i loved the Dark/Yandere Hetalia Headcanons!!!!! Would it be okay if you made a short/scenario of y/n noticing or how would y/n react to the Axis and Allies?? (or just England :p). SORRY I DONT KNOW ENGLISH AND THIS IS MY FIRST ASK I LOVED IT thank you, you are the best!
Hi! I misread this, and wrote it in the point of view of the reader meeting them! But, I will make hcs of how the reader feels about them! And if this does good, I'll add Romano, Prussia, Canada, and Spain!
You Meet
As stated before, they’re very popular within the world. Something akin to a perfect mixture of politicians and celebrities. They need to be loved; they need people to love them. So, they think nothing when you ask for a picture. They were young, handsome, in high positions, they’re used to attention and flirting. But something about you is different. Something about you draws them. Maybe for you, it’s simply being at the wrong place at the wrong time, but they notice you back…
America:
“Sure, dude! I love pictures!” He bends down to your height, fitting perfectly in frame and you both smile. As the camera shatter, he spies that you’re looking at him. He’s used to this, being stared at, yet yours is so much more intense than others. “Huh, is there something on my face?” He plays into that natural all-American boyish charm he’s perfected. It causes you to blink, before turning away, your cheeks feeling hot. “Oh, it’s uh, its nothing…! You just have like, super pretty eyes…!” Your admittance catches him off guard.
His eyes…eyes are the windows to the soul, he remembers. Then again, does he have a soul? Still, he assumed you were looking at his face, his smile, his muscles. That’s what people always look at, that’s what people always look at with him. That’s what he focused on. Yet, here you are, talking about his eyes? How stupid! You’re so stupid! So adorably stupid! Don’t you know the lights in them were faked!
You watched as he busted out laughing, loud and confident. “S-Sorry, I was just caught off guard! But thanks! That’s a surprise!” It sounded so sincere and sweet, that you had no idea he was laughing at you. You thank him, and head in your way, but Alfred stops you, by grabbing your wrist. “Hey, lets get a coffee, huh?”
England:
“I was on my way to the pub, but what gentleman would I be to deny such a polite request.” Arthur studied as your hands trembled a bit, as you set up the camera to face both of you. He smiled, leaning in close, as you took the picture. “Oh, wow…! You’re very muscular…!” Your sudden comment caught him off guard. “I suppose so, I’m hardly a young man biologically, darling.” He watched as you studied him, really studied him. “It’s just, I don’t know, something about that is…unexpected.”
He wondered what you meant by that. Despite his face remaining neutral, internally, he felt some frustration. How dare you assume otherwise, how dare you read more into it than necessary. Of course he’s muscular, he was a goddamn empire. He’s still one of the most powerful countries in the bloody world. Of course he's muscular, he could crush your throat without trying. Humans can be so dimwitted. If it wasn’t for personifications like him, you’d all be still in the dark ages, possibly dead, knowing you all lack a braincell amongst your species.
“I’m sorry, was that rude? That was out of line.” Despite his wanting to say yes, the blonde shook his head. “Don’t concern yourself, dear. I wouldn’t expect a human to understand a personification such as I. We’re different, biologically.” You sighed in relief, glad that you didn’t accidentally insult a powerful man like Arthur. “Come,” You look up, seeing him offer his arm. “Fancy a pint, dear?”
France:
“Oh, my dear, I would be honored! Please, I insist!” You were quite a sweet little thing; your eyes only left his to pull your phone out. Then, they meet again. “I always wanted to meet you,” You directed the camera angle, as his arms found your waist. “I always believed that you shared my same feelings of love.” As the picture was shot, Francis’ eyes widened just a bit at your confession.
Love. Despite being the country that hosted the ‘City of Love’, songs written about romance, paintings depicting the beauty of two souls combining, he cannot feel it. Yet, he’s based his entire personality around it. Love, intimacy, sex, romance. It was all the same for him. A way to pass the time, and yet this adorable human believes differently of him. He was curious. To see your version of love. He looks at you again. Your entire being, seemed to be a natural form of the very thing that made Francis France. Your body language, your tone, your smile. It was love. And it made him envious. He felt like a faker, staring at the thing he wanted to emulate. He wanted to possess your love and suck it all in for himself.
“Ah love, so many sees it as a fairytale now, it breaks my heart.” His words made your eyes twinkle. “Yes, so many call me idealistic, but isn’t that what love is? Optimistic and idealized? We all want a certain type of love, and we chase it!” Francis’ smile got bigger, he knew that’d work. He was glad that it did, because you were more than willing to take his hand, and allow him to guide you along to continue your chat. “My kindred spirit! Truly, I knew you were special!” His words made you bashfully blush, luring you deeper. “Let’s discuss more over dinner. I want to pick your mind.”
China:
“You wish to take a picture with me? You humor this old man! Fine, fine! I will indulge you!” You jumped for joy, a childish reaction, but what was Yao, if not used to youngsters. “Aiyah, head up, don’t slouch! You need to present yourself in an adult manner if you wish to be treated as such!” Yao adjusted your posture with a strict hand. This is where most would be annoyed, or merely roll their eyes, but to his surprise, you took his advice to heart. “Oh, thank you, Mr. China! I want to make a good impression in your eyes!”
Yao was once a powerful country. The other countries on his side of the world listened to him. Set up systems, language, money, and religion based on his country. Truly, he believed himself unstoppable. The century of humiliation that followed, the western powers overpowering him, the countries he helped raise surpassing him, forced him to take a backseat in history. Yao learned how to softly play the game. He delegated himself as the wise one, the one who can wield word and sword with the same effectiveness. But he craved that direct power. To have someone to command and shape directly. Playing backseat leader was fun, it had its perks. But having someone to mold would be all the much better. And since he knew better this time, he won’t make the same mistakes this go around.
The camera went off with a shutter, as he looked it over. He studied it, your smile, your pose, your being. “Hm, not bad, but you have much to learn. Your smile is awkward; you need to have confidence!” You shrank a bit, apologizing. It was good, he didn’t want you to get too comfortable, he learned that lesson about building one up too well. “Do not worry about it! I will take you under my wing! Follow me!” He turned, expecting you to follow. And you did. Good.
Russia:
“A picture, with me? Hm, very well.” You were so small compared to Ivan; he had to bend down to fit in the frame. But he was used to that. As he pressed himself against you, watching you set the camera up, you shivered deeply. “Y-You’re freezing…!” You put the phone down, taking his hand. Ivan watched as you tried to cover his giant hands with your comically tiny ones. Your breath, the hot air brushing against them, as you tried to warm him up. “What…are you doing?” His question caused you to look up, as if he was the crazy one. “You’re freezing! You can get frostbite, or hypothermia, or something!” He didn’t say anything, watching you curiously.
He was born cold. Physically, emotionally, to his very core. He’s been hurt, and he has hurt others. He’s burned others down to feel the warmth he was denied. But isn’t that what others like him are? Cold? Scary? He never understood the masks the others put on, to be loved by the worms they’re forced to share a world with. Ivan can recognize that he had very little good interactions with humans compared to the others. That he didn’t see a need to give them much consideration. They were so easy to break. So easily scared. But you weren’t scared. You helped him without thinking. You were warm. He wondered how warm you’d be, even when he attempted to break you.
“You are very odd. I cannot get hypothermia.” You blinked. Now that you think about it, he wouldn’t have to deal with that. Now you feel stupid. But Ivan found that interesting that you, a stranger, cared for him. As you tried to apologize and walked away, he grabbed your hand, smiling gently.
“I like your warmth, share more?”
Italy:
“Oh! I love pictures! Let’s take one! Right now!” Feliciano pulled you in before you could set the camera up, he pulled you in closely. His smile’s radiance could rival the suns. It flustered you for a bit. And to focus your attention on something else, you focused on your original goal. The picture with the happy-go-lucky personification. As you smiled, his eyes flickered to yours, almost curious. Studying you.
How come your smile was different? He worked hard for his, and yet, yours was different. If his was bright and sunny, yours would be mysterious and silvery like the moon. Unconsciously formed through emotions he wasn’t privy to. He was a bit, jealous. A work of art, something he’s known for. And yet, here is this normal unassuming human, a work of art. He wonders, is this how it feels for an artist to see a blank canvas, before a work of art is made. What makes this different than a cultivated masterpiece, like his own masterpieces he’s created.
“Mr. Italy?” Your words sparked him back to reality, as he turned to you. Your eyes twinkled with concern. “You zoned out, are you okay?” He nodded, a bit absentmindedly. He soon plastered his smile back on, grabbing your hand.
“Hey,” He looked at you, as innocent as a dandelion seed, blowing in the wind. “Let me paint you, please?”
Germany:
“I suppose I can spare a few minutes. Don’t make this a pattern, though.” You nodded, frantically setting his camera, as he bent down to your height. He watched your hands trembling, and then he grabbed them to steady the camera. “S-Sorry…! I’m just, so excited to meet you!”
Stuttering. Trembling hands. Not looking at him in the eye. Slight slouch. When did humans this sloppy. Something about that irritated him to the core. You snapped the picture, as he placed his hands on your back, straightening your posture. “You’re human, you’ll give yourself back pains.’ He spoke sternly, as you looked up at him with a flushed face. He didn’t understand why. “Why are you looking at me in such a manner.”
“I-Isn’t that sort of intimate, touching someone in the back…?” What in God’s name were you talking about. Right, he forgot, humans had the odd belief that touch was an intimate thing to them. He never understood human intimacy. It was all illogical nonsense, and look here, there you are. The patron saint of it. He wondered. If he could train this out of you. It would make his life easier if he knew if he could just train a human like one would train a dog. Dogs were much easier to understand, anyways. Humans and canines were all animals at the end of the day.
“Anyways, thank you for taking time to taking the picture with me, I’ll treasure it-!”
“Stay.” His barked order made you freeze, as he stepped closer. “We are going to dinner, and we will fix this. That’s an order.” And for some reason, you didn’t say no…
Japan:
The man was quiet, watching as you hopefully held the phone. You gulped and tried again. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m such a big fan of yours. May I have a picture?” After a while, he finally answered, nodding once. So small, you would’ve thought he was continuing to stare, if not for him coming to you.
He was studying you. You were so…lively. Bright. You wore your emotions on your sleeve. Kiku based his entire country on peace. His peace. To not show so much emotion, to not stick out, and rock the boat. To put emphasis on togetherness and a united front. Yet you stuck out just by your emotions, your expression. He didn’t hate it, in fact, he wanted to have your range. If h did, he’d feel more human. Yet, another part of him wanted to suppress it. To bring you towards his idea of peace. He wondered, how you would look, if you resembled him and his world.
As you two posed, he copied your smile, your peace sign, your gentleness. Just to try it out. The click of the picture made him blink, going to the practiced persona he learned. “Are you in the city for long? There’s a lovely café I think you’ll enjoy.” He asked, as you smiled. “Only for a few days! I would love to try the café! Um, where is it?” Kiku nodded, a few days. He had a few days to keep you in sight, to study you. “Please follow me, I’ll show you.”
England x Reader
͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙Read me on AO3 ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙
✿(Y/N) was the Pope’s ultimate weapon, his chosen arrow sent to reclaim England in blood and assassinate the Protestant Queen Elizabeth I. But her mission is derailed by Arthur Kirkland, the enigmatic and ruthless "Queen’s Shadow" who claims her body right after interrupting her mission.✿
✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩
It was bright outside, so bright it was as though god had blessed the day. But to the pope’s assassin, (Y/N), today was a fall from grace, the day in which England finally fell to protestantism.
Queen Elizabeth Tudor had been given the crown of England, and any minute now she would ride out in her chariot and pass this very street, the exact street where (Y/N)’s crossbow was aimed and waiting.
Her loyalty to the pope and her faith was forged through her father, who had his land stripped from him under Henry the eight after he refused to convert to Protestantism. After being stripped of his land and titles, he led a failed rebellion against the English Crown that ultimately cost him his life and sent (Y/N) fleeing into bitter exile. She was taken in by the Church and molded into the ultimate weapon.
She was the Pope's own arrow, sent to reclaim England in blood.
There was no doubt why the Pope had chosen her for this job; she was, without question, the best assassin in all of Europe. Earls, lords, priests… none were exempt from the sharp arrows she had built herself.
To her, she was doing god’s work.
From the high window she had chosen to shoot from, the crowded London street looked like an anthill of heretics, all cheering for a bastard queen who had turned her back on the true Church.
The roar of the crowd grew louder. Their cries of joy stung (Y/N)’s ears as she averted her eyes and her crossbow as well.
There she was. Elizabeth. The golden chariot rolled into view, and the sunlight caught the jewels of the crown the pope wanted for a Catholic.
(Y/N)’s finger slid over the iron trigger.
This was it. Just one press of her finger and she would be back on a boat to the Vatican. She began to sweat in her dress, waiting for the queen to just turn her head…
Thwack!
A gloved hand came and angled the crossbow so that it was angled towards the sky, causing the heavy bolt to unleash and send the arrow to bury itself deep into the roofline across the street.
"Now, that is no way to greet the queen on her coronation day," a dangerously posh voice said right beside her.
Before (Y/N) could drop her crossbow and reach for her dagger hidden in her dress, she was yanked from the windowsill and crashed onto the floorboards of the abandoned room.
Dust seeped through her closed eyes, causing her to flinch and tear as she attempted to rub her blindness away. Above her stood a man dressed in the fine, dark velvet of the Tudor court, his green eyes flashing with fierce intensity.
"The Pope is getting desperate if he's sending pretty little birds to do his dirty work.” He said.
“Who are you?” She asked as the dust settled slowly around them.
“I am Arthur Kirkland, poppet. The Queen’s shadow,” His voice was velvet over steel, with a hint of amusement as he kicked her crossbow from her reach. “Did His Holiness really think a single bolt from a pretty face would undo everything I’ve built? How adorably naïve.”
She had been warned about him of course through the Pope’s intelligence, but seeing Arthur Kirkland in the flesh was something else entirely. Tall, sharp, featured, with that infuriating aristocratic sneer curling his lips.
“Get off me,” she hissed, twisting beneath him. Her fingers inched toward the dagger strapped to her thigh, but Arthur was faster. He dropped to one knee, catching her wrist.
“Tsk. Feisty little thing, aren’t you?”
(Y/N) bared her teeth, yanking against his hold. “The true Church will not fall to your heretic queen. Elizabeth is a bastard and a traitor to God. One day…”
“One day?” Arthur leaned closer, his green eyes narrowing dangerously. The scent of gunpowder, ink, and something faintly floral clung to his dark velvet doublet. Tea perhaps? “One day England will stand stronger than your crumbling Vatican ever dreamed. And you, poppet, are going to watch it happen.”
With a swift motion he hauled her to her feet, twisting her arm behind her back and pressing her against the dusty wall.
The crowd outside grew louder and louder, mocking her as she struggled for her life.
He was taller than her and obviously stronger. She could feel the heat of his body through her gown, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against her shoulder blade.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, almost softly. “First time failing, I take it?”
“I don’t fail.”
Arthur chuckled low in his throat. “You just did. And now you have a choice, little assassin. I could turn you over to my men. Let them drag you before the new Queen in chains. Imagine how that would look on her coronation day. Or…”
He released her wrist but didn’t step back, caging her with his arms on either side of her head. His gloved fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face almost gently.
“Or you could come with me. Quietly. I have questions about your dear Pope’s plans. And perhaps… I could use someone with your particular talents. Properly directed, of course.”
(Y/N)’s pulse hammered in her ears. This was not how today was supposed to go.
“Why would I ever help you?” she whispered.
Arthur’s smile was sharp and wicked.
“Because deep down, you know this day was inevitable. And because I suspect you’re far too clever to throw your life away for a losing cause.” His gaze dropped to her lips for the briefest moment. “Besides… I’d hate to ruin such a lovely face.”
Outside, the crowd erupted into fresh cheers as Elizabeth’s procession continued down the street, oblivious to (Y/N)’s struggle.
“Well, poppet? What’s it going to be?”
(Y/N) thought of her father who was beheaded and her mother who died with him. She starred her (eye colour) eyes deep into his green ones and shook her head.
“I would never help you.” She spat.
“Then You’re going to watch it happen, poppet,” he murmured, voice low and laced with cruel delight. “You’re going to watch your precious plan die right in front of your eyes.”
Before she could snap back, he spun her around and forced her to the right so that she was once again looking at the same window she had aimed her crossbow out of. One strong arm banded around her waist, the other pinning her wrists together in front of her. He shoved her forward until her hips hit the windowsill, the bright afternoon light flooding over them both. Below, the crowded London street was alive with cheering heretics, golden banners waving, and in the center of it all, Queen Elizabeth Tudor in her glittering chariot, waving regally to her people.
“No…let me go, you bastard…”
“Shh.” Arthur’s gloved hand yanked her skirts up roughly, bunching the heavy fabric around her waist and exposing her bare thighs and ass to the cool air. “Eyes on your queen. That’s an order.”
She felt him free himself behind her, the hard length of his cock pressing against her bare skin a moment later. He kicked her legs apart just enough, one hand gripping her hip while the other kept her wrists trapped. The roar of the crowd grew as Elizabeth received flowers from a subject.
Then he thrust his long, hard manhood into her in one thrust.
A choked cry escaped (Y/N)’s throat as he filled her completely, stretching her without mercy. Arthur groaned low, the sound vibrating against her back.
“Fuck… tighter than I expected,” he growled, already pulling back and slamming in again, setting a punishing rhythm. “Look at her. Look at Elizabeth. The woman you failed to kill. The woman who’s going to rule a Protestant England while you’re up here getting fucked by her shadow.”
Every thrust rocked her forward against the windowsill, forcing her to stare down at the bright street, the cheering masses, and the golden figure of the new queen who was supposed to be lying dead by now.
Arthur’s hips snapped forward harder, one hand sliding up to grip her throat lightly, tilting her head so she couldn’t look away.
“That’s it… watch her smile. Watch them cheer for the bastard queen. And feel me, poppet. Feel how deep I’m buried inside you while your precious Pope’s plans crumble.”
He fucked her relentlessly, the wet slap of skin and her unwilling moans lost beneath the roar of the crowd. His pace grew faster, more demanding, each thrust driving her closer to the edge whether she wanted it or not. His velvet-clad chest pressed flush to her back, lips brushing her ear as he panted.
“Say it,” he demanded, voice rough with lust and triumph. “Say her name while I fuck you.”
Arthur’s grip on her throat tightened just enough to make her pulse flutter wildly under his gloved fingers. He slammed into her harder, the force of his hips driving her pelvis painfully against the rough wooden windowsill.
(Y/N) bit down on her lip until it bled, trying to hold back the broken moan tearing from her throat as his cock drove impossibly deeper.
“E-Elizabeth…” she gasped, the name tasting like sin on her tongue.
“Louder.” Arthur’s hand cracked sharply across her exposed ass, the sting blooming hot as he immediately followed with another punishing thrust. “Let the heretics hear how you’re wet for me.”
“Elizabeth!” she cried out, voice cracking as he fucked her even harder. Tears of shame and unwanted pleasure streamed down her face while she was forced to stare straight down at the glittering queen waving to her adoring subjects.
“Good girl,” Arthur growled as he yanked her head back through her hair. “Look at her. Your precious future is getting fucked just like this tight little cunt. The Pope sent you to kill a queen and instead you’re creaming all over my cock.”
His pace turned savage. It made her cunt burn as she endured his torture.
He shoved two of his fingers down her throat, causing her to choke as he pressed down on her tongue.
“Suck,” he ordered. She obeyed involuntarily, tongue swirling around his gloved digits while her walls clenched desperately around his thick cock.
Arthur’s free hand slid down to rub harsh, possessive circles over her swollen clit. “You’re going to cum while watching her, poppet. I want you to fall apart with your eyes on the woman who just buried your entire mission.”
(Y/N)’s body betrayed her completely. The overwhelming stretch, the relentless friction, the humiliating thrill of being used so openly…
Her vision blurred as the orgasm ripped through her, cunt spasming violently around him.
Arthur didn’t stop. He fucked her straight through it, growling praises and degradations in that posh accent that made everything worse.
“That’s it…good girl. Oh, you feel perfect. So wet for me…” His rhythm faltered, growing erratic and even deeper. “I’m going to fill you up. Brand you from the inside while your queen celebrates below.”
With a final, punishing thrust, Arthur buried himself to the hilt and came hard, flooding her clenching pussy with hot, thick spurts. He groaned long and low against her neck, hips jerking as he emptied himself completely, marking her as his.
Arthur then pulled out slowly, watching with dark satisfaction as his seed leaked down her trembling thighs.
He spun her around, pressing her back against the wall, and tilted her chin up with two fingers.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, thumb brushing her tear-streaked cheek. “And this is only the beginning, poppet. You’re mine now.”
Characters/fandoms/pairings: Yandere! Honda Kiku || Japan [Hetalia] x F! Reader.
Warning: This story will contain explicit yandere
themes, proceed with caution [includes mentions of graphic violence and implied stalking]
Author's note: this idea for a short drabble had been on my mind for days after seeing this yandere japan fanart by @purplemistbutterfly and I just had to write it. Wc- 4, 557.
Also, remember that lot has been going around the world lately, try to educate yourself and contribute as much as you can.
𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
The glow of neon lights wrapped around you like a comforting embrace as you lounged on a plush sofa, the strains of your own recordings playing softly in the background. Each note echoed through the modest bar, creating a dreamy atmosphere that felt almost otherworldly. The chandelier flickered, casting delicate colors across the room, and for a moment, you felt suspended in a haze, as if the world around you had faded away.
In the background, the clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air. A waitress, young and diligent, bustled about, balancing trays of drinks with practiced grace, exchanging light banter with the bartender, who was busy mixing cocktails. Their laughter mingled with the music, a gentle reminder of the life that pulsed through the club as it prepared for the evening rush.
With a soft sigh, you swung your legs off the sofa, the hem of your dress swirling around you for an instant. The sharp click of your heels against the floor grounded you, pulling you back into the moment.
You absentmindedly twirled a strand of your hair around your fingers, a pang of longing washing over you. How you wished you could sing forever—such a melodramatic thought, you mused.
Just then, a waitress removed the ashtray from the coffee table, her movements graceful. She caught your eye and offered a warm smile, one that reflected the admiration so many in this lively city had for you. Young yet industrious, she, like others, found joy in your performances, and their support felt like a quiet reminder of your modest fame.
It was the perfect balance—enough recognition to feel appreciated, yet not so much that it became overwhelming. You cherished this intimate space, where your talent was seen and valued, untainted by the harsh demands of larger stages.
With a roll of your shoulders, you decided to freshen up. You applied a light layer of makeup, your dress—a flowing creation with delicate crow motifs—draped around your legs. The fabric shifted with each subtle movement, catching the light in a way that made the motifs seem alive.
You slipped on your heels and styled your hair with careful hands, confident in your skill, the way you always did before a performance. After sending away the helpful crew who insisted on doing it for you, you prepared to step into the night, ready to captivate once more.
The stage shimmered like a midnight sky, lit with soft, silvery lights that twinkled like distant stars. You felt like a solitary bird, singing a lullaby that might go unheard by the vastness of the world, yet here, every note held significance. The melody flowed from your lips, soft and effortless, as your body swayed gently to the rhythm.
The rest of the world faded away, leaving just you, the music, and the connection with those who listened. It was ironic, really—this was when most eyes were on you, and yet you felt as though you were suspended in a private world of your own making.
The audience was a mix of familiar faces and newcomers, all drawn in by the magic you created on stage. Among them were well-dressed gentlemen, some leaning back with arms crossed, others inching forward, their eyes following your every move with intrigued intensity. Nearby, women whispered excitedly, their giggles escaping as they listened. Business elites, seeking respite from the fast-paced world outside, sat quietly, their faces softening as they allowed themselves to relax, appreciating the intimacy of this setting over the grandeur of larger performances.
At other tables, university students exchanged glances between sips of their drinks, entranced by your voice, some even whispering your name as though they’d stumbled upon a secret treasure. Local workers, still in their uniforms, unwound from their long shifts, leaning back in their chairs with drinks in hand, their faces softened with quiet smiles as your melody soothed their weary souls.
In the background, the diligent staff moved seamlessly through the space, balancing trays of drinks, refilling glasses, and clearing tables. The bartender, a seasoned expert with quick hands, mixed cocktails with the precision of an artist, casting the occasional glance toward the stage, a faint smile always tugging at his lips. The waitstaff worked with a rhythm of their own, exchanging light banter with regulars and newcomers alike.
They were your quiet champions, always turning down the big offers from record companies that sought to pull you into the commercialized world of fame. They knew, as you did, that this setting was where you truly wished to be.
Your performance was more than just a routine; it was an extension of yourself, a moment of vulnerability wrapped in music. The spotlight gently framed your figure, casting a soft glow that danced with the notes as they escaped your lips. Your hands lifted, almost as if guiding the melody itself, and for those moments on stage, nothing else mattered.
The sway of your dress, adorned with delicate crow motifs, moved like shadows across the floor, adding an air of mystery to your presence.
And though you weren’t chasing the grandeur of fame, there was a certain power in these performances. The connection you felt with the audience—each gaze, each whisper of your name—made you feel seen in ways that the glare of the public eye never could.
You weren’t a star striving to shine in the vastness of the sky; you were the moon casting light over an enchanted crowd, and in this bar, in this moment, that was enough.
What you didn’t notice was the quiet presence lingering at the edge of the room, like a shadow among the warm glow of lights. Hidden in the dim corners, a pair of dark, inscrutable eyes watched you—deep and unfathomable, reminiscent of still waters reflecting a moonlit sky.
His gaze followed your every movement, simmering with an adoration that burned slowly, as insidious as poison, blending seamlessly with the night. And just before you left the stage, he muttered softly to himself, barely audible over the music,
“カラスは…これから来るものの前兆だ。”
His lips curled into a subtle, unsettling smile, as though the omen had already taken root.
“ダーリン。”
════════════════════════════
It was a spur-of-the-moment decision when Feliciano had eagerly dragged Kiku out of the house, his voice embarrassingly loud in front of everyone. With excitement gleaming in his eyes, he insisted that Kiku join him at a nearby bar, one he claimed had a cozy atmosphere.
He went on about the drinks, the people, and especially the woman there whose voice he described as angelic, able to make anyone forget their troubles. Kiku raised an eyebrow—he knew Feliciano, and any woman could be deemed an angel in his eyes, so he wasn’t sure whether anyone could truly live up to that praise.
Despite his reluctance, Kiku followed, feeling a mixture of resignation and annoyance. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged out like this, especially for something so undignified. He could already imagine the kind of chaos Feliciano would create in such a quiet setting.
As they entered the bar, Kiku sighed. The warm lighting and low hum of conversation created a peaceful atmosphere, but he wasn’t impressed. His eyes scanned the room, seeking something of interest to distract himself. That’s when he spotted Ludwig across the room.
Ludwig was seated at a table, his gaze fixed intently on a brunette in a maid outfit who was laughing with a group of friends. Kiku noted how serious Ludwig appeared, his focus unwavering as he studied her every move with an almost unsettling intensity. When their eyes met, Ludwig gave him a brief nod, which Kiku returned with a slight bow. It was typical of Ludwig to maintain such seriousness, even in a casual setting.
Next to Ludwig sat Francis, effortlessly charming a group of businesswomen with his smooth foreign accent. His laughter filled the air easily, a stark contrast to Ludwig’s quiet intensity. Kiku watched the scene with mild amusement. It was familiar, but somehow still entertaining to see Francis working his charm.
Feliciano, oblivious to the dynamics of the group, continued to rave about the bar’s ambiance. Kiku couldn’t decide whether to laugh or sigh. Maybe there was something to enjoy in this unexpected gathering of familiar faces, but he wasn’t convinced.
Then the music began.
A soft, haunting melody slowly rose, weaving through the air like a gentle current, filling the space around them. Kiku, sinking into his seat in one of the private booths, instinctively turned his focus toward the sound. The bar was cozy, the conversation still flowing around him, but it was the music that truly drew him in.
He glanced toward Ludwig again, who seemed to have relaxed a little, a few drinks in, with the brunette now sitting on his lap. Despite the change in posture, the intensity in Ludwig’s gaze remained. Kiku shifted his focus back to the music, feeling the soft notes caress the air. Despite their slow pace, they held power, quieting the noise in his mind.
The voice that accompanied the melody was captivating—rich, smooth, hypnotic. It settled into Kiku’s chest, making his thoughts slow and his senses sharpen. The world around him dimmed as he focused only on the sound, letting the voice wrap around him like a spell. For a brief moment, he forgot where he was, lost to the music.
As the notes filled him, something shifted inside, like a spark igniting in the stillness of his chest. An unfamiliar hunger stirred—dangerous, intoxicating. The voice, the melody—it awoke something deep within him, something he hadn’t been prepared to feel.
Kiku found himself utterly fixated. His usual caution and restraint were slipping away as the voice continued to draw him in. He couldn’t tear his attention away, lost in the depth of it, as if everything else faded into the background.
From that night on, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He watched you from afar, noting the softness in your manner, the strength in your resolve. You were kind, diligent, and full of quiet grace, drawing him in further with each passing day.
Kiku, always careful, had never allowed himself to indulge in such obsession, but now, something darker began to take hold. He hired someone to hack into your devices, learning your secrets, uncovering the hidden corners of your life. Each discovery only deepened his infatuation.
You lived simply, but there was an undeniable elegance in everything you did. Each morning, you made matcha tea, savoring it slowly as you tended to your modest garden. Cherry blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, chrysanthemums bloomed in vibrant bursts, and bonsai trees stood carefully pruned, each one a testament to your patience.
You had a quiet generosity too—leaving bowls of rice or fish out for the stray cats that wandered into your yard, a small act of kindness that you believed brought good fortune. He watched, fascinated by the peace you found in these little rituals.
In the afternoons, you volunteered at the local community center, helping the elderly with their daily tasks. You prepared sweet treats like mochi and dorayaki, listening to their stories, sharing in their wisdom. You were always engaged, always giving, connecting deeply with the community around you.
And when the seasonal festivals came around, you danced with your neighbors, laughed with friends, and participated in the celebrations that honored yourself. The kindness you spread was subtle but powerful, a thread that tied you to the people around you. To him.
Kiku couldn't stop watching, couldn't stop learning more about you. You were everywhere he looked—your life, your kindness, your quiet grace—it all consumed him, filling the space in his mind, until it became impossible to ignore.
════════════════════════════
"生一緒にいたい"
He repeated it over and over, the words slipping past his lips like a prayer, each time more fervently, each time more desperate. The phrase carved itself into his soul, filling the hollow space within him.
"私のもの…"
His eyes never strayed from you, not once. Always from the shadows, always watching. You didn’t notice him—never did. But he noticed everything. Every little movement you made. Every soft laugh that danced in the air. Each smile was like a dagger of desire. You were his. Only his.
"全てが私のものになる…"
He knew everything about you. The way your hair curled just right, the way your fingers brushed your lips in that nervous habit. The smallest details—details only he could see. He whispered your name to himself, savoring it, imagining the life you would share together, locked away from the world. Just the two of you.
"絶対に、君を失わない…"
Kiku's gaze was unwavering. You were everywhere. In the streets you walked, in the quiet little coffee shop you adored, in the park where you sat with that innocent, too-perfect smile. Everything was etched in his memory. Every single place, every single moment. He would wait. He would wait until you understood—until you realized that the only place you could ever belong was with him. Alone. Together.
“永遠に”
He loved you. More than love—it had become an obsession. A consuming, all-encompassing thing. Each little piece of your life, each small revelation only fanned the flames. How could someone so perfect exist? So effortlessly beautiful, so kind? You were everything he had longed for, everything he needed, and the thought of losing you was unbearable. His thoughts of you filled his every moment, his longing growing, desperate, never-ending.
He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect.
He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect.
He loved you. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect.
He couldn’t lose you. No. He wouldn’t lose you. Yes. He shouldn’t lose you. You were one of a kind.
Each day passed as if he were observing a film he had forgotten to look over from long ago.
Kiku had fallen deep in love with you. Everything he did was for you. In his mind, there was no difference between love and possession. You were the one thing he could never let go, the one thing that would make him whole.
And when that moment came—he would make sure there was no escape.
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He had been attending every one of your performances, without fail. No matter the venue—whether it was an intimate gathering or an art house event tucked away from prying eyes—he always found his way there. He relished the exclusivity, the idea that only a select few could appreciate your art. To him, it was magnificent, and every second spent watching you felt sacred.
Soon, your shows became the highlight of his life. He rescheduled meetings, canceled national duties, all to linger in the shadows of your presence. Even during the most critical discussions, his mind often wandered. Politically important matters, ceremonies, decisions—they all paled compared to thoughts of you. Your voice, the arch of your hands, the grace you exuded—it consumed him.
The first time he approached you, you blushed under his gaze, avoiding his eyes as if overwhelmed. That small flicker of vulnerability stayed with him, replaying in his mind, each time more vivid than the last.
Watching you became a ritual, a sacred act. He sent small, thoughtful gifts—flowers from distant lands, hand-written letters, packages left at your door. He wanted you to feel seen, cherished, even if his gestures sometimes unsettled you. He even started bringing trusted officials and friends to witness your art. He wanted to show you off, to see their awe, as they recognized what he had come to adore.
But the closer he tried to get, the more distant you became. You had gently expressed discomfort with his gifts and appearances. His heart sank. That quiet rejection cut deeper than he’d anticipated. He called to you, begged you to reconsider, but you never wavered. Slowly, imperceptibly, you slipped from his grasp.
With every step you took away, his longing grew. Each polite refusal, each avoidance felt like a door closing. He told himself it was just a phase, that you would understand eventually. But time passed, and that hope began to fade, replaced by an aching frustration. How could you pull away from something so sincere? How could you not see how deeply he adored you? Did you truly believe you could escape?
“いや…いや...いや...いや...
いや! いや! いや!, いや!”
════════════════════════════
When he learned you’d be performing for a private group of university graduates, a spark of jealousy ignited deep within him. His jaw clenched as he imagined those men—laughing, cheering, acting as if they truly understood the value of what you offered.
How could they? They weren’t worthy of sharing the same room with you, let alone witnessing you in such an intimate setting. The thought of it, the idea of them being so close, felt like an intrusion into the sanctity he had carefully built around you.
He couldn't let it go. He had to be there. No matter what, nothing could stop him.
He slipped into the crowd unnoticed, taking refuge in a shadowed corner. His eyes never left you. Every movement you made, every gesture, was recorded in his mind. The group of graduates, so self-assured and too eager, didn’t know their place. They had no right to be near you.
He observed them as they settled, talking amongst themselves, casting glances in your direction. Their words grew louder, and Kiku’s grip on his calm began to slip. One man leaned over to his friend with a grin, eyes scanning you up and down. “I bet she’s just as beautiful up close, don’t you think?”
The other chuckled, clearly amused. “I wouldn’t mind finding out.”
The laughter that followed made Kiku’s chest tighten. They were nothing but animals, trying to mark their territory, and you were the prize they sought. But it didn’t stop there. As the evening went on, the men grew bolder. One of them, emboldened by a drink, approached you during a brief break in the performance. He placed his hand on your shoulder with too much familiarity, leaning in too close.
“Such a shame," he said, eyes glinting. "A woman with so much talent, and yet so few people to truly appreciate it." He let his hand linger just a moment too long, his thumb brushing against the back of your neck.
You recoiled slightly, discomfort flashing across your face, but you smiled politely. "Please, I'm fine," you said, your tone steady though Kiku could see the slight tension in your shoulders. "Please refrain."
The man smirked, taking your response as an invitation to press further. “You sure? You’re not one of those shy types, are you?”
You took a step back, holding your composure, but it was too much for Kiku. His pulse quickened. The tightness in his chest grew unbearable. He watched as the others, noticing the scene, began to snicker, sharing looks that made his blood boil. These men didn’t just admire you—they were treating you like an object, their entitled hands and crude remarks making his skin burn.
Kiku’s fists clenched, his breath shallow. His eyes locked onto the man’s hand, still resting on you, his touch inappropriate, invasive. A surge of fury coursed through him. How dare they think they could touch you? How dare they think they had any right to make you feel uncomfortable in any way?
The night had begun to unravel, and so had his patience.
The laughter continued to echo in his ears, mingling with the murmur of the crowd. But Kiku’s gaze remained steady, fixed on the men who dared to ruin this moment. He would let them think they were in control, that this was their night. But they had no idea what they had provoked.
He leaned slightly forward, lips curving into a cold smile. There were consequences. And they didn't even see it coming.
Not like he could help it. The thread had snapped, like the final stroke of a katana slicing through the air, severing the restraint he had so carefully maintained. The fire surged through his veins, fierce and unrelenting, as if Kagutsuchi, the god of flames himself, had set his soul alight. It consumed him—body, mind, and spirit—filling every corner of his being with an overwhelming heat, a rage that pulsed with ancient power.
His hand found the knife on the nearby table. The cold steel felt almost... familiar, as though it had been waiting for him, as if it were an extension of his own will. He raised the blade, the glint of metal flashing like the edge of a sword under moonlight, reflecting the fire now burning in his eyes. With each step toward them, he moved like a shadow, swift and decisive.
At this moment, nothing else mattered.
The first slash was quick, clean, and almost too easy. Blood splattered, painting the floor in red streaks, but Kiku didn’t care. The crimson stain of their lives was nothing compared to the purity of his desire. The warm, thick liquid sprayed across the room like the petals of a sakura in full bloom—scattered and gone in an instant, yet forever marking the earth beneath.
The thought of their hands on you, those impure hands, tainted him to his core. Their very existence had defiled something sacred. His heart thudded in his chest, a rhythmic pulse amid the chaos, his breath quick and uneven. How dare they even think of you like that?
Five of them. Five arrogant, filthy students, too blind to realize their actions, would cost them everything. He couldn’t let them live. Not after what they had tried to do.
“許せない、許せない、どうして…どうして君に触れた?”
The second slash came faster than the first, cutting down one of them as he collapsed to the floor, lifeless. Blood sprayed in a violent arc, mingling with their screams and desperate pleas. Kiku’s rage burned hotter, unstoppable now. They scrambled to escape, but it was too late. Another slash. Another life snuffed out in an instant.
He moved through them like a shadow, his strikes swift and merciless, as precise as death itself. They couldn’t escape. They shouldn’t have touched you. Their blood splattered across the floor, and it felt almost... cathartic.
The fourth one—a desperate, shaking figure—reached for the door in vain. Kiku closed in, catching him in an iron grip. A swift slash across the throat, and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless, joining the others.
And then there was just one. The last student. Kiku walked toward him slowly, savoring the terror in his eyes, the hopelessness settling in as he realized there was no escape. His apologies fell on deaf ears; his words were useless. They meant nothing now—not when they had tormented so many others before they tried to harm you.
The final slash was quick, precise, and the last of the five fell without a sound. Kiku stood amidst the carnage, breathing heavily, the knife still dripping with their blood. Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the steady drip of blood hitting the floor.
He didn’t care about the consequences, didn’t care that he had taken their lives with his own hands. What mattered now was that they would never touch you again.
You were his. And no one, not a single soul, could take that away from him.
════════════════════════════
The knife slipped from Kiku’s fingers, clattering to the floor with a metallic thud, but he hardly noticed. His chest rose and fell, breath coming faster, as his gaze found you.
You.
Your figure trembled in the dim light, and in his eyes, you were like a spider lily in full bloom, a beautiful apparition drenched in red. Crimson painted you in streaks, trails of black running down your cheeks as you watched him, wide-eyed and tear-streaked, a delicate petal shaken by the storm.
Kiku’s breathing stopped, his heart halting in his chest as his world narrowed to you, only you. He was so close, close enough to catch the faint shiver in your frame, close enough to see the tears glistening in your eyes. It was intoxicating, a sight more beautiful than anything he had ever witnessed in his endless lifetime.
His fingers twitched, aching to reach for you, to trace those stains of red like brushstrokes on silk. You, trembling before him, so perfect, so untouched by anyone else’s taint—now his. His alone.
A slow, almost reverent exhale escaped his lips. No other nation, no other woman had ever sparked this feeling in him. In centuries of existence, through wars and alliances, through lifetimes of encounters, he had never felt this pull, this ache, until you.
The feeling was ancient, relentless, filling the depths of his soul like the tides. He had wanted many things, fought for many things, but this… this was different. A possession he had claimed, yet one he longed to cherish, to hold, to keep forever close.
He took a step forward, then another, as if entranced, his heartbeat finally catching up to the flood of emotions overwhelming him. You were his. And no one—no force, no man, no fate— would or could take that away.
His fingers brushed against the red phone in his pocket, pulling it out with a deliberate slowness. A dark smile curled on his lips as he held it up, his gaze never leaving you. His eyes traced every inch of your form, as if committing you to memory. His black suit was stained with crimson, the blood that had spilled from the chaos now forgotten, its significance drowned in the quiet tension between you.
The phone’s screen lit up, and with it, the soft click of the camera captured the moment. Another flash. The light illuminated your face, your trembling form, and your wide, fearful eyes. Kiku could almost taste the fear in the air, and he relished it, savoring every second.
You lay there, weak and trembling, your body unwilling to move but your mind screaming for escape. The dress you wore—delicate, lace-trimmed, a soft shade of pale pink—clung to your form, stained now with the same blood that marked his hands. It was a stark contrast to the nightmare unfolding around you.
Kiku’s smile remained serene, calm in a way that made your heart race, as if nothing were wrong. He stepped closer, each movement deliberate, slow, savoring the moment. The room was heavy with silence, your breathing the only sound filling the space. The blood spattered across his face, and yet his expression remained as composed as ever, as if this was some twisted art he was admiring.
"言ってみろ。もう二度と逃げないと言いな,"
Kiku whispered softly, his voice smooth, almost tender, but laced with an authority, a threat, a plea, a promise.
Say it. Say you'll never run away again.
You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even move. Fear had paralyzed you, and his gaze held you captive, making it impossible to tear your eyes away. Every instinct screamed for you to fight, to flee, but there was no escape. You were trapped in his world.
Kiku’s fingers pressed down on the phone’s screen one last time. Another flash. The light lingered, and in that brief moment, you saw the truth: he had captured you. Not just your image, but something deeper, something irreversible. You could never escape now. You were his.
No one seems to notice how scary America actually is.
- A short Amephil prompt
Alfred F. Jones is the representative of the United States of America. Everywhere he goes, he evokes a profound sense of excitement for various reasons, shaped by his complex personalities, built upon the interplay of sociopolitical, cultural, and environmental factors.
He embodies the contradictions within American culture—values of freedom and individualism juxtaposed with instances of aggression and isolationism. This duality can generate a sense of anxiety, as one is left to ponder the implications of such contradictions.
Other than excitement, Allfred can also evoke a sense of apprehension through several characteristics that reflect both the nation's strengths and its complexities. He encapsulates a blend of charisma and unpredictability, reflecting a nation that can be both awe-inspiring and frightening. His portrayal serves as a reminder of the complexities inherent in American identity, leaving a lingering sense of unease beneath the surface of his bravado.
No one seemed to notice Alfred's carefully designed and assembled mask, with each yarn representing a crime he considers noble. Every time he looks at someone, they are indisputably standing on top of bleeding thorns, which only he can push and bring to fall.
“Millions have been hurt by the very actions he sees as noble. He’s a tornado in a glass factory, and no one else seems to notice.”
Yet—people view him as a hero.
"Behind the mask of freedom, America wields his influence like a sword, offering friendship only to those who bend to its will.”
Only to those who bow before him.
The personification of the Republic of the Philippines, one of the oppressed nations, is a few who sees Alfred's agglomeration of emotions compressed in a single mask.
The way Alfred treats him—not like a human, a country, a representation. He is treated like a mere doll, a toy, a slave.
When Phil is alone with him, his charismatic and attractive mask fades into nothing. A completely different person stands before his own eyes. The warm smile melts away, replaced by a cold, calculating glare that sends shivers down Phil’s spine.
“The hero everyone adored is nothing more than a master of disguise, concealing a heart steeped in manipulation.”
“Do you understand, Phil?" Alfred circled the Filipino nation with his once lively blue eyes now dark like a night sky in absence of stars.
Completely hollow, lifeless, cold.
"Should the thought of fighting for liberation, independence, and national democracy cross your mind again," he paused in front, leaning in. Their lips were barely inches apart. “Tell me. I will be more than happy to remind you of your miserable situation.”
A smirk was stretched on his lips.
“In this fascinating world, those who oppress are the only ones who prevail. I promote freedom. The ability to own and use a property as one sees fit.”
The Philippines a decade hence is still a neo-colony.
⛓️Notes: Not Proof Read | I apologize in advance if there's a lot of misspellings and etc. I love 2P! Hetalia character designs and idk why but when people draw 2P! America big and buff with scars on him with that cocky smirk it just makes me giddy even tho Hetalia is cringe hahaha. But it is unfortunately apart of my nostalgia.🥲 Anyway, enjoy this self indulgent smut from my weird mind.
⚠️TW's: Criminal! Boston! Yandere! 2P! America, Paranoia Themes, Stalking, Mentions of Breaking and Entering, Forced Making Out, Use of "Daddy," Groping/Foreplay, Changing Persepctives Between Allen + Reader, Public Sex, Use of the Pet Names "Doll/Doll Face and Babe," Mentions of Drugging, Hallucinations + Blacking Out + Memory Loss, Multiple Orgasms (M! + F!) , NonCon/DubCon, Gun Play, Biting/Marking (F!), Mouth Play, Dacryphilia, Cum Eating (F!), Multiple Positons (Yourself on the Shelf + Standing Doggy), Manhandling, Forced Blowjob, Deep Throating + Facefucking, Degradation + Humiliation (F!), Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Begging Kink, Mentions of Somnophilia, Size Kink, Tattoos (M!), Big Dick, Strength Kink, Choking (F!), Spit Kink, Face Slapping (F!), Mentions of Voyeurism, Fingering (F!), Voice Kink and Mentions of Killing/Death.
🗝Summary: You'd been feeling uncomfortable for a while now, a month to be exact. You could barely function from the amount of sleep you'd been losing from your paranoia. Waking up in the middle of the night screaming your heart out, constantly looking over your shoulder as though you felt someone watching you everywhere you went, but nothing was ever there... You specifically felt horrified when passing by the alleyway near your office building leaving late at night from the long hours. It always seemed eerie, haunted almost, and you could've sworn one time you saw a bright pair of ruby red eyes staring at you from within the darkness.
The ticking from the giant clock up on the wall was deafening as you stared blankly at your bright computer monitor covered in many different open windows, multiple tabs within those followed by paragraphs of numbers in a line. You heavily sighed, resting your elbow on the wooden desk as you rubbed your forehead trying to relieve the migraine that kept getting worse with each passing minute. Your hair was a mess with loose strands everywhere, deep dark circles lied under your glazed over E/C eyes, and your mind was struggling to piece anything together. Your clothes were in disarray: the collar to your white button-down work shirt was uneven and the shirt itself was covered in wrinkles, your suit jacket was a deep blue but that still didn't hide the stains and your skirt of the same color was in the same condition as your work shirt, nothing but wrinkles. The only thing kept together was your black tights and high heeled shoes. You hadn't got any decent sleep in about a month, and it wasn't your job that was just affecting that. You worked as an accountant in an office building in the lower end of your city, not a bad area to work in, but you were thankful your apartments were further away in a better neighborhood. You also didn't mind the travel as it gave you enough time to relax before clocking in or getting home since you traveled via cab or subway. It wasn't unusual for you to work late hours and you honestly didn't mind it. You had nothing to go home to and valued the money, living in your apartment complex wasn't cheap. It was over $2K alone for the rent, then if you count in utilities-- it was a lot for one person to handle alone but somehow you made it through every month. You admitted that you should've downgraded to a cheaper apartment, but you enjoyed the living space and the quiet neighborhood.
The street your office was located on had many other office buildings along with food places and bars for the bustling nightlife. The lower end also had a lot of alleyways and shortcuts the residents or frequent bar visitors would use to navigate quickly around the city. There was even one behind your office building that you would have to pass by to round the side of your building to get to the front entrance and the beginning of the street, you didn't mind walking by the alley when you had first started working at the office a few years ago as an intern, but lately you can't help but feel as though you were being watched from that alley. You were so alarmed by it that you would wait for other people also walking in that direction to pass by the alley. It felt eerie, wrong almost even though you couldn't fully describe as to why-- you just felt as though someone was there stalking you, staring at you as you walked by it every single day you went to work. You could've sworn that one time you locked eyes with two ruby red irises that were piercing through the darkness of the shadows in that alley, never leaving your figure as you cautiously stared back in fear. They looked like the eyes of a wild dog-- hungry and vicious. It made all the blood drain from your face and once you reached your desk you couldn't even meet your usual productivity because of how shaken you were. Just picturing those hardened, murder-filled eyes almost made your heart stop.
You shuddered at the memory and looked around your desk at the many mindlessly disorganized stacks of papers and tools you used for your calculations. You huffed as you started to gather the papers and placed them into neat stacks deciding to call it a night, you wondered what you would do when you got home? Most likely make your nighttime tea before bed, change into your pjs, lazily slink into your mattress not even bothering to wash off your sweat from the day telling yourself you'll do it tomorrow morning and drift off into the subconscious world of dreams just to be woken up not even an hour later by your own screaming.
The nightmares were getting to be far more intense with each dive into the lucid world of dreams. You've been having these nightmares ever since that day you peered into those ruby red eyes. There would be a shadow in the shape of a man that would appear not long after you would drift off to sleep. At first the shadow would just stand over you as you laid paralyzed in your bed, unable to move as he seemingly just stared down at you watching as your scared, rapid breathes would leave your body. You couldn't make out any of his facial features, only the outlining of his body and it was clear to you that this entity could easily overpower you. You would tell yourself to wake up, but it would never work and every time you would have the dream of the shadow man he would go further with his actions. Soon he started feeling comfortable enough to touch you, inspecting your hair and feeling its texture, grazing the knuckles of his fingers across your facial cheeks gently, and tracing your lips with his fingers or thumb. Your eyes followed his every movement, afraid-- scared to death that he would dare to go even further than just touching your face. For that night though, that was all he did. The shadow man just stroked every part of your body except your chest and lower region. It still felt as though he was trying to be loving, but it just terrified you. This complete stranger just overtaking your dreams when you didn't even know who this person was and why you were dreaming of him?!
The tears never stopped, not even when you woke up that morning.
After that night you had stayed up for 3 days straight because of the trauma-- the fear of going to sleep and possibly seeing that shadow man again. You were drinking whatever caffeinated beverages to keep you awake, but at the end of the third day your body had collapsed on you. You had passed out in the entryway of your apartment right when you locked the door. You remember the cool wooden flooring being the only comfort you had felt in a long time before fully losing consciousness. Strangely you found yourself in bed the next morning, but you shook it off thinking that you were so dazed from the fog that plagued your mind from the exhaustion that you didn't remember getting up and moving to the bedroom.
From that point onward the nightmares only got worse.
The shadow man would touch you anywhere, nothing was off limits. He would nibble on your ear, kiss you as though you were lovers, grope your breasts with such harshness you'd want to cry out, but you couldn't. Not a single sound would pass through your lips as he'd move his big rough hands along your curves and down to your hips. The shadow man started to remove your nightgown and all you could do was lie there motionless. He would pull the clothing over your breasts and start to tweak your soft mounds, making them hard and even taking them in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your nipples earnestly as your throat tightened around the lump that formed in your airways from the humiliation you felt. His scarred callouses skimmed over your smooth skin making your paralyzed body shudder internally. The salty tears that pricked at the corner of your eyes fell down the sides of your cheeks from your lying position, the only way you could even emphasize that you didn't want this, but the shadow man continued to fondle every part of your being. He trailed kisses down your stomach and when he finally made it down to your pussy your eyes grew wider, the streams of tears now dripping rapidly onto the pillow--your only comfort in this horrible scene. His thick fingers grazed your clothed slit and that's when you heard it for the first time.
The shadow man's gruff voice.
It was only a chuckle, but it gave you goosebumps and would haunt your memories forever. It was so dark and intimidating yet it felt as though he were mocking you, you didn't doubt that this man could hurt you and would if you gave him any reason to. You heard him mutter something under his breath, but you couldn't understand it no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on his words. It was all a jumbled mess of slurs and disoriented murmurs. The shadow man's index and middle finger would start to play with your cunt over your soft cotton panties, his fat fingers gliding up and down your slit sending shivers down to your very core as a knot started to slowly form in your nether region. The shadow man just kept caressing your pussy, exploring your every fold by spreading your outer labia lips making your panties wedge themselves between them. He could even see through your soaked panties to your alluring clit that was just pleading for attention. He would flick his thumb over the swollen bud making your pupils fly upwards briefly out of shock, your breathing became heavier with each electric touch of his fingers.
Your mind felt as though it was becoming foggier with each passing minute, you could barely even make out the outline of the shadow man anymore. All you could feel was the betrayal of your own body as this stranger continued to fondle and defile your body. The shadow man eventually pulled your panties to the side and at this point you felt as though you were secretly hoping for his touch, your cunt painfully trying to clench around nothing as your erotic nectar leaked out, dripping down past your ass onto your bedsheets. His thick fingers approached your entrance playfully circling around your labia before inserting his digits into your pussy, feeling your juices gush out from his entry. They were so textured and big, the way he pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt was ravenous. You wanted to moan out, you wanted to make some type of sound to feel some type of relief from the knot that kept growing in your lower region, but you couldn't. With each pump of his ginormous digits the knot deep within you kept growing, his calloused fingertips rubbing on the grooves of your walls and how he would spread his fingers apart while still deep in your cunt stretching it further. Even with his head getting closer and closer to your pussy, you still couldn't make out any of his facial features. It was all dark and seemingly deluded, as though you were dizzy. You could barely keep your eyes open from how much the blurriness irritated them, but you refused to lose consciousness you couldn't, you told yourself!
The shadow man's head now lied in between your thighs, you barely gained the strength to lift your head downward to see the scene, it made you feel so sick, but even if you couldn't raise your head to see him there lingering so close to you, you would know he was there by the feeling of his warm breath that was hitting your exposed pussy in excited heavy pants. You could feel the heat rising in your face as he nuzzled the side of his head onto your mons pubis as he looked up at you chuckling mockingly and that's when you would see them clearly-- his ruby red eyes that held a sinister pink glimmer within them.
'The eyes from the alley--!!' you internally yelped as a mixture of feelings overwhelmed your being as you lost all strength again and your head hit the pillow.
Your pussy clenched around his massive fingers that were inside of you now all the way down to his knuckles, your body shook from not being able to vocally express your release which just made you cum even harder, flooding your sheets with your juices as he continued to violate your overstimulated sopping cunt. Again, disoriented murmuring filled your ears as you stared up at the ceiling aimlessly until you felt the cold touch of a wet muscle along your slit. You were still sensitive from cumming on his digits and now he was hungrily lapping up your delicious nectar as wet, sloppy slurps and licks filled your ears as his hands rested on your inner thighs tightly gripping them, making his fingertips dig into your soft flesh likely to leave bruises. It was clear the shadow man wasn't doing this for your pleasure, but for his own. It felt as though he was making out with your pussy and with each little kiss between the precise flicks of his tongue, he would make butterflies form in your stomach.
It was wrong!
It was atrocious how your own body was responding to his heinous actions, but once again you would climax from the shadow man's skillful muscle. You eventually passed out to your dismay from how exhausted you were and you awoke the next morning to everything below your hips soaking wet, including your sheets and mattress. You had to immediately clean your whole comforter set and tossed your pajamas in the wash from that night. You had examined your body after that, yet you didn't see any bruises or any sign that it was real. That was over 2 weeks ago, and you haven't had a nightmare since then even though you've been sleeping finally. Part of you was sickened by how easily your feelings of fear and horror shifted into lust in your nightmare, it was disgusting. Yet-- these past few weeks when you haven't had the nightmares... you've almost felt empty, like you were missing something.
You shook your head as you slouched your body putting away the final stack of papers in a file cabinet neatly and then turned off your computer along with the monitor leaving you to be surrounded in complete utter darkness except for the lights from the internet modems and the lighting from the streetlights outside the building's windows. You grabbed your cream-colored trench coat and black shoulder bag off of your computer chair immediately putting on the coat and placing the purse in the crook of your forearm. You made your way past the other cubicles towards the door exiting out into the hallway with your heels now clicking with each step onto the linoleum floor. You carefully made your way down the stairs and exited the building with the cool autumn air hitting you. You quickly turned around reaching into your purse and used your key for the building to lock up for the night knowing you were the last person to leave. The feeling of the wind blowing and hearing the free leaves rustling on the ground whisking past you was relaxing in a way as you turned to make the walk all the way to the station. The alleys seemed to be bustling tonight with life from the loud voices and cheers you would hear echoing off the buildings and down the streets even though you didn't see anyone in sight the way you were heading. Still-- in a way those voices made the night seem a little warm despite the actions that would soon take place...
Suddenly you froze as you stared down at the ground in disbelief that you could be so careless, a shadow had casted itself over yours from the right leading straight out of the alley and to a pair of booted feet. You hesitantly turned your body towards the alley, your eyes slowly looked up as you took in every detail you could about the looming figure in front of you since you had the measly old streetlamp besides the alley near the street on your side.
On his feet the man wore black combat boots, his pants were dark torn jeans, and finally he had a V-neck white t-shirt underneath the dark brown bomber jacket he was sporting. His skin was a deep dark tan and his hair was an auburn color with hints of red that seemed to peek through when the light hit his locks just right. He had split bangs that swept to the left of his face and a huge cowlick that stuck out from where his hair parted slightly off-center to the right. You easily noticed the scars that covered his face, he had three on the left side: one that was right on his upper lip, it was pretty small compared to the one that covered his cheek. That scar was in the shape of a sideways 'X' and on his eyebrow he had a slit. You also took notes on the many scars that covered his hands...along with tattoos, you unfortunately couldn't make out what they were. Both of his ears were pierced multiple times all the way up to the top of his lobe and he had military tags that hung around his neck to the center of his chest. You realized how much bigger he was than you, even with his jacket on you could tell he had a strong, muscular build and could easily overpower you not even using all of his strength, then on top of that he was tall.
That's when it happened-- you locked your big (E/C) eyes with his bright malicious ruby ones, and he smirked in a way that could only be described as sinister, showing off that under his upper lip scar he had a missing first premolar tooth. In an instant the man leapt at you, you tried to take a step back, but his gigantic hand already had a tight grip around your wrist.
'No--!!' you internally screamed.
The man started to drag you towards the alleyway as you tried to pull away in the opposite direction. You opened your mouth and sucked in an abundance of air about ready to scream your heart out for help, but his other hand soon met your mouth with a WHACK wrapping itself around your entire mandible- muffling your screams. Your back was now turned towards him as he trapped you in his other arm, cradling your backside deep into his chest and successfully taking you into the alleyway. Tears would start to form in the corner of your eyes as you kicked and swung your arms at him the best you could from your position, but to no avail.
"Can't be doin' that babe, tsk tsk." the man scolded in a rough yet teasing voice, you immediately noticed the Boston accent.
He manhandled you deep into the alleyway, far away from the street and any passersby. His grip on your face was suffocating, you could feel every crack and groove in his skin from the scars and callouses that covered his hand. When he thought you were both far enough into the alley to not be discovered or heard he tossed your body harshly against the brick wall making your back violently hit the brick of the building behind you, knocking the wind out of your lungs.
"AUGH!" you groaned out in pain as you tried to keep yourself standing by gripping your hands along the wall behind you.
He blocked your right side with his left arm as his hand rested on the wall above near your head from his towering height, he moved his right hand behind his hip hiding it. The smell of his cologne circled you, a woody, clean aromatic scent filling the space between you as it was so strong it made you feel sick. Then you heard a CLICK echo throughout the alley making your anxiety peak to the max. The man had swiftly pulled out a pistol from behind his back, you assumed he was hiding it in his pants in the waistband and he already had it locked and loaded. You fully leaned your back on the brick wall behind you now, otherwise you would have fallen straight to the ground with how shaky your legs had become since he now had the gun aimed at you, point blank. He still held his smirk, a sick look in his eyes told you this wasn't his first time doing this-- threatening someone like this. He pushed the end of the gun into one of your boobs while licking his lips hungrily as he leaned down towards your left ear, "Ya been so cautious recently, I haven't been this close in sooo long." he purred.
'W-What is he talking about?!' you screamed to yourself confused by his statement.
"GUH--!!" you uttered out in shock at the sharp touch of his left knee coming into contact with your crotch from under all your layers of clothes, using the opening of your skirt to your disadvantage. He heavily grinded his knee against your slit in the area where your clit would be, but your clothes were starting to aggravate him.
"Take this shit off." he demanded as he backed away slightly and waved the gun to his right only a single time before centering it back on you, signaling his desire for you to discard the articles of clothing, but you hesitated.
He on the other hand did not hesitate to punish you for not following his instructions quick enough.
The end of his gun was quickly shoved into the left side of your face, slamming your head into the brick wall that supported your form, violently turning your neck into an awkward position and forcing your body to follow causing strain. The coolness of the metal smooshed into your cheek was painful, it felt as though it was cutting your face like a knife from how much pressure he was applying to make you realize how serious he was. You slowly started to take off your trench coat, draping it down your shoulders and letting it casually fall off of your forearms and down past the rest of your body so as to not make any sudden movements and give him a reason to fire, it fell to the pavement without a sound. Normally, you would make a fuss about getting light colored clothes dirty, but in this moment all you could think about was if you were going to live or die. He started to back the gun away from your face, but not too far- you couldn't even turn your head to face him or it would just bump into the muzzle of the gun.
"That's right dollface, nice and slow..." he said slowly as he traced the gun tip across your cheek and down your neck with a grin still present on his face.
'What a pig...' you thought to yourself as you started to take off your suit jacket in the same way that you did with your trench coat.
When your suit jacket hit the ground, the man didn't even wait for you to undo your collared shirt yourself, his free hand firmly gripped your shirt right below the collar and ripped it open causing the buttons to fly all over the place, exposing your black laced bra with a tiny red ribbon in the center earning a sickening purr from your assaulter. You grimaced in disgust as his gun lowered itself to your cleavage, pushing the muzzle of the gun into your breasts having the fat overlap his gun and seemingly making the tip of the gun disappear. Salty tears started to trickle down your cheeks as you constantly blamed yourself for this happening to you.
'Why was I so careless--!?'
'This can't be happening to me??'
'What did I do wrong? Why is this happening to me??'
'I don't want this...'
A whimper left your lips making your perpetrator become aware of how your mental state was cracking and crumbling right before the both of you. He reached to caress the right side of your face with his free hand, but you defiantly moved your face away from his rough hand to which he replied with a back hand smack to your face. The stinging pain that washed over the right side of your face was followed by slight swelling; you swore you could see stars just from that smack, almost disoriented. You could barely get your thoughts together, but the stinging worsened as he touched your face to what you assumed he thought as lovingly. You started to fear how dysfunctional and messed up you would be after he was done with you, you already started to accept the fact that there was no escape for you. If only you had been more cautious of yourself when passing by the alley...
"I wouldn't hafta be so rough with ya if ya would just be a good girl now..." he trailed off as he rubbed the spot where he smacked you at with his thumb as he also wiped away some tears, but that wouldn't make you forget about the pain running across your face nor about the painful pinching to one of your boobs as the gun remained pinned to your chest.
"Black lace, huh? I haven't seen ya wear something like this yet. Was there a special occasion I wasn't aware of?" he questioned with a growl present in his voice.
Somehow your curiosity grew higher than your fear, this man-- he kept talking as if he knew you, and like you were...together? He seemed almost like a--
"A-Are you...stalking me?" you asked carelessly and with enough certainty that the air immediately changed.
A cold menacing chill filled the alley, the man before seemed to have a "playful" air about him, but now he seemed deathly serious. The gun was quickly removed from your cleavage as he roughly grabbed ahold of your jaw making a painful and fearful scream leave your throat making your attacker angrier. He quickly shoved the gun in your mouth, muffling your screams as he forced the gun deeper into your mouth pass your uvula, making you gag uncontrollably.
The sound of you gagging on the muzzle made Allen want to shove it down deeper, watch as your saliva dripped down the handle and onto his fingers-- 'haaa-- that'd be so fuckin' cute...' he thought to himself.
You caught his eye on a random day he was running from the fez, a bank robbery gone wrong, and he missed his ride by taking too long so his group left him with a smile, leaving him with having to find his own way to the hideout on foot. They had the idea of hitting the biggest bank in the county and that was downtown's bank. They had done every step perfectly and had most of the money in the safe, all the guys wanted to call it quits and get out of there, but Allen got too greedy and ended up triggering the alarms. He was able to make it off the bank's property, but sirens could be heard from every direction and coppers could be seen patrolling every street corner like nobody's business. Allen had taken refuge for the time-being in a dirty unused alley, well-- it was the back of a popular fisher's shop, but for obvious reasons no one really wanted to pass by the backside: all the piled-up garbage and the smell of rotting fish from the disposal bins, any regular patron would avoid this alley, but the stray cats found the area pleasing.
As he rested to catch his breath while cursing about the smell and how those "dipshits" just left him, he glanced out the alleyway for just a second before doing a double take-- that's when he saw you.
You were passing by the alleyway on the further side of the street, but even from there he could see how beautiful you were. You were dressed in a professional lapel collared long-sleeved wine-colored dress with white pumps and when he could finally see the back of you, he noticed the zipper in the back leading down to your ass, a minor detail, but one he couldn't get out of his head because he imagined himself with you in his arms as he undid the zipper slowly down your back exposing what lied underneath little by little as you laughed sweetly in his ear and played with his hair. Allen took no time stepping out of the alleyway naturally and forcing himself to blend in with the tight knit crowd as he pushed forward passed people to catch up with your form. Once he got in a certain distance of you he slowed his pace and curiously followed you, Allen's brain couldn't even keep up with all the questions he had about you. He wanted to know everything about you: Where were you going? What did you do for a living? Where did you live?? How did you act when you were at home? How did you sleep?
All these questions danced around in Allen's head until...
'What if she has a boyfriend?' suddenly popped into his mind, which almost caused a fault in his step, but Allen focused back on you and quickly recovered himself. His ruby red eyes hardened and looked you up and down and slowly, almost like he was savoring the moment and wanting to capture it in his memories forever. Taking in every movement of your body: every time your hips swayed and how your ass would jiggle, how elegantly you walked even when in heels, how bright your smile was when he'd see you turn your head to glance across the street or to greet someone, and how when a gust of wind blew- he could catch a hint of your perfume lingering in the air.
'What if nothing, I'll just do what I normally fuckin' do--kill'em.'
Allen continued to follow you without a care in the world for anything else besides you. He didn't care about the sirens; he didn't care about anyone being able to identify him-- all he wanted to do was watch you and learn about you. If anyone or anything tried to stop that, Allen just convinced himself he would take care of it, no problem.
The gun tasted dirty and dusty, as though it had never been cleaned since it had fallen into this man's hands. Your teeth clanked against the gun as you frowned at the nasty metallic taste filling your mouth from the gun, 'Gross-- so fuckin' gross!!' you internally screamed.
"That's such a mean thing to say, babe. We've been dating fer so long! 'Bout 3 months now." he said almost sounding hurt, but the rage in his voice couldn't be masked so easily.
You could feel the blood drain from your face, your body felt ice cold and your knees felt like they would give in at any moment.
'3...? 3...months?!' you thought to yourself in complete disbelief.
You had only been aware of these past 3-4 weeks, but this man- no, this goddamn monster is claiming that he's been stalking you for 3 months!? Your head was spinning and the sickness overwhelming your stomach was vomit inducing, it took your whole being to not spit up your late dinner that you packed for yourself because you knew you would at the office late tonight...did he know you would be here late? Did he wait in this alley all night for you to finally leave? Has he been doing that this whole time? What else has he possibly been doing? You started to recall all the nightmares, the time you had passed out in the entryway of your apartment or even randomly on the couch in your living room only to end up in your bed-- it was all him!!
'W-What have you been doing to me?! Why are you doing this to me--!?' you wanted to shout at him, but all that came out was muffled gags and spit bubbles because all you could do was choke on the gun making a slight smirk appear on Allen's face as the drool started to drip down your chin. He couldn't wait anymore.
"Get on your knees." he commanded as he nudged the gun further down your throat before returning to his previous spot, knowing it would scare you enough to follow his orders even though he was certain you were already scared out of your mind.
Your knees hit the concrete in defeat causing little tears in your black tights, still holding your head upward looking at him as the gun rested in your mouth. You were shaking from wondering when the gun would go off, would he pull the trigger now...or wait til later?
'Obviously he would wait til later, right now he's going to...' you mind drifted off, not wanting to finish the horrible sentence. Not out loud and not even in your own head.
"So obedient this time, have ya given up already?" Allen snickered.
The corners of your mouth twitched in distain around the muzzle of the gun as Allen started to slowly pull the gun out from between your lips, a string of saliva forming as the gun left your mouth. He kept the gun aimed at you obviously not wanting you to pull anything funny such as yelling out for help or trying to make a break for it.
"Undo my belt." he commanded in a monotone.
Your shaky hands made their way up to where the hem of his jeans where, lifting up the end of his shirt to slightly reveal his lower abdomen abs with a thick auburn happy trail leading down to the top of his pants where his belt buckle looped around him. You clumsily took your time undoing Allen's belt just to fumble with the button on his torn jeans, you were absolutely terrified, and your stalker was just delighted at every little timid action and mess up you committed. Allen was smiling to himself ear to ear watching you struggle to zip down his pants from how shaken you were, it was so adorable to him.
"Yer acting so innocent, like ya never fuckin' done this before-- which we both know isn't true." he purred as he petted your head roughly with his free hand.
You brought down his pants to his knees, fully exposing his dark burgundy boxers and the huge bulge that lied underneath them. You weren't prepared for this-- you were hoping he'd at least be a tiny dicked dirtbag so you'd have something to insult before he ended your life, a final "fuck you" to him.
But of course not--
His cock matched his ego and attitude completely: unnecessarily big. Your hand hesitantly reached out and started to caress Allen's member through his boxer shorts, a relieved sounding sigh leaving from his lips. Your hand slid upward and grabbed at the lining of his boxers; it took you a moment to convince yourself to even pull them down, but you didn't want to get a gun jammed in your face again. Allen's burgundy boxers now rested with the top of his pants, down at his knees, as his curved veiny dick sprung free from the cage that had been withholding it since Allen had attacked you. His dick was rock hard yet hanged down slightly.
'Does it really have that much weight to it?' you questioned biting at your bottom lip.
The swollen tip was already dripping in pre-cum and twitching for attention, his shaft was thick and had prominent veins pulsing for release all up and down it, leading from his forest of auburn pubes.
'He's...going to destroy me.' you thought to yourself as you felt a heat rise within you and your pussy flutter as you grabbed a hold of his shaft from the base, it was warm to the touch and somewhat sweaty. You could now feel the weight of him in your hand, it was unbelievable. You had never even seen a cock so big before with past boyfriends or even past flings, the few that there were. They could've never matched up to Allen's size in girth or length, as much as you hated to admit it you would tell yourself.
Your stalker could see the sick hypnotized look in your eyes from staring at his member, the usual effect it would have on women, especially the ones that were just starving for attention, but he didn't really expect this reaction from you considering how you fought him all the way down into the alley. He at least thought you would've put up a better front than that, but you didn't even try to mask your astonishment. You started to pump his shaft with poor effort earning an annoyed 'tsk' from Allen making you jump; he grabbed a hand full of your hair roughly and started to scold you.
"Are ya kiddin' me? Come on dollface, ya didn't even attempt to lube it up with ya spit first! Ya tryin' to get slapped around some more?" Allen threatened pulling your hair upward making your body lift up by force and causing tears to sting at the corners of your eyes again as he gently tapped the side of your face with the muzzle of the gun. The slight moonlight that was able to peer into the alley glistened off of the pistol, reminding you of your fate if you continued to act useless.
"P-Please...I-- I'm sorry." you apologized in a defeated tone, (E/C) eyes looking up at him with pure fear engraved into them, yet something else lingered behind that as your pupils would dart down towards his dick.
"Then do a better job and fuckin' put it in yer mouth already." he directed, staring down at you with those sharp ruby red eyes before shoving your face against his dick by the pull of your hair.
Your nose was pressed up deep into his groin, the smell of Allen's sweat and dirty balls filled your nostrils. It wasn't a pleasant scent, yet strangely it didn't make you want to gag either. You could feel your panties getting wet from excitement and anticipation even in this type of situation, the curiosity of something you've never felt before was dangerously luring you into its cold murderous embrace. You backed your head away from your assaulter's lower body as far as he would let you go. His left hand still grasping ahold of your hair as his right held the gun at you slightly digging into your cheek, your hot breath flowed over Allen's member making it twitch-- his tip bounced up a little just to go back to hanging a bit downward again. Allen's grip on your hair tightened showing he was getting impatient and wanted to feel the soft, wet touch of your tongue wrapping around his cock already. Your pupils looked away from his figure knowing you were reluctant to start giving him head because-- you knew once you started there was no going back.
'Right now-- you still have a chance at escape!! You could try and make a run for it while his pants are down! You could still have the strength to run after taking a bullet or two right?!?' you tried to convince yourself, but then your eyes locked back on to his massive girth and you felt your brain switch off.
Complete shut down-- your wet muscle finally made contact with his cock earning a shudder from Allen. Your big (E/C) eyes looked up at him as your tongue lathered itself up and down his dick before taking the tip in your mouth. Your tongue circled around his head as you started to move yourself up and down his length, sloppy wet slurps leaving your mouth as drool started to drip down your chin and slightly down his shaft making it easier for you to take more of him in your mouth, your eyes still gazing into his.
Were you hoping for some type of reaction?
"Fuck, does it taste that good, babe? I hafta say I think yer enjoying yerself a little too much, huh?" Allen commented, making your eyes widened for just a moment before trying to regain your composure until you felt Allen adjust his footing and push your body closer to the wall, scuffing up your tights and knees more and making the back of your head hit the brick.
"Are ya really more of a freak than I thought?" he remarked.
You wanted to shake your head in defiance at his words, but Allen started to thrust himself deeper into your mouth, seemingly with each stroke increasing his speed and gaining a good rhythm. You tried to make yourself match his speed, but you could barely move. He kept his grip fixed onto your head to have control and leverage.
"Ya know, every time ya passed out from the drugs and I would come in to touch ya-- Ya would moan like crazy in yer sleep. I honestly can't tell ya how many times you've came from my fingers or tongue." Allen groaned out, "Sometimes it felt ya were awake the whole time."
Your body twitched and for a second you stopped all movements, 'Drugs?' you thought.
Allen nudged your head down by your hair, making his swollen head irritate your gag reflex. You whined before you continued pleasing him orally. He didn't give you any time to think about it, he wanted your head to be filled with nothing but him. For you to focus on ONLY HIM. Your pretty dainty little brain didn't need to think about matters too hard or too much now. Allen thought you did enough of that with that stupid job of yours, but at the same time-- it was useful.
You were gone all day.
Those were the times he would sneak into your apartment. Allen loved going to your place, absolutely adored it when he would enter through your balcony or the front door if he knew he could easily get in that day, and just be surrounded by the scent of you. It was more fun than watching you from outside your windows in the coldness because of the night ocean air. It still didn't stop him from touching himself though, especially those times where he would see you walking around with just a towel on, so unaware of the fact of his presence watching you through the windows while you were enjoying the comfort of your own home.
When Allen had the time to "visit your place" he would do many things in your apartment: he would snuggle himself in your sheet covers to drown himself in the smell of you even more, he would go through your drawers seeing if he could find anything new that he didn't already know about, do perverted things with your underwear and bras, and most important of all-- he would drug your nighttime tea. He had noticed this nightly routine of yours not too long after watching you for a little awhile, it was quite noticeable. You never skipped it, not even on a day where you worked over 12+ hours. Allen thought of the idea of drugging you not too long after he spotted this feature about you, this type of thing wasn't new to him so it was easy to get ahold of what he needed. Once he knew you were home and drunk your tea, he would wait a little bit for the drug to kick in and sneak in through your balcony inside your apartment like usual, but now you were also inside sleeping and hopefully if the drug worked right you would also be paralyzed for the time being. After the drug wore off you would regain consciousness and your ability to move again, of course, but sometimes it seemed like you would wake up, but you would barely even have the energy to raise your head off of your pillow let alone anything else. It seemed like you didn't remember any of the sessions you had woken up on or even knew what Allen looked like until now.
It was just sick and twisted...but that's why he liked it!
Allen was ecstatic the first time he was able to look at you up close and personal, memorizing every facial feature and breathing in the smell of you thoroughly in person so he would remember it.
You were so beautiful to him, like a doll...and he wanted to ruin you.
With each pump more drool from your mouth would leak down your chin and now drip onto your half-exposed chest, your hands would make their way to rest on top on Allen's thighs, your nails slightly digging into his skin as his thrusts became rougher. You felt like you couldn't take anymore, or your jaw would dislocate, and his cock wasn't even fully down your throat yet. The feeling of his pulsing veins gliding on your tongue, the heat of his cock invading your mouth and piercing deep past your uvula and down your throat to the point where you felt like you were suffocating-- it was pure bliss. You felt like you were floating, such an indescribable feeling of peace by something so filthy and violent. He didn't care if he hurt you or not, just as long as you pleased him and gave Allen what he wanted, that's all that mattered. Your eyes still looking up at Allen as your lips continued to pucker around his dick, hollowness your cheeks as he used your larynx to his content. He drew the muzzle of the gun closer to your face again having it graze across your cheek even though Allen was being so rough and careless with his actions, it crossed your mind that what if his hand got nudged the wrong way and the gun goes off? You could feel your heartbeat in your head, a deafening high-pitched ring going off in your ears and he continued to use your mouth to meet his sexual needs.
Is this how the police would find you? In a dirty alleyway stripped down, head blown off after being assaulted. Picking apart your skull trying to find out how you died, not even knowing the full horrors of what had happened to you.
You moved your tongue as to stroke the underside of Allen's cock, even trying to lick it around the sides and get the top of it by turning your head to the position you needed as to not mess up his thrusting or grind your teeth on him. Allen's grunts and moans started to get more heated, his hips getting sloppier with each dive into your throat.
"Ahh, shit. This is too good. I've waited such a long time fer this, to be fuckin' this pretty little face." he growled out while biting his bottom lip, his ruby eyes seemingly glowing in a pinkish radiance of lust.
He pulled out his dick, your hands instantly went to rest on the concrete below you as you finally got to get some good gulps of fresh air in your lungs before Allen started shoving his length in front of your face again.
"Stick out yer tongue, doll." he huffed.
You obeyed, confusedly, but you obeyed. You didn't think he was that close to cumming yet, so why did he want you to do this? You stuck out your tongue as far you could get it, your eyes meekly looking up at him. You could feel the heat rising to your face, it was embarrassing to just have your tongue sticking out and to imagine the kind of face you'd be making if you had a mirror in front of you, waiting for him to do whatever perverted deed he had planned.
Allen placed his cock on top of your tongue, he hunched his back over a little bit so his head would be hovering above yours, but not right on top he wanted to leave some distance. His military tags clanged against each other as he looked down, towering over you.
"Ya ready?"
'Ready for wh--' you started to think, but then you noticed Allen started to gather up spit in his mouth.
'No.'
He started to pucker his lips and from between them you could see a tiny spit bubble start to drip downward.
'No no no.'
A string of salvia formed from Allen's mouth and started dripping down hoping to land on your awaiting tongue that was also holding his throbbing head. You were scared, you didn't want his disgusting spit in your mouth, but you also didn't want to get backhanded again. You could already feel the stinging sensation on your facial cheeks once again. You opened your mouth wider and abandoned Allen's dick to move your head upward with your tongue still sticking out making sure his string of spit landed on your wet muscle. The pool of saliva Allen carefully spit down was immense as it mixed with yours and it flooded over your tongue stringing down onto Allen's cock from the tip. Suddenly Allen lined himself up with your lips and was back in your mouth and down your throat with one brutal stroke, making you violently gag. The urge to throw up was tempting, but you held back with all your might as tears of pain dripped down your cheeks as Allen used your airways like a pocket pussy. He would definitely kill you if you vomited on him mid-blowjob and this was your one motivation to stay strong until the sick feeling left you...besides being totally humiliated. He was using so much force behind his hips Allen's balls started slapping into your chin, he was so aggressive, and it was absolutely tantalizing. You could feel the knot in your gut growing tighter and tighter with every jut past your uvula.
You could feel Allen's dick start to throb in your throat, indicating that he was close to cumming. That's when his strokes became extremely belligerent. The pressure of him pushing and pulling repeatedly up and down your esophagus not even fully pulling out to let you breathe or gasp for air was appalling. You were choking out for oxygen, salty tears continued falling down your cheeks at a rapid pace as Allen just looked down at you with that disgusting look in his eyes and a smirk plastered on his scarred face as he plowed into you at full force as you finally took him all the way to the base with your talented mouth.
"Look at ya, ya finally did it! Such a good girl, my good girl." Allen praised as his hand that had a grip on your hair now petted you, your face a drooling distraught mess with even some snot.
You felt a release, your legs spasmed under yourself as your head wanted to look away from Allen, but you couldn't move anywhere. His dick was swiftly attacking your windpipe, and you felt as though you would pass out at any minute from the lack of oxygen getting to your brain. Your pupils darted to the back of your skull as an electric feeling overtook you from the bottom, up.
You had climaxed and Allen didn't even have to touch you.
How deplorable.
"Hey, hey-- did ya just cum? Huh?" Allen teased, "It's written all over yer face even though I'm fuckin' the shit outta it."
'Ugh, he's such an asshole.' you thought to yourself as you maintained your high as his words made it more enjoyable.
Allen rutted his hips a few more times before he gave himself one last big thrust before releasing his seed directly down your gullet, planting his cock firmly in your throat. He took his hand that he was using to praise you and directed it down to your neck, rubbing on it and feeling himself overtaking your airway with his thick girth as he took a few extra strokes face-fucking you before sliding himself out of your mouth. Strings of semen and saliva followed Allen's cock past your lips as you coughed and begged for air in your lungs, it was a heavenly chemical element you would never take for granted again. Once you collected yourself, you looked up to see Allen pumping himself in his free hand, of course, in the other hand the gun still pointed at you. He wasn't that far away from you, still not wanting to give you any opportunity to escape him.
'How could he still be ready to go?' you questioned.
Allen closed back in on you and tapped his slightly flaccid tip on your plump lips, your breathing still heavy and blowing onto his cock.
"Clean me off." he directed waving the gun at you with a heavy, but relaxed sigh.
This time there was no hesitation in your movements, your wet muscle was lapping at his cock the moment his sentence ended. Almost like you wanted to keep going, like you wanted it.
"Such an eager girl to get back on my dick." Allen teased as he kept his eyes on you, not letting his guard down for a minute, not even after experiencing the extreme pleasure of climaxing and continuing to be stimulated.
You made sure not to miss a single spot of Allen's semen on his cock: licking under his shaft and over top, gliding across every single one of his prominent veins, kissing his whole length from tip to base and back to the tip. His cum was salty and even a little sweet? Most of the guys you've been with was...inoffensive to say the least-- Bitter. While still sucking Allen's dick clean you could feel his girth getting rock hard again, you were starting to wonder just how many rounds this monster could go and put you through.
"Enough," Allen strictly told you, making you stop and look up at him confused til you seen the slight red flush covering his frustrated looking expression, "I need ya now. Get up and put yer hands in front of ya on the brick wall." he instructed while grabbing you up forcefully by one of your arms and turning you around to face the wall, giving you a little shove.
You followed his instructions and placed your hands in front of you on the brick wall, the brick was rough and cold. You took the moment to focus in on the sounds of the bar dwellers and hoppers, how they were probably having the time of their lives not relaxing what was going on in one of the alleyways that nobody really used. You wondered if this happened all the time? If people used these alleyways to attack others or have sex in. A touch to your inner thighs made you snap out of your own thoughts.
"Spread yer legs more and stick out yer ass." Allen explained as he pumped himself in his free hand, his pistol still locked onto you as he watched you do exactly what he asked for.
You anticipated his touch on you again, he went for your deep blue skirt first and lifted it over your ass making a chill go down your spine from being exposed to the cool autumn air. You heard the rustling of the leaves once more, but this time passing by the alley instead of you being on the street with them, flowing through the wind freely. Yet-- you felt fine right here, in the dark alleyway. You had just accepted it for what it was, there was no fleeing you told yourself trying to deny your own sick pleasures that you felt towards Allen's actions. When fighting with your own thoughts they were suddenly interrupted by the feeling of fingers slinking their way up your thigh, causing you to lightly bite your lower lip with a slight smile on your bruised face.
Your see through black tights over your black laced underwear made Allen lick his lips, almost making him wish he had taken his time and waited til you got home to attack you today, but he couldn't wait anymore. Most of all he didn't feel like tailing you all the way to those apartments. The security you have up there is such a hassle to get through when he should already have access to the place as your boyfriend anyway. Allen grew closer to you, he stopped touching himself and slid his hand up your left thigh to your plump ass cheek, taking it in his hand and giving it a good jiggle watching as the riveting pools of motion swept over that cheek til he stopped the movement. Allen grabbed at the middle of your tights and pulled roughly, hearing the stretch and tearing of the gentle, weak fabric. He ripped a hole big enough to expose your pussy and your asshole, but your panties were still in the way blocking his view. Allen moved your underwear to the side, noticing how wet they were and snickering to himself.
'She really is coo-coo huh.' he thought to himself as he firmly gripped your laced underwear and violently yet swiftly pulled it apart by yanking it back away from your body, letting the remains drop down to the dirty alley floor. Allen didn't want to have to deal with keeping your panties to the side the whole time, so he thought he might as well tear them as well.
He took his dick in his hand and rubbed his large tip up and down your slit causing you to start rocking your hips back into Allen matching his mobility. He couldn't believe how drenched you were in your own juices; it was leaking right onto his cock dripping down his shaft. It was obvious you were trying to hide your tiny, heavy breathes of excitement not wanting him to know you were feeling good, it was so adorable to him as he watched your asshole twitch in anticipation along with the jittering of your legs. Allen wanted to see how long that poor act of yours would last once he got his cock in you.
'One second, maybe?' he deviously joked to himself.
"I can't believe ya, seriously? All that fighting just to find out ya been liking it this whole time. Ya really are something else, babe." Allen criticized as he lined himself up with your hole, wanting to feel your walls wrap around him with your soft, yet tight warmth.
Allen started to rut his hips forward slowly, his tip taking each dip deeper into your cunt and spreading your nectar over his shaft steadily making it easier for him to pump into you, your little moans increasing in volume with each thrust. Once he got a little bit past his tip, Allen decided to get rougher with you. He sped up his pace and accuracy, trying to rub where he felt like he got the most reaction out of you as he moved his head closer to the crook of your neck nibbling and sucking on your smooth skin, his wild auburn hair tickling you. The sweet, raised pitch of your voice was like an angelic melody to his ears and he wasn't even fully in you yet. Allen started to bite and suck harder on your neck leaving marks trailing down to your shoulder, making you jump at each painful cut into your skin by his teeth. Allen positioned his head up closer to your ear and sneaked his free hand to your throat that he marked as he pointed the gun straight at your head with his other hand, the muzzle pressing into the side of your skull. He felt your pussy grip onto him tighter than before, making Allen's spine tingle with excitement.
"Tell Daddy how much ya love it." he ordered, "Tell me how good my dick makes ya feel."
Allen could sense your hesitation as you turned your head to the side, specifically to the left away from the brick wall and the gun pointed at your head, looking at him from the corner of your glossy eyes. Heated pants leaving your lips as you moaned at each rut of Allen's hips as he rammed his cock further into your cunt, he honestly questioned if you even had the will to speak. The look on your face was so cute to Allen, a mix of sheepish humiliation and ecstasy passing across your facial features with every dive, but he didn't really think you would be like this so soon.
Then he saw it, your lips trying to articulate what they wanted to say.
"Come on, ya can do it! Just tell Daddy how it feels when I go like this." he whispered in your left ear, laying his head into yours as you turned your head back towards the wall, pressing the gun on the other side into your skull more as Allen switched up his rhythm, his tip now jabbing at your g-spot mercilessly as he started to tighten his grip on your throat. "Before I can't understand ya, babe, I would tell me."
You were on the verge of cumming again. Your attacker's length was difficult to adjust to alone, but the girth of his cock was immense too. It was rubbing all the right places, veins sliding onto your moist walls and hooking themselves into your grooves making your mind go numb from the pleasure. He kept whispering in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body while he kept an unyielding hand wrapped around your larynx and his pistol pinned to your cranium. Allen was overstimulating you, you didn't know what to keep your attention on as a tight heat started to come undone deep within your nether region.
"Haaahn!! No-- nghh ghnn! Please, it feels-- too goood!! D-Daddy--!!" you choked out mindlessly with your pussy gushing all over Allen's dick, your nectar flowing down and even soaking around his balls.
"Fuck, yer really gripping me good-- trying to milk me dry. Have ya missed me that much?" Allen teased as he continued to fuck you into the wall as your legs begged to collapse on yourself. A salty liquid pricked at the corners of your eyes as your oxygen supply continued to deteriorate as your pupils shot upwards at every attack of Allen's cock. Your arms were barely keeping you from falling against the wall, you kept scuffing your hands on the rough old surface of the building trying to maintain your balance on the tips of your heels.
"Ahh shit-- sorry to break it to ya, doll, since I came once already it's gonna be a while til I do it again." he finished.
His giant hand finally left your throat and creeped it's way up to your lips, inserting two of his thick, calloused fingers into your oral cavity having your tongue go in between his digits or even wrapped around them. Drool started to leak out of the corner of your mouth and down your chin as you finally were able to suck in some air to your lungs while still trying to enjoy your high. You could tell he was enjoying seeing you a mess, struggling to gain your composure because you were feeling so toe-curling good. Unable to think of anything else in the world except the addicting feeling of electricity coursing through your body. Allen took his fingers out of your mouth and slid down past your throat and pausing at your breasts taking the left boob out of your bra and groping it. Teasing your nipple by lightly pinching and pulling at it before skimming down to your hip, gripping onto your pelvic bone and pressing down on your back to forcibly make you arch your spine more. Your high-pitched moans and the sounds of your ass hitting against Allen's lower abdomen echoed throughout the alley, bouncing off the brick and towards the streets. By now if someone had passed by, they most likely would discover you if they were curious enough to check out the sound. You were surprised he wasn't trying to silence you.
'Is he not afraid of getting caught anymore?'
The scene would still bewilder someone if they had seen it despite the sounds of your moans; your face was a mess from tears and drool, the bruising on your skin, and the gun Allen still wielded with a tight grip would alarm anyone. Yet-- all that did was make you feel more aroused. Someone seeing you in such a depressing and pathetic state.
But-- they could also help you!
No, you knew that wasn't what you were thinking about. It wasn't about getting help at all, but to be even further humiliated. The more you considered the idea as well, you were more certain that if there were any witnesses it would for sure mean your doom and theirs by Allen's hands. Suddenly Allen's strokes got weaker, and you could feel him shuffling behind you when you heard another distinct CLICK worrying you and making you think you did something to displease the man making a mess of your cunt. That's when you saw the shimmer of the gun pass by you and land on your trench coat that you dumped on the ground a while ago. You felt Allen fully pull out of you, grab ahold of your arm and forcibly turn you around where you briefly noticed he had boldly fully taken one of his legs out of his pant holes to his underwear and jeans to give him more room for his legs.
"Wha--?" you started to question, but he didn't give you a chance a to finish.
Allen raised one of your legs almost knocking you off balance, having the behind of your knee resting in his palm as he re-inserted himself into your warmth, taking a few pumps before gathering his strength and reaching down and hooking your other leg from behind the knee into the crook of his other arm, hand on one of your ass cheeks as he lifted you up in one fell swoop effortlessly. You instinctively threw your arms around his shoulders, not wanting to fall to the ground. When he had the opportunity, he would reposition his other arm to do the same and put his hand on your other cheek for aid. Allen pushed your back up against the wall to give himself and you more support as he harshly thrusted himself into your sopping wet pussy. He was reaching so deep and hitting your womb so roughly, you could feel his cock throbbing and begging to release his sperm into your uterus, but he refused. Allen kept going, groaning out in gratification as his nails dug into your plump ass leaving scratch marks.
"D-Don't ya dare try anything funny-- ugh fuck, just cause I put down my gun. I'll still fuck ya up without a weapon if you try to escape." he warned through heated pants.
"Y-Yes, auhh, I understand--!!" you moaned out.
"Yes, you understand, what?" Allen asked, hinting at you forgetting something in your sentence.
"Yes, I-- I understand, Daddy." you repeated properly this time.
He had been fucking you for so long, you were starting to become sore, but it just felt too good to stop. It had been an eternity since you had gotten this kind of attention of as well, you had been so focused on work ever since you became an intern. In fact, that's what had ended your previous relationship, he said you spent too much time focusing on your career and didn't spend enough time with them. Yet, in your eyes you were working so much for them, so you guys would reach your dreams faster and be prepared for anything the world would throw at you, but now you were doing it alone because of those thoughts. It's not as if you didn't have toys or anything like that, but the real thing was just so much better from those material-made toys and this man who randomly picked you as a victim just happened to be the most hung man you've ever met after not having your sexual needs met for years. Your legs were shaking as one of your heels barely hung off your foot by your toes and the other heel was already lying on the ground in a puddle of dirty water behind your forms. You couldn't focus on anything other than cuddling into Allen's chest as your hands still hung around his neck, your head looking upward at the night sky past the man's face in your view with your tongue lolling out of your mouth foolishly as your boobs bounced with his strokes. There were little-to-no stars up above from the light pollution, but you could still see the glow of the moon shining brightly in the sky behind all the tall buildings in the area. Allen's face instantly grew closer to yours as it took over your line vision, his tongue twired around yours before fully sealing the kiss. His wet muscle continued to dance with yours muffling your overwhelmed whimpers with tears in your eyes as Allen grew closer and closer to the intense relief of his orgasm as he felt his balls pulsing tightly.
"I'm gonna cum.." he growled as he backed away from you just to hungrily reconnect his lips with yours as his thrusts became more rapid and erratic.
Your eyes widened at this statement, almost making you regain what little conscious you had left.
"N-Not inside--!! Ahn!! Please...p-please uhn--!! Not inside!!" you begged fighting through his messy kisses so it came out pretty much inaudible, but Allen could basically guess what you had said based on your facial reaction alone.
He parted from your lips again, changing up the rhythm of his strokes from sharp and swift to strong, but steady. Smoothly lifting you up on his dick all the way to where his tip would be able to remain fully inside your pussy and Allen could slam you down all the way to his base, jolting all your nerves and making your hips buck back into him. You could feel it again, the urge to climax from your stalker's veiny cock as the salty liquid continued to fall down your cheeks and your chin with a lust addicted look on your face.
"Ya got some goddamn nerve telling me that when yer pussy's clenching me so tight and yer moaning like a whore. Ughh-!! I'm about to fill ya up, dollface! Ya got no choice, yer gonna have my baby eventually anyway! Nggh--! So take it like a good little slut!" he said ignoring your pleas.
The feeling of Allen releasing ropes of his hot sperm inside of your cunt was what pushed you over the edge to your final climax. His load was so massive his cum started to drip out of you as Allen continued to rut into you pushing his seed deeper into your cervical canal and into your uterus hoping to fertilize a possible egg and get you pregnant. It seemed almost like he didn't want to even let you out of his arms as he kept lazily thrusting into you with his half-flaccid penis, keeping a tight grip on your shaken form.
"I wanna stay this close to ya fer forever." he mumbled as he kissed the top of your head finally fully lifting you off his cock, letting it hang down as spurts of cum leaked out of your cunt still in large quantities landing below your figures.
Your eyelids were becoming heavy, and you could barely keep them open. You kept telling yourself to stay awake, don't pass out, but this man had drained you of every drop of your energy. His voice started to get blurry and disoriented as he felt him switch your position in his arms to where his was now carrying you bridal style as he safely lowered you to the ground. You thought you could hear the shuffling of clothing and the clanging of his belt buckle.
'Ah, he's just going to leave me here in the alley? He's not going to finish me off?' you internally questioned.
When you felt the soft warmth of a fabric wrap around your form, it was slightly cold, but it still heated you up quickly and shielded you from the cold fall chill. Your consciousness started to drift in and out, but the last thing you remember before knocking out completely was being in Allen's arms again as he walked down the street past your office building looking as though he was heading to the station. You were able to look down at yourself and notice you were wrapped up in your trench coat and that he was also carrying all your belongings. You seen his red ruby eyes notice you were still slightly awake and he smiled at you with the words, "Let's go home now."
Can I ask for yan france, england, america and Germany with a darling that's using them to get citizenship/green card?
America: Kei….No, don’t you dare write this while watching and making references to 90-day fiancee.
Me: Too late bitches! This ask demands it! *laughs maniacally while typing like an absolute maniac*
Germany: “Oh nein, Sie hat vier Espresso-shot getrunken…”
France: Mon Dieu
🇺🇸 America 🇺🇸
In short, he’ll bring on the hellfire like Danielle and he has actual power, so that makes it even worse for you.
He will figure out that it was all a clever ruse when you’re not giving the relationship your all when it comes to emotional closeness. The way that you refuse to cuddle with him, don’t kiss him with passion, the looks you give him are devoid of warmth that someone in love would usually. Don’t worry you’ll get your green card with strings attached.
“Y/N, I have a surprise for you.” He guides you along a cobblestone pathway down some winding pathway. You pretend to have fun with his antics until he pulls the blindfold off your eyes. You were staring at a dressing room and a few ladies who were covered in pins, measurement taps, and needles.
“Hello, Y/N, we’re going to be preparing you for tonight!” The eldest lady with a nicely made-up bun states to you with glee.
“What do you mean?” Confused, you’re sure you didn’t want the answer to it. But you try to have an air of excitement around you.
“Your surprise wedding to Alfred! You’re going to become Mrs. Jones tonight!”
‘Oh shit I thought I had like 45 more days to figure this out.’
“Aren’t you happy! We’ll be married Y/N, and that means you’ll be an American and mine. Well, I’ll leave you ladies to it I have to get ready myself!” He gives you a peck on the cheek and tauntingly whispers, “You’re mine.” in your ear as you see a glint in his eye that you’d never seen before he walked backward for a few seconds before dashing off from the place where he’d brought you.
You knew you were fucked if you didn’t because for the last week or so he’d been telling you about his exploits of having to hunt down people who were here illegally and had been convicted of fraud, robbery, or some kind of crime they committed while in the United States. This conversation always seemed to pop up after the two of you discussed how long you’d be staying in the States from (country name), saw an ad for 90 Day Fiancee about a mystery couple or something that remind you of the shortening time for you to make a decision about the future. And since it was close to impossible without it being illegal (under the table) for you to find work, you really had only two choices: go home or depend on Alfred. You, of course wanted to be in the States, so you choose the latter but since a surprise wedding, and Alfred showing his far more dangerous tendencies, you wondered if heading back home to try a different way was possible. After all, you weren’t at the altar yet!
You decide that being with Alfred wasn’t worth the green card and you decided that you didn’t want to be under someone's control for it. So you decided to make a break for it. The red flags were blaring in your head, and you were not about to be a part of this! America is going to suspect that you’d do something like that so he did have agents of his ready to tackle you as soon as you tried to make your way from the wedding venue. They’ll hit you with some heavy sedatives so that the dressmakers, stylists, and make-up artists can get you ready for the big moment. This will be televised in and marketed as a Special Episode on 90-Day Finacee where the mystery couple is you and him tying the knot.
He did this so that his nation and others will know who exactly you belong to. He will also make sure that you renounce your citizenship in (country name) so that it will be virtually impossible for you to escape back home.
🏴 England 🏴
He has friends on the other side that will help him in his endeavors to ensnare you.
He’s the king of manipulation and shit-starting. So of course, it only takes him a few days to figure out that all you wanted from him was the green card.
‘If that’s all you want from me love I’ll give it to you under a few conditions.’ He will mention it causally while the two of you are having high tea at Theatre Royal Drury Lane.
“So, Y/N love I know that your visitor visa is about to run out in about two weeks' time, right?”
You do your best not to choke on your lavender tea, as you dare to gaze into those toxic pastoral green eyes that held back all of the disdain that he had for your betrayal. They also brimmed over with something else you couldn’t quite place.
“Yeah, what of it, I mean you have recommended getting married soon and I’m excited about it albeit, kinda weary.” You had begun to notice some of his red flags and the fact that he never really wanted you to leave his home so that you could be at your hostel. It was so much so to where you were never allowed to be on your own without him or one of his royal guards dressed in civilian clothes. You just wanted to be able to roam the British Isles and take in the sights on your own without having to worry about a time limit, but the only way that you could do that is if….
“Well, why not? You’ll get your Green Card and become a natural British citizen. After all isn’t that all you want?” Outright accusing you of what he knew was true by your demeanor and desire to do things without him involved.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You put down your porcelain cup. You didn’t want him to try and argue with you in public and expose you.
“You know exactly, what I mean, Y/N; you only want that. Don’t lie to me. I do have the upper hand since I have connections throughout the whole government, and I’m myself a special agent and part of the royal family. There are things I can do right now that will make you tremble in fear.” He whispers-shouts at you lowly as not to attract the attention of the whole tea room.
Your throat is tight from holding back the forming tears.
“I….” Some of them fall, but you were quick to wipe them from your face so that you wouldn’t make a spectacle of yourself. “Yes.” You decide to be honest, knowing that lying would only escalate the situation further. You were surprised that he gently grabbed your free hand that wasn’t trying to wipe up tears with his black leather-gloved hand.
“I have some paperwork for you to sign. You’ll get what you want, and I’ll get what I want.”
It’s, of course, marriage registration forms and some other documents that forbid you from leaving the U.K. unless you have explicit permission from him or that he’s with you. You also have to give him your passport from (country name) and visitors visa, and it’s engulfed in flames right before you. Ensuring that you’d never see your country again. With that he will be nice in the beginning of your marriage but once the honeymoon phase is over he will start his training for you on how to love him properly.
🇫🇷 France 🇫🇷
Oh he goin use his beautiful tears to make you regret trying to use him. Sparkles. Sparkles everywhere.
Like England, France is more upfront about confronting you for your trickery. Although the way in which he does it is tame, romantic, and emotionally manipulative.
As the two of you traversed the Pont d’lena to the Eiffel Tower on a brisk cold Fall night Francis wastes no time in talking about the future that he wants with you in great detail.
“You know Y/N I never thought that you’d use me.” Caught off guard by the sudden statement all you could respond to him was with a “huh?”
“What are you talking about Francis? I thought we were in a good place in our relationship.” Trying to gauge how you’d maneuver out of this conversation and onto something else.
“You just want me for the Green Card so you can stay admit it! You’re not like Jenny to my Sumit! You don’t care for me in the sweet way that she does for him!”
“What has you like this Francis?! It’s so random!” You stated, frustrated that you have to mitigate yet another dumb argument. You brace yourself for the downpour because Francis's now shaded blues covered in massive rainclouds was about to be released in the next few minutes of tears and the realization that he’s caught onto you and your scheming.
“You don’t treat me like a lover! You don’t tell me I love you ! Like you mean it. You’re almost lifeless when we make love and you don’t eat my expertly prepared food that is made with LOVE and COMPASSION your eyes don’t spark up with joy! You look like I’ve just given you some awful canned American or British food. Plus you’re always stiff whenever I hug you! Your LIKE A ROCK!” He will just allow himself to let tears flow freely down his face like a river that's broken out of a dam.
All you could do is let the French man cry his eyes out while passersby wondered if you were tormenting the poor man. There were many raised eyebrows that looked on at you in judgment.
(Yes, I’m referring to Jenny and Sumit because I really do believe that even thought the odds are well interesting. I really do believe those two love each other despite the difficulties they face. Also, this was the best example I could think of in the moment while typing this.)
“Francis can we please talk about-“ He swiftly cuts you off dramatically by forcefully grabbing your hands as he gets down on one knee.
“If you love me Y/N then prove it, marry me!” A sudden burst of sparkles appears around everywhere along with red roses. You didn’t really have the time, energy, or headspace to question how in hell those things apppeared from thin air because you were stuck between a rock and a hard place currently.
“Fra-“
“If you want to save your own face right now and have a chance of ever coming back to France you’ll say yes mademoiselle.” Although he said it sweetly you knew that was a threat.
“Okay, I’ll marry you Francis.” You know full well there would be a much longer conversation later along with not being able to leave his bed for a week straight.
“Wonderful and I even have your engagement ring pick out which will go so well with the outfit you’re wearing!” His sudden change back into being extremely happy was jarring to you and for a few moments you did have to wonder if anything that was happening to you currently was real.
He grabbed your left hand with force and slid it onto the fourth finger. It’s glow radiated a harsh light of malice although a stunning diamond signified your permanent entanglement with him. He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and it sent a shock through your nervous system. You were in danger for sure but it would be disguised as a charming prison with lace, chocolate, wine and other luxuries flowing without any other connection to anyone else on this earth.
🇩🇪 Germany 🇩🇪
He’s going to make a perfect darling out of you one way or the other and he’s going to do it through ruthless training and reprogramming your brain.
Since he’s asked Italy for help after hanging around you for 6 weeks and you still haven’t treated him like a true lover but someone who doesn’t act like their in love. He plans how he will confront you and the best way to do that is be underhanded. He overheard one of your conversations (he’d set up microphones all through your living quarters) with your friend back in (country name) that you were only sticking around so you could obtain your green card and get into the Masters Program you’d been eyeing for quite sometime. “Since you want to be a snake! I can also pull a reverse uno on you Y/N!”
Lately since you’ve been hanging around Ludwig you’ve felt sick and he’s been having to take care of you during these long sick spells. You’d feel horrendously fatigued, weak, and even somewhat nauseated. He’s been strangely sweeter to you and doting. You don’t question it since he did love helping you out with your green card situation. You never did start to question him since your brain was foggy and you were too disoriented to think about the underlying danger you were in with him. You never questioned why he suddenly became sweeter towards you and why he was so hellbent on making every meal for you.
“Y/N?” He gently placed a hand on your forehead to see if you were running a fever of sorts.
“Yeah?” You say groggily. The nap you took on his couch somehow made you feel much worse than you did before you took a nap.
“Are you really sure you’re up to the task of getting yourself home? I mean it’s across the city and it’s nighttime it’s not really safe for you to be outside anyways.” He states sternly. You could already tell what he’s about to suggest.
“Just stay here Fraulein. It would be foolish for you to get home in this state. And I can’t allow you to get hurt or sicker than you already are. I’ll go get some better blankets and pillows. I’ll be right back.” He’ll diligently march away and prepare his next round of poison for you to ingest. It’s not deadly but it saps you of energy and makes you disoriented. If your this way for long enough you’ll accidentally miss your date to exit Germany and return to (country name). He can pull a few strings with his government and say that your in his care and would be 100% unfit for international travel of any kind even on train you wouldn’t be allowed to leave. He’d have you right where he wants you. You’d be unaware the entire time.
“If Y/N wants to be in Germany wish granted Fraulien. But you’ll never be able to leave I can’t allow it there are so many men who’d hurt you!” He mutters to himself as he laces your Bavarian Griessknödel with crushed up sleeping pills.
You’re essentially going to be in a zombie like state due to all the drugging that he puts in your food and drink. After a few months he’ll light up on it and gradually hint at the fact that you no longer are a citizen of (country) and that it’s thanks to him that you’re safe. He’ll gaslight you a ton and make you believe that he’s doing what’s best for you after all you wanted a green card to his nation so badly he arranged it with the caveat that you have to be with him whenever you leave the house, you’re going to have to learn German, and you’re eventually going to have a tracker on you that will be connected to his phone at all times. You’ll be his sweet Fraulein that obeys him…. Eventually.
Okay, so I haven't been in the Hetalia fandom for a long while, but recently I have been reading the Manga. What I wasn't ready for was Ukraine's characterization. Like holy hell is she is terrifying, and I love it. Let me rant, but that whole scene was just so strange and off putting that I believe I am starting to fall in love with her character. She used to be protrayed as a crybaby older sister who is both motherly and sweet, she is concidered the normal one out of the three and most people tend to question how she manages to mess up with Russia and Belarus. Then Hima came back from the dead and when it was Ukraine's turn to shine, he gave us this:
Like what the actual hell, what can I say to this? Even with the context of Russia making a whole freaking announcement on people he believes should improve their "friendship skills" and then giving them a cardboard cut out of himself does not make this any less weird. First off Ukraine the "normal" one decided to call the others who were on that list to hand over the cut outs to her because it reminds her of the old times in which Russia was "obedient, quiet, and listens to what I say" with the creepy laughter in the background. Also she even have Belarus' photo with her for tea, which would be cute if it were not for the fact that she is clearly in need of therapy. Poor Lithuania is terrified of her as well, pointing out that her and Russia are truly siblings with a drawing of both of them creepily laughing above him. (I want to acknowledge the fact that Lithuania sees Belarus as perfect in his imagination, because this guy simps so hard that he forget how terrible she is). She then goes back to being cute and all, but her dialouge box is so disturbing, like looks at the gooey hands coming out of it and grabbing Lithuania, what the actual hell. Anyways here is my rant on how terrifying Ukraine is all of a sudden and how much I love it as well as find it disturbing.
