lips as tightly sealed as their resident Tiger’s maw.

“Did I hear correctly?” She teased, silently urging him to repeat himself.

But Eric waved her back to her duties quickly at the massive spike of anxiety that clouded his bond, now even he was worried. She huffed with a frown, but rolled her eyes dramatically and did as she was told.

Standing, Eric allowed himself to briefly marvel the difference in height, shiver as those feline gold eyes followed him. Fuck, those damn eyes- they had such power over him, but he’d never let their owner know that.

“Come.” Eric ordered, “Let’s speak in the office.”

Relief came... Eric wondered what this was all about. Easily dividing the crowd, and while some humans watched with envy and jealousy, many of the vampires present understood that the Tiger was his. And that was to be respected, and reason enough, to earn priority from his duties on display as Sheriff and business-owner. They bowed their heads, and averted their eyes.

The door closed swiftly behind the shifter, and Eric found himself holding the boy still as his nose dotted about the mortal’s form. Hands patting down the smaller for injuries he perhaps wasn’t capable of detecting. The beast waited patiently, not stopping Eric until the vampire was satisfied. Head pressing against a warm chest, Eric concentrated on the heart beat once more, double checking that it was healthy and normal. It was a little fast, but otherwise fine. He frowned, stepping back.

“I-...”

“You’re temperature has risen, and your heart beats quickly. But nothing is wrong...” Eric mumbles.

“I’m fine.” His pet assured before pausing, “Mostly.”

“What is it?”

“It’s me.” The shifter admitted through clenched teeth. He looked and felt unhappy to be sharing anything with Eric, and yet the boy continued. “I’m a shifter.”

“Yes. I’m aware.” Eric mused, perhaps he was over thinking things?

“I’m omega.” It was added, swiftly and beyond quietly. Eric was sure that without his enhanced hearing, no creature would be able to detect something so silent and muffled. But he heard it. And he didn’t dare ask his Tiger to repeat such a declaration. The implication was enough. A spark of greed clouded Eric’s mind as he knew how incredably rare such a beast was- but he restrained himself.

No wonder the Tiger had trouble with other shifters (Were’s included). The boy was a walking, talking magnet. Valuable to every supernatural creature. Of course... Eric pondered. His boy was an excellent tracker, had given abilities that exceeded regular shifters and... those damn eyes. Eric nearly hit himself, those golden orbs were a dead give away.

“You-“ Eric paused, “You said you needed my help.”

The shifter nodded his head, “Normally, I’d figure this out on my own... But-“ He cut himself off, the little beast was unable to finish that sentence and Eric knew exactly why. His night has gone from boring to electric in mere minutes.

“I understand.” Eric assured, picking his words carefully. His chest puff up upon hearing the further loyalty in his tiger’s words (or lack of/implication). “I’ll help you.”

His Tiger’s shoulders slumped, and while there’s still a lingering nervousness and anxiousness, there is undoubtedly a type of relief paired with disgust. Eric ignored that last feeling, for he’d overcome it eventually.

“Is it tonight?”

He nods, and Eric is glad for the excuse to abandon Fangtasia.

Eric raises a palm to press against his big cat’s cheek, the boy doesn’t have the curouge to meet his eyes, but Eric can feel how despite the still rather grumpy expression, the Tiger presses into the touch. It wasn’t going to be their first time together, but it would be memerable and would change their dynamic.

So here he was. Fucking his dear omega prize.

Eric knew it was said to be special sleeping with an omega during heat, but the occassion was so rare that even Godric had not experienced such a thing. Still, he would disagree. It was so much more than special. It was otherworldly.

It felt like the perfect balance between man and women. And finally (aside from fellow vampires), Eric found a partner able to compete with his sexual stamina. Fuck, the little tiger just felt so very good. Unlike anything. He tasted brighter. He sounded pretty. He moved animalistically.

“You know, I’m offended I wasn’t invited.” Pam drawls.

Eric hadn’t even heard her. Hadn’t noticed her at all. Too focused on feeling everything, hearing everything, tasting everything. It scared him that Pam was able to do such a thing. So much so, that he initially snapped and hissed at her. Bearing down upon his dazed shufter and crushing the poor boy beneath him in an instinctually protective stance.

Pam seemed shocked as well, but then the scent hit her. And she forgot about Eric’s posessiveness, and moaned at the taste in the air, fangs shooting out uncontrolled.

“Is he?”

“Yes.” Eric croaked, “My tiger appears to have been keeping a rather serious secret from us.”

“I can’t believe he smells so damn good.” Pam hums.

“He feels even better.” Eric rasps, pushing himself up to better allow Pam to see the blissed and sex-drunk state of Eric’s dear beasty. And removing the protective stance he’d been displaying. There was no need if it were just his child, his progeny.

“Fuck.” She swears, biting a lip. Rounding the bed, she drags her done-up nails upon the shifter’s scalp. Tugging his locks of midnight hair in order to further expose the pretty face behind. Feline eyes dilate before expanding once more. He looked wild, Pam noted. Untamed despite the circumstance. Those hands were gripping at the sheets with white knuckles, in fact, she might’ve seen those precious talons of his extended and digging into the material. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be in this position... be with a man. Be wanted by men.

Pam nearly laughed at the irony. Oh how she wished she’d found the pussy cat herself, claimed him for herself. He’d have been happier then, but Eric would win this war, she had no doubt about that. The Tifer would succum to the Viking, submit to him fully in due time.

Unable to remain still any longer, Eric resumes his rythum of thrusting once more. And his shifter wheezes at the quick pace, but Pam silences him with her mouth. Bring the omega into a sloppy kiss. Her tongue traced those cute little pointed canines of his, while her own fangs threatened to draw blood. But she knew Eric wouldn’t be happy about that, she knew that tasting the omega was only a matter of time. Still it was hard to resist such a temptation before her.

Pulling away, Pam gives the special shifter’s cheek a quick peck. She briefly gazes at her Maker, whom looks to have returned to a daze of lust. Perhaps, she’d join in next time. Trotting away, Pam wanders in the direction of her coffin. The day would join them soon.

Eric and and his newly discovered Omega had been at it for hours, but dawn quickly began presenting itself. Pam’s interupting them was evidence of that fact, she didn’t like to be in the basement without appropriate need. Eric near roared as he climaxed, fangs extended and showing off their might. Lengthier and more prominant due to his age and power.

Calming himself, and steadying a non-beating heart, Eric examines his little beast carefully. The Tiger was near passed out, but his body responded appropriately regardless, still wanting more. Bruises and bites littered the boy black and blue. And while there was pride in such ownership, Eric knew it was only fair to heal the omega.

Biting his wrist, mortal lips numbly suckle at the blood. Not much is needed, and his feline doesn’t drink more than is nessessary, he takes what he is given. He’s a good pet, Eric nearly coos.

He’d never let the boy stay with him during day-rest before. Of course, the Tiger had guarded the room from time-to-time, but Eric knew at this stage that the boy was little threat to him. Nor did he ever suspect his shifter had the intentions to harm himself or Pam.

Simply rolling to his side, Eric curled around his dear tiger and allowed sleep to take him into a temporary death. Together in deeper manner than ever before. This new revelation made Eric ponder the changes he could make to his future endeavours. But it also made him debate his level of possessiveness, as of course, should anyone discover such information, it would be remarkably dangerous for not just his pet- but to him and Pam, as well.

Love was not an emotion Eric would ever be capable of understand, nor any vampire really, but he liked his little beast. He really liked his dear Shifter, and for now, that was all that mattered to a mind as old as his own.

You look at his monstrous phallus. It is flaccid and resting between his thighs. It has beautiful protrusions that decorate the shaft and thick veins that are ready to pump blood.

He is asleep, content, his deep breaths louder than any human's. What is he dreaming about? You place your finger on his soft and warm cock and glide it between bumps. He is so beautiful, so vulnerable right now. While trying not to wake him up, you lie between his spread legs and lick the tip of his cock. It immediately twitches.

"What are you doing, little one?" With one eye open, he smirks.

"Wanted to surprise you," you reply.

"Keep going - I like your surprise." He closes his eye again, and places his arm next to his body, letting you do things your way. He is getting hotter and his cock is no longer flaccid. Soon it will be too big to put in your mouth. Even now, barely erect, it was hard to take even half of it in.

He purrs, happy like a cat. You glide your hand along his stomach and chest, feeling his muscles while licking and sucking on his cock.

You can feel something touching your ass - his long tail. It slides along your holes, and you feel how wet you are. And so does he. He pushes his tail inside your pussy, just the tip and you moan around your cock. It makes him jerk his hips. "Fuck... Yes, moan more..."

You can only pleasure his purple tip now, so you use your hands to help you. His tail plays with your clit rubs it and spanks it, making you moan and whimper. And his cock pulsates in your mouth, his protrusions and bumps pressing your tongue.

"Yes, almost there..." He takes your hair in his fist, positions your mouth better, and groans. "Fuck, I'll..."

His tail fucks you pussy fast and hard and you are ready to cum, your desperate moans almost chocked by his cock.

"Cum for me... I want to feel your screams around my cock..."

It doesn't take long before you do. You gasp for air, whimpering from pleasure as he fills your mouth with his seed. As it drips down your chin, he lifts you toward himself and kisses you, sharing it between yourselves. You lie on his huge warm body and giggle - he is asleep again already.

Petty Bat Hybrid Boyfriend

Warnings: smut

Bat hybrid boyfriend that is a little on the jealous side. He has been your friend for years and has watched you go through pathetic human boys before he finally got you all to himself. He takes you out for a date and you run into one of your ex boyfriends at the restaurant. Of course it happens to be the ex that your boyfriend hates the most.

You try to give your ex the hint that you want him to leave without being outright rude but he isn’t getting the hint. Finally as your food is brought to the table your ex leaves but not before leaning down to kiss your cheek goodbye.

Bat hybrid bf looks like he might rip your ex to shreds so you give his hand a small squeeze in reassurance. He gives you a small smile in return and you both get back to your dinner.

Later that night he tells you he wants to take you on a nighttime fly to see the stars. You agree with excitement and he picks you up in his arms before shooting into the sky. You fly for a while before he stops and readjust you so your legs are straddling his waist. He reaches under you to play with your clit and when you ask what he is doing he just gives you a smirk.

Before you can even comprehend his motions, he has his cock out and your panties ripped from your body. Your dress was already pushed up because of your position straddling him and he entered you in one swift movement.

He keeps you in his arms in the night sky while he continues to fuck you stupid. He pulls climax after climax from you, each one making you scream his name. He cums and pumps you full, resting his head in your neck. He readjusts you once again for the flight home and turns to go. He pauses and takes a quick look down to the house below where your ex is staring up at him fuming. Now he can go home happy and truly satisfied.

❤️🖤💕💕🖤❤️

NSFW

warning: dubcon

Siren luring you into the water, using his webbed hands to play with your pussy as your hazy eyes gloss over. He continues to sing, keeping you placid as his pod circles you.

Your cunt is bred by multiple sirens, your mouth being used as their fucktoy as they coo and sing.

They think about devouring you, but can’t bring themselves to do it. You’re so fat and soft, the perfect host for their eggs! They wanna see your belly swell with their young… they’re attached now!

You’re sore and covered in bite marks by the end of it, left on an isolated part of the beach. And when you look down at your chubby belly, it’s distended and swollen, heavy with eggs.

And by the time you’re lucid again, all you can think of is the throbbing need in your cunt.

So you go back out that night, ready to be used all over again.

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog

True Blood Vampires w/ a Human Mate

Pairing(s): Eric; Pam; Godric; x GN!Reader

CW: Vague mentions of sex, violence, etc... Come on, it's True Blood. Mentions of Luke (suicide bomber). Some fluff. Lots of rambling.

Notes: Only on season 4 right now, so I'm sure I'm missing some good characters. Didn't do Bill but if anybody wants a second version of this just ask. I'm open to requests so feel free to send me asks!

Eric Northman

This man only uses humans for three things: feeding, fucking and as a means to an end. If they didn't offer anything useful, they didn't interest him. That was, until you.

Ngl it took this man a long time to recognize his own feelings. It took Pam calling him out to realize he was starting to feel something almost human. Love?

You heard him say it, don't use words he doesn't understand.

Anyways, at first he thought he was just attracted to you due to your blood. He hadn't actually tasted it yet but it was tempting nonetheless.

You were with them at Godric's nest when the suicide bomber attacked. You were further away from Luke than Sookie and Eric, but you were still human.

Eric was the one who pulled the debris out of you and fed you his blood. That was the moment he started to come to terms with his own feelings. He wasn't going to lose you.

This man will protect you from EVERYTHING, vampire or not. If it's a vampire of all things threatening your safety, in his area, well... bless their cold non-beating hearts.

Remember that episode where Lafayette is in the basement, and Eric lets out that inhuman growl while tearing that other man apart? Yeah, he does that.

He's not affectionate at first, especially not in public. If he does hold you it is because you managed to piss him off by talking to other vampires at Fangtasia. So he keeps you where he knows nobody will come after you: in his lap.

Man is probably touch starved. Please offer him a hug when you're alone. It'll be strange for him at first but he secretly loves it.

I think his primary love languages are mostly acts of service and quality time. He wants you to worship the ground he walks on, much like he does you.

Passionate kisses. Rough sex. It's rare for anything to be slow or gentle with him.

He is down for anything really. Just say the word.

Listen, he's not a gentleman. Not unless you explicitly ask for it. He's gonna be rough with almost everything. But he tries for you.

You can try to take control if you want... but just know you're not actually in control. He's just offering you an opportunity to feel like you are.

The moment you get a little too cocky, he'll remind you that he is the thousand year old vampire. He overpowers you easily.

He wants you to become a vampire, but doesn't say anything at first. He actually starts to value your humanity. It keeps him grounded.

That doesn't change the fact that you can't stay human forever. In your current state you are simply too fragile. It was too easy for you to be ripped away from him.

He won't turn you yet, though. He'll wait until you're ready, or until he has no choice.

Pamela Swynford de Beaufort

Eric is the only being that has managed to capture and keep Pam's attention. So your relationship was a slow burn made in hell.

At first she only saw you as another pathetic human that stuck their nose in vampire business too much. You were one of Sookie's dearest friends, and one that seemed to always be involved in her foolish antics.

Much like Sookie, you sympathize with vampires. You actually started to visit Fangtasia as a casual guest.

That's how you managed to capture Pam's attention. Your regular visits always seemed to spark something that resembled joy in her.

Your personality meshed well with hers. Pam is a smart-ass and even more cunning. Your dark humor and equally witty personality amused her.

Eventually you two developed a sort of... arrangement. You offered her your blood, and sex of course, and she offered you protection from the degenerates at Fangtasia.

She did find your blood quite tasty, so she agreed to this.

She claimed you. So nobody else could touch you. Eric didn't care as long as you didn't distract her from her duties.

After some months of seeing each other, Pam started to realize that she was becoming way too attached to you.

It was almost as if she was... in love? No, absolutely not.

She was harsh with you for some time, but eventually started to warm up.

Her primary love languages are acts of service and gift giving. Shower her with quality makeup, jewelry and other gifts. She loves being spoiled.

She'll do the same for you, so expect some rather pricey gifts.

When it comes to sex she prefers being dominant, but if you ask nicely she may let you take that role instead.

Will praise and degrade you at the same time. Just be a good pet for her, yeah?

I feel like she would want to turn you into a vampire asap. She doesn't like knowing that you could die from almost anything.

You don't mind, though. You quite like the idea of being a vampire.

Godric

Godric is one of the few vampires who holds some level of compassion towards humans. So, I feel like it wouldn't take as much for him to fall in love with one.

This compassion is, however, a result of being two thousand years old. He's had a lot of time to get around, but somehow I'm convinced he's never been in love like that.

Sure, he knows something like love for his progenies. But romantic? I just don't think that's something he thought about until recently. It would probably take him some time to recognize what he's feeling.

You met the night Sookie was held hostage by the Fellowship of the Sun. You had arrived with Eric to save him and Sookie.

Godric was intrigued by your compassion for vampires. You? A human, there to help save him? It was almost too good to be true, but then again some could say the same about his compassion towards humans.

You were with them at his house that night, celebrating his return. He had been watching you; how you mingled with the vampires as if they were human. You didn't give anybody permission to drink from you, much to Godric's pleasure.

When the suicide bomber attacked, he shielded you. The impact still hurt but you were free of any life-threatening injuries.

In return, you talked him out of meeting the true death. You stood with him on the top of that roof and convinced him that although things are hard, and he has a lot to atone for, there is still much to live for (even if he technically isn't alive).

He claimed you to protect you from other vampires after that. He knew how brutal and beast-like many vampire are. Most understood what it means to claim a human though, so if they knew you were Godric's they wouldn't touch you.

Deep talks. I feel like over time he'd open up about some of the things from his past that bothers him, and how his mental health is. You always listened and reassured him that he has changed for the better.

The only other vampire he would trust to be alone with you is Eric. Eric wouldn't dare touch what is Godric's and often finds himself looking after you when Godric is too busy with vampire stuff.

Quality time and words of affirmation would be his love languages. Please please please shower him with compliments and reassurance. He won't admit it in front of others but he loves it.

Honestly he's sweet all around. In all scenarios. He worships the ground you walk on and will treat you like royalty. That means in bed too.

He's constantly afraid of losing you. As much as he loves your humanity, he's painfully aware of how fragile you are in your current state.

In his two thousand years Godric has developed a great deal of patience and self-control, but the moment you are threatened by another vampire or otherwise non-human... he's not afraid to showcase what he's capable of.

He would never turn you unless you want him to. Even then, I feel like you would really need to convince him that you want that. Honestly you may have to wait until he is ready, because he is conflicted with the idea.

A Chance Meeting Of Souls On A Midsummer's Eve

A little collage I made for my fem!hp x Godric (True Blood) story, there might be more to come who knows ^^

The link to the story: