Tw: Female Reader, Nsfw, Confinement, Dub-con/non-con, Sapphic

Tw: female reader, nsfw, confinement, dub-con/non-con, sapphic

Oh, to be the housewife of a rich, well - respected business-woman.

She has it all - looks, money, charisma, success, and now she has you as well, locked away in her vacation villa, cooking and cleaning and making it feel like a home while she's leading her fast - paced corporate job.

She comes late into the evening, sighing softly as she makes her way to you. Diane hugs you from behind, burying her face in your neck - simply melting against you. You try to hide your unease as you silently apologize for the cold dinner once again, even though none of it is your fault. She just clicks her tongue playfully and smacks your ass - when she's feeling gracious, and shoves you against the kitchen counter when she's had a particularly bad day at work.

No matter what her mood is, she always finds a way to take her stress out on you. After all in her eyes you're there to serve her - her sweet little wife, all pretty in gowns, or flowery dresser, or even better naked and covered in gold from head to toe.

Her kisses are always rough and leave you breathless, trying to catch your breath. Her touch is restless and unyielding, hot, merciless fingers stroking and pinching and slapping and squeezing for hours on end. Diane loves to tie you up in various positions, helpless and immobilized to her wicked will. She can't resist laying you on her queen sized bed and stuffing you with a fat mean vibrator, your scared gasps and pained moans of overstimulated pleasure ringing in her ears like the sweetest tune of music.

And just when you're too exhausted to fight, yet too spent to keep squirming under the toy, she kneels before you, spreading you once again so that you can feel each torturous inch of her tongue and fingers as they slip in and out of your wet, tight hole.

Then she kisses your forehead gently - just like a ritual, before taking you into her arms and washing you throughoutly, never missing a creak. You cry out weakly one last time as she tuggs you into bed, and she pulls you so close you can feel the heat radiating off her body once she starts whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You try to stay on guard but eventually you fall asleep, embraced by silk and warmth.

Then the next day it all repeats again.

Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want

Words: 1k

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader (Godly parent not specified)

Synopsis: Clarisse was fine with not getting anything she wanted until she laid her eyes on you.

Warnings: Pining, whipped!Clarisse, This is mostly in Clarisse's POV, handling of dangerous weapons (a dagger and a spear). [Let me know if I missed any.]

A/N: I apologize if the storyline is messy. I wanted this to be longer, but my attention span was not cooperating with me today. I had to take a lot of breaks while writing this because I could not sit still for more than five minutes.

masterlist || previous work

—

Clarisse remembers the first time she saw you.

You were in the forge, polishing some of the newly-made spears because you had nothing better to do. You were under the supervision of Luke since he was showing you around, but the boy had kept his distance, opting to just watch from the sidelines as you worked. Clarisse had walked into the forge, the chatter that was going on around you stopping. You discontinued what you were doing in order to look at her, wondering why your fellow campers were on-edge at her presence.

Your eyes met hers, taking her aback.

She hadn’t seen you before.

Once Clarisse realized that she was staring, she promptly cleared her throat, scowling. “What are you looking at, newbie?” She asked, crossing her arms. Her plans on scaring you, however, failed when you smiled sheepishly.

You had been equally mesmerized by her, something that she failed to notice. “Sorry, you’re just so—”

Clarisse held her breath, preparing herself for an accusation (that she’s mean and terrifying – both of which are true, but words that sting nonetheless). Though, it’s not like she’s going to think about it for the rest of –

“—Pretty.” You conclude your sentence.

Oh.

Clarisse’s brows furrowed. She thought she would hear something insulting, but instead she was met with a compliment? Her eyes searched yours once again, looking for a trace of malice. She didn’t find any, which made her confusion stir all the more. She scoffs, furious at herself for not being able to figure you out. “Whatever.” Clarisse walks away, turning her back on you so as to not show her weakness. She storms back to the Ares cabin, forgetting the reason why she went to the forge in the first place.

You frown as you look at the dagger in your hand, examining the initials engraved on the grip.

C.L.R.

---

The next time Clarisse saw you was when you were watching her train, your eyes following her every move. Clarisse pretended to ignore you until she found herself unable to focus. She put down her spear, turned to you and asked, “Would you like me to teach you?” before she could even stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth.

You nodded eagerly, “Yes, please.”

You walked over and Clarisse pretty much had to use all her self-restraint to not just stand there and stare at you.

“…Alright, so you hold this and—”

---

It had been ages since that day.

Even though you and Clarisse have gotten closer, there was still a part of her that longs for more. See, ninety-nine percent of the time, her wishes don’t come true. Or it does, for a little while, but then it gets ripped away from her grasp. She gets her hopes up and then it all comes crashing down – a cycle that never ends.

Clarisse has come to terms with the thought that she will never gets what she wants. She supposed that she was okay with that, but then you came along and everything changed. For every smile, every crinkle of your nose, every stupid joke that made you laugh, she finds herself wanting to wish that you would feel the same way she does.

“Clary?”

She snaps out of her reverie and looks at you, “Yes?” She felt embarrassed for not paying attention, smiling apologetically.

“I asked if you wanted to—”

“Yes.”

You sit up in her bed, laughing. “I haven’t even finished the sentence yet.” You grab her hand gingerly, locking your fingers together. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go with me—”

“Yes.”

“Clarisse,” You whine, “Let me continue first.” You pout, trying to let go of her hand, but Clarisse wouldn’t let you.

Clarisse shakes her head, holding on to your hand firmly while her other brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “I don’t care. I’ll go wherever you go.” She says genuinely. Being that close to you made Clarisse’s heart race, but she couldn’t bring it in herself to look away because then you’ll know that something was up.

You stare at her in disbelief, crossing your arms, “Really? You’ll go with me to show the new kid around camp?”

Her lips purse and you know you’ve got her. Clarisse lets out a sigh of resignation. “No.” She mumbles. As much as she’d love to spend more time with you, she and you have very opposing ideas on how to welcome new campers.

“Thought so.” You deadpan.

“Why are you the one doing it, anyway?”

“Because I’m still in trouble for staying past curfew two days ago, pretty girl.”

Clarisse froze at the nickname. If her heart wasn’t beating fast before, it surely was now. You chuckle, beginning to make your way out of the bed. “Hey, no, where are you going?” Clarisse grabs your hand, another laugh escaping you.

“To give that tour.” You roll your eyes, successfully prying your hands away from Clarisse’s grip. You ignore her sounds of protest as you make your way to the door.

Clarisse could feel her stomach drop, feeling the warmth slip away the further your distance becomes. The longer she stares at you with your back turned, the longer she thinks you would leave without saying goodbye. To her surprise (and not for the first time), you look back at her.

“I’ll see you later at the bonfire.” You lean against the doorframe, your eyes narrowing. “Don’t be late, alright?”

Clarisse rolls her eyes at the look you give her. She was only late one time and that was because she was debating with herself whether to give you flowers or not. She wanted to tell you the real reason why she was late, but decided it would be best to keep her mouth shut. “I won’t.” She says instead.

“Good.” You straighten your posture, putting one foot out the door while a hand rested on the doorframe, giving Clarisse a smile she knows you only reserved for her. Only when she smiles back do you actually take your leave.

Clarisse gets a sense of hope upon your departure.

Maybe it would be different this time.

She leans back against the bed frame, sending out the same prayer to every god she could think of.

Please, please, please let me get what I want.

Cabernet defiantly loves giving head, like she is a God at eating pussy and she would definitely love it for us to sit on her face. This thought made me think of a scenario in the Uni Au where Cabernet asked us to sit on her face and after a bit coercement we agreed. She got so excited she rused to lay on her back and held out her hands to help us position ourselves. But when we came down we were doing that thing where girls hover over their partners head so that they wouldn't crush them with their full weight and this pissed Cabernet off.

"What are you doing?"

"Im doing what you asked?"

"No no, if you were doing what I asked you'd be sitting, not doing this hovering shit."

"I just dont want to crush your face and suffocate you-"

"And? Let me suffocate! Im a big girl, I can handle some smothering!"

This arguing went on for a bit and eventually Cabernet grew tired and too horny for our concerns that she just ended up looping her arms around and over our legs and pulled us down causing us to pit our full weight onto her face. Obviously we tried to lift ourselves back up but Cabernet was holding us down with an iron grip and pleasure she was giving us was starting to turn our legs to jelly so we couldn't hold ourselves back up again even if we wanted to. We obviously went into over stimulation so our body was naturally trying to jerk away but Cabernet kept us right were she wanted us with an iron and horny filled grip. The pleasure we were getting made us grab onto the back board of the bed for dear life and grip it even harder at each orgasm. And by the 5 th orgasm, the most powerful one we've had yet, we felt something slpash against our back. We looked back and it was Cabernet's semen that was coating our back. She was still ejaculating too as we looked back watching, seeing rope after rope of cum escaping her tip to hit against our skin. The best thing about this was that she didn't touch herself at all and she came A LOT. Cabernet found so much arousal and pleasure in stuffing her face into our cut and eating us like a man starved that she came without any stimulation to herself.

She just loves our pussy that much.

Hey. What have you done to me? You’ve completely changed my brain structure because Cabernet is my favorite PTN woman 😨

I have…I have no words. Just keep reading.

nsfw under the cut (men and minors dni)

The first time Cabernet asked you to sit on her face, you said no. That was the first time you ever said no to her request, and yet it was one she really wanted to do. Her eyebrows furrowed and she asked again, yet the answer was always the same.

“No Cabernet, I don’t want to hurt you with my weight.”

Poor Cabernet was ticked off that you’d ever think about hurting her with that delicious body of yours. If her body paid the price of having your mouthwatering pussy shoved up against her face, then it was a price worth paying for, as Cabernet was getting more ravenous by the minute. Every time you said no, Cabernet would get hungrier. Until eventually, while you were getting busy in the bedroom, Cabernet yanked your hand up to hover over her lying body, the both of you naked and sweaty from all your previous rounds.

“Sit on my face.” Cabernet asked— no, more like demanded. Her expression impatient and tongue flitting out for your juices.

“Cabernet, I don’t want to crush you—”

“I don’t care.”

Her voice was stern, almost annoyed that you’d hesitate this much before gripping your thighs with each manicured hand, and forcing you down to meet her mouth in a burning, passionate ecstasy.

Since when did Cabernet get so strong? You wondered this, as you gasped and tried desperately to stand for fear that you might be suffocating poor Cabernet. She was a delicate lady after all, so you should hurry and—

Goodness why was she so strong? Why was she gripping you so hard, you could barely move? Through your moans of blissful pleasure, you looked down to see Cabernet’s absolute blissed out expression. She looked delirious, eyes fluttering back in pleasure as she moaned through your folds and licked you up like a Michelin star meal that was worth hundreds.

She has never eaten you out like this before. Nails gripping the soft plush of your thighs, keeping you firmly sat on her face while she parts your walls with her tongue to reach that sweet spot she so desperately craved. The main star of the dish, the core of the apple, the feast that she had been starving for all this time.

The sweet, succulent juice of your orgasm.

Cabernet’s cock was practically swollen with arousal at the thought of it. Mind going numb while she ate you out in a drunken state. With every moan and whimper that left your lips, Cabernet countered with a grunt and growl of her throat. At the first gush of your first orgasm, Cabernet was practically moaning. The taste was so delightfully pleasant, the unique flavor of your body’s natural reaction to her and her alone. It was addicting, it was beautiful.

She craved more. More, more, more.

As you tried to get up, pussy overstimulated and puffy from her tongue, you whined when she suddenly pulled you back down for more.

“Another. Give me another.”

Was she pussydrunk? You couldn’t tell as the rough caresses of Cabernet’s eager tongue pulsed in and out of you with the eagerness of a starved man who had just been given a plate of food. You’re on the brink of teetering over the edge, unsure of how many times Cabernet had made you cum from just her tongue alone…

Four…five? You could almost pass out from bliss when you suddenly felt the hot shots of Cabernet’s cum shooting across your back. As you look back, you see just how erect and red Cabernet’s cock was. Tip all pink while it shot her hot seed all over your body, and making you clench from the sight, as you had no idea Cabernet was this turned on just by the taste of you.

She hadn’t even touched herself once. No strokes, no squeezes, only the pure ecstasy of eating you out was enough to get Cabernet oozing loads…

It’s safe to say that you’re no longer conscious of sitting on Cabernet’s face if she enjoys it this much 💘

y/n: *sitting in natasha's lap with their face in her boobs*

tony: *walks in* uhhhhh......... what's going on?

clint: nothing really. y/n just lost energy *continues to read his magazine*

tony: that still doesn't explain the whole *points at nat and y/n*

wanda: oh! think of it as a charging port, but for lesbians

kate: *is sad* i wish i was a lesbian *pouts*

yelena: you are. dumb suka

kate: then where are my booby-chargers?

y/n: *gets off natasha and holds their arms out to kate*

kate: *gets giggly and runs over to y/n*

tony: im not even going to entertain that with a follow up question

Liar Liar

Yandere Final Girl x Slasher reader

Summary: After escaping an attack from the town serial killer, party girl Daina throws a get together to celebrate. Only, she made the whole thing up.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: blood/gore, violence, murder, slight emetophobia

“We’re here now with Ms. White, the alleged latest survivor in a series of recent murders by the serial killer known as Mercy Valentine, by locals. Any words you’d like to say to the press?”

“It was horrible... My… my boyfriend was killed when we were heading home after practice. I managed to get away after being attacked in the locker room, but he… he didn’t make it. I found him… bleeding there in the field. When I came back with police, he was gone.” 

“Are you aware of the rumors that it may be a copycat? There has never been any reports of a body being taken from the scene.”

“Believe me, I know who I saw that night…”

The video pauses; frozen on a frame of a young woman with tear stains running down her face. Said girl falls back on her bed; the worried praise of her friends falling at her side.

“You’re so brave, Daina.”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere after something like that.”

Daina-Grace White, or just Daina White depending on the crowd. Her parents thought their special little girl needed a special name, and that’s why she had been christened with a hyphenated first name. A star cheerleader in high school and track runner in her spare time. Everyone’s first pick for prom queen, and as the clip proclaimed; the most recent victim to the killer known as Mercy Valentine.

Mercy's preferred targets were those in pairs; one to take the blade, and the other to tell the tale. Couples were a frequent hit; earning them the latter part of their name – even if friend groups and families had fallen as well. The surviving party always had injuries such as scrapes and bruises, but the killer would turn and walk away before they became fatal. People speculated this was out of wanting to become some type of urban legend in the town, others some sort of guilt for their crimes. A few - believed it was on a level far deeper than that

Poor Diana and her boyfriend, Nathaniel, had been all alone on the night it happened. Scares out of their minds, one on the brink of death. It would have been a traumatic experience for the survivor and a terrible end for the one who died; had Nathaniel not gone missing the night prior. 

“Thanks, guys. Part of the reason I’m able to go on is because of the support of friends like you.”

It was rather easy to fake; especially with evidence practically placed on a silver platter for her. There had been talk around campus from his sister about him not returning home last night, and his car was found parked a couple streets away from her home. It was known to many that Nathaniel had the hots for Daina; even giving her his coat on a rainy day. With his phone conveniently placed in the passenger seat, and a slash to her arm; Daina was able to come up with a story that threw off most skeptics. 

Daina sits up, stretching away the worries of the day. “Let’s not focus on it for now. We have a party to get ready for!”

-

Most wouldn’t expect one to have a get together after the tragic death of their loved one, but Daina wasn’t like most people. She was a live in the moment type girl, and this moment was the prime of her youth. Plus, if anything were to happen, her father had given Daina her birthday present early. He really didn’t want to leave her alone after the ordeal, but duty calls. 

Snacks, sodas, and a punch bowl full of enough liquor to make someone forget the evening entirely sat on the kitchen counter. Living room lights were turned down low; and music played through speakers about the house. Every door and window had been left unlocked; just inviting the devil to play. She changes into something that’s easy to move around in, throwing her old top to a corner that lands on a mannequin she used to dress up when she was little.

“Sorry about that.” Daina giggles, tossing the clothing into its proper storage before heading back downstairs. 

-

8pm just minutes away, Daina hops on her couch and begins livestreaming to her social media of choice.

“Hey, everyone! Just getting the last couple things ready for tonight’s party. Times are tough, and we all need something to lighten the mood around this town.”

Comments pour in, only one catching her eye.

“Aren’t you worried about the danger?”

“Screw that! The killer supposedly never goes after the same victim twice, and even if they did come after me, I’ll just kick their ass like last time.”

She lifts up her arm, showing off her bandaged wrist while holding up her middle finger. Uncaring of the dangers of her actions; and whoever may come across the stream.

-

Eight o’clock finally hits, and the people begin to pour in. The party didn’t actually start until thirty minutes later, but there were always those who showed up early. Daina greets everyone with smiles and the occasional hug; pleasantries stopped when a certain individual walks through her door.

“Hey, Gracie… How you holding up?”

Mike was a quarterback for the school’s football team, and the best friend of the, supposedly, late, Nathaniel. He was the first to call Daina out on her claims; an allegation quickly shot down by their peers. In another life, the title of Mike's best friend belonged to her. A sweet girl, up until the beginning of high school, where her true colors began to come to light. The event that led to their falling out had been sweet under the rug due to only the two knowing of it; yet the scars were still there.

“Daina. What are you doing here, Mike?”

Mike stiffens, shuffling in his spot at the door. “I.. just want to bury the hatchet. We’re losing people left and right. For numerous reasons. It’s better to stick with each other than to hold grudges.”

Daina glares at him, but steps aside. “Alright, fine.” Mike starts to walk in, but she stops him again. “If you start anything, I’ll kill you myself. Do you understand?”

-

The party kicks up around nine. Young adults spilled across all floors of her house, and the backyard. A small group stands by the pool; two individuals holding the ankles of another hovering over a keg someone had bought. 

“27…28…”

Thomas taps the side of the container, the contents in his stomach slowly edging back to his throat. It relaxes as his friends put him down, but the way the world around him spins and the heaviest of his body tells him it won’t last long. He cheers along with the crowd; covering his hand over his mouth as he pushes through them all to head back inside. Passing the hostess, he weakly asks;

“Hey… where’s the bathroom?”

Daina points towards the stairs. “Second door on your left.”

With a brief thanks, he speeds up the stairs and to the bathroom. He barely makes it to the bowl before he begins to heave. The sound of his retching blocks out all other sounds; the cool night air on the back of his neck. Had he paid attention to the room for a second longer when he entered; he would have noticed that the window had been closed when he walked on.

Thomas flushes the toilet and stands on wobbly legs, walking over to the sink to wash out his mouth. He bends forward to splash water in his face. Through the waves, he spots something in the corner of the room. A shadow distinctive from the rest; its face a mix of white and pink.

“What the fu-"

Before he can continue, Thomas' face is slammed against the mirror; open eye pressed to the glass. He tries to flail around, but his actions are cut short by a blade to his neck. With a single slice, his throat is split; blood gurgling from the fresh wound and out the corners of his mouth. He slumps against the sink as the weight behind him vanishes; body twitching as it draws its last struggled breath.

-

“God damn it.”

Daina sighs in annoyance; shutting the lid of a pocket mirror her friend had leant her.

“What’s wrong, Daina?”

“My lipstick got smeared. I need to go put on some more.” Daina sets her cup on the nearby table; a ring of red lips around its ridge. She walks upstairs, pass the locked bathroom door, and heads into her room. She shuts an open drawer, and picks up a tube of lipstick to put it on – a scraping sound across the floor boards catching her ear.

“Hm?” She looks around, the only thing in her general field being that little mannequin she called a roommate. It rocked gently, wheels turned outward. Must’ve gotten hit when she entered the room. She smiles and places her arms over its shoulders.

“Hello, there. Were you trying to sneak up on me?”

The mannequin fails to reply; blank eyes staring back at her through the mask on its face. The arms of the coat draped over swaying as she turns around. Music thumping through the floorboards, she begins to dance with it as her partner. She places her head on its shoulder, swaying to the beat as she wraps her hands around its neck.

“I’m so glad that you’re with me…” She mutters.

Daina hums to herself; unaware of the crack in her closet door. The eyes that peer through. 

“Daina!”

She turns her head to the door; letting out a huff as he unlocks her arms from the doll and leaves the room in a hurry.

“Coming!”

As she leaves the closet’s doors handle rattles ever so gently; swinging outward as a figure creeps from the dark. Their eyes linger on the mannequin.. and the plastic that made up its face.

-

Downstairs; Daina is greeted by one of her friends – a worried look on their face. “Hey, Daina.. have you seen Thomas? I tried calling his phone, but he’s not answering, and his car is still outside.”

“I haven’t seen him all night. He’s probably wasted in my parents room or something….” Her eyes trail away as she spots something on the patio; the red bud of a cigarette and smoke clouds blown into the air.. “Hang on, I have to deal with this.” 

“But someone told me they saw you with…”

Daina pushes past them and storms outside. Mike stands outside; stare vacant and the nicotine stick between his lips. He doesn’t even look at her when she starts to go off.

“What the hell, Mike. I know it’s been years, but I told you not to smoke in here. If I find a single bud…”

“You’re still thinking about that day. Aren’t you?..”

He pulls a photo from his pocket. A photo from middle school graduation, or at least the remains of one. The page had been cut to show only a small group in the larger crowd. Daina hadn’t even noticed the picture was gone; too busy focusing on her appearance. She grinds her teeth. 

“You went in my room?” 

“That’s not the point and you know it.”

“An invasion of my privacy is a pretty big deal, Mike.”

“She was my friend too, Daina.

“She isn’t the fucking point!”

A scream tears them both from the conversation. Both of them, along with various other members of the party rushed inside to see what was happening. A crowd had gathered around the walk in pantry in the kitchen; one person collapsed to the floor and staring in pure terror at what was inside. Pushing through the bodies; Daina manages to squeeze to the front and see what the problem was; her stomach dropping at the sight.

Propped against a shelf of canned goods; the corpse of another girl was sprawled on the floor. A knife wound pierced her eye as well as various spots of her chest; blood drying into her clothes. A single finger was painted red; words written onto the floor in her blood.

“LIAR.”

Calamity breaks out all at once. People screaming; shouting. Making breaks for the front door and any other exits. Daina crashes to the floor; Mike runs through the house and informs everyone else they need to flee. He picks up a poker near the fireplace as Daina regains her composer – wiping a grin from her face. 

“What are you going to do?” She asks.

“I’m going to kill that mother fucker. Call the police!”

Daina nods; heading upstairs where she had left her phone. Mike begins to sweep the house to find the intruder; kicking open doors and leaving no place unchecked. It's how he comes across the bodies of Thomas and a few other people. All in locations tucked away from sight. After a thorough investigation, there’s only one place left to look. The basement. 

Mike grips the handle; the shaking of his palms visible against its knob. He hesitantly opens it; a dim light all the way at the end of the steps. He begins to descend them; the light from the kitchen blocked by an object behind him.

-

Within the basement there is one final body. A young man with shaggy hair and wearing a sports jersey. He sits in a chair; the angle making it look as though he were merely asleep. The smells that come off his body are blocked by the mask over the approaching figure's face; their blade raised high over head. There is no scream as it falls; just the wet sound of metal entering flesh. His body loses balance as the knife is ripped through his neck; falling forward onto the ground below. Stab wounds litter his body; the puddles of blood around each hole having fully dried. His supposed assailant stands there confused; obvious to the running steps behind them. 

Mike brings the fire poker down on the masked individual’s skull. They crash to the floor; blood leaking through their scalp. They attempted to reach for their weapon; stopped by another blow to the head. They lie motionless, but he isn’t done. Not after everything this person has done. Not after the pain they’ve caused. He wants to demask them, but they need to suffer first. Their identity could be revealed through denial records. He reaches the poker like a club for another swing, but the only thing that falls is the object itself  - and drops of his own blood. 

The echo or a gunshot still rings; Mike looking down at the hole in his stomach in disbelief. It didn’t hurt at first; shock running through his veins. As he sticks a finger against the hole, the pain finally hits. He didn’t even have time to cry out as more shots ripple through his body. He falls down next to the slasher who remained still.. Footsteps descend the stairs; stopping by his writhing form. There’s a scrap of metal as they pick the fire poker off the floor. Mike turns to see the new figure. A mask akin to the one worn by the person beside him stares back at him; the highlights in her hair a sign of her identity. 

“D….daina?”

Her eye twitches. She cracks Mike beside the heat like a baseball player hitting a home run. She hits him again and again; screaming at the top of her lungs. She hits him until he stops moving. Until the flesh of his cheek is peeled away and the bones beneath break into dust. She only stops when there’s a groan from the person next to him.

“You’re alive… I was so worried..”

She kneels down; the other party flinching away even if barely conscious. They wore a hockey mask with a pink heart drawn over its left eye; something mirrored on her own. A mask worn by the mannequin in her room. She goes to lift theirs, but they weakly slap her hand away.

“It’s okay…” She coos. “I know it’s you, Y/n.”

She tears the mask from your face, shuddering from the sight of your gorgeous face, and the look of pure hatred you held. 

“There you are… We should take a picture to remember this moment. Hang on.”

Daina pulls off her own mask, running a hand through her hair. Remembering she forgot to put on more lipstick, she drips her fingers in the pool of Mike's blood and wipes it over her lips; placing a kiss on your cheek afterwards. She holds two fingers behind your head and sticks out her tongue. After taking the photo, she types away on her phone before tossing it aside.”

“All done! Now if you try to kill me, your face will be leaked online in an hour. Good luck trying to guess my password!”

Mercy Valentine… Y/n. Who would have guessed that a timid college student was behind all this suffering? Daina White. That’s who. For She knew that they were the one suffering the most. 

During the end of middle school, sweet, shy little Y/n had received a love note in their locker one day. At rope’s end and tired of life’s hardships, it became their lifeline. More and more came, their heart soaring with each word. It was at the end of the year that their childhood crush confessed that she had been the one to write them; a smile just a pinch to sweet on her face.

The two began dating; the lovesick teen unaware of what their love said behind their back – the plans she and her friends had towards the end of the summer. A letter had been placed at their doorstep to meet by the lake on the edge of town; note switched a second before they opened the door.

They arrived just in time to see her body floating in the lake, and her bewildered friends at the scene. They all fled; leaving the broken hearted soul to try and save her on their own. All, but one. Had they been a little wiser. They would have noticed that the penmanship between their love and the author of the letters didn’t match. That someone else was watching them from the sidelines at her friend's side. That the heart drawn on their dead lover’s mask had eerie similarities to the ones the popular girl in class wrote on her notebooks.

They tried to tell authorities of what happened. That there was no way it was an accident. The caving in of her skull was proof enough. Unfortunately, everyone brushed it off and left them in the dark.

You remain silent. She cups your cheeks with a smile.

“You’re angry aren’t you, baby? You want to see the world and see on fire, don’t you? That’s exactly how I felt when that bitch tried to take you away from me. Watching her laugh next to you. Hold you in her arms. It was all a damn lie, and now I’m gonna tell you the truth.” 

She leans in, placing a bloodied kiss to your lips. “She never loved you, Y/n. It was all me, my sweet Valentine.”

sorry.

summary・after getting into an argument with natasha about her being distant from you, she decides to apologize to you in her own special way.

pairing・bsf!natasha romanoff x f!reader

content warnings・dubcon, pervy!nat, implied beefy!nat, somewhat innocent reader, somnophilia, fingering, breeding kink (if you squint really hard), unprotected p in v, infidelity, nat has dick.

wc・1.8k

note・credits to the gif creator | hellooo, it’s been a while but i was sick but that was last week! now i’m all better :D and i finally found time (and motivation) to finish this little thought i had about pervy!bsf!nat so hope y’all enjoy :). read the warnings before you start reading.

You noticed something had changed in her. There was something different about her after you had gotten into a relationship. It all was the same— you two still hung out, doing everything you did together like always. But there was a change.

You could feel it.

She never liked him but that’s because Natasha’s always been protective over you. You wanted to ask her but every time you tried to, it would always be the same answer.

“Just forget about it.”

Well, you couldn’t. Not when she began canceling the plans she made with you abruptly or sometimes just ghosting you without any explanation.

Natasha was your first everything— even your first kiss, although you never brought it up after it happened and she didn't either. You knew her longer than you knew anyone. You both even chose the same college so you could be together!

Today was a Friday, which meant you both would be having a movie night but Natasha was nowhere to be seen. She left your shared apartment about five hours ago.

You knew her job as a mechanic ran late sometimes, but never this late. Sitting in front of the TV you began wondering if she was with someone else. Natasha never had any serious relationships, only one-night stands with women from the campus or the ones she met at a bar.

But why would she hide it from you? You always told each other everything. The thought of her hiding things from you stabbed at your heart. Lost in your sorrow, you didn't even notice her coming home until she sat next to you.

“What’s wrong?” you jumped at the sound of her voice, looking at her owl-eyed. “When did you come home?” you asked, running your eyes over her face. She didn't look disheveled like she usually did after coming back from work. “Just now,” her voice was clipped like she wasn't interested in conversation with you.

“Are you tired? I’ll get you something to drink,” you got up from the couch and rushed to the kitchen. Coming back with a beer in hand, you gave it to her and stood there watching her open it and drink it, waiting for a thank you— anything that made her speak to you. “What?” Natasha asked, her forest green eyes locking onto your face, “Do you have somethin’ to say?”

“No,” you answered, avoiding eye contact with her. She sounded annoyed. “You look like you do,” she finished her beer and placed it on the coffee table. “I. . .” you pause, wondering if it was the right time to ask. You heard her scoff, “Spit it out.”

The same feeling welled up in your chest. But you quickly pushed it down before asking “Are you mad at me?” You didn't mean to sound whiny. Natasha always told you to speak confidently. “Why would I be mad at you?”

You looked up at her face to see her looking at you with a raised brow. “Because you never wanna hang out with me anymore,” you said, “You’re always canceling on me at the last minute, or you never show up Nat!”

“Bullshit,” she hissed and you flinched at the tone. “I’ve been busy, my life can’t always revolve around you.” Your eyes widened, where was this coming from? “No, I didn't mean it like that! It’s just you seem so distant.”

“And what about you?” Natasha stood up from the couch and looked down at you. “You’re also distant,” she pointed at you accusingly.

Everything escalated from there.

You couldn't remember everything that was said. This was the first time you both had an actual fight. You couldn't bear to hear the things she yelled at you. It ended up with you crying and storming out and Natasha walked after you yelling her apologies but you questioned her ‘regret’ after she made it clear that she wasn't interested in being friends with you anymore.

You didn't even bother washing your tear-stricken face before climbing into your bed, hugging the stuffed toy that she won for you. All you wanted was for her to explain why she was being so distant.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Natasha could hear your sobs from her room.

The moment she saw the tears slip out of your eyes, she wished she could take everything she said back. She didn't mean anything she said. You just picked the wrong time to confront her. Today was already a bad day for her and she just exploded on you— which was wrong.

Once she couldn't hear your cries, Natasha got up from her bed and walked down to your room. Opening the door, she found you lying on the bed with your back facing away from her.

You were wearing one of her tank tops. Her clothes always looked better on you. Natasha walked over to you and guilt crept up her throat as she noticed the tear-soaked lion plushie you were holding.

Her hand fell on your shoulder. You were deep in sleep, not even moving an inch as she eased next to you. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, kissing your forehead. Your hair smelled like her shampoo and it drove her mad. You always looked better in her things, with her.

She couldn’t help but notice the cleavage peeking out from the tank top, her eyes trailing over the swell of plush skin that teased her. Her lips brushed against your neck, and you barely budged.

It was wrong, but she just couldn’t help it. She never could when it was you.

She gently lifted the sheet covering your body and tossed it to the side. Her hand gently cupped your breast, squeezing the fullness before moving her fingers to pinch your hardening nipple.

Her body moved on its own, one hand teasing your nipple while the other slipped under your shorts. All of the blood from her brain rushed down to her groin once she realized you weren't wearing anything underneath.

Her fingers found your clit, moving slowly not to wake you up. She watched every movement of yours, making sure to burn your soft whimpers into your mind while she lazily rubbed your swollen nub.

Your eyes fluttered open as she tugged your top up, “Nat?” Natasha quickly shushed you, she had already gone this far, and it’d be better if she just continued. She always wanted to do this to you.

“Nat!” your voice was urgent and she looked up at you to see you looking down at her with an alarmed look on your face, “W- what’re you doing?” She rubbed your clit at a faster pace, “Be quiet, baby. Let me show you how sorry I am.” Your breath hitched as she swallowed your nipple into her mouth.

“Na—t!”

Your fingers tangled in her hair as she very quickly worked you up to an orgasm. “Na- Natty, please,” you gasped, how was this even happening?

You let out a whimper as she eased her fingers inside you, “So fucking tight,” she growled against your chest, “And so fucking needy,” she looked up at you with a smile. “Come on baby, don’t be scared. You know you want this,” her honeyed voice had your eyes getting hazy as you felt the coil in your stomach getting tighter.

“Nat,” you groaned, her fingers hitting that little spot inside that had you arching your back for more. You weren’t sure if you wanted her to stop. “God, angel, you’re so fucking perfect,” she used her thumb to put pressure on your clit and that was enough for you to spiral down on her.

“That’s right, baby, cum on me. That’s my girl.” Her words only fueled your orgasm. Natasha used her other hand to slip her cock out, jerking herself off as she watched you cum. “Wanted to do this to you for so long. Did he make you cum like this, baby? You let him fuck this pussy?” Your eyes closed at her filthy words but you shook your head. Your relationship with him hadn't reached that point.

“That’s good,” she panted, “You were so good, angel. Made such cute noises for me while I touched you,” Her words went straight to your pussy, making you throb with need.

You looked down at her glistening length. “You liked it didn't you, baby? Wanted me to do that to you, hm?” You found yourself nodding at her words. “I was so mean to you wasn't I, baby?” she asked, moving her cock towards your hole.

“Wasn’t I?” she grabbed your chin and made you look at her. “Uh-huh,” you whispered, teary-eyed from her words and also the mind-blowing orgasm she gave you. She rubbed her tip against your leaking cunt, “That’s right, honey. Just like that, move your hips. I know you want this, needy girl,” she grabbed you and pulled you onto her lap.

Your hands gripping her large biceps, “Wanted this pussy for so fuckin’ long, baby.” Natasha groaned, her cock slipping into your cunt. You immediately became a blubbering mess against her, “S’too big. S’too much,” you whined at the pain.

She always heard it from women who she slept with, but she knew it would fit, it always did. “Shh, don’t cry,” she wiped your tears away.

“We’re not even halfway in,” Natasha chuckled. “You’re my strong girl, baby. Gonna handle it f’me, aren't you?” You gasped as she nudged against your cervix, “See? So fuckin’ full, god,” she groaned.

“You’re made for my cock.”

You sniffled, “So deep, Natty.”

Her hands cupped the flesh of your ass and began moving you up and down, “Just take it, baby. Making me feel so fuckin’ good, damn,” you circled your arms around her neck, crying into her skin as she pounded you. “That feels good, doesn't it? Just like how you always wanted, right love?”

Your cunt fluttered at the term, “Yes! Yes! Please don't stop,” you cried out. “You know how much I thought about you. . . ” she paused with a grunt, her hips snapped hard against you before she began fucking you faster— with more urgency.

“You’ve been driving me crazy for so long,” you moaned as she hit your spot again and again, making you see stars. “Need you, need you so bad,” you cried, dragging your fingernails up her back. “I know, sweetheart. You’re always needing me, aren't you?”

Her thrusts were getting sloppier, cock twitching inside you as she reached her orgasm with you. “Gonna cum in you, baby. Make you mine, officially.” You moaned at her words, “I need you in me,” you rocked your hips with her, another orgasm coming down on you like lightning.

Natasha grunted as she pumped her cum into you, hands gripping the flesh of your ass so hard that you could feel the bruises forming. Natasha pulled out and looked down to see her cum mixing with hers.

“You took me so good, just made for my cock, aren't you?” She turned you around and pushed you down the bed. “Yes, I- ah!” you grunted as she shoved your face against the pillow. “What’re you—”

“I’m not done saying sorry to you.”

© witchsgf ! 2023.