#'reading dubcon makes you a rapist'

[maladaptiveobsession]

yandere valentino x reader x angel dust

contains: reader w/unspecified genitals, gn reader, nsfw themes, noncon/dubcon, dehumanization, degradation, heavy abuse (brief mentions of physical violence, manipulation, sexual exploitation), dacryphilia, overstimulation

word count: 2,160

It’s not unusual for sinners to throw themselves at Valentino’s feet, but it is the first time the red skies of hell have thrown one directly onto him. The impact sends you both to the ground, collapsing in a startled heap.

He scrambles to throw you off, having every intention to rip you to scraps. Upon lifting your head, he suddenly has grander schemes in mind. His towering figure and lascivious grin send shivers down your spine.

“My, what lovely specimen do we have here? How kind of heaven to send a beauty like yourself directly to me.” His flirtations send blood rushing to your head, making your face grow warmer. You shyly break eye contact, swiveling your head to get a look around. Where is this place?

Valentino must notice your growing confusion and distress, interrupting your thoughts with a low chuckle.

“Welcome to hell, dollface.” Oh, you must be dead. You never thought you were perfect, but you never could’ve imagined you’d go to hell! Where did you go wrong? Suddenly thrust into hell with murderers, rapists, and monsters alike, you wondered if you could die twice.

“Don’t look so down, baby; you’re in luck! There’s no better demon you could’ve crashed into.” He goes on to introduce himself as a powerful overlord with a well-known and successful business.

“I’m feeling awfully generous right now. Why don’t you come work for me? I know just where to put you! You’ll fit right in! I’m sure my patrons will love you too.” He pauses to let you digest the information. “As my employee, you’d be provided housing. I could easily protect you from the creeps and losers on this side of hell. I’ll even forgive you for dirtying my coat! Sounds like a steal, right?”

He takes a long drag from a cigar that you're not sure where came from, then whips out a contract and pen.

“So, how about it, baby?”

Stranded in an unfamiliar place, you easily accept his kindness. As you take hold of the pen, something about his grin makes you uneasy.

If only you read the fine print. So began your life of torment.

What Valentino neglected to mention was that the “successful business” he ran was a porn studio. You spent hours doing photoshoots, films, and shows. Like Valentino suggested, you became his star attraction—the shy and delicate pornstar all of hell’s degenerates thirsted for. Yet they would never get a taste. Valentino didn’t share his personal toys. 

Inexplicably, he couldn’t get enough of you. He wanted to own you the moment he saw your pretty face, drawn to the light in your eyes.

Even with your skin bruised by his fingers and your throat sore from careless treatment, you still desired his rough affection. You didn’t mind that he left you battered each night or his harsh comments when you couldn’t keep up with his demands.

You could even forgive him for cruelly allowing his customers to take advantage of you and fuck you back into submission.

“I said I could protect you; I never said I would. Perhaps you’ll think twice before disobeying in the future.”

You would do anything if it meant receiving his violent devotion.

Being the personal toy of an egomaniacal moth could never be easy, but at least you weren’t alone. You had befriended none other than Valentino’s former favored pornstar, Angel Dust. Despite your differences in character, your shared experiences created a bond neither of you could find anywhere else. Misery always finds company.

Angel felt conflicted upon meeting you. That bastard had finally found a new toy to replace him! His joy only lasted until he heard your voice, so soft and sweet.

Valentino would break you.

Angel dreamed of the day Valentino would grow bored of him and find a new toy to play with. Now that that dream was a reality, he couldn’t push down the guilt. Shouldn’t he feel happy?

There was nothing Angel could do to protect you, but he could give you advice on how to protect yourself.

“Just do what he says. The consequences aren’t worth going against his word.”

He hadn’t planned on getting so close to you; he had tried to scare you off with cruelties, but you never minded. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake you. He tried to keep his distance and went out of his way to avoid you. You must have taken the hint and stopped bothering him like he’d wanted.

He didn’t owe you anything, so why did your absence make him feel worse? Why did he feel like something was missing?

Angel found his answers not long after.

He'd followed the muffled sound of choked sobs to your studio, pausing outside the cracked door. Against his better judgment, he peeked inside.

He’s met with the sight of you huddled in your vanity seat, knees raised to your chest, and your face buried in your arms.

“Doll?”

You raise your head at the sound of Angel’s voice, rushing to wipe away tears. You greet him with the best smile you can manage.

How miserable you must look to him, with smudged mascara and puffy eyes.

“I’m sorry for bothering you so often, Angie.” With how hoarse your voice is, he suspects you’ve been crying for a while. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just felt so alone, you know?”

He does. He knows better than anyone.

It suddenly occurs to him how much of an asshole he’s been. You didn’t deserve the shit he’s been giving you.

He'd put up walls ever since he signed away his freedom; he couldn’t trust anybody. He thought nobody could understand what kind of shit he’s been through, but then you came along. You do understand because you’re going through it.

You’re all each other has.

“Don’t cry for the bastard. He doesn’t deserve your tears.” You look like you’re about to apologize again, but he continues. “Listen, I’m sorry for being such a douchebag lately. You didn’t do nothing wrong. We’ve only got each other in this shithole.”

You smile brightly, unsure what caused the sudden change in attitude, but happy nonetheless. “Right, together, we’re not alone.”

So began your unlikely friendship.

Unfortunately, Valentino wasn’t nearly as enthused. His obsession grew to new heights when you befriended Angel Dust. This manifested itself in the form of longer studio hours and even rougher sex.

Seeing you get along on set made his blood boil. The final straw was the stupid grin you sent Angel’s way. How dare you flirt with that slut! How dare he grin back!

You both clearly needed to be reminded of your status. Since you liked each other so much, he would be happy to give his blessings. Why, he’d personally see to your union.

Later that evening, you found yourself back on set, blindfolded and gagged. The cold nipped at your bare skin. Valentino kept the studios cold to keep your nipples perked. The handcuffs keeping your hands pinned to the bed post provided little comfort.

The sound of the film crew setting up around you sent heat to your sex. You couldn’t swallow the feeling of disgust residing in your throat; how could you enjoy this? Even amongst the buzz of conversations, you could easily pick out the click of Valentino’s healed boots. You wait for the familiar call to begin filming, yet you do not find it.

It’s only when a pair of hands, strangely familiar, find their way to your chest that you realize the set began. The whole situation strikes you as strange, but what could you do anyhow? Nothing would change the outcome. In the end, all you’d receive for your curiosity would be a nasty bruise.

So you brush off your worries and focus on the sensation of soft hands groping at your chest, teasing your nipples. You can’t help but lean into their gentle touches; the familiarity comforting.

The way they glide across your skin—as if searching—you wonder if they’re blindfolded too. Shivers run across your spine as they spread your legs, the cool air kissing your core. The bed shifts as your film partner settles between your thighs, their hands never leaving you.

Fingers prod at your entrance, sinking in easily. Your head spins at the sudden intrusion. As they finger and stretch your hole, you struggle to maintain composure. Each motion was intentional and practiced. You could feel the slick gather below you in a thick puddle. Somehow, they knew how to work you just right.

Droplets of pre-cum smeared against your skin as their cock brushed up against your thigh.

Unable to wait any longer, you tried lifting your hips away from their fingers. You wanted more; you wanted to be filled.

Your desire clouded any creeping shame or embarrassment. You never wanted this; why shouldn’t you enjoy the pleasure being given?

The hand lingering on your hip stills you with surprising strength; another set of hands you didn’t know they had pushes your thighs up to your chest. Desire clouds your thoughts, never once questioning the owner of said hands.

They guide their cock to your entrance, driving it in without warning—the sudden stretch takes your breath away. Though easier to accommodate than Valentino’s, you still find yourself pushed past your limits.

Little time is given to adjust; their pace is rough but controlled. Waves of pleasure burn through you. 

Your moans and pleas are swallowed up by the gag. Tears of pleasure and pain gather in your eyes, darkening the fabric of your blindfold. It hurts so good; the intensity building in your core threatens to snap. A particularly rough thrust sends powerful shockwaves throughout your body.

They shudder against you, their pace stuttering for only a brief moment. They were too busy changing their own bliss. You writhe against your binds as the heat within tightens once more, all too soon. Your pleas for clemency are muffled.

Valentino watches with great interest, languidly stroking his own length as you're brought back to the edge of pleasure. You were so sensitive and expressive.

His favorite slut being forced to use his personal toy wasn’t a sight he thought he’d enjoy. He’d initially been reluctant, only convinced by the masses demanding your collaboration.

Now he couldn’t wait for the reveal—to see the despair of fucking your only friend. Commanding his toys to fuck like dolls was fun; maybe he’d do it again some time.

He watched closely as Angel’s hips stuttered, pace becoming erratic, and fingers pressing deep into your thighs. The heat of his climax sends you over the edge. With your ears ringing and your heart pounding, you feel dizzy. Darkness swallows up your vision.

Valentino makes note of your limpness, suddenly struck by an idea. He strides over to Angel, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you flirting with my toy?” He didn’t miss the way Angel tenses. “Well, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Wasting no time, he wrenched the blindfold off.

Angel’s reaction is more than he’d hoped for. Horror and disgust flash in his eyes as he scrambles to pull out of you. He tumbled off the bed in his urgency and crumpled at Val’s feet in despair.

Angel can feel his stomach in his throat, panis rising.

“Aw, did you not like my gift?” Valentino mocks him, relishing in the pitiful display. “Well, too bad. Pick yourself up and get ready to do it again.”

For a moment, Angel is unresponsive. He has to do that all over again? He has to violate you? He can’t do that to you; it would break you.

Buzzing under the thick layer of disgust creeps darker desires: to touch and tease your skin, to sink into your warmth. To do it all over again.

He doesn't notice the way his dick responds, but Valentino certainly does. How unexpected!

“Holy shit, are you hard again? Does the thought of raping your friend turn you on that much? I wonder what your friend will think?” He can taste your fear and anguish already. “Let’s not waste any time, then.”

Angel's fear is palpable and thick. He doesn’t want to lose you. When you open your eyes, the little sanctuary you've built together will never be the same.

You should feel something, but you can only feel empty as your only friend splits you open against both of your wills. Averting his eyes, he rocks into you. Valentino’s voice hardly registers at all. 

“Don’t act so shy, Angelcakes. Go on, fuck them with your eyes like you usually do. If I don’t see some eye contact, there will be consequences for your dearest friend.”

With your eyes connected, you can’t pretend anymore. This is happening. This is real. 

You only have each other, but together you created a nightmare you can’t escape. At least you’re not alone—closer than you’ve ever been.

[chaifootsteps]

just me or is the whole 'saying this is like fanfic is homophobia' framing kind of frustrating? like just to list out the tropes that have come up so far in HH/HB:

female character is written as an evil shrew who gets in the way of the m/m pairing

relationship that starts with rape/dubcon rewritten into true love (this one is probably more common in bad BL manga but I'm willing to bet there's some overlap)

character is the child of a mob family

portrayals of rape/sexual assault treated as titillating / used for drama

portrayals of domestic violence/abuse used mainly to get viewers to feel sorry for a character instead of making them sympathetic on their own terms

abusers/rapists being all powerful monsters solely to torture the victim as much as possible

characters are either Good or Bad and writing is heavy handed about driving this point home

writers has one character they stan and baby above all others and not only the writing but the world bends around them as they eat up more and more screentime while the actual main characters are shoved to the side

writer has one character they hate and they hate other people liking them so they derail them in the most obvious way possible

writer has one pairing they despise and go out of their way to make them seem familial to shame the fans who ship it

writer has intended pairings in mind but they just kinda happen regardless of how much work has been put in to give them real chemistry

the plotlines jump all over the place with no consideration given to the differing stakes each create or audience fatigue when too much is introduced at once/too many hanging threads are left, similar to what happens in unplanned serialized fiction. consistency and worldbuilding errors abound. conversations/events that seem like they should change the status quo kinda don't but there's so little way to tell which one is which that audiences cannot gauge the stakes and either stop being invested or just take the show as it comes since there's no point anticipating anything being done with a lot of its characters & plot points

too many characters, often some of whom don't serve much purpose but the writer is way too attached to to ever cut out (looking at you, Andrealphus & Vassago)

characters are rewritten on the fly. due to the lack of planning their arcs start and stop or get quietly dropped when the writer tires of them

pervasive attitude of misogyny - female characters are underwritten, bitches, dumb or accessories to the men. The world revolves around the (usually white) m/m pairing/s

the main premise is dropped in favor of shipping drama or character shilling

etc.

There's probably more but those are the big ones - like s1 wasn't perfect but s2 really does feel like it became fanfic of itself. I understand Viv being frustrated if it seems like a broad dismissive brush instead of specific critiques, but there's a couple of problems here:

when people give specific critiques she either misrepresents their points to frame them as bad faith (tacitly encouraging her fans to do the same), complains people keep making the same point or writes defensive threads about how people just don't get it because, for example, the show totally demonstrates Millie has qualities other than Wife and Violent

when people say something 'feels like fanfic' as far as I've seen they aren't immediately using it as shorthand for 'it has LGBT characters'. usually when they expand on their points what they're getting at is a lack of planning and a lack of experience or competency in the writer that gives the whole thing impression of being done by an amateur who's either young or still learning their craft, or both

it's the same lack of experienced hands that resulted in the opening of Hazbin being so amateurish and lacking the sense of having actual episodes until other staff writers were brought in to clean up the mess

like yeah I don't like the implication that 'fanfic=automatically bad' since I've read some good stuff myself and maybe people could be more specific; but usually this critique is coming from people who actually like fanfic, who've read a lot of it and who recognize the tropes from the worst fanfics out there in Viv's work

Viv's little "Um, actually, fanfic is good and queer and so if you use it as an insult towards my shows, you're homophobic" snit is one of the more rancid things she's said. When you lay it all out like this, it really does go to show how her stories embody all the worst, most harmful tropes bad fanfic -- and bad writing in general -- has to offer.

[twsted-kinks]

Magicless Human (NSFW TWST OC x Reader)

>ageless and minors dni<

Basically I had an idea but couldn't think of a character to work with it so I just have this random character now. Thought about Sebek or General Lilia but things felt too OOC and I wanted shapeshifting. This one is really dark y'all so READ THE CONTENT WARNING

It takes place in NRC and reader is Yuu. Yuu is afab and gender neutral.

I wrote this instead of answering asks :| I am bad at having a blog

Content Warning: noncon/dubcon, being tricked and trapped, using violence to get reader to do sexual things, shapeshifting fae, reader cries and beds a lot but rapist doesn't care, inhuman dick, magic being used to alter mental state and kinda body modification (so reader can take dick that's humanly impossible), lots of degradation, prejudice against humans and magicless humans, vaginal and oral sex, painful sex turned pleasurable, video recording, creampie, unsafe sex, talking about pregnancy but not confirmed if reader gets pregnant

���Hey! Yuu!”

You stop in the hallway and turn around. “Ace? I thought you already headed back to Heartslabyul with Deuce?”

Ace shrugs and responds. “I was but Grim decided to get himself stuck.”

“Oh, I’m already headed back to Ramshackle, so-”

“Nah, he’s close by actually. come with me.” Ace starts walking away and gestures for you to follow.

“I thought-” You pause for a moment then join him. “Huh, he must’ve changed his mind.”

After a moment, Ace opens the door of an empty lecture hall and gestures for you to go in. You walk in and look around, but don’t see the grey furball.

“Grim?” You call. “Where is he? I don’t see him.”

The door creeks shut followed by the click of a lock.

“I knew a human like you would be dumb, but to be this stupid?” An unfamiliar voice chuckles. “It’s just astounding.”

“What? Ace, what’s with your voice?” You spin around to see Ace standing strangely for him, posture way too straight and arms folded across his chest.

“Having to deal with brainless humans all day is bad enough, yet you are so much worse. Not only are you an idiotic human, you’re also just a worthless waste of space with no magic to make up for it.”

“You aren’t Ace! Who the fuck are you?”

“Finally connected the dots, hm?” The figure snaps his fingers, dropping his disguise, revealing pointed ears and deep crimson eyes as he towers above you. A man with long hair and a sharpened scowl storms toward you, way too quickly. You raise your fist to hit him, but he grabs your arm.

“Stop it! Let me go!” You scream.

“You think a worthless human like you can stop me? The door is locked and the room is soundproofed with magic, and you can do nothing to dispel it.” The man laughs, taking hold of you chin with his other hand as you struggle against him. “Such a weak useless little thing, yet one with a pretty face. Your looks are the one thing you have going for you, yet they have you studying things you’ll never be able to do. You’d do much better as a brothel’s whore.”

You scream again and knee the man, making him grunt and release you. You run to the door, pounding on it, screaming, trying to pull it, push it, anything.

“You worthless cur! You will regret resisting me.” In an instant, the man is behind you, grabbing the back of your collar, and yanking you back. “I am offering your life worth, of you finally being of value, and you dare hit me?”

“Stop it! Let me go! I won’t tell anyone! Just let me go!” You beg as the man drags you across the room and throws you over the front desk.

“Scream all you want. It won’t stop me, and it won’t save you.” The man presses his chest against your back pushing you down against the tabletop. “I’ll show you your place and the only worth you have.”

You hear ripping as your bottom is torn in two.

“NO! STOP IT! I-I’VE- I’ve never-” Tears form in the corner of your eyes.

The man groans above you. You feel dense fabric press against your ass, something firm and large rubbing against your underwear.

“Please- You can’t.” You sob. “I-I’ll do anything- just not that. Just not-”

“Not what?” The man grinds harder against you. “Make me an offer, and maybe I’ll do something else.”

“I’ll… I’ll suck you off, if you stop.”

“Offering your mouth?” The man hums. “It will shut you up. But I want more.”

“W-what do you want?”

“You’ll strip for me, show me your body, then use your mouth to please me. Or-” You feel the man’s hips shift, only a few layers of cloth separate your cunt from the man’s hardened cock. The man chuckles. “Or, I could just rape you and skip the teasing.”

“Please! NO! I’ll do it!” You cry.

The man grinds against you a bit more before pulling away. “Fine, get up.”

You try to wipe the tears from your face as you stand on wobbling legs. The man takes a few steps back then urn to face you. You begin to remove your uniform jacket.

“Ah, not yet.” The man waves his hand and a phone floats out of his pocket. “While most human inventions are useless, some are nice to have, like this little picture box you species invented.”

“You’re going to record me?” You ask.

“Yes, and can you do anything to stop me from doing so?”

You hesitate then shake your head.

“Good, now strip.” The man taps the screen and the phone floats closer to you.

You shrug your jacket off and let it fall to the floor.

“Slower.” The man growls. “If you can’t even be a good whore, then I’ll just have to use you like a toy.”

You freeze for a moment before continuing, slowly undoing the buttons on your shirt. You look down as you do so, not being able to look up at the man or the phone floating around you. You slowly peel the collar of your shirt down, slowly showing more and more of your torso. Finally, your shirt falls to the ground as you cover your chest with your arms. You can’t look up to meet the man’s gaze, but you hear the sound of a zipper opening.

“More.” The man commands. “Show me your chest, or I can rip the clothes off myself.”

You hesitate but eventually move your arms and begin to remove your bra/binder, pulling it over your head. Your hands hesitate on the button of your bottoms. You finally undo the button and let what remains fall to the ground, only leaving you in your underwear.

“Well?”

You look up to see the man with his fist around his cock, slowly stroking it. Tears stream down your cheeks again as you loop your thumbs under the hem of your underwear and pull them down. Finally, you stand nude.

“Such a gorgeous body wasted on a magicless human. You could make a good spouse if the rest of you had any worth.” The man steps forward and cups one of your breasts in his hand, kneading it with his fingers. “Luckily, you don’t need brains or magic to be a good little cocksleeve. You agree, don’t you?”

“Wha- No, I- AH!” The man squeezes your breast harshly and tugs you forward.

The man leans down, mouth by your ear and growls. “You agree, don’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

“You’re brainless. You’re magicless.” The man grabs your other breast, massaging it along with the other.” Just a little useless human who’s only use is getting fucked. Correct?”

“Yes.”

The man licks the shell of your ear, making your shudder. “Your body only exists for the pleasure of others, of those better than you. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” The man hums and pulls away. “Now get on your knees.”

You take a deep breath in and do as your told. You sit on your knees, looking down at the floor. A hand slips into your hair, taking hold, and yanks your head back. Your face is forced upward, but your eyes are closed from the pain.

“Don’t look away. Your face is one of the few good things about you.” The man slaps your cheek with his cock. “If you want to be a good whore, you’ll have to learn to look at whoever you’re sucking off. Now open your eyes.”

You open them, tears streaming down. The man looks down at you with his phone floating alongside him, capturing his point-of-view.

“There you go. Now, to properly break you in.” The man rests his cock across your face, the tip almost reaching your forehead. “Though, I know, with a pretty face like that, you’ve sucked plenty of cock. You love sucking cock, don’t you?”

You feel a sharp tug at your scalp. “Y-yes.”

“Say it.”

“I love-” You hiccup. “I love sucking cock.”

“And you want me to cum down your throat, right?”

Another tug. “Y-yes! I want you to- to cum down my throat.”

“A whore asking so nicely? How am I to refuse. Though, you’ve sucked lots of cocks before, haven’t you? You’ve sucked off so many humans that a cock like this is nothing to you, isn’t that right?”

You remain silent for a moment, but a harsher tug makes you whine. “Yes! I’ve sucked off so many humans!”

“But not only humans. You’ve sucked off plenty of beastmen and mer here haven’t you?”

“Yes!” You respond before he tugs your hair. “I’ve- I’ve sucked off lots of beastmen and mer too. I love cock! I don’t discriminate! I love all kinds of cocks!”

“Oh?” The man coos. “Such a skilled little whore you are. A cock like this should be of no issue for you. But the cock of a fae, especially one of someone like me? Well, I can have one of many shapes, but I hope I can test your skills with something more extreme.”

You eyes widen as you feel the man’s cock grow in size, becoming thicker and so much longer. The cock is longer than your own head and as thick as your wrist. There’s no way you can take it! You haven’t even sucked dick before, but this man- He’s making you say and do things, and, if you don’t- More tears stream down your cheeks.

“Shh, it’s okay. I know it’s intimidating, but I know a whore like you will take it with no problem.” The man pulls his hips back and rubs the tip of his cock against your lips. “Now open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and wrap your lips around your teeth. I know I don’t need to remind you, but I can tell my cock is already making you delirious.”

Reluctantly, you do as your told. You struggle to open your mouth wide enough, but the man doesn’t care. As soon as you open up, he’s forcing his cock inside you. He ruts slowly, adding a bit more cock every time, and every time you choke. He’s barely half way, and you’re already gagging.

“Mmm, sounds like this coming from a well used whore? What a compliment!” The man laughs. You feel his free hand shift, lightly wrapping around your throat as his thumb rubs circles under your jaw. “You truly are beautiful for a human. You’re wasted in these halls. You could be the star of a brothel or even the little pet of a noble, if you gave this all up.”

You slam your hands against the man’s thighs, trying to push him away.

“Breath through your nose slut!” The man forces his cock deeper. “Has my cock broken your brain that much? Ha! Seems even a well used human is still a human. Fine, I’ll be kind.”

You feel a tingling around your neck, something surging from his fingertips and palm as the sensation tingles in your throat. Suddenly, you’re not struggling as much, and you can breathe! Your throat has opened to a point that must be inhuman. You’re not sure what’s going on, but you know that the man did this to you.

“There, a little boon to help any others that use you.” The man pushes his cock even deeper until he finally bottoms out. The soft sculpted hair circling his cock encases your nose, and all you can smell is his scent, strong, musky, yet addicting. Something’s not right in your brain. You can feel yourself getting wet.

Now the man starts to fuck your face, one hand in your hair, pulling your mouth up and down around his cock like a fleshlight as his hips meet your face each time he thrusts forward. You can feel yourself dripping. You shouldn’t be enjoying this? What’s wrong with you? You feel your cunt pulsing, begging to be touched. You shouldn’t give in, but you can’t help it. You reach down and begin rubbing your clit. You can’t help but moan.

“There you go. There’s the slut I’ve been looking for. This is your place, just a hole to be fucked.” The man laughs above you and thrusts into your throat, fucking it even faster as his balls slap your chin. “An unending line of cocks should always be ready to use you, and you should welcome each one gladly.”

The weight in your throat, the stretch of your jaw, his smell, his warmth, you can’t help but rub your clit faster. You can’t help how your thighs shake and how the pit in your stomach gets tighter and tighter until it finally snaps. Your eyes roll in the back of your head as you moan around the man’s cock and your cunt pulses around nothing.

“Cumming before me? How selfish, but it’s alright. I will fill your throat soon.” The man grunts and holds your head in place, keeping it still as he fucks your throat. Each thrust is shallow. The cock deep in your throat the entire time.

Finally, he thrusts deep into your throat, your nose pressed into his pubic hair as he holds your head in place. “That’s it! Take it! Take it like the whore I know you are!” You feel his balls pulse against your chin as he cums deep. You have no choice but to swallow all he gives you from his twitching cock. Eventually, he pulls your head from his cock, still spurting cum. He aims his cock, painting your face and chest as you heave below him.

“You were gorgeous before, but now you are absolutely stunning.”

You collapse forward, keeping yourself up with your arms as you cough. Droplets of cum splat onto the ground.

The man kneels down and places his finger under your chin, making you look up at him. “And what do you say?”

You look at his confused for a moment.

“What do you say when someone gives you a gift, whore?”

“Th-” You cough. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For… For fucking my face.”

“Good, now stand.” The man grabs you by the arm and forces you up.

“We’re done right? I can go.” You start to wipe the cum from your face.

The man laughs and pushes you back, your hips meeting the edge of the desk.

“Do I look satisfied?” The man retorts as he leans closer to you and his long tongue licks up along your neck. You feel something warm touch your leg.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask, panicked.

“I’m getting ready to fuck you.” The man shoves you down onto the desk and grabs your legs, forcing them open. His phone moves taking in the entire scene.

“But you said-” You try to pull yourself form his grip. “You said you wouldn’t!”

“And, like the stupid human you are, you believed that. Do you really expect me not to properly fuck a whore?” The man chuckles and pulls you by your thighs, forcing your hips to meet.

“NO! STOP!” You hit his chest, but he only laughs in response.

“Go ahead. Scream all you like. No one can hear you, and, even if they did, they wouldn’t help a whore like you. They’d only get in line and fuck you when I’m done.” The man rubs the tip of his cock along your slit.

“If you behave, I can make it hurt less, but, if you don’t-”

A loud slap rings in the lecture hall. The man stands with his eyes wide open as you hold your hand, the palm stinging from the impact.

“You…” The man glares down at you with a rage yet he speaks calmly. “I take pity of your worthless life, show you the only thing of any value about yourself, and even allow you to pleasure yourself while I use you. I show you kindness no human should ever receive, but it’s alright.”

The man grabs your wrists and slams them down on either side of your head. You feel something growing against your stomach. You look down to see the man’s cock grow even more. His cock grows to reach past your navel and the tip grows to the size of a fist. Large bumps stretch to line the shaft as two massive knots swells at the base.

“No…” You beg with a sob.

“I am going to fuck you, and you can do nothing to stop me. Scream all you want, hit me all you want. No matter what, my cock, all of it, will be inside you.”

“You can’t! I’ve never- I’m a virgin!” You shout.

“A slut who still has their virginity? How sad.” The man pulls back, running his cock along your folds. “Don’t worry. I’ll break your cunt. I’ll break you.”

“Please, no.” You cry and try to thrash around.

“You feel that?” The man rubs the tip of his cock between your folds. “I’m about to take your virginity, and you can’t stop me. You’re just a magicless-” He thrusts against you, his tip pushing past your cunt. “Brainless-” He thrusts again, almost forcing his way in.

“NO! STOP!” Your voice is getting hoarse.

“Worthless human!” He thrusts again, finally gaining purchase and forcing his tip inside you.

“NO! TAKE IT OUT! STOP!” You scream, tears streaming down your cheeks. The man forces his cock event deeper, thrusting slowly in and out of you.

The man grabs your jaw, keeping your face still. “Open you eyes, whore. Look at me. You don’t deserve the cock of a fae. This is an honor, you pathetic human!”

Your eyes remain shut closed.

“I said, ‘LOOK AT ME!’” The man harshly thrusts forward, forcing more of his cock even deeper. The girth stretches you cunt to the point of bleeding, and the bumps tug at your walls.

Your eyes and mouth shoot open as you scream. “STOP! IT HURTS!”

“And whose fault is that, whore?” The man shifts his body, pushing your thighs against your chest as he mounts you. “This could have been pleasurable for you, but your went ahead and spat in the face of my generosity. But do not worry. I am not out of kindness. I can make the pain go away.”

“PLEASE!” You plead.

“Beg for my cum. Beg for me to knot you. Beg to be bred with bastards.”

You only sob in return.

“No? In that case…” The man chuckles, and you feel him shift inside of you, cock widening even more.

“WAIT! STOP!”

“Then beg.” The man growls.

“P-Please, give- give me your cum.” You whimper.

“What else?”

You feel the bumps digging deep into your flesh.

“YOUR KNOT! PLEASE!” You hiccup. “GIVE ME YOUR KNOT!”

“That’s it now beg to carry my bastards.”

You feel the first knot kiss your entrance.

“KNOCK ME UP! GIVE ME YOUR BASTARDS!” Tears pour from your eyes. You vision became blurry long ago.

“Good, whore.”

You feel the man’s hand run down your torso and settle at where cock is sheathed inside you. His thumb rests at your clit. You feel the tingling feeling again, starting at you clit and shifting into your cunt. The pain begins to fade but doesn’t leave fully, but the wave of pleasure greatly outweighs it.

“There.” The man rocks his hips into yours, pressing his knot against your entrance. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

A lewd moan escapes you.

“Now that’s the face of a cockdrunk slut, the only face you should ever have. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” You mewl.

“Louder-” The man grunts as he pushes his cock forward, his first knot threatening to force you wider. “What are you?”

“YES!” You whine. “I’M A SLUT! A WHORE!”

“And what do you love?”

“I LOVE COCK! I LOVE CUM!”

The man laughs as he forces his full weight on top of you, spreading your cunt wider as the first knot is forced inside you. You throw you head back in a silent scream and your thighs shake. Just a bit more. You’re almost there.

“This is the proper place for a human like you.” The man groans as he shallowly thrusts into you, his second, even bigger knot, meeting your cunt with each thrust. “Magicless. Brainless. All you’re good for is being a piece of fuckmeat.”

“More…”

“What was that?” The man asks with a smirk.

“Please, more.” You beg, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“More what?”

“MORE! FUCK ME! BREED ME! ANYTHING!” You thrust your hips forward, trying to take more of him. “JUST CUM IN ME!”

“Demanding whore.” The man laughs and begins to thrust faster. You look down, seeing how his cock disappears inside of you. There a large bulge in your stomach, moving which each of his thrusts. That’s his cock. It’s so big, it’s so deep! Your legs shake. Your breathe is uneven. You can’t stop moaning. With each thrust, the bumps, his first knot it rubs into you, filling places that should never be touched. His second knot pushes further and further, spreading your entrance more and more, almost entering you. The coil in you tightens more and more, until it finally snaps.

You cry out in pleasure as your back arches, moaning as your toes curl. Your cunt tries to pulse, tries to squeeze around the cock violating you, but it’s stretched too wide. The man groans above you and use his full weight again, forcing the second knot inside you. Then you feel it, his cock twitch and a gush of liquid.

“THAT’S IT WHORE! CUM WHILE I BREED YOU! TAKE IT AND CARRY MY BASTARDS!” The man growls and rock his hips into you, finally fully sheathed inside you. You feel his balls against your ass, pulsing with each pump of cum that fills your womb. You don’t know how long your mentally gone, but, once you come down from your high, you see the man above you, chest heaving and sweat dripping down from his body onto yours. You look down again and see your stomach bloated from the amount of cum inside of you.

“Good to see you finally accept your place.” The man leans down, face close to yours, and run his tongue along your cheek. The man chuckles and shifts his body, resting his hands on your thighs. He holds you in place as he begins to pull his hips backs. You mewl as you feel the knot tug at your entrance. You moan when it finally leaves you. The second makes you do the same. Finally, he pulls his cock out of you and cum gushes out of you. You see his phone float down to your cunt, recording your gaping cunt.

You spread your legs further and whine.

“Hm?” The man raises his eyebrow. “What is it, whore?”

“I’m empty.” You whine and rock your hips forward. “Fill me.”

The man smirks. “Don’t worry. I’m not done with you.”

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 2

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Masterlist

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, attempted sexual assault (not Joel), somno, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot)but fair warning, major age gap

This is a reader fic, reader is early 20's, Joel is 40's at this point, reader is small enough that the men can lift her, but these are strong men. Reader is also refered to as little one, little girl ETC, but that's more in reference to her age/innocence than physical size.

Please make sure you read the warnings, this chapter will have some of the most intense stuff of this fic!

You woke up with a start, scrambling on the dirty mattress to sit up. It was Tommy, not Joel.

“It’s just me” He said with a plate of food. “He’s doing business, he’ll be back later.”

You knew what ‘later’ meant for you.

Tommy set down the plate and stepped forward, making you scramble back against the wall. “Relax, honey, I ain’t gonna touch yuh. Joel made sure to give a  big speech full of vivid details on what he’d do to anyone who did” He pulls something out of his pocket; a deck of cards. “You know how to play solitaire?”

You nod.

“Good, you can have these. I imagine it’s gonna get real boring here when he-” Tommy stopped himself. Your purpose here was for Joel to fuck, and not much else, this was sure to lead to intense boredom in your solitary confinement; Tommy was offering you a small mercy, something to do.

“Go fish?” You asked softly.

*

You and Tommy end up playing the world quietest game of go fish, slowly easing up to him. You learned a thing or two from him in the small pieces he gave you, like that Joel was his older brother. You found it odd at first, to be sure, but the parts came together the more you thought about it. Their personalities were different, Tommy was much softer, kinder, gentle; it gave you an idea.

“Whats it like?” You asked.

Tommy looks up from his cards at that. “What’s what like?”

You don’t look at him. “Joel… he’s gonna…  and I’ve never” You feel your heart rate pick up, anxious for his reaction.

You hear a loud sigh, and see Tommy scrub his face. “I can’t be having this conversation with you” He starts to get up.

“NO!” You lunge forward, grabbing his hand and looking him dead in the eye. “No, please, I need to know what’s going to happen.”

With a groan, he sits back down, looking up at the ceiling. “Well, you’ll probably bleed, but not everyone does. And it’s gonna hurt. I doubt Joel’s gonna take it easy on you.”

There’s a long period of silence before you say your next words. “Can you do it?”

In a flash, Tommy was standing up and walking to the door.

“Wait! Please!” you scramble up, grabbing his arm before it turns the handle.

“No! I’m not participating in this! I got enough on my conscience as it is!” His eyes are shut tight as you pull on him to turn to you.

“Please, Tommy, you’ll make it easier, I don’t want it to hurt!”

He opened his eyes wide, gripping your shoulders. “It’s going to hurt either way! There’s no ‘easier’, you’re fucked!”

You freeze, tears welling up in your eyes. “Tommy, please. I need you to do this.”

The desperation in your eyes gave him pause to consider. He had tried to stop this whole thing from happening, tried to pull back his brother the way only he knew how, to give Joel some sort of moral compass that he lost the day Sarah died… but even Tommy wasn’t enough. He saw the look Joel had in his eyes, that intense focus, that desire, not just to fuck her but to control her, own her in every sense of the word… and if Joel ever found out he did this, he’d be fucked. But Tommy was trying his best to make things easier on the young girl, and she was right; he’d be easier than Joel.

“You can never tell anyone, or we are both dead.”

Tommy was careful, opening you up with his fingers first, then fucking you, placing his pants under you, stopping the bleeding from staining the bed; a dead giveaway. He tried to touch you, out of courtesy, give you at least something, but you declined. Joel wouldn’t do that, you shouldn’t get used to it.

When it was over, Tommy couldn’t look you in the eyes as he wiped you off, putting on his blood and cum stained pants and leaving the room.

You played solitaire for hours until Joel stomped in.

With wide eyes, you stare up at Joel, setting down the cards.

“Get on the bed” He spoke harshly, dirt and blood on his skin and clothes and you could tell it had been a long day, and you were about to get the end of it. You did as you were told, getting onto the ‘bed’ which was a mattress on the floor, and waiting for instruction. Tommy was right; it had hurt, and Joel was bigger, and much, much angrier.

“It’s simple, little one. All you have to do is lay there and take it. Don’t gotta do nothing fancy, no tricks, no skills.” he took a few steps closer, beginning to undo his belt. “I’ll take care of you, I’ll make ure everything is okay.” he pulled off the belt, and slid down his pants before stepping out of each leg, moving slowly towards your shaking form, towering over you. “ I don’t want to hurt you, and I ain’t letti’n none of them touch you, so no more worrying about whose cock is going to be in your pretty little mouth.” 

Joel bent over and you whimpered as he took your chin in his hand, forcing you too look up at him. “It’s yes sir, no sir, you don’t talk back, you do as you’re told, don’t try to escape and you’re good to go.” He let go of you, standing straight up and god, he was intimidating from where you sat. “You’ll never have to wonder where your next meal is coming from., you just get to sit pretty for me.” Joel finally pulled down his boxers, spitting in his hand before beginning to stroke his extensive length. “And really, isn’t this just better?”

Despite at least know what to expect, you were terrified. You had seen Joel kill your brother only yesterday, you knew what he was capable of, and you didn’t believe his ‘I won’t hurt you’ spiel for a second.

“Please don’t” you plea softly. “I don’t want to…”

Stepping out of his boxers, he huffs a laugh. “Funny, I don’t remember askin’ you”

Picking you up, Joel flipped you onto your stomach and straddled your legs, pinning you to the bed as you squirmed, quite ‘no’s’ and ‘please’s’ slipping out of your mouth, getting louder until he tugged down your pants and it all culminated in screaming while you twist and turn, trying to get away and hit him. “GET OFF ME! YOU FUCKER!”

Joel did not like that, turning you over fully onto your back and slapping you, hard. Your head rang from the force of his large hand, and you tasted blood in your mouth. Everything was hazy as you stilled in shock, and you didn’t even realize what he was doing until a second stinging pain pulled you attention.

“Ah, AH!” you shout as Joel thrusts into you in one go, splitting you open, and if you had any sense in you, you’d be thankful Tommy was your first; you couldn’t imagine the pain you’d be in right now. However, in the moment, you were only concerned with the pain as you continue to whimper.

“Shut the fuck UP!” Joel shouted, covering your mouth as he thrust into you, looking down to watch himself disappear into you. “You look so good like this, little girl, all stretched out around me, fuck. Awww you're bleeding?” Joel patted your pussy. "Am I braking you? Just a lil bit?" He picked up the pace, harsh and brutal, and you begin to cry, as quietly as you can.

“Fuck, you cry so pretty, no wonder all those men wanted to hurt you, so fucking gorgous” Growing more eratic, a thin sheen of sweat grew on his forehead and he smiled cruelly, slipping his hand around your folds "But they don't get to, not anymore" you were wetter than you'd like to admit. “Sure you don’t want this? You’re awfully wet. Think I can make you come huh? While you cry and pretend to hate the feeling of me filling you up?” Joel touched your click, and laughed when he felt you clench around him. “Yeeeeah, yeah you like this, sweet thing”

There was something warm brewing in your stomach, a warmth that spread to your skin, and you weren’t entirely sure what was happening. Were you poisoned? Is he fucking your dying body? But it felt good. 

“Let go, little one, come on my cock”

A pleasureful pulsing in between your legs and suddenly your body felt great, and you didn’t know why; it didn’t last long, however, not long enough to distract you from what was happening. When it faded, you realized Joel was coming on your pelvis and the dirty shirt you still had on from yesterday. You didn’t look at him as he got up, turning your head to look at the wall, trying to stop existing in the moment. When you heard him leave, you curl over on your side and keep crying, too tired and too upset to notice when he came back until Joel arms wrapped around you again.

“Please” You whimpered, too tired to put up much of a fight. “It hurts too much.”

“Shh, shhh sweetness, we’re not going to do anything.” Joel scooped you up, wrapping the ratty blanket around your exposed bottom before carrying you out of the room. You were disgusted with him and yourself, but you were scared and lonely, so you clung to him; you didn’t want to be alone. 

Joel carried you into the bathroom, pulling off the blanket and laying you down into a hot tub of water, pulling off your old shirt.

“There we go, little one, just relax, close your eyes and relax” Joel spoke softly, washing you with the harsh soap and gentle touches speaking softly into your ear. What did he think this was? What were you to him? When you were cleaned up, he put you in his clothes, whispering promises to get you your own. You could tell, as you walked from the bathroom to your room, that the men were watching you, but Joel arms around you left no room for them; you were his.

This was the routine for nearly a week. Joel would fuck you, and it would hurt. He never kissed you, but he always made you come, slowly conditioning you to have a pavlovian response to him; your body associating him with an orgasm, making you start to get wet when you saw him, despite how afraid you constantly were. This made things a little easier, but Joel never took it easy on you during sex, and it was multiple times a day. Afterwards, however, it was strange… sometimes he’d draw you a bath, sometimes he’d bring you food, clean you off, small, soft moments that never failed to confuse you with the juxtaposition of what was happening. You took it, however, whatever he gave you, because you were lonely, and you were scared. You saw Tommy sometimes, every day he brought you food and stayed to talk for as long as he could, even if just a few minutes, but sometimes long enough to play a card game or two. You felt like you were going crazy, secluded enough that you almost found yourself looking forward to Joel. Almost. 

Despite his insistence he didn’t want to hurt you, he did. Not on purpose, you didn’t think, but more that he was careless as he manhandled you, the painful grip on your face in he covered your mouth, the punishing pace he set, your face hitting the wall when he turned you. In the moment, it was painful, but after he came and he calmed down, he seemed to almost feel bad, hence taking care of you.

But tonight it had simply been too much, everything hurt, your heart ached, and you were going stir crazy in your room with nothing to do but play solitair and get fucked. You had been assessing the room and different options, and you realized while the window didn’t open, it wasn’t bared. If you broke the glass and climbed out fast, you could get a head start in the woods. It was spring, cool but not cold, and certainly you could find somewhere to go, right? Run away, somewhere far, far to where Joel could never find you.

That's how you found yourself, running in the woods, blood on your hands from punching the window open despite wrapping the thin blanket around your hand, fleeing for your life. You had heard shouts from the house as you escaped, they knew you were gone, and were after you. You could hear the sound of a horse, although the lay out of the woods made it impossible to tell where the hoof prints were coming from as Joel, Tommy, or one of the other men chased you down, you weren't sure who. Weak from lack of food and sleep, and the cold air in your lungs, you tried to run, not getting very far when Joel nearly trampled you with his horse, picking you up by your shirt and throwing you over it on your stomach. You kicked and screamed and pleaded and cried, but it was no use. Joel didn’t say a word, quickly riding back to the barn and yanking you down. His silence was terrifying, and eerie calm before the storm you knew was coming. 

“Joel, please, I’m sorry!” You shout, trying desperately to make things better, but Joel was on a mission, dragging you by your hair out of the bar and grabbing something you couldn’t see.

“JOEL!” You hear Tommy shout from across the field of grass, running over to where you were desperately attempting to keep up with Joel’s long strides and he pulled you by your hair, not caring if you tripped and it hurt. “Joel, stop, you need to calm down” Tommy tried to calm his brother, but Joel wasn’t listening, an Tommy attempted to pull you up to ease the weight on your scalp. When you got inside, the other raiders had gathered in the living room, and you expected Joel to take you to your room where he’d do whatever he was planning as punishment; instead, he stopped by the fireplace, throwing whatever it is he grabbed from the barn into the fire.

Joel pulled you up, hand still deep in your hair as he thrust your back up against the wall. “Don’t I treat you good?” He asked, oddly calm. “I take care of you, I feed you, I don’t let anyone else touch you.” Is that what he thought? That he was taking care of you? “You don’t have to do a damn but sit in that room and cum. You think things are so bad here? You think I abuse you? I’LL FUCKING SHOW YOU WHAT ABUSE IS!” Joel suddenly screams, loud and in your ear. “You think I treat you like a whore? I’ll show you how a whore gets treated!” Joel let go of your hair, but you were too terrified to move as Joel grabbed the collar of the shirt and ripped it open and pulling it off before yanking down your pants, exposing your naked body to Tommy and several hungry looking men in the room.

Tommy stepped forward, talking quietly. “Joel, don’t do this-”

Joel pulled out his gun, pointing it at Tommy, “Stand against the wall, you don’t get to play knight in shining armor this time.” 

Tommy looked at you apologetically, then backed away. Your eyes turned to another man you recognized from the first day, the redhead, was staring at you like a piece of meat before Joel yanked your face back to his. “Tommy ain’t saving you this time, neither is Nick.” He throws you over the table, bare stomach to the cold wood, and handcuffing your right arm to the leg. “Fucking ungrateful bitch!” You heard him unbuckle and before you had a chance to blink, he thrust into you violently. “This is how whores get treated, is this what you want?” When you didn’t answer, he screamed again. “IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?!”

“No” You sob, looking up to Tommy for help, but Tommy stood where he was told too, closing his eyes. There was no point in trying to stop Joel on a rampage, unless you wanted to die.

You do as Tommy did; you close your eyes, and try to pretend you weren’t here, that the pain wasn’t happening, that you weren’t being violated in front of several men, including one that was the only person you could consider even close to a friend. From where you were bent over you could feel Joel hitting your cervix. Joel continued to degrade you, telling you this is what whores get, that dumb bitches don’t get cared for, that this was all you were good for before pulling out and cumming on your back.

You thought it was over, but Joel had one last trick. 

“Since you want to try and run away, despite how good I’ve been, better make sure anyone that finds you knows who you belong to.”

“STOP!” Tommy shouts, one last try. “This is enough, she’s learned her lesson Joel, you're going to fucking far!”

Joel didn’t listen, and when you turned to see what he was doing, you realized what he grabbed from the barn

A cattle brand, his initials on the hot iron. 

“Jo- AHH!” Your final attempts at begging for mercy are cut off by the searing pain on you hip, burning, blinding pain as you were branded. You were vaguely aware of Tommy yelling something, but you couldn’t tell anyone. Still handcuffed and bent over a table, Joel slapped the fresh burn as a last bit of punishment, and you were so exhausted you were only capable of a whimper. You could smell your own chard flesh in the air as the adrenaline coursed through you.

Joel walked around to the other end of the table and bent down to be face to face with you, brown eyes large and intense even in your bleary vision. “You’re gonna be thankful for just me, little one”

Joel stood up, and announced to the men there that they could all have a turn with you tonight, and stormed off into his room.

You were out of tears, out of pleas, ready to just lay there and take it until it was over, and hope to god if you behave Joel would go back to how he was.

You could see the redhead, step forward and begin to unzip, but Tommy, forever your savior, pushed him away. “Back off Nick”

“Oh I suppose you want her first?” 

“No one’s touching her” 

You felt a warm blanket draped over you, before Tommy knelt down and picked the lock on the handcuffs

Nick argued. “Joel said we can have her”

“And I said no. I can’t stop Joel’s bullshit, but I can draw the line with you all”

“What, so you can have her but we can’t?”

“No one but Joel is having her, fuck off”

"He said"

"And I said no"

Wrapping the blanket around you to cover your modesty, Tommy picked you up and carried you into your room, carefully laying you on the side that wasn’t burned. “I’ll be right back” he promised.

And he did, gently putting ointment on you and bringing his clothes for you to change into, but you were so shaken you preferred to just stay wrapped in the blanket.

“I’m sorry, honey” were the last words he sent to you before he left. You lay in your shitty bed, awake for hours, crying on and off.

When the door opened again, you thought maybe it was Tommy, but you recognized Joel’s footsteps, and froze in place. You weren’t sure how much you could take, at this point, how much more he could do to you before you gave up, before you found some way to end it all. For now, however you were going to behave, you were going to be good; you didn’t want to be hurt again. So you laid there, ready for Joel to take you how he always did, hoping to god he’d protect you from the other men and not hurt you again, not like he had, anyway.

But he didn’t.

Joel laid down behind you, pulling you in so that his body encased yours, wrapping his arms around you with a tender touch. Suddenly, your exhaustion took over the alert terror in your body that was keeping you up, and despite the fact he was the one that hurt you, you felt relaxed and safe. Before you drifted off to sleep in his arms, he gently placed his hand over the burnt skin where his initials were permanently etched on you. "Mine" he whispered in your ear. “No one else gets to touch you, little one”

*****************************

Thank you all sooooooooooo so much for the outpouring of support for this story!

I hope I got all the tags, if you'd like to be added to the tag list let me know!

I got two anons due to this side account, one telling me they lost all basic respect for me, and one saying that if i have a rape fantasy, then my real-life rape that i've talked about on my main page, wasn't really rape.

But I've gotten such an outpouring of love from this series, it makes up for it.

If you want a bonus chapter of Tommy taking Little One's virginity, let me know!

Next weekend i have a wedding i gotta travel 10 hours for so there wont likely be a chapter for over a week, SORRY!

Real quick promo for my main blog @romanarose , I have two Joel fics there, one one shot and one series, and if you like wild sex and Triple Frontier, consider checking out the Awakening series!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia

Hope you dont mind but UtB Temsen scares me. Like... there are things about him that just make me feel very unsafe lol.

I'm not sure whether you intended for him to have such a threatening undercurrent but if I existed in the Underline universe I'd stay far far away from him. It's strange because I don't get that same sense of foreboding from Gary or Augus and I'm wondering whether that because Gary has a pov and Augus is simply not present much. But idk.

I get a sense that there's an extreme darkness beneath peak alpha Temsen's character. Like, he apparently cares about omegas enough to go into a rage on their behalf and later work at Hillview but then does and says things that are like the exact opposite Like admitting that he would've raped Ef if Ef had been given to him instead of Gary and would've done it despite witnessing first hand through his profession the type of trauma that sexual abuse causes. And the fact that forced sex would've been the first thing on his mind instead of investigating further and finding the source of the pain? Yeah that's... kind of chilling actually.

So in his mind, rape isn't ok if it's committed by other alphas (like ones at different facilities) but it's ok if he commits it?

And then reading some of your responses about how Temsen is with his one night stands, or how he'd potentially be with Gwyn, and it just solidifies my belief that even though he can be nice sometimes, he is not a nice person.

If i was an omega sent to Hillview, I would be horrified to even be in the same room as him. His kindness and goodwill seem extremely conditional and feels like it could turn around any moment if someone isn't "respectful" enough. Like, he didn't like Ef talking back to him and I have a suspicion that his reaction to it would've been worse if Ef was his instead of Gary's. Temsen seems to treat patients best when they're polite, passive and obedient, which are usually trauma responses and he knows that, but (judging by his behaviour/responses) still prefers it?

I also think his cheerful bedside manner is a mask he puts on and it hides something very dark and very ugly that not even Gary and Augus possess.

As you can probably tell I have quite strong feelings about Temsen lol. Most of them not good.

Please don't take this the wrong way, these aren't judgements! I just want to express and share my feelings about him as a reader. And maybe get your thoughts as well? I would literally read an entire essay dedicated to his character to see if I could see him in a new light.

I think the fact that he's not a pov character doesn't help him much. But then you've written other non pov characters before and none of them have made me feel like this so maybe it's just a UtB Temsen thing.

If you have the time and energy to spare, I'd love and appreciate your thoughts on his character. I always love reading your responses.

Thank you

<3

This ask is almost as long as my ask responses sdlakfjsda

And my response is VERY LONG so under a cut it goes:

Okay so, first things first, by our world standards, all of the alphas in Underline the Black are rapists. All of them. Every single one we've met so far. From the kind and caring Janusz who did not in any way obtain any kind of consent before raping Nate lovingly repeated times, to Anton who might get consent from Flitmouse this time but certainly hasn't in the past during heats, to Gary who has done god knows what to alphas before abandoning them, to Caleb who does not contain full and willing consent from the omegas he fucks and certainly puts the dubious in dubcon when he's with Faber.

So let's be blunt here, if we're going to be looking at these characters from like, our personal standards, they're all rapists. All of them. Some of them are nicer and friendlier than others, but this is a world where obtaining full and lucid consent from omegas in heat is literally impossible, and where rehabilitation facilities often make choices to put the physical health of an omega (i.e. the resolution of a heat) before the emotional or psychological health (i.e. letting the omega go through unfulfilled agony just to wait until they can get true consent).

When we look at almost all omegaverse stories through this lens, almost every single character becomes a rapist and/or capable of rape. It's one of the reasons so many of us like it so much, it's so good for rape fantasy + romance, and it fulfills a lot of the roles that oldschool Mills & Boon and Bodice Ripper romance used to fulfill. A lot of 'I hate it until I love it, and now I also love you.'

One of the things omegaverse does within the universe is create a culture where everyone just accepts this as normal, because heats exist and they must be fulfilled, because they can be fatal - and certainly agonising - if they're not. This is a world that has, by and large, decided that people dying of pain has more value than obtaining real and informed consent. Believe it or not, our world is also like this sometimes. Especially around certain medical emergencies.

In the specific context you're mentioning re: Temsen admitting he would have raped Efnisien, he's making it very clear that he would have done it in response to Efnisien's physical agony due to being in heat, and he says this in a regretful way, in the tone of someone who knows he would have been wrong to do that, after literally saving Efnisien's life during surgery, and I feel like you're really cherry picking Temsen's words here to justify how you feel about him, which is awesome - you can do that!

But if you bring it to me, I'm going to show the whole sequence of dialogue to demonstrate that he had a lot of humanity around this sentiment, instead of the absence of sentiment and humanity:

'I am sorry,' Temsen said with his formal forthright way of speaking. Gary hadn't expected the apology at all. 'I've had to put Efnisien first as my patient quite a few times over the last few days, but it leaves you neglected, and I don't mean the PACS, Gary. I...am doing a terrible job of being sympathetic to your circumstances. It would be easier, I think, if your actions didn't have a direct impact on Efnisien’s welfare. It’s hard to think when he’s in agony.'  'I know.'  'I keep thinking about the pain he's grown accustomed to. I'm... And on another matter, I think I'm in the strange position of realising an alpha who's that vulnerable has a kind of appeal, if I'm being honest. I think I might see you as a rival.' Gary lifted his eyebrows to indicate what he thought of that, and Temsen laughed.  'It's not a serious rivalry,' Temsen said. Gary didn’t think it was, or he’d be unable to be relaxed about it. 'I don't want him, he's too much work. But I'm pleased to have identified why I've been in such a strange state. I think it started off as protectiveness and became that thread of: 'Here's an alpha not doing a good enough job with him, I know I'd do better.' Realistically, I'm not sure I would. I'm not as kind as you are, for a start.' 'Kind?' 'I would have fucked him as soon as I knew he was in heat,' Temsen said, smiling slowly. 'Which would have been a nightmare, given the surgery he needed for a start. You're far kinder than I am, Gary, for all that you're a small-minded, petty tyrant, when it comes to your grief.' 

So the specific piece of dialogue you're referring to, is Temsen referring to a hypothetical situation where he suspects he would have done the wrong thing, and it would have been literally 'a nightmare' (his words) and he discloses that he knows he wouldn't be as good a match to Efnisien as Gary is, and also apologises for putting Gary second because he's had to put Efnisien first due to the agony he's been in.

That's the sequence in which he discloses that he'd hypothetically have raped Efnisien.

Which, incidentally, is similar circumstances in which characters like Nate and other omegas on-site do get raped by their alphas. Nate didn't consent, couldn't consent, and would have withdrawn consent multiple times. Is Janusz regretting that? He absolutely is. Will he stop? No! That's...the trope, and it's what I love writing, and it's why Underline the Blue and Underline the Black have a black box Rape/Noncon warning - not because of the histories of these characters, but because of their current relationship.

"And the fact that forced sex would've been the first thing on his mind instead of investigating further and finding the source of the pain?"

Yeah, that's literally the job! You'll note that Nate doesn't get a medical/surgical examination by anyone before his pain / heat is solved by sex with Janusz (if you haven't read Underline the Blue yet, that's what happens). That's extremely standard. For about 99.9999% of omegas and anyone going into heat, the source of the pain is the heat. This is also happening in Underline the Gold but those chapters aren't on AO3 yet.

It would be really unusual if he did assume the pain was caused by something other than the heat. And the only reason he did consider it is that he knows Efnisien's prior medical history.

Hope you dont mind but UtB Temsen scares me.

I don't mind! It's literally canon that he scares and intimidates many of the characters, including Flitmouse, Efnisien (at times), Nate, Janusz (to a point), and Anton (at times). The threatening undercurrent is there because many characters canonically say they find him intimidating or frightening, because they have felt nauseous around him, and because of explicit canon details about things he's done in the past, as well as being extremely pragmatic about admitting to wanting to harm or kill people.

So in his mind, rape isn't ok if it's committed by other alphas (like ones at different facilities) but it's ok if he commits it?

In context of what I said above re: all alphas being rapists in this story, it's more like:

Raping maliciously to intentionally cause harm because you enjoy it isn't permissible. Raping to save someone from physiological agony, when there's no other safe way to deal with it, is. That's...why Hillview exists. They don't see it that way, because their culture is different to ours: Heats exist, and alphas exist. That radically changes the entirety of their culture.

And that's why the story is tagged as a Dystopian Universe story. Because that's dark as fuck.

And then reading some of your responses about how Temsen is with his one night stands, or how he'd potentially be with Gwyn, and it just solidifies my belief that even though he can be nice sometimes, he is not a nice person.

Yes! He says this himself! :D He knows this better than anyone and that's why among other reasons, he's not an alpha companion and he's not interested in being one.

He knows his flaws, he's the one who told you his flaws, he says canonically and more than once that he doesn't see himself as especially kind or nice, he even says it in the sequence above where he admits that he would have assaulted Efnisien. Your belief is his belief, and it's a belief he shared with the readers and has shared with other characters. This isn't something Temsen hides from, and it's also not something he indulges, that's why he's not an alpha companion.

If i was an omega sent to Hillview, I would be horrified to even be in the same room as him.

Many of them are. If you haven't read them yet, you might want to look at Underline the Gold in particular, and sections of Underline the Blue, where the omegas freely admit they find Temsen at best intimidating and overwhelming. Flitmouse comes straight out and accuses Temsen of threatening him, and Temsen baldly admits that he is. And then he keeps doing it.

That doesn't mean they still don't prefer him over the other doctors they've seen though - *points forever at the Dystopian Universe* tag. Nowhere in this story are we saying he's a good consent-focused story, but we are saying this is a fucked up world where he might be the best an omega ever gets in their life.

His kindness and goodwill seem extremely conditional and feels like it could turn around any moment if someone isn't "respectful" enough. Like, he didn't like Ef talking back to him and I have a suspicion that his reaction to it would've been worse if Ef was his instead of Gary's.

Absolutely, again, that's why Temsen isn't an alpha companion.

But also, he's a peak alpha. Gary is quite unusual in enjoying the way Efnisien talks back to him, it's so unusual for peak alphas that he basically has a kink for it at this point and it's a fetish rather than like...a realistic representation of peak alphas.

Temsen seems to treat patients best when they're polite, passive and obedient, which are usually trauma responses and he knows that, but (judging by his behaviour/responses) still prefers it?

Highly recommend you read Underline the Blue and Underline the Gold, where he actively praises omegas for standing up to him!

In this sequence, Flitmouse is defending his right to death by starvation (cw anorexia and other disordered eating) and fires up:

'I've been- But I've been eating here!' said Flitmouse. Temsen's smile was sad. 'I always love when an omega can fire up a bit more around me. I appreciate you sharing this with me. It's safe to speak your mind around me. I just selfishly wish you weren't defending your right to starve to death so passionately. I'm glad you've been eating here. Keep doing it. Try to do it a little more. That's all I'm asking.

Please don't take this the wrong way, these aren't judgements!

I mean, they are judgements :D I just don't take it the wrong way because it's normal to have strong feelings about a complex and morally grey character, and Temsen is definitely that!

In addition, a lot of what you've written out is stuff that I have explicitly written out into the story, they're things Temsen has told you / other characters about himself. He is his own biggest warning, and he is very aware of his flaws and the reality of his nature, if he desperately wanted to rape omegas, don't you think he'd have chosen to be a companion by now? He certainly could have, very easily. None of this stuff is hidden or swept away, these are things Temsen puts front and centre, and then it's up to others how much they see that or don't see it. But Temsen also puts other aspects of himself front and centre which you (and others) choose to ignore or think are false, which I think is created by the tempting trap that if someone has very awful qualities, all their good qualities must be a lie or a mask.

And that's not reflective of how complex people (and characters) really are. But it's a lot easier to deal with a character when we can sweep them into the 'I just don't like them' box or the 'I just like them and I don't see the bad stuff' box.

Temsen's good qualities are very real. He's dedicated his entire life to omega QOL improvements, and has created those tangible improvements in a dystopian universe. If he was a 'normal' peak alpha, he would have euthanased Efnisien the first day he arrived on site - maybe he would have raped him first. This is very very much a dystopian universe. I'm not going to try to convince you that he's 'good' because that's very simplistic, he does very good, and even heroic things, and he does very bad, and sometimes really awful things. These are just facts about him. And then it's up to other people to decide where their line is re: liking him or not.

In fact of all the characters we've met, Janusz has raped someone on the page and Gary has (re: Efnisien), we know Anton has historically for work, and Augus.

The only significant alpha who hasn't ever done this to omegas is actually Temsen.

The most important thing to me personally is that all Temsen has told you so far is speculative. He speculates that he would have raped Efnisien, but he actually saves his life. He speculates that he's not very kind, and then puts Efnisien first and sacrifices sleep for him to find articles that will make him more comfortable. (I would tender here that you're believing his hypotheticals over his repeated actions) He doesn't tolerate disrespect from an alpha, because that's how alpha rapists are created (he is stern with Efnisien because he's an alpha, because alphas who are allowed to disrespect others become like Gwyn or Christian or Vadim), but he accepts it often from omegas, who are vulnerable and need to learn how to speak up.

That's what's important to me! But I also think he's a dick, lol, and I like that about him. I don't need a character to be good or pure to love the shit out of them, and that's how I end up writing a world where almost every alpha is a rapist to some degree, and most folks still end up giving them a pass anyway, because the stories are fun and entertaining, and these people and world's aren't real.

TL;DR: Temsen is a complex character capable of healing, heroic, cruel and controlling actions, and I think you're cherry picking certain parts of his dialogue / actions to justify how you feel about him while missing others, which is absolutely your prerogative as a reader! But honestly, if you just don't like a character, or find them too dark, you don't need a reason for it - you can just not like 'em - feelings are the most irrational things we have, after all, and often resist logical justification. :D I'm not really trying to change your mind here tbh, feelings are feelings, but I am the kind of person who will point out the inconsistencies in a discussion, especially when invited to sdlkfjsa

[shardsofswords]

Man the contrapoints twilight video especially the "power" segment is really just... all my thoughts I've had about the relation between kink and society summed up more eloquently than I could ever hope to put them. In a video about fucking twilight.

I've been feeling so weird finding myself being both kink-positive and anti-censorship and yet knowing deep in my bones that like... "fiction isn't realifty" is an oversimplification in ressponse to a different oversimplified and false statement (the idea that anyone writing or reading anything morally questionable must want it too in real life) because while it isn't they do influence one another, and the same goes for romantic or sexual fantasies and reality. I've seen multiple very well thought out posts and even whole books written on the matter of how misogyny and the policing of women's desires has resulted in women seeking out nonconsent in fictional fantasy, because that way they get to have what they want (sex) without admitting within the fantasy that they want it, so that they can stay pure and blameless. And we all nod in agreement and then go back to saying that this has nothing to do with misogyny.

Like. I'm so serious we need a way of acknowledging kink (on a societal scale, I'm talking about demographical trends here, not individuals) is affected by gender roles and the patriarchy without going "if you watch porn or read erotica or have ever gotten off to dubcon you're either an evil rapist or brainwashed" like anti-porn radfems do. Sexuality desire and kink are not fully culturally determined but they are clearly influenced by it, and you cannot on an individual level see who has the good innate kinks and who has the evil misogyny-influenced kinks, and the very act of trying to make a distinction between the two is bullshit.

But denying that the influence happens at all and that that might be... you know... not good isn't the way to go either. Pretending that sexual and romantic desire, of all things, happens in a vacuum unrelated to gender roles is fucking hilarious. Realizing that trying to ~cleanse the world of evil kinks~ is bad is only the first step of a wayyy longer process.

[ohbo-ohno]

there is a difference between 'don't like don't read'/dark content and pedopheilia.

as a survivor of grooming & CSA, i fully understand enjoying dubcon/non con fics as a trauma response. i'm in the same boat. that being said, there are some things that you just shouldn't read/write/reblog/whatever.

the content you were interacting with has crossed the like from 'dark' to 'harmful/disgusting' and you seriously need to just stop.

ps: i am not the previous hateful anons, i JUST was made aware of this situation

but who are you to say "there are certain things that you just shouldn't read/write/reblog"? do you not think that there are people who say the same thing about noncon fics? i see at least one person a week say that noncon fics aren't a healthy coping mechanism and that people who engage in rape kink stuff are enabling real-life rapists. what's the difference in logic?

underage content is absolutely "dark" content. i don't write it, because it's something that squicks me out, and if you'll look through my twitter the closest i've gotten to even engaging with it was a singular "implied underage" tweet. but to act like it's not dark is just Silly. rape fic is dark bc it's illegal. and so is pedophilia. and necrophilia. and bestiality. and every other disgusting and evil thing that happens in the real world. just because some of those FICTIONAL things make you more uncomfortable doesn't mean they have less of a right to exist

also how is an underage fic harmful but rape fic isn't? if these are your morals/standards, you should've thought i was a bad person long before i retweeted one implied underage thread

[peachymilkandcream]

Ready or Not|Part 3|Yandere Levi x Evelyn

(A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying this series, I'm really getting into more of the whole obsessive side as well as kind of the mystery of who/if anyone helped Evelyn to escape. I've really been enjoying this and comment to be added to the taglist!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc

===============================================

The door bursts open to Lili Strecker's office, a man she didn't much care to see again storming through with a heated air of vengeance. She ignored the small bead of sweat trickling down her neck, determined not to show fear to this man.

"Captain Levi, how good to see you again."

"I don't care to deal with your bullshit today Strecker. Where is my wife."

"I don't know what you mean, shouldn't she be at home resting? She shouldn't be up and about pregnant like she is."

His eyebrow twitched. "You know very well where she is and you're going to tell me."

She gave him a tsk tsk. "You know I can't tell you that, it's patient confidentiality. Just like how I would never tell your peers how the great Captain Levi's sperm isn't as gold as he thought."

His annoyance peaked, in his desperation to trap his wife with a child, Levi had in the past turned to a fertility specialist in an attempt to discover the problem and fix it. Even though Evelyn not getting pregnant initially was her fault, the specialists didn't take a liking to him when he mentioned that. She had always been rather soft to Evelyn, and colder with him. Maybe his wife had taken a chance on this rare moment of kindness and received help there, which is why he suspected her now.

"Is that a threat?"

"Only if you make it out to be one Levi. I'm through with watching men like you push around these women for your own selfishness. That sweet girl has done nothing but suffer in life and instead of controlling what's in your pants so she could find someone who really loved her. But you tricked her and now look where she is."

"Married to one of the most powerful men in the world, riches and comfort beyond her wildest dreams, giving birth to the strongest children that will carry on our legacy with pride."

"Forced to stay with a rapist and a psychopath."

In an instant Levi presses a blade to her throat. "Take it back."

"Would the prestigious Captain Levi really threaten to kill someone? Shocking."

Levi takes a long moment to calm himself, before stepping back and sheathing the knife. "You're right, it's not very becoming of me. I apologize."

Her eyebrows knit in confusion, in all the time since the Ackermans have sought her medical help she's never heard the Captain act this calm and collected before concerning his wife.

He pulls out a document and starts to read. "Dr. Lili Strecker, you are under arrest for harboring and assisting enemies to Eldia-"

"Wait what's going on here-" She cuts in as soldiers rush into the room to apprehend her.

"You will be taken from here to be kept in containment until you confess your crimes after which a trial will take place. Glory to Eldia-"

"You can't do this Levi! You hear me!? You won't get away with this!" Her struggling ceases when one of the soldiers hits her over the head with a wooden club, causing her to slip into unconsciousness.

"And long live the Queen."

===============================================

Evelyn had been taken in temporarily by the Azumabitos when she initially arrived. Having connections with her sponsor due to trading they were able to be convinced to take Evelyn and Furlan on their return trip home and help her get a fresh start in this new country.

Unfortunately for her, all of Evelyn's work experience was entirely useless. Active duty soldiers who fought Titans were useless here. Plus all her options were limited due to her condition. Housing was at an all time high with supply and demand being throughout the roof. Her fresh start wasn't looking to hopeful now.

Finally she settled on becoming a cleaning lady, it was the one thing she knew how to do well outside of slaying Titans and she could do it up until she gave birth. Some jobs even allowed her to take Furlan along so long as he behaved himself. The only good thing Levi had ever done was drill into her the importance of cleanliness, so making a good impression on her clients was easy, all of them wishing she had started her trade sooner so they could have had this clean of a house always. None of them ever knew her true story, not like she was going to tell them.

Anonymity was the only way she was going to survive. With the state of the world, Levi could have spies and allies in every part of the globe. She changed her name to Scarlett Westley, should anyone come asking around perhaps that would be enough to keep Levi at bay. Her appearance she wouldn't change, Evelyn believed that her husband had taken so much from her, he wouldn't take her entire identity. Deep down she was Evelyn Glass, not Scarlett Westley or even Evelyn Ackerman. That's who she was and Levi wasn't going to change it or taint it forever.

While the pain of seeing that vile man in the face of her sweet amd innocent boy led her to sob at night, she'd pull through. For them. For her confused son who asked where Papa was and why couldn't they go see him. For the child kicking in her womb at night, desperate to come out and see its mother was so distraught while it was forming. What was left of her life she would use it to ensure her children had everything they could. She would work for hundreds of hours if they meant they had the best of everything, so much that they forgot their father and what kind of man he was. She would raise them to be kind and caring people who didn't abuse their power for evil. They wouldn't grow up to be like him.

The thoughts were only comforting in the day, as soon as she shut her eyes, nightmares of Levi coming to take them all back haunted Evelyn's mind. Even though she told herself they were safe and nothing would hurt them again, something in the back of her head told her the opposite. Those words of Levi's ringing in her ears the last time she threatened to leave.

"If you burn that you'll be free to leave, but I'll be free to come after you."

[toushindai]

some nattering about how I characterize Rauru and Sonia in my Ganondorf/Rauru fics.

as I have mentioned before, usually I prefer to adhere strictly to canon when writing fanfiction, to the extent that I used to think of myself as trying to write exactly what the author had in mind but didn't put in the story. yes, I have always been this pretentious.

but then I looked at what Rauru and Ganondorf have going on and went "ah, they need to have nasty, resentful, dubcon-at-best sex about this" and I'll be honest I'm not sure played-straight loz characters (vs. various permutations of joke characters) are even allowed to know sex exists, so this was obviously a departure.

which means that Questions of Kingship exists, in my mind at least, in a strange space that is both canon-compliant and AU, and I have made characterization choices based on the story I was telling rather than prioritizing sticking to what the game has in mind. And I don't think my readings are entirely wrong--do I think Nintendo intends their King of Light to be a rapist, no, but they sure did write a guy who disregards and tramples over an implicit "no." This is what is conveyed by Ganondorf mentioning that Hyrule has sent the Gerudo repeated invitations! I didn't actually make that part up! Honestly I expected to have to defend my choices re: Rauru from some very irritated fans who forgot about the back button, but it seems that if I irritated anyone, they remembered the back button. Good for them, and to everyone pressing the "more of this" buttons instead, thank you, I appreciate you, what the fuck is UP with this guy amirite??

Anyway though,

Sonia.

Oh, I have struggled with Sonia mightily. I did not want Rauru to be cheating on her. And partially this is because I don't particularly care to write about cheating but largely it is because a huge part of Rauru's sense of superiority over Ganondorf is a moral one, and if Rauru were betraying someone he loved to carry out this affair, that sense of superiority would be chopped off at the knees. And I'm using that sense of superiority, thank you very much.

So: it became the case that Sonia needed to know about the affair, needed her to be on board with it. And well, there were very quickly quite a lot of jokes that she and Rauru had "looking for a third" vibes, and I do think that's true, and anyway that girl married a goat god. "A very canny monsterfucker" is the kernel of canon characterization that I wound up building around. Very clear-eyed, less self-deception than Rauru; an overpowering propensity to identify what she wants and go for it. It's just that Zelda didn't see much of that. I guess, is the argument I'm going for. Well, then, Sonia is someone who can play at sweet and harmless and kind until she reveals how much of an edge she has.

Does the game suggest she has such an edge? ...No? I guess it doesn't. I don't know. But if it is not possible to hide anything from Sonia, and Hyrule is behaving coercively towards its not-yet-allies (and it is! again I did not make that part up!), then she must be aware of this. And she must be on board with it. She adores Rauru--this is clear in the cutscenes, just look at the light in her eyes when Rauru is speaking sometimes--and so I make the two of them a team, united in intention. But where I write Rauru as conflicted--naive thoughts about kingship stumbling against the reality of it--I place Sonia in a more decided position. Her premises: that Rauru is good, and that a unified Hyrule is a superior outcome over disparate nations. She is aware that the latter premise is not automatically accepted by everyone, but she has unwavering faith in it so she moves to carry it out without the indignation that resistance inspires in Rauru. Resistance does not make her doubt herself in the same way. (That's worse??) She is more pointedly, more cannily political than Rauru. Rauru wants a kingdom united in friendship (genuinely he wants this, as I write him); Sonia knows that friendship is not what unites kingdoms.

She just... winds up with this strange amoral core to her. A surprising one, I think. What I find myself writing is a Sonia who seems kind and sweet and confident and only very occasionally lets anyone see the part of her where she has made up her mind and is unmovably certain of her own rightness. A part of her that doesn't need it to be a moral rightness. Am I making any sense here.

I mean for some of that startling strangeness to come out in the way she regards Rauru's relationship with Ganondorf--I don't know if that comes through. I write Ganondorf conflating Rauru's sexual submission with political submission to excess; Sonia is almost the opposite, believing that the relationship between the two can exist as a function of desire alone regardless of the political dimension. It's about wanting and having and that is all. But the very assumption that that's all comes from the position of Hyrule's dominance, an unassailable position in her mind. I'm having trouble getting at what I'm getting at, but, my point here is that she's a little scary. that's all.

@toushindai

[stargirlfeyre]

I don't know chief... The one or two Feysand dead dove "r*pe fantasy" fics I've found and read, Feyre is shown to be enjoying herself with Rhys even if you see little elements of Evil!Rhys' mind control manipulation.

While Rhystas write in explicit detail how Nesta hates it and feels abused and harmed and how Rhys loves Nesta crying for him to stop and how much he loves abusing her.

I mean I am not a survivor, so I wouldn't know what SA victims like reading when it comes to dub con/non-con since most of them find comfort in it from what I've seen and heard... But I wouldn't want to read something where it is explicitly stated how much a person hates it and are being forced pretty violently.

TW// Heavy discussions surrounding rape and sexual assault.

I feel like there’s a fine line between dubcon and rape fantasy. Maybe I’m wrong and people interpret it different ways but this is just how I see it.

The Feysand fics you described are dubcons. Though they may not be your cup of tea and you may just be disinterested in them, they’re not generally triggering to read about.

The Rhysta fics that we be seeing are rape fantasies. Point blank. There’s nothing enjoyable about it and it genuinely just makes people…uncomfortable. Look as a survivor myself I’m not trying to knock how other people cope or express themselves but there’s this level of awareness about the shit that you put out that needs to be taken into consideration. No one is saying that you can’t write these fics or that you can’t express yourself this way. What people are saying is you have to call it what it is. It’s a rape fantasy. You fantasize about Nesta being raped or sexually assaulted by Rhys. Your reasons for writing something does not change what you wrote.

So yes while it is correct that you can write whatever you want, it’s also correct that people can react to your writing in whatever way that they want. When you write a fanfic about Rhys forcing Nesta to give him oral while she begs him not to and hates herself for it or about how he takes advantage of her vulnerability to force her to have his children and then say that you 100% believe that he would do something like this in canon…how do you expect people to react?

“But that lacks fandom etiquette” — coming from the same people who call Rhys fans rapist apologists? Crazy how us simply liking a character can get a title like that slapped on up but we’re the bad guys if we say that getting a kick out of Nesta being raped/SAed is strange.

If people can’t tell you what you can and can’t write then you can’t tell people how they can and can’t react to the things you put out.

[theteasetwrites]

My heart is broken because male fantasies have woven their way into our lives and destroyed female solidarity. The incestious feelings women in writing have scare me. You can be turned on by pretending your boyfriend / favorite character is your dad but never forget that the same men who get hard to that most likely will get hard to your children or their children calling them daddy. It is the pedophillic society we live in that makes it so romanticizing pedophillia isn’t frowned upon, talking about the pain it brings upon this world is what’s wrong. Call me a kinkshamer, call me a prude ( I’m not I wanna suck John wicks cock like there’s no tomorrow, I would lick that man’s asshole) but i don’t care. I hope every woman who is into these despicable things don’t have or are around child because they side with the rapists.

Lots of misunderstanding here I think. It's really not that deep, I promise you.

"Male fantasies have woven their way into our lives and destroyed female solidarity" that's rich coming from someone who is lecturing me, a woman, in my inbox. Women are supposed to stick together, right? Nice that you're accusing me, a woman, of supporting pedophilia (I'm not btw, and I'll get into that too). Isn't it interesting how women will shit on each other for being too "vanilla" in bed, but if they're too kinky or god forbid do anything remotely "taboo" in the privacy of their own bedroom, they still get shit on? Seems like we can't win. But no, definitely blame a woman for that, not men. It's all my fault, as a woman. Calling me "sad" for having my own agency and choosing what I want to write about. Oh, and you're also lucky I am not myself a victim of child sex abuse otherwise you'd feel pretty damn foolish for throwing around the term "pedophilic" so flippantly, I'm sure.

YOU are the one bringing kids into this. If you read my fic (which I am sure you didn't, and if you did, reading comprehension lessons are in order I'm afraid), you would know that there are no children involved and that this is a relationship (not real, might I add) between two consenting adults. And what are they doing? Reader calls Daryl "daddy" and Daryl calls himself that too. I understand if this isn't your thing. I respect that, I get it. I'm only marginally into it anyway, I just like to write shit that I am in the mood for. You don't have to read it, but don't go around saying anyone who enjoys that kind of thing is supporting and standing beside rapists. If that's your opinion whatever, but keep it to yourself because (surprise surprise) people aren't going to take very kindly to that.

If you want to go on this moral crusade, trying to shame people into believing that the use of a single WORD/pet name is harmful to society, I would suggest lecturing people in this fandom who write Carl x Negan, Daryl x Beth, Daryl x Lydia, Daryl x Judith... Why are you coming at me for writing a consenting adult/adult relationship that just happens to involve the use of the word "daddy?" Literally a word. Vibrations.

Where is this energy for, say, noncon/dubcon fanfiction? I can assure you that there are MUCH worse things being written out there. I side-eye certain things that I see, but do I go on anon and act all high and mighty in those writers' askboxes? No, I stay in my lane and I just ignore it because it's not my thing. I also don't think low of those people just because of what they choose to write. If that's what they want to do, that's what they want to do. Not my thing. I don't bother them about it. But you seem to think you're saving the world and being some kind of hero apparently.

I agree that there are many facets of society that romanticize pedophilia, but I don't think one piece of fanfiction shared on Tumblr is going to make any difference in that. I am not the person you need to be lecturing. Why don't you save that energy for actual pedophiles and people who sexualize minors. I am not sexualizing minors.

It is not my job to regulate how you interpret my writing. It is not my job to cater to you, a person who can't differentiate the sexual context of a word from the non-sexual context of it, a person who makes something into something it clearly isn't. Daddy is not inherently sexual, just as any other pet name is not inherently sexual. Yeah, I made it sexual. We could go into the psychology of it but at the end of the day, it's just a goddamn word.

Also love that you're making a joke about eating ass while ranting about something so serious and disgusting as pedophilia in the same breath, and I am the weird one. I don't think what I wrote was pedophilic. If you choose to believe that, that's your prerogative. You sending this to me isn't going to change my mind because I simply disagree with you.

"I hope every woman who is into these despicable things don’t have or are around child because they side with the rapists." Wow, that's some female solidarity right there!

[onewomancitadel]

That whole fucking thing of fucking with settings where the consent is clear because it's baked into the concept (fuck-or-die only happens because we know the characters really want it; it's the set-up and payoff) introducing more offensive concepts like 'dubcon' (if there is any space between 'yes' and 'no', you have now just muddied our ability to talk about rape and sexual assault clearly; either it's bad or it isn't, or you have now given ammunition to the rapist's defense) is so fucking annoyingly shortsighted. If you're too cowardly to commit and tag your fic 'rape' because your only conception of rape is physically violent and a stranger on the streets, then just be honest and think about what you're writing and why and how consent during sex actually works.

I also just hate this deconstructionist approach to narrative tropes. I get that critiquing the gender dynamics of established storytelling tropes is necessary, I do, and I get that there are some darker gender underpinnings, but when it comes to smushing characters together under a magical spell or scenarios where they just have to have sex, I think it's pretty clear like... what the intention of that trope is, and I think playing with it is fun (I definitely have a few in my head I want to eventually work on), but the inability to recognise what they service narratively, undercutting the entire point of them to even making them unromantic (ugh, I've read plenty of those) and then going even further and introducing bad, shortsighted sexual politics? I find this rather offensive. (This even applies to things like gameified soulmate tropes where I'm not even sure I'm reading a romantic story anymore lol).

I understand that the whole culture of 'dubcon' is well and truly accepted, and challenging it is worthless, but my criticism from it comes from the fact that I find it a) craven, b) offensive, c) further evidence of hypermoralising in fandom which ends up achieving nothing. If anybody wants to come at me for feminist reasons, know that I think this is moreso indicative of the way we talk about rape as opposed to being its own critical moral crisis (and fandom running around in circles to police itself) - I think difference of opinion can exist here if you've got good intentions - and if you separately feel there is a grey area between rape and sex, know that I don't really care. The case for this is frequently made by rapists. If it's an approach which says, well, better to overtag than undertag, I've been caught off-guard enough times with a fic where I'm like, what exactly is wrong here? And I otherwise have a sensible approach to consent, and it's made me pretty uncomfortable. In the opposite sense, I've read fics tagged 'dubcon' worth a much darker rating than that, which betrays... quite a lot.

Getting a bit much there, sorry. I just find this type of fandom politicking and overpolicing so tiresome, particularly because there are bigger issues and it's such demonstrable evidence of people not fundamentally giving a fuck and further to that, fucking with basic fucking narrative logic.

[a-method-in-it]

I think this is an important nuance that is missing in a lot of our discussions around media. Because video games are media --- interactive media, but media just like books and movies and TV.

The thing about media is that it doesn't really directly cause our behavior, but it does contribute to our attitudes and beliefs.

Playing a violent video game won't make you violent. Playing a video game that glorifies the U.S. military won't even make you support the U.S. military. But it will make you more likely to support the U.S. military if you don't have counter-messaging in other parts of your life.

Similarly, reading a story in which --- to pick another hot button topic people can't seem to speak about with any nuance --- non-consensual sex is presented as sexy, that won't turn you into rapist or make you think rape is okay. But it can contribute something to your attitudes around sex and consent --- and if you didn't have counter messaging elsewhere in your life, it would likely contribute a lot.

One of several reasons I don't buy into a lot of the "we need to censor noncon and dubcon smut on the internet" moral panics is because we do have a lot of counter-messaging, from overt lessons about consent to stories that depict consensual relationships.

And one reason I worry about video games is because we do not have anti-military or even anti-war messaging that is anywhere near that ubiquitous.

I rly hate the Satanic Panic & the moral panic surrounding violence in video games in the 90s, coz it's now impossible to talk about the social implications of violent video games in a realistic sense.

No, violence in video games does not create serial killers in the way most people imagine it would.

However, it's very important to notice how after 9/11, a lot of violent video games pivoted their content from silly gratuitous cartoon gore to more realistic military shooters set in the Levant from a US American lens. It's also important to notice the connection of these games & their toxic online multi-player voice chats to Gamer Gate in 2014.

It's obviously not as black & white as it was presented in the 80s & 90s, I dont think everyone who played early Call of Duty games is a white supremacist who wants to join the military to kill people in the middle east, but I think it's dangerous to pretend like video games or any media can't have an impact on the way people think about violence.

I think what makes all the difference here is how that violence is portrayed, what the message behind it is, what the motives are behind the people who crafted that message, who the victims of that violence are, how they are portrayed & the greater cultural context that surrounds it.

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 5

Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Tommy Miller x reader (secondary)

Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death

New character alert! Face claim, of course, is Oscar Isaac, specifically his look in Drive 🥰

****************

Dandelion

A million little wishes float across the sky

But it's a waste of breath and it's a waste of time I know

Cause just like him, you always leave me cryin' dandelion~Danelion, Kacey Musgraves

“So then Luke goes to Dangobah to find Yoda”

“Wait, whose Yoda? Is that another Jedee?”

“Jedi, but yes”

“Why?”

“Old Ben told him to”

“Isn’t he dead?”

“Yes, but he came to Luke at the start of this movie?”

“What? When?”

“When Luke was in the cave”

“Are we sure he wasn’t hallucinating?”

“I- No, no it was Ben. Jedi can come back in visions, like ghosts”

“Well, that’s awfully convenient”

“The force makes a lot of things convenient”

Joel was doing as he promised, explaining the Star Wars movies you had never had a chance to watch so you could understand the collection of comics he had found. You weren’t particularly interested in the comics, but they seemed to excite him, so you were going to read them, hoping to continue in conversation about it. This was the first time you two had talked about anything other than The Horrors for longer than a short back and forth, in fact, this was the only piece of personality or hints of before he had given you, the rest you had gleaned from Tommy. Joel was curled up with you on your mattress, having held you close all day yesterday and last night, and after what happened with Nick, after all Joel did for you, you happily accepted it. Joel had been soft before, absolutely, but not like this, and never this long… it bordered on Tommy territory. Slowly, you noticed little similarities, small phrases or mannerism that said yeah, these two are brothers, despite the drastic differences.

He played with your hair as he laid with you, tender in his touch, it was damn near domestic you almost forget where you are.

“Do you wanna go outside? Go for a walk?” Joel asks, his voice strangely soft in your ear.

You can’t help but smile at that. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Joel instructs you to stay put, and goes into his room and comes back with shoes he must’ve gotten and kept hidden from you; you’d get farther if you ran away wearing shoes. He knelt down beside you, lacing them up and tying them for you. He, of course held your hand tightly the entire time.

He asked if you wanted to see him. You knew what he meant.

Joel had kept him strung up, hanging from the oak tree, and although you had seen many horrific things in your short time on this god forsaken planet, the sight of a man you knew, hanged, skinned and swaying in the crisp spring Wyoming breeze… this was one of the worst. Somehow, however, you couldn’t find yourself feeling any guilt. Nick had done what he did knowing full well what Joel was capable of. The risk he took was calculated, but like you, it seems he couldn’t do math.

You felt Joel slide up behind you, unsurprisingly hard, no doubt recalling last night as his hands slide around your middle, his lips beginning to graze your neck and you couldn't help but remember how he had fucked you while telling you the graphic things he had done to your rapist.. “Do you still wanna cut off his dick?” He nudges your eyes to Joel’s switchblade still in Nick’s heart.

The idea was sexy while Joel was fucking you, but the reality of it was, frankly... Icky. “Can you?”

He kisses your cheek. “Happily.” Joel directs you, his long arms reach around, taking the blade out of his naked body and, with the aid of rigor mortis, he swiftly cut off the bastards dick. Stabbing the switchblade back into Nicks cold chest, Nick’s cock between the blade and his skin. “Feeling better, little one?” His arms are quickly back to you, the hand that held the switchblade playing above the line of your sweatpants. 

“Yes, Joel” You sighed, leaning your head back into him as his hand went between your legs. You did feel better actually. The whole situation you were in was fucked, but you did feel better…

He began finger fucking you, and although you realize he hadn’t washed his hands since skinning Nick, you weren't bothered. You were about to fuck about two feet away from a rotting corpse... “Let's go back to the house.”

“No” You whispered, and Joel looked at you curiously. “Here.” You get yourself situated against the tree trunk, and you swore you heard Joel chuckle; he had you whipped.

“Good girl” He adjusted you as needed, you brace against the tree Nick was hanging from, his body feet from you, and Joel pushed your ass out, pulling down your pants before slamming into you. “Good fucking girl” He pace was immediately hard and fast, and at this angle you swore…

“Joel.”

He didn’t stop. “Hm?“

You grab his hand, placing it over your stomach, where he could very very clearly feel himself entering you, his hard cock protruding out your stomach. “You feel that Joel?”

The hand on your hip was painfully tight, he growled and bite into your neck. “Fuck, fuck baby, you like me pounding you like this? Out in the open where anyone can see you?”

“Yes” You whine, having to  rest your face on the rough bark, sweat prickling at your skin even in the cold, his hands making you feel so, so warm. “I know you’ll protect me”

He moved one hand to the tree trunk, protecting your face from the scratches, his other moving to your clit, although right now you were certain he could make you cum just from just dick right now. “I’ll always protect you, little girl, always. Won’t let nothing bad happen to you ever again.” The irony was clearly lost on him, seeing as most of your suffering was at his hands but, fuck, if it wasn’t starting to get lost on you too… He was so tender when he wanted to be, the good was so, so good, and the sex… fucking hell. He pulled your ass out a little more and suddenly you were blinded, a brand new feeling making you cry out “Right there, pretty girl? Stay still, I’ll take care of you. Look at him” Joel turned your face to the decomposing body next to you. “Look at him, little one, I’ll always take care of you”

Why did this always make you feel so fucking warm? “I know, Joel, I know, J-Joel, fuck!” You rest your face fully on his large, veiny hand, protecting you from the tree, protecting you from Nick, protecting you from everything…

For a few weeks, things go better than they had been for years. Sex with Joel kept getting better and better, and he was opening up more. Not much from before, just little bits like telling you the plots of his favorite movies… you hadn’t been in his room, nor Tommy’s… Tommy had shifted a bit too. He was more and more affectionate with you, with the door closed of course… He held you in his arms, missing you brother, or when you called out to him in the middle of the night from nightmares and he pulled you onto his lap and cradled you when you cried… sometimes he went away from days on work as trusting more that Joel wouldn’t hurt you again and none of the men would dare. You were on dangerous waters, you knew, but sometimes you could only sleep when you smelled Tommy’s skin… but again, dangerous.

That’s why, when no one came into your room with breakfast, or lunch, or to spend time with you or fuck you… you were worried. Not as worried as you were when the door finally opened and a new face appeared with food.

You scramble to stand up, images of Nick and early days of Joel flashing in your head, and you open your mouth to scream for Tommy, but he cuts you off.

“Relax, sweetheart, Nick’s body is still rotting out there, I’m not tryna match him.” He spoke with a thick accent you’d heard before; your brother, Zach, had said it was from somewhere east, one of the big cities, but wasn’t sure where. 

“What do you want?” You ask, still shaking.

He set down the food. “Tommy’s paying me to feed you today”

You narrow your eyes at the sandwich. “You’re not doing very well, missed a meal.”

He shrugged with a small, smug smile. “Didn’t pay me enough for that.” He watched you still eying the food suspiciously “You wanna talk to him?”

“Where is he? Where’s Joel…” You can’t imagine they would let a random man in your room if one was able to do this…

“Food poisoning, we think.” 

You look at the sandwich again. “I’m not eating that”

He laughed, obnoxiously loud. “Smart girl. Come on, you can make yourself something” He nudged out the door.

You couldn’t help perk up at that. You get to leave? You get to make your own food? You weren’t sure who the man was, but you were happy to take the little bit of independence. You wouldn’t do anything that would make Joel mad, just put together a sandwich or heat up some soup! How strange your life had become that these were the little pleasures. 

The man watched you intently as you managed to make some soup. He was short; taller than you still, but short none the less, a few inches under Tommy. His hair was buzzed as was his beard, dark hair to match dark skin, and large eyes that watched you like a bug.

It was fun, cooking again… You had rather enjoyed when you still were living with your dad, your mom taught you well, you were a good cook… you wondered if Joel might let you cook more… you save soup for them when they were feeling better, maybe they’d like it enough you could continue? You toast some bead on a frying pan, demand (well, ask, but with a little force) to see Joel.

When you tentatively peaked through the cracked door and Joel saw you, his eyes went wide and you saw he was about to get up, no doubt thinking you got loose, so you opened the door to reveal the strange new man you hadn’t seen around the house before. “It’s okay, he’s with me. I wanted to check on you… can I come in?” Joel lays back down, tentatively, obviously not thrilled about being seen in a vulnerable position. He was clearly sick, his tanned skin looking pale, his eyes bleary and you couldn’t help but feel bad for him… even as you placed your hand on your hip, feeling the JM etched into your skin… a reminder of what he could do… You kneel down before him with the toast. “Can you try and eat some of this for me?”

He shakes his head. “I feel like shit”

Opting to sit by him, you gently play with his hair. He looked so young like this… “I know, sweetie… but you gotta try and eat… keep up your strength. Toast won’t be so bad on your stomach…” You try to coax, and look up to see the man watching you, eying you… was he confused, wondering how the little kidnapped girl was playing nurse to her capture… but he wouldn’t understand. You weren’t sure you could explain it yourself… but this was the position you were in, and you were doing what you could…

“What are you doing?” He grumbles, taking a small bite.

“I’m helping you”

“Why”

Great question. “Because you help me”

“I hurt you” another bite.

You were taken aback by that, absolutely… he was right, he did… “But you can also be so, so good to me.”

He wouldn’t look at you. “I don’t deserve you” 

You sigh, just a little bit… deserve wouldn’t be the word… but you wouldn’t say he didn’t deserve you… he was good to you, wasn’t he? He fed you, brought you nice things, little treats, he treated you good in bed… maybe he deserved you? He did everything right… how you got here didn’t really matter, and he was right, months ago, this was better than the strange men that mouth raped you and beat you senseless… he took you away from all that, he made a better life for you… in a way, he saved you.

“You do deserve me, Joel.” You kiss his forehead, hair stuck to it with sweat from the food poisoning. “I’m gonna check on Tommy, then I’ll be back to nurse you back to health, okay?”

Joel smiled at that. “Okay, little one”

A groggy Tommy looked at you and the man, then flopped his head back down on his pillow. “I see you met Lorenzo”

So that was his name. “Yeah, when he finally decided to bring me food.”

Tommy groans. “I told you to feed her, not bring her here”

Getting on the bed, you brush Tommy’s long hair away from his face. “It’s fine, I saw Joel, he’s okay with it as long as he watches me.”

Tommy couldn’t even open his eyes. “I feel awful, honey. Fucking awful. Never eating chicken again”

You can’t help but laugh a bit as he groaned on about how much he ‘odia pollo’ as you coax him into eating a bit of toast.

You spend the day helping the Millers feel better, whipping their faces with a cool clothes, feeding them bites they could eat, cleaning up the bowls they puked in, all while Lorenzo trailed around you, no doubt in charge of making sure you didn’t run away… you couldn’t help but admit you like this, you liked taking care of them, even if you couldn’t be as affectionate with Tommy as you wanted to. The other men, it seems, were all out sick, leaving just you and Lorenzo, and of course, like everything, it was a deliberate move… There were no coincidences.

Of all the things you expected to see as you rounded the corner back to the kitchen after having left Tommy’s side, your brother was not one of them.

“Zach.” He was alive, Joel didn’t kill him… but how had Tommy not known- oh. Tommy knew. He had to have, as did Joel. They would have begun collecting from your dad again, they had no know...

He rushed over to you, taking you in his loving arms that held you so many times before, whispering your name. “Thank god you’re okay”

You blink, brain still trying to catch up. “Wha- what are you doing here?”

Zach begins to pull you away, towards the door. “I’m rescuing you, we’re leaving”

Leaving? To go where? No doubt he had a plan, but he had no idea, no idea what happened, what things were like now, how bad they had been but it had gotten so, so much better. You stop. “Zach wait!” You whisper harshly, and he turns around at you, confused.

“I have somewhere to go, I got a plan, it’s okay, everything will be fine, I promise” 

You believed he believed it… but there were 1000 things in your head right now. First, if you leave and Joel finds you… he might actually kill you, but the things he would do to you if he didn’t were much worse. Secondly, “He’ll kill you, Zach.”

“He won’t catch-”

“He won’t let me go! He won’t drop it! He will hunt me down as long as it takes and skin you alive like the last man!” 

You could see the fear in his eyes as he hushed you, grabbing your arm. “Shut up, or he’ll kill us both! Just, god, just trust me. No one will notice until morning, we’ll be hours ahead.”

You stayed firmly in place… there was the third reason you wanted to stay… the fact you’d grown comfortable here, the fact you were, despite your better judgment, falling in love with both of the men here and- wait, where was Lorenzo? “I can’t, Zach. You don’t know what he’s capable of”

Rolling his eyes like only a brother would, he tugged you. “Of course I-”

You pull down your pants just enough on the side, revealing the brand. “He did this the last time I tried to leave, fucked me on the table in front of all the other men, then left me there for them to all rape!” You didn’t tell him that Tommy had saved you, that Tommy had tucked you in and how tenderly Joel had treated you the next day, how both had bandaged you up, cared for you, even though you had been so bad. “It’s calmed down, he doesn’t hurt me, I have more freedom… I don’t want to throw this away”

Zach was panged, desperate, eyes watering as he tried to take you away from what you knew he thought of as your hell, but was truly where you had felt most at home since your mothers death. “I won’t let him hurt you again, I’ll protect you.”

“Like you protected me against dad?” It came out fast than you’d expected, no chance to block it… it wasn’t fair, you couldn’t and didn’t blame Zach for that but it was true. Joel saved you, cared for you, Joel killed men that hurt you… Joel wasn’t who you needed to be protected from, Joel was the one who protected you. You yank your hand away from your crying brother. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, I don’t blame you… but I’m staying”

He opened his mouth to argue, but all that came out was a desperate 'please'. You shake your head. You belonged with the Millers now. “You change your mind, you find a way to escape, I’ll be at the ranch, and I swear to god I will keep you safe this time.”

Now you were crying too as you went to hug him. “Thank you, Zach” Alone in the kitchen, you back up against the fridge, sink down, and cry, cry, cry… keep crying until Lorenzo appeared in the doorway

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

 Of course. Of course you didn’t avoid the shitshow. “Okay so you saw that. You gonna tell Joel, rank up, get whatever it is you want.” You sniffle as he leans against the doorway, crossing his arms. 

“No, I already got my payment for this shitshow“ You look up at him, wet and puffy eyes telling him to go on. “He paid me to give everyone food poisoning so you guys could leave, and you fucking wasted it. No skin off my back, but Jesus. You know, pre-outbreak, we had a word for girls like you, who stayed with men who beat them”

“Joel doesn’t-”

“You wanna know what that word is?”

You sigh. “Wha-”

“Dumb bitches”

Lorenzo was pissing you the fuck off, but there was something else that was pushing your repressed anger up… You stand, shoving Lorenzo aside and storm down the hall to Tommy’s room, bursting in.

He smiled lazily up at you as you close the door. “Hey honey, the tea helped-”

“You fucking knew” Pointing dramatically at his sick figure on the bed, you watch the confusion on his face. “What? What did I know?”

“That my brother is alive, asshole!”

As he slowly realizes whats happening, he forces himself to sit up, despite the dizziness and nausea, his hand open palmed and out towards you. “Okay, just relax, tell me what happ-”

You were angrier that perhaps you had a right to be, feeling betrayed and hurt by the man you had trusted, however foolishly. “Don’t use your ‘Calm down Joel’ voice on me! You knew my brother was alive and you didn’t tell me!”

He almost argues. He almost says no, no I didn’t know, this is news to me too… but you’ve already figured it out. “If you knew he was alive, you’d try to leave again, and you’d get caught, and God knows what he’ll do to you if you run away” his eyes were pleading with you to understand, but he was not asking for forgiveness… you knew he’d do it again.

You step closer. “How many times did you hold me while I cried, missing him, wanting him-”

“That’s just it!” He stands now, towering over you, but you know him better than to think it’s a threat, so you don’t back away and simply look up at him, glaring. “You wanted to be with him, and I couldn’t let that happen”

“So you kept me away from my family, because you’d miss me?”

“No it’s because you’d be dead!”

You shake your head, not quite believing his motivations… “I don’t think so. I think you want to stay because you just want me here so you can play knight in shining armor”

Wide-eyed and hurt, he looks down at you. “No, that’s not it-”

In your anger, you shove him; it doesn’t go very far considering his sturdy stance and strong shoulders, but the action caused what you wanted it to. It hurt his feelings. “Fuck you, Tommy”

Tommy put his hands on your shoulders, not backing down despite the wave of nausea threatening him. “Honey, I swear to you, I’m just trying to help, all I wanted to do this whole time was help you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you couldn’t pull away from his touch yet; you never could. “Fuck. You!”

Frustration boiled over before the vomit did. “What is the big deal! Joel knew too!” At that, he gently pushed you back as he dropped to his knees, violently throwing up in his trash can, his whole body wracked into heaves. He did the hard part for you; you weren't sure if you were strong enough to disengage his touch.

You watch him, wanting so badly to kneel by his side, to rub his back and keep his hair out of the puke as you had done all day today… but you couldn’t. You need to have something, something, for your anger to hold onto, even if it was Tommy, even if it was just for a night. “You are the one I was supposed to trust!” You scream, not caring who heard you. “I was supposed to be able to believe in you, but you held me as I screamed, and cried and you didn’t tell me! Fuck! You!” Your face was soaked as you screamed, screamed at Tommy for every rape, every violation, every beating and branding that he had only every tried to save you from, and took it out on him for one small thing that he actually did. Because he was Tommy, because he was supposed to be different. 

And because he was Tommy, he let you. 

You slammed the door when you left. 

Lorenzo was in the hall, watching you with crossed arms as you left Tommy for Joel’s room, muttering again about you being a dumb bitch, but you don't care.

Joel’s room was dark; he didn’t open his eyes, and for a moment you thought he was asleep and began to retreat away when he spoke. 

“Come on in, little one”

You slink through the door, closing it behind you. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

He opened his eyes at that. Today was the first day you had even seen his room, did he even want you in it? You watched him consider, before opening up his blanket for you. With a smile, you crawl in, and he tightly wraps you up in the blanket and his arms where you were growing more and more comfortable.

“Everything okay? I heard yell’n. Couldn’t tell if I was dream’n or not.” He asked, sleepily, nestling his face into your neck.

You considered the options… best to not lie completely. Safe and secure in Joel, despite the chaos of today, you began to relax in him. “Yeah, Tommy just pissed me off, that's all” 

You could feel Joel smile against your skin.

****************

Not nearly as high drama as the last few by next week we're back!!!

I've seen a few of you saying you have theories and i want you to know I WANNA HERE ALL YOU'RE THEORIES!!!! Drop them in my ask box so i can share them with the class and everyone csn share their thoughts!

Also as I stated above, I GOT A PLAYLIST GOING! if you have a song you think matches, comment or send in an ask and ill add it if i think t fits!

Also, i've moved to 10 chapters + the alt ending for the series! I'd love to here all thoughts and theories you have <3

Thank you alllllll for the reblogs and all the kind words!!!! It really means the world to me

LMK if you'd like to join the tag list!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lunar-ghoulie

[not-poignant]

Absolutely wheezing at the idea that a writer ~might not know~ that what they're writing is ~bad irl~. How fucking condescending is that? As someone who mostly creates and consumes horror media, my perspective might be a little skewed- but c'mon, people KNOW that dubcon/gaslighting/torture/murder/&c is not okay in real life. Inadequately tagged fic (& media which deals with these topics poorly) might well be a problem, but people still know the TOPICS are morally bad (& illegal) & not ok irl

I really weighed whether to give your mockery a platform on my blog, so I might still delete this response later, but I'm just going to say a few things.

Firstly, my post was around people having irrational emotoinal responses and having subsequent thoughts that try to make sense of those emotional responses. This isn't really about what the author knows, it's about the emotional response. (But even then, anon, abusers exist in fandom, abusers write fic, and it's very naive to not know this). At any rate, my whole point was that if an author is tagging or warning, they generally know, lol. But there's reasons readers might not know that.

Since my post was solely about reader response I'm going to address the readers who don't know or realise something in the moment, because they're having an irrational emotional response.

Readers having emotional responses to something that squicks them or hits them the wrong way are rarely rational and based in what people 'know.' You might want to research emotions and emotional responses in order to understand this better.

Secondly, there are actually some fairly prevalent reasons why people may be unable to give others the benefit of the doubt in the moment and assume that the author knows what they know (not least: fic authors are often complete strangers). Some of those reasons are as simple as 'I've been raised to be wary of other people and what they believe.' But others include having been abused themselves, or alternatively, knowing that abusers and rapists write fiction and live in the world among us, and sometimes having a moment where they're just not sure based off what they've just read. (It's nice to assume that not everyone thinks abuse is okay, but it's a lot harder to assume that once you've been abused by someone you know, you might want to apply some compassion to other people on this - folks who are paranoid of others often have reasons for doing so, even though that never excuses abuse or bullying in turn).

At any rate, I can think of a lot of reasons why someone wouldn't automatically just 'know' something in the moment, especially if they've been triggered or squicked (which I mention in my post). It doesn't excuse bullying or abuse, which I say in my post, but the emotions themselves and the irrational thoughts they can lead to aren't bad by default - that's part of the normal human experience, you're having it yourself right now anon - that's an attempt the brain makes to protect the person who's just had that experience. After that, we make a choice re: our behaviours.

Your perspective is a little skewed, anon, simply because you've made the mistake of assuming everyone must think the same way you do - but not everyone has had the same experiences, upbringing and education you've had. And vice versa. Someone who has been abused by someone in fandom, for example, may struggle to assume benefit of the doubt in certain circumstances where something - the person or product - reminds them of that abuse.

You might want to research the cognitive impacts that abuse and interpersonal trauma have on people, anon, especially if you mostly create and consume horror media, because that is pretty important in the understanding of some horror. This struggle doesn't make their behaviours right if they're hurting others, but judging folks for not knowing what you do, or for the things that make them uncomfortable is rude and patronising.

It bothers me that you can't conceive of a world where folks might have frankly understandable but strong and irrational emotional responses to fictional content. If you can accept that for example, some horror will make people scared or too unable to engage with it (can you accept this?), even if they do know it's not real, then I think this is a concept you do foundationally understand, and are just not applying to this situation, perhaps because it disturbs you to think that some people don't just know this by default. I don't know.

Finally, given you felt the urge to come into a complete stranger's inbox and speak derisively and with open mockery towards a bunch of folks who don't make the same assumptions you do, or have the same knowledge base that you do, it's fairly obvious that you yourself know exactly what it's like to engage in behaviours based off irrational emotional responses. So maybe you have more in common with the people you're mocking than you think? Food for thought.

You probably know - when you stop and think about it - that there are many reasons why people may not 'know' or be able to assume what you know in this circumstance, but if you don't:

Highly recommend you do deeper dives into aversive emotional responses and emotions, and also look into how abuse and trauma can cognitively affect some people.

[toxicanonymity]

EVERY INCH 4

SERIES MASTERLIST | SLASHERS MASTERLIST PAIRINGS: ghostface x f!reader; dark javi x f!reader LENGTH: ~6.6k words. The next one will be shorter.

SUMMARY: after what you did on the metro, you're ashamed and paranoid. javi crosses a line. ghostface does something he's never done before. so do you.

WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon, piv and various acts, somno, drugs, degradation, dirty talk, angst/shame, yearning, r-word in ref to past acts, breeding and "daddy" kinks, descriptions of (not actual) pregnancy. Restraints, blindfold. And idk, it gets weird. Anonymous ghostface. We enjoy surprises in this series, soo WRITER CHOOSES NOT TO WARN IN FULL. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

A/N: Thank you for your patience and enthusiasm and omg all the love on the fics 🖤. Thank you negraarmadura (@theblackarmor) for your valuable input and inspiration. Also, @lunitawrites can shoulder some blame for the excessive breeding kink. Ty @saradika for the dividers.

🚨 FIC ART: banger collage by @aurorawritestoescape and action packed movie trailer by @carminepoison

Overnight, your fury and humiliation fades into gloom and confusion. Ghostface. You wake up itchy and dehydrated. 

You never imagined things would go this far. You should kill him, right? Ghostface? Don’t you have to? Think about what he did to you. What he made you do. You should kill him, but you don't have the energy. And you're too angry at yourself to have much ire for anyone else. 

Ghostface, a notoriously brutal killer, called you a serial rapist, and he wasn’t even really lying. How much of the metro disaster was planned? Did Ghostface orchestrate it, or did he simply seize the opportunity to watch, fascinated by your blind lust and rage? 

You didn't want to know. As long as you weren't certain, you still had that little sliver hope that you didn't rape a stranger at gunpoint all on your own. But either way, you did hold the gun. Either way, you took the man’s dick out and degraded him as you forced yourself on him in the middle of a public train. Lost in the moment. Feeling like it was just you and him, Ghostface. Until it wasn’t.

The day after the metro, it feels like everybody knows what you did. Every time you close your eyes, images of crowds on train platforms blur through your mind. An infinite audience to your terrible crime. 

You stay in bed, frozen, not wanting to face reality. Telling yourself it’s a dream. Sleeping off and on. Batting away uncomfortable thoughts–like when will you see Ghostface again? Is he going to call you? What will you do? You can’t get him off your mind. 

Two mornings after the metro, you drag yourself out of bed, then out into the world. At the grocery store, you bump into your older pothead neighbor, and he asks if you're okay. Your heart races, thinking he must know. It takes you a moment to remember why he’s asking – your friend Marla was stabbed to death just days ago, and she wasn't the first.  

In the checkout line, you space out until a man’s voice jars you from your trance. You apologize and put your items on the conveyor belt. When you’re just about to pay, you receive a text message from an unknown number, a fact which on its own makes your tummy tingle. When you read the text, your whole body turns hot: 

I’ll split your ass like a tangerine. 

The words land straight between your legs. As the grocer hands you your bags, he asks if you’re okay. You shake yourself out of it and nod.  The grocer wishes you good luck. At least, that’s what you think he says. Good luck not getting caught? Good luck not getting killed? Good luck with what? You decide you must have imagined it. 

In the parking lot, before heading home, you sit in your car for a few minutes, spaced out, wondering if you'll ever be able to go out in public again without feeling like this. Like everyone knows something awful about you.

On the way home, you can't get your phone to charge. You’re fiddling with the cord when blue lights flash in your rearview mirror, making your stomach drop. The lights turn off only after you're parked on the grass shoulder of the two lane road. 

Every second feels like a minute until a tall, blonde cop in aviators gets out of his car, stretches, and strides over like he has all the time in the world.  You roll down the window. He plants two huge hands on the top of your car and ducks down to look at you. For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything, just leisurely chews his gum. 

Then, he shifts his stance and asks, “How ya doin’, ma’am?”  Deep voice, smooth as butter. 

Out of nowhere, you feel on the verge of tears. Avoiding your reflection in his shades, you swallow the knot in your throat and answer, “fine.” 

He stops chewing and asks,“Yeah? You sure?”

You suck your lips together and nod. 

He looks from you to the groceries in your front seat and the mess of junk in the back, then asks, “Where ya headed?”

“Home.”

He bobs his head in understanding and glances down the road, chewing his gum again. 

Your heart continues to race as you watch his face for a long moment of silence. Finally, he speaks. “Well, put your fuckin’ phone down for me.” He raises his eyebrows and tips his shades forward, forcing his sky blue eyes on you. “‘k, darlin’?”

Your lips part, and you forget to blink until he winks at you and flashes a smile. Then you nod and mumble, “Uh. Yeah, sorry.” 

He fixes his aviators back. “Careful out there, ‘k?” After a nod and a casual tap on your roof, he walks off. You watch him in the rear view mirror.  

Are his legs that long, or is it the monochrome outfit? He adjusts his belt before getting in his car. Your chest bubbles with interest, attraction, and you curse yourself under your breath. 

At home, you try to distract yourself by watching a show, but it’s just not possible. After what he did—what you did–on the train, you’re terrified to know what’s next. What you might do next in this absurd state you find yourself in where he consumes your every thought. And it hits you, the sickest part of all—why you attacked who you thought was Ghostface. Not because Ghostface attacked you, not because he tried to kill you, but because he left you after getting you worked up. Ghostface walked away from you. He left you alone and alive in that alley, and it upset you. 

You find yourself at the bizarre revelation that you and Ghostface are the only people in your world that feel real right now. You’re inextricably linked. He’s the only one who really knows you. He knows your darkness. 

Are you the only one who really knows him, too?

Your phone dings with a text. It’s a political campaign, but you take the opportunity to re-read:

I’ll split your ass like a tangerine.

It gives you butterflies. It sounds like him. It has to be him. That’s the only thing that helps you relax.

(Some hours and a nap later. . .)

"What would you do if you had Ghostface cornered," Javi asks, sitting back and manspreading next to you on your sofa. He's nursing a Mike's Hard Lemonade from a case he brought and crammed into your fridge, pushing aside expired condiments and old takeout containers. 

You should never have let Officer Javi in when he knocked on your door. “Heard ya had a rough day,” he had remarked. “Pulled over?” he raised his eyebrows. There was something about him that made you uneasy, but you didn’t feel like you had a choice, so you opened the door.

It was impossible to miss the way he sniffed the air after crossing the threshold. You imagined he was smelling the cum of Ghostface and amateur Ghostface, even two days and several showers later. 

Pulling yourself back into the moment at hand – Javi’s question isn’t easy – what would you do if you had Ghostface cornered? What would a normal person do? 

You ask, "if I had him cornered?"

"What, you wouldn't do anything?" Javi challenges you. 

"I wouldn't get within ten feet of him," you claim. 

Javi chuckles skeptically. "You wouldn't kill him?" 

“No. . . .should I?”

"I think you have it in you,” Javi replies, then drops his voice. “Or you want it in you." 

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t let it go. You challenge him, "What are you talking about?"

"You don't want to be a victim. You're determined not to be." 

In a gesture that could pass for reassurance, Javi’s cold, broad hand rests just above your bare knee for a moment. Then he trails his fingers up your thigh, all the way to the hem of your shorts, close to where you’re now tingling. 

His voice goes down in pitch and volume.  "It's an attractive quality. . . Your lust for control." His face is dark with lust. 

You take his hand off your thigh and place it on his own leg. 

“See? ” he asks with a condescending twitch of his mustache in the corner of your eye.  

"Pervert," you mutter.

"You wouldn't shoot Ghostface with my gun?" Javi glances down at himself. Eyes following his gaze, you do a double take at the shape in his tight pants. 

Shame prickles your face, and you swallow as you admit, "Your gun was stolen." 

"I know," Javi nods with just the hint of a smile. "It was turned in." 

With an air of nonchalance, he takes the gun out of the back of his pants. He subtly rubs the side of the barrel against his hard cock as he pretends to inspect the firearm before setting it on the coffee table. "Now you can shoot him.”

He watches you look at the gun on your coffee table. The one that was buried in your cunt less than 48 hours ago. Javi continues, “But you won't shoot him, will you?"

"No," you agree. 

"Don't want him to leave you alone."

"No," you argue, mouth getting dry. “That’s ridiculous.”

"Oh,” Javi seems to be acting. “Too scared to shoot a gun?  We'll practice."

“No,” you shake your head, then ask, "How do I know he's the right one? The one who’s cornered?" 

"Ah," A smile creeps across his face. "The real Ghostface, and not just some guy in a Stab costume? " He raises an eyebrow. 

Over the next few seconds, your face goes ice cold.

"Shhh. It's okay,” Javi rests a hand on your back, then rubs it slowly. “I know, sweetheart.” 

He knows what? Is he involved in this somehow? Your question spills out before you can stop it. “What are you getting at? What did you do?”

The large palm on your back slows to a halt between your shoulder blades. Javi pouts in contemplation, looking at the ceiling like he's racking his brain. Another twitch of his mustache. Before meeting your eyes again, he subtly shakes his head, "Nothing," then bends forward, picks up your drink, and hands it to you. He puts his hand on your back again, lazily caressing it with his knuckles this time. 

Trying to calm yourself down, you take a sip. He nods encouragingly. 

You ask, "Are you even a cop?"

"Yeah, I’m a cop," he laughs. 

“Okay, pig. Who’s your supervisor?”

Javi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Ouch! ” 

Another sip of your drink. 

“Good girl,” he whispers as he watches you swallow. His eyes are right on your throat. The tingle simmers between your legs. Javi’s hand slides up your back to slowly rub the nape of your neck with his thumb and fingers while his hungry eyes scan you head to toe. How hard is he right now? You don’t allow yourself the glance.

“Listen sweetheart,” his tone shifts,  “I can’t make this any easier on you.” His thumb gently glides over the peach fuzz on your neck.

“Make what easier?”

Javi’s only acknowledgement of your question is to breathe out a small laugh, then continue, “But I can make it harder.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It’s in your best interest if I keep you company tonight.” 

With Javi’s crotch tugging at your peripheral vision, a mild arousal stirs in your gut, but you muster a look of disgust. “Or what?”

“Let’s not find out, ” he threatens. 

You scowl and take another sip, catching a flash of satisfaction in his dark eyes. He continues to caress the back of your neck, then says, “Unless you want to find out.” 

His thumb freezes right in the dip at the base of your skull. “Maybe I read you wrong. Maybe you do want to be a victim.”  He taps his thumb twice and takes his hand away. His dark eyes scan your face as he reaches for the remote control.  

Are you paranoid, or does he know something? You no longer trust yourself to see things as they are. You pray he’s just a creep, taking advantage of his assignment to protect you. If he were a worse looking creep, you might be more concerned. 

Two hard lemonades later, you’re lying on your side on the couch, watching Rosemary’s Baby with Javi spooning you and lightly caressing your lower abdomen, right at the top of your shorts.  

“Are you on birth control? ” he asks, which catches you off guard and makes your face and insides tingle.  

“Yeah, gonna put that in your report?” you answer. 

“Mm,” he sighs. “Bet you take it real well, too.” 

A pool is forming in your panties. 

“Same time every day? ” He doesn't wait for an answer before adding, “Even with all this going on? ”

No response from you.

With the softest flick of his thumb, he unbuttons your shorts. 

“You really think i’m going to fuck you, don’t you?” you ask as his hand plunges into your panties. At least those are fresh. Or they were. 

When Javi’s fingers reach your wetness, he groans softly. “I told you, sweetheart. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Rubbing circles over your most sensitive place, he lightly grinds his hardening dick against your backside. The warm pressure of his arousal makes you throb. 

This goes on for a minute, then he cruelly slides his hand out of your shorts. He smells his fingers. The crudeness makes you twitch and seethe. A moment later, he’s urgently tugging down your shorts. His forearm vein bulges as he wedges his hand between your legs again. Your knees open for him, you can’t help it. His cock is pressing so hard against your ass, throbbing for you. He’s rubbing you at a steady, desirous rhythm, and your body is helping your mind forget everything. 

Need is rushing through your blood. The only thing you can see is a climax in sight.  Your insides swell and throb for him. You think about his cock, you want his cock, but no, you’re not going to give a pig that honor. This will have to do. 

He breathes heavier, and so do you. Your hips move with his rhythm. Every once in a while, his middle finger goes down and teases your hole as he gathers more slick to bring upward. Then one time, his finger stays at your entrance. He wriggles the tip of his middle digit into you, then plunges it in with a grunt, as far as he can get. 

He pumps his finger and grinds his palm against your clit. Your hips begin to rock into his hand. He mutters, “mierda” (shit), to himself as he slides his ring finger in. His thick digits stay buried inside. His cock twitches, and he calms himself, slowing down. A moan slips out of your mouth when you’re on the edge, desperate for release. 

“You want this, don’t you? ” he sides an arm under your neck and across your breasts to pull you tight against him. The swell of his cock sends a wave of pleasure upward, through your chest. 

“No,” you choke out, but your hips roll into his hand. 

“If you want to cum, all you have to do is ask.”

“Fuck you,” you manage between heavy breaths. You’re almost there. Then, you grab his hand and hold it still against your cunt as you send yourself over the edge, grinding against his palm, gasping vocally, spasming against his hand, pathetically trying to hold back your moans. 

As it fades, you want more. Of course you want more. But you won’t give him the satisfaction. 

You wriggle out of his embrace to sit up and kick your shorts off your ankles. 

“I’m going to wash the cop off me,” you mutter in self-disgust. 

Javi is bemused. “He doesn’t make you ask, huh? ” 

Heat rises to your face. You stand up and don’t even look at him. “Fuck you, Javi,” you mutter. 

“Does he even make you cum? ”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you lie. 

Javi stands up, braces his thumbs on his lower back,  and pushes his hips forward in a stretch. A spot of precum on his pants draws your eye as he steps forward, his engorged dick straining to get out.  

After his stretch, he steps forward. His jaw clenches and his eyes are cold. He takes your jaw in his hand and looks from your lips to your eyes and back.  “Everyone’s going to know who I’m talking about if you’re not careful.”

Your stomach drops, but you manage not to show it, you think. “Be gone when I’m out of the shower,” you warn as if you could do anything about it. 

“Suit yourself,” he smiles slightly. “This time.” He adjusts himself with his dry hand. 

You give him one last glare. Then, your eyes fall to his hand, where he’s inspecting his two wet fingers, glimmering in the low light of the movie credits. His mustache twitches, and he walks in the opposite direction of your front door. You don’t bother redirecting him. You’re just glad he’s leaving when he exits out the back.

In the shower, you start to feel woozy. Did you drink more than you realized, or did Javi slip you something? It could have been either.  You end the shower sooner than you otherwise might, wrap yourself in a robe and lay on your bed. Aching to be filled, you think about retrieving a toy from your nightstand, but your sudden fatigue wins over.  Not getting off to the thought of Ghostface is a victory, even if it’s on a technicality. Instead, you fall asleep, thinking about the only man you’ve thought about for weeks. 

Your dreams are wild. 

Ghostface is working at a grocery store, with his mask on. He has a black button down shirt under a long black apron with a name tag that says Daddy. He’s rolling up his sleeves as he walks toward customer service. It feels like he runs the place. He stops in his tracks when he sees you. You stand frozen as he approaches swiftly. He grabs you roughly by the elbow and marches you toward the produce section as if you shouldn’t even be there at the store. 

He bends you over a crate of citrus fruit, and a fake thunderstorm booms from a nearby produce cooler as the vegetables get misted.

Standing behind you, holding you down on the fruit with one hand, he kicks your ankles to spread your feet open, exposing your cunt to the cool air. “You couldn't wait, could you?”  He asks, hiking up your dress. You aren't wearing anything under it. “Couldn’t wait for Daddy to get home...” 

There's a surge of need at the crux of your thighs, and you eagerly await his cock. Instead, what you feel is the cool, taut skin of a lime gliding against your dripping pussy. 

He slides the fruit up and down your dripping seam and pauses to grind it against your clit. The man knows what he’s doing. You throb and twitch and sigh as the smooth skin of the lime warms up. 

“That’s right, princess.” He wedges your legs further apart, so far apart the stretch burns. Then he resumes his work with the fruit. 

One end of the lime teases your entrance, then he pushes it into you. Your body sucks it up with ease and spasms around it. 

“Good girl.” His hand remains between your legs, hooking under your body to reach your clit. You whine as he rubs your sweet spot. The lime seems to thrust inside you with each rub of his hand against your front. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

He makes you cum on the lime, and with each of your spasms, your body sucks the fruit further into your channel. 

As your orgasm fades, Ghostface zip ties your hands over your head, fixing them to the sale sign in the middle of the produce crate. He leaves you with your dress still pulled up, ass and cunt exposed, twitching with aftershocks. 

“Please, wait,” You beg him to come back. 

Another worker notices you and fails to hide his erection. The man’s face is pink and spellbound. He stands there and rubs himself through his pants. He looks around furtively as he does it, watching you. And you’re a vision — pathetically bent over the fruit, spread wide open, moaning and whining for your man to come back and fuck you raw. 

A new sensation eclipses your awareness of the small audience. It begins to feel like the lime is growing in your womb, spreading your insides apart. You're increasingly aroused, feeling less and less control over your body as it swells with desire. You find yourself wishing for anyone to shove himself inside you—staff or customer. If only anyone with a cock would stop and use you. Please, you think to yourself. “Please,” you whimper out loud. You’re desperate to cum again, desperate to relieve all this pressure building in your belly. 

An older man approaches, undoing his belt, and he looks you over as he runs his hand over the outline of his erection, deciding what to do with you. He gets close enough to spread your cheeks and examine your cunt. Your hole tremors at his touch, and you whimper. You can feel from the air that you are spread wide open. It feels like you’re going to split at the seam. After examining your parts, the man mutters, “oh,” before deciding against it and walking away. 

Your whole torso feels like it could burst with the amount of tension swelling inside you. Your nipples are tight and sensitive, and you feel one of them bare against an orange under your chest. You look down to see your breasts, noticeably swollen, falling out of your dress. 

The fruit beneath you begins to dig into your tummy and it hurts. It's too much, paired with the aching need between your legs.  You cry out, and the other worker pages the general manager, Ghostface, over the intercom. 

-

When Ghostface returns, he snips your zip ties then roughly flips you over so you're face-up on a big pile of fruit. He ties your hands over your head again, this time using a plastic produce bag. 

“Well, look at my pumpkin,” he admires your body as he removes his gloves. Until you see the way his mask seems to stare at your middle, you don’t realize your midriff is exposed. Your dress has ridden up over your belly, which is rounder than before. It feels tight and distended, and you just feel so full.  He places both hands on your belly, feeling your shape. When you look down, you hardly recognize yourself. Your nipples are leaking. The one still in your top is creating a wet spot. Your other breast has broken containment completely. 

“What did you do to me,” you demand, with Ghostface massaging your belly tenderly. 

He groans and reaches up with one hand. Suddenly he clamps his hand over your eyes. The next thing you feel is a mouth sucking at your exposed tit. It feels amazing, all the tension rushing out of your breast, along with the stimulation of his tongue. He breaks away with a moan. 

“I knew you'd be delicious.”

So much pressure is built up inside you, you're dying to cum. He holds you by both your sides. You’re painfully spread open, inner thigh muscles aching. He puts himself between your legs. He grinds himself against you, and it makes your walls clench and convulse almost instantly with a groan that echoes. 

He pulls his hips back and watches between your legs as you surrender to another orgasm. “Look at you, drizzled all over the fruit,” he marvels as he watches your fluttering hole. With each wave, you feel your belly and breasts swell a little more until you feel and look like you're in your third trimester. 

“Please make it stop,” you beg.  It feels so good, but you don’t want your body like this.

He rubs at your dripping cunt, his flattened fingers gliding soothingly between your puffy folds. Soon, you're grinding against his hand. 

“Please,” you beg. “Take it out, take the lime out.”

“Might be too late, angel.” 

“Please try.” 

He relents and wedges three fingers together. The fingertips tease your dilated hole, then his three thick digits slide right in, the ease of it making him groan. The obscene squelching practically echoes as he fucks you with three fingers, and soon he adds a fourth. Your body accepts him, and welcomes the addition of his thumb. Soon his hand is reaching deep inside you, fist and forearm flexing as he searches for the lime. 

“Daddy’s trying, baby.”

Your body hugs his hand. “Please,” you cry, tears running down your face, from pleasure and pressure more than pain. 

“Let me see,” he muses to himself as he withdraws his hand and moves a finger down to your asshole. He teases the rim of it and you feel it open up for him like the rest of your body. Then he slides two dripping fingers in. With his fingers buried in your ass, you feel some relief. You breathe with the rhythm of his fingers, but when you see your belly heaving with each breath, you remember. “Please, please put me back to normal.” 

Ghostface sighs. “Are you sure, princess?” His fingers slide out of your asshole. 

“Yes,” you insist. 

He crouches down, puts your legs over his shoulders, and positions himself with his mask right at your cunt. He rests his dry hand on your belly, and his wet hand grips his mask at the edges. 

Just as he goes to take the mask off, the whole scene melts into a moving mosaic of fleeting thoughts. 

Everything but the pleasure fades away. 

Everything but the pleasure. . . and the feeling of being spread wide open. . . and your legs over someone’s strong shoulders. . .

Yes, there’s a head between your thighs, two strong hands holding you open, and a hungry mouth feasting on you with abandon. He’s grunting into your cunt with his tongue intruding into your deepest places, making your insides hum with need. 

Did Javi never leave? It doesn’t exactly sound like Javi. Javi is far too measured to be so—ohh, God, that feels good. It feels so good, you barely notice that you’re blindfolded. Or that your wrists are tied above your head, securing you to the bed frame. 

He licks up your cunt to suck at your clit, and he does it well. Fuck. A moan slips out, muffled by something damp and lacy. Your mouth is sore and gagged.  Your heart races as he sucks, and your sensitive nub swells with pressure. 

You’re still waking up, and your traitorous hips are grinding into his face. You’re close. His hands are on your thighs. You’re on the edge of climax, trying not to make any sound or sudden movements. 

When his tongue slips down to your asshole, you flinch. You squirm, but the hands hold you still. His thumbs spread your cheeks, and he licks a wide circle around the rim, getting closer and closer until his tongue is teasing your hole. 

Your nose twitches. You sniff the air, and breathe a shameful sigh of relief. It’s not Javi. It’s him. Thank God, it’s him. And it smells like he smoked in your room.

Ghostface pauses to mutter, “Good girl,” and the voice comes from between your legs, and from your right, as though he’s separated from the voice changer. 

And separated from his mask. Wow. You never thought he’d— his warm mouth returns to your ass, and he thrusts his tongue into you. A pit in your gut deepens with each thrust of his tongue. Your eyelashes flutter against the folded bandana that covers your eyes. 

You grunt and whine into the gag, then he begins to rub your clit while his tongue is buried in your ass. Before long, the tension snaps, and your vision goes from black to white. A muffled moan marks the start of your peak. His tongue slides out, and your body jerks with each spasm. 

“Attagirl,” you hear from both directions.

As you finish coming, he lays a cheek on one thigh and a hand on the other, stroking your skin with his thumb. 

“You were on a silver platter, princess. I had to take a bite.” Your nipples harden—you’re naked and your sweat is cooling. “You know how it is.” You don’t try to respond. “Had a feeling you wouldn’t mind,” he taunts. “And ohhh, Pumpkin. We’ve been having *fun*.” 

Can’t exactly ask what he’s been up to with a mouth full of your own panties. But you wriggle and groan in disapproval.  His face lifts off your thigh, and his hands are quick to hold you down and keep you still.

“Yeah, yeah,” he acknowledges your halfhearted effort, and you stop resisting. The fact that you both see through this charade puts you more at ease somehow. 

When you feel his breath on your hip, it’s clear he’s not done, and you’re not mad about it. You’re in a daze—Ghostface is in your room, unmasked. Between your legs. 

His teeth press into your skin, then his lips. He sucks hard, then harder, and the bruising suction makes you throb. You grunt into the panty gag. He releases your skin, then drags his lips to your mound. 

He licks up your mound and presses wet, hungry, open-mouth kisses along your exposed torso, licking upward between each kiss, all the way to your breast where he pauses to suck and moan into it. You whine into the gag as your nipple hardens in his mouth and you gush and throb.

He drags his tongue up your chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The closer his head gets to yours, the more clearly you can smell him - his unique blend of pheromones, his sweat, the way it mixes with the weed. 

And then it slaps against you. His cock. Smooth, and warm, and hard against your hip, and your chest swarms with butterflies. You moan softly. His face is in the crook of your neck. He latches on for a suck and the dull pain makes your hips lift, seeking more of his cock. You feel an emptiness, a longing to be filled. 

His bare face nuzzles at your jaw. He drags his lips up your chin, to your cheek, to your ear. 

“Shhh,” he whispers, despite your silence. 

His lips slowly drag toward your mouth, dragging along the gag. With his mouth on your cheek, your lips tingle with an urge. And then he gets there. His mouth lingers, open against yours, his breath, hot and humid, enveloping your lips. His teeth scrape the corner of your mouth. He bites down on the gag while one hand fiddles behind you to untie it. His cock, now on your mound, swells harder against you and Good God, you need him bad. 

With a backward nod, he tugs at the panty gag, then lets it fall away with a vocal exhale, thrusting his stiff manhood against you. The loss of his lips on your face resembles heartache. 

Barely above a whisper, you ask, “what are you doing?” and brace to hear his real voice. 

Instead, his hand seizes your jaw, forcing your mouth wider open. And then he spits in your mouth. You taste it as it slides down your tongue, down your throat, and desire stirs in your gut. 

He releases your jaw. “Daddy needs to hear ya, princess.” He mutters breathily, and it echoes from your right, “Daddy needs to hear you, princess.”

You pull your knees up. He braces a hand behind you against the wall and grinds his stiff manhood against your slick mound. “Fuck,” he whispers, with no digital echo. Then, in both voices, “You want this. . . Don’t you, pumpkin?” He grinds against you, harder. “You want Daddy’s big cock,” he confirms, and you can imagine him nodding. 

“Yeah,” you admit in a whisper.

“Oh, yeah,” he replies. The slow, throbbing grind of his warm cock is devastating so close to where you need it. 

“Please,” you ask. 

“Please what?” he replies. 

“Please,” your chest tingles, “Please, Daddy.”

“Uh-huh,” he thrusts against you nice and slow. So stiff and warm. 

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you plead. 

He pulls his hips back, letting his cock slide and drop to where his tip notches at your entrance. “Who’s gonna fuck you?” 

“You are, Daddy.” 

“Yeah, that’s my girl.” His tip pushes into your yearning cunt. 

“Please, Daddy.” 

“That’s right,” his tone sharpens as he abruptly shoves his length into you, pushing your slick walls apart.  He shudders as he bottoms out. There’s a tingling burn in the stretch, but it quickly fades as your body gives way to the intrusion. And then, the overwhelming feeling is fullness and need for friction. 

His hips pull back, and your legs wrap around him, begging him all the way back inside. He slams into you, and you grunt with the impact as his flesh fills yours again. “Good girl,” he praises. His cock — How did you ever mistake another man for him? He slams in again, making you whole. 

As he fucks you, your thighs tremble, and you whimper, “Daddy,” drawing a groan from him.

He rails in, and slides almost all the way out. Each time, your cunt is pulling at him, begging him back in.  

“Whose little slut are you? ” He asks, his thrusts becoming sharper.  

“Yours, Daddy.” 

A bead of sweat hits your sternum, then your forehead.

“That's my girl,” you hear in surround sound. 

A salty drop falls into your mouth.

“Daddy’s little slut,” he breathes, “can really take a cock,” and the voice changer catches the last half.

He hovers his body lower, closer to yours. A thick steam condenses between you as he pounds you unforgivingly, even from the closer angle. Your chest, your whole torso, you’re all dewy with heat. And his skin, it’s so close, you want to feel it. You neeeed to feel it. 

“Fuck,” you whisper. 

Yearning to put your hand on his chest, you try to wriggle out of the rope and your wrists begin to burn. Your breasts jiggle and jut into the air with the effort.  His chest grazes your tits, and you gasp with the pleasure that seizes your tummy. 

You take a deep breath through your nose, drowning yourself in his masculine scent and the weed that hangs in the air. 

He thrusts sharply and stays all the way in, grinding against you. His chest grazes yours again as he brings his mouth to your ear, and feeling his breath makes you weak. “Cum for Daddy,” he whispers, and his lips graze your temple with another thrust. He raises his volume, catching the modulator. “Cum on this cock, princess.”

“Mmm,” You bite your lip and whimper. 

“One more for Daddy.” His thick, hard manhood drags heavily through your tight, wet channel, then he grinds again after bottoming out. His pubic bone is nudging your front just right. 

“Mmgh,” you whimper, “Daddy,” and the pressure bursts. You whine, overtaken by your rhythmic release, hips lifting into him. His heavy breaths seem to echo to the beat of your climax. 

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes, fucking you through it. “Ohhh,” he thrusts sharply and shudders as he begins to pulse. Your spasming cunt milks his cock. Your heels dig into his back. 

He shoots a thick, hot rope deep into your cunt, and with a slow thrust, another one.  Then his cock cruelly slides out. Your heart falls, and your legs reflexively tighten around him. You whine, “no,” with your desperate cunt grabbing at nothing. 

But it's only a split second before his dripping wet cock shoves into your ass. It’s just in time to pulse again as his girth spreads you open and he claims another hole. “Yeah,” He bottoms out and your whole body heats up. In surround sound, you hear, “Hell yeah.” 

He groans as he pulses, and over a few more beats and moans, the rest of his hot seed floods your guts. Each twitch of his shaft makes you shudder. You let yourself get lost in the warmth.

He breathes vocally as he finishes. Then his nose grazes yours ever so briefly, and you bite your lip. As he slides out of your ass, his breath is humid on your cheek and the corner of your mouth. When his face pulls away, your face feels cold.

He reaches toward the corner of your bed. Then you hear him rustling around as he puts his mask back on. 

“Untie me,” you beg. He gets off the bed. More rustling. When he comes back, you feel his pj pants graze your bare skin and you’re offended. 

He lightly braces a hand on your shoulder as he gets closer to where your hands are tied. The cool metal of his blade hits your palm and gives you a chill. The flat of the knife presses into your skin as he slices part of the rope and it loosens. You free your hands and bring them in front of you to caress the burn marks from your attempts to free yourself. He gets off your bed again. 

“You had company tonight,” he remarks. 

“Uninvited,” you clarify. 

“Ohhhh. *Uninvited*,” he taunts with skepticism. The location of his voice has changed—he’s pacing. 

“Jealous?” You ask.

“No,” he replies. “Want him to bleed out anyway? ” 

“Yeah,” you answer. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“He’s not a good guy,” you offer.

“Oh, princess. If he was a good guy, you wouldn’t let him in your pants. . .Wouldn't give it up that easy.” 

“I didn’t–what–If you were here, why didn't you do anything?” 

“Oh, I did a lot. Just not to him.”

“How long have you been here?” 

He ignores the question.  “Tell me, princess. Why would Prince Charming knock you out, and then just. . . leave?”

“I dunno,” you mumble. “But I'm glad he left.”

“Cause he got what he wanted,” Ghostface answers his own question. 

“He didn't even cum”

“Oh, that's not it, princess.” 

“How would you know?”

“Think, Pumpkin.”

You’ve got nothing. 

“There’s gotta be one brain cell left.”  He sits down on the bed to put on his shoes. 

“You're not gonna tell me?” 

He stands up. You hear the woosh of his robe as he puts it on and walks away.

“Wait,” you protest. But he doesn't say a word. His footsteps recede, and you tug the blindfold down to see his robe trailing behind him toward the back door. 

“Asshole,” you mutter to yourself.

When you go to the bathroom, cum is leaking out of both holes, which shouldn’t surprise you. After cleaning up, you get back in bed and keep the blindfold with you. It’s faded green, stiff with sweat. You sniff it. His sweat.  Your chest feels light with forbidden affection. 

Then you’re back to thinking about the question he left you with.

What did Javi want? You push through the shame and replay it all in your head. And then, you see the way he held his wet fingers so carefully as he left, not letting them get contaminated. And it makes your stomach drop. He might be trying to do his job, after all. It unsettles you and keeps you up. 

You curl up under the covers, hugging a pillow. The bandana is wrapped around your hand, pressed against your nose and lips. The scent is comforting. You dart your tongue out for a taste, and find even more comfort in the salty tang. Then ,you take a wrinkled corner of it between your teeth. Your lips wrap around the cloth, and your body finally relaxes fully. You drift off suckling at his sweat. 

Thank you for reading! PLEASE READ THIS NOTE

Thank you for being here and sticking with me. I value each one of you. I can't overstate how much your comments and reblogs really help and motivate me. Your asks, too. I love knowing what you enjoyed most.

As for what's next - no promises, no time estimates.

When people simply demand the next one (ignoring the notes at the end of the fic, on the masterlist, and in my pinned post) without saying anything about the one they just read, it does NOT make me write any faster or prioritize this story. It's actually pretty demoralizing. I work hard on these and if the only thing Im gonna hear after the next one is NEXT/MORE, what kind of incentive is that for me to do the next one? I'm glad you're excited but please try to show it in a different way by appreciaging/acknowledging what you just read. Please ❤️