#I mean I only just watched the virgin suicides

[goryhorroor]

I’m trying to watch more non horror movies so if anyone has any suggestions, send them my way

[wandaslittlebird]

Her Special Girl

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

After being away at college for three years, you finally come home for the holidays. And no one is more excited to see you than your stepmom.

CW: Stepmom/Stepdaughter, MOMMY ISSUES, slight daddy issues, mommy kink, cheating, breastfeeding, fingering (R receiving), mentions of strap usage, flashbacks, mentions of past: suicidal thoughts, loss of virginity, ghosting

Word Count: ~5k

A/N: I think if I keep this up, they’re going to revoke my degree in psychology and bury me for defending psychosexual development.

A/N: I could be talked into making a part 2 for this. And by talked into I mean approximately 1 person needs to ask. I had way too much fun with this.

Part 1 of Her Special Girl

——————————————————--

She knew something was wrong when you had called her to pick you from your mom’s house a week early. You weren’t supposed to be coming home till Christmas Eve, but here you were, curled up in her passenger seat only three days after being home for Christmas break. 

Wanda wasn’t supposed to be the one picking you up. You originally called your father, but he was, unsurprisingly, unavailable. Apparently he was off playing ‘not the world’s worst stepdad’ with Wanda’s boys for the week. Probably some bonding time enforced by Wanda. He was never terribly keen on spending time with his family. Plus it got the miserable old man out of her hair for a few days. Merry Christmas to Wanda.  

“Mom’s house was that bad, huh?” she asked. You simply nodded in response. She made a sympathetic noise and rubbed the back of your head. “I’m sorry sweetheart. We’ll talk about it when we get home?” 

You nodded again, thankful she wasn’t going to fill the car with awkward small talk. You reached for the radio, turning up the quiet christmas music. You rested your head against your knees, absently humming the familiar music to soothe yourself. You didn’t notice the way Wanda’s heart absolutely melted everytime she got a glance at you. As much as it broke her heart that you’d had a bad experience at your mother’s house, she was glad to have you home for Christmas. 

—------

Wanda and your father had married when you were around 16. In the first years, you weren’t close. In fact, you had hated Wanda at first. The kindness and gentleness she offered you was so alien and unfamiliar. Everytime she did you a favor without being asked, or made a move to give you physical reassurance, you felt like your inside would turn to mush. By that point, you were old enough to decide when you wanted to go to your dad’s house, and it felt easier to avoid her entirely than confront the gnawing feeling in your chest that arose whenever you interacted with her. So you spent those years at your mom’s house.

But as time passed, something shifted. 

In what was supposed to be your last semester of high school, it became pretty clear you were not going to pass. Your life, the one you had planned for at least, fell into a tailspin. You watched all of your friends move on without you. Both of your parents were extremely disappointed with you and seemed to give up on you in favor of the new families they’d created. All of your hopes and dreams of finally escaping to college were put on hold. You had completely lost all direction. 

And one night in late July, when there was no school to look forward to in August and no hope of starting a life of your own without a high school diploma, you hit rock bottom. You were lying down in the shower at your dad’s house and you found yourself unable to get up. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t do it anymore. And just when you thought your body would decay into the blue tile, you heard a knock at the door.

“Honey? Are you okay in there?” 

It was Wanda. You wanted to yell that you were fine and you'd be out in a minute, but you couldn’t get the words out of your mouth. So you didn’t respond. 

You heard the sound of a key pressing into the lock, and the hesitant steps of your stepmother making her way into the bathroom. “Honey?” she called again. She gasped when she found your limp body in the shower. She threw the glass door open, turned off the shower that had long since gone cold, and wrapped you up in a towel. You were too far gone to be embarrassed that your stepmother was seeing you naked at 18 years old. All you could do was throw your arms around her and sob and babble apologies. 

“Oh! My sweet girl. How long have you been in here? I just woke up to use the restroom and I heard the water still running. You poor thing, have you been in here all night? You’re freezing. Your poor lips are purple! Come on, let's get you warmed up.”

With impressive strength, she was able to pick you up and carry you to bed. She threw all of your softest blankets around you cocooning you with warmth on all sides. Then she sat on the bed next to you, wiping the cold wet hair from your forehead. 

And for once, you were too weak to push her away. Too weak to fight the magnetic draw you had always had towards the woman. You needed her more than anything in the world. You wanted to be surrounded by her. You craved an impossible closeness with her. The hole in your heart had grown so big it nearly devoured you, and she was here to patch it up and kiss it all better.

So you melted into her touch, inching your body closer to where she sat on the bed until you were wrapped around her. You almost expected her to inquire as to where this was coming from, the sudden closeness after avoiding her for so long. You thought maybe she would even reprimand you for your childish behavior, or call you weird for acting like this with her. But she didn’t. “Aww my sweet girl. You’ll be alright. I’m not going anywhere. Mama’s here.”

And she didn’t call you weird when you tugged on her nightshirt, silently asking her to lay down with you. She simply crawled under the covers, kissed your head, and pulled your still naked body into her arms. “You poor thing, you're still freezing. It’s okay, mama will keep warm.”

And she didn’t reprimand you when you decided there was still too much separation, so you pulled her nightshirt up over her head, leaving her bare in bed with you. “Mmm, you’re right this will get you all nice and warmed up. You're a very smart girl.”

“I love you, mama.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

She tangled her body into yours, enveloping you in the warmest embrace. Her skin was so incredibly soft against your, pressed into every inch of your body. You could feel the way her heart overflowed with contented joy with you between her arms. 

And nothing was ever the same after that. In the span of twenty minutes with her, you’d gone from believing you could die on the shower floor and no one would care, to feeling like the single most important thing in her entire world. You were hers. 

And you were hers when she gave you your first kiss over an episode of “Legend of Korra.” You’d been so over eager, it’d felt like you were trying to eat her face, but she didn’t make fun of you. She just calmly pulled back, giving you all the instructions you needed to make your second kiss perfect. 

And you were hers when she took your virginity while your father was away on a business trip. She had laid you out on the bed, kissing slow trails down your stomach while you gasped and shuttered at every new sensation. That first night, she treated you like you were made of the finest glass, beautiful and delicate. 

And you were hers when she cried into your arms, begging you not to go so far away for college. With her help, you’d finally gotten a high school diploma. You had the funding from your father to go anywhere you wanted. She wanted to want you to go, she really did. She wanted to want whatever was best for you, but she wasn’t ready to let go of you yet. 

But when you packed your bags and left anyway, you couldn’t be hers any longer. There were no phone calls, no texts, no apologies or explanations for why you left. You were simply gone like you’d never existed in the first place.  

—------

“So,” she asked, helping you carry in your luggage and dropping it in the foyer, “do you wanna talk about what happened with your mother?” She knew you and your mother had never gotten along. She was honestly more wondering why you even decided to go home in the first place. You had spent Christmases with your friends since you’d left for college, but this year you had inexplicably decided to come home. 

You shrugged. “Same as always, I guess. There’s never been a group of people I’m so palpably unimportant to. She and my stepdad have a family of their own, ya know? And I’m just… not part of it. Every time I’m there I feel like a ghost haunting a happy family.” Tears welled up in your eyes, falling down your cheeks. 

“Oh, honey,” Wanda sighed, cupping your cheek with her hand. You only cried harder at the gesture. It was so kind. So gentle. So familiar. You fought your every instinct to not throw yourself against, clinging to her like a petulant child. You wanted to be close to her again.  

The look in her eyes made you feel like you were going to explode. She was listening to you, like actually listening to you. You couldn’t help but pour your heart out to her. “I don’t even know why I tried to come home this year. I just had this idea that I was gonna come home after being gone for so long and she was going to have magically changed. I just had this, like… fantasy that she’d wrap her arms around me and apologize for not being there for me, say that all this time away has made her realize that she can’t live without me, tell me how I’m her most special little girl and she’ll do anything to make it right.”

You turned away from her, suddenly very embarrassed of all the things you’d just confessed. “It was stupid. Whatever. It’s never been like that and it’s never going to be like that. I’m fucking 22, I wasn’t going to be mommy’s little princess anyway.” You felt the urge to run away. You couldn’t bear to look at your stepmother’s face any longer. You made a quick break for the stairs, but Wanda caught your wrist.

“Honey, wait!” she said, pulling you back around to face her. Your head spun and your skin tingled when she touched you. “You know you're still my special girl, right?” 

“Of course, but you have your boys and they’re your whole world. And that’s a good thing! They’re really lucky to have you, I just…” You trailed off, unsure of what to say next. 

“You just?” she asked after you didn’t speak for a minute. 

Another torrent of tears stung your eyes. “I can’t be your special girl. I’m not even really yours.”

Wanda tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean by that, honey?”

“I’m not your baby,” you said, choked up by your failed attempt to not let your tears fall. You ducked your head, avoiding her gaze at all cost.

She took a step towards you. “Hey,” she started, reaching for your chin to make you look at her. “I’ve missed you, you know? While you’ve been gone.”

“You did?” you asked in almost a whisper. 

“I did,” she reassured. “I thought about you all the time. I never let your father get rid of your bedroom, even though he wanted to move his office there. And there’s still a chair at the end of the dining table for you. And in the winter time I always buy that peppermint creamer for my coffee because it was always your favorite.”

Your resolve finally crumbled and you threw yourself around her, clinging to her desperately. “I missed you too, mama. I wanted to come home to see you, but I didn’t think you’d ever wanna see me again. After I… I thought you’d hate me forever!” you were sobbing in her arms, head tucked under her chin as her long nails scratched your scalp, just how you like. 

“Shh, baby it’s okay. I could never hate you. You’re home now. Mama’s got you,” she cooed. “Let’s get you a nice warm bath, get you all cleaned up, and then we can watch a movie in my room. Does that sound good?”

You nodded, reluctantly removing yourself from her. She reached out for your hand and smiled when you grabbed her arm with both hands, clinging to her awkwardly as you made your way up the steps. She led you to the master bathroom that had a fancy corner tub. She ran the water, checking the temperature to make sure the water was just right. 

“Alright pretty girl, arms up,” she said, lifting the hem of your shirt over your head. She neatly folded your shirt and placed it on the counter. She turned around to find you with your arms bashfully crossed over your chest. She took your hand. “None of that, sweet girl. It’s just you and mama, you don’t need to cover yourself.”

“‘s cold,” you mumbled, goosebumps rising across your chest.

“I know,” she said, bending down to unbutton your pants and push them down around your ankles. You wrapped your arms around her neck, using her for balance as you kicked out of your pants. “We’re gonna have you all warmed up in just a second, sweetheart.”

As soon as you were naked, you scrambled over to the warm tub. Steam was rising from the water’s surface where it met the cool air. You hissed as your cold feet met the water. Wanda giggled at your eagerness, folding your pants and underwear and placing them on top of your shirt. “Careful, pretty girl,” she chuckled. 

You sank into the tub, slowly allowing your body to adjust to the temperature. You sighed in contentment, resting your head back against the ledge of the tub. You rolled your head to the side to face Wanda, who had stripped off her jeans, leaving her in a long gray sweater that barely covered her ass. Your eyes glimmered at the sight of the beautiful woman. “Will you get in with me?” you asked. “Please?”

“Not tonight, honey,” she said, sitting down on the ledge of the tub behind your head. She stuck her feet into the water on either side of you, leaving your head between her bare thighs. “Mama’s already had her bath. Now keep your head tilted back for me. I don’t wanna get any soap in your eyes.” Any protests you had were quickly cut short when you felt long fingers massaging your favorite coconut shampoo in your hair. Wanda worked cautiously, careful not to get any soap in your eyes. She somehow managed to keep your face almost entirely dry throughout the entire process. 

You nearly started to cry when she started applying soap to your body with a soft washcloth. It had been so long since someone had touched you so gently. You could feel how much she cared for you as she softly scrubbed the day's grime from your body. Each caress left trails of goosebumps rising on your soapy skin. You felt like you might melt into the bathwater. 

“Alright little love, kneel up nice and straight for me so I can get you all clean,” she calmly commanded. You hesitantly got up on your knees and turned to face her, reluctant to pull your body from the warmth of the water. Now that you were looking up at her, you felt suddenly exposed again. It was much easier to be naked in front of her with your back turned. 

You took in a sharp inhale when the washcloth landed between your legs. “Mama…” you whined, looking up at her with worried eyes. Her touch felt so good you couldn’t help but buck against the cloth while a knot still coiled in the pit of your stomach. You had the fleeing thought that you should tell her to stop and that this was wrong. But as she continued her ministrations, your head seemed to empty itself of any such thoughts. All you could focus on was the growing sensation between your legs. 

“Aww, sweet girl,” Wanda cooed. “It’s okay that you like it when you like it when mama touches you like this honey. You don't have to be embarrassed, angel.” She made slow, teasing circles around your clit through the thick cloth. You grabbed her arm, keeping her in place until she finally had had enough of the teasing and gently freed herself of your grip. 

“Mama,” you whined again as she continued to wash down the curve of your ass and the inside of your thighs. You weren’t sure why, exactly, you found yourself chanting her name, but it seemed to be the only word you could find. 

She smiled. “You’re okay, angel. Mama got you. I love you so very much, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of you, just like I used to. There’s no need to be embarrassed or guilty or scared. You’re still your mama’s special girl, okay?” She leaned down to kiss your forehead. You closed your eyes and allowed her complete control over your body.  “We’re all finished, detka. You can sit back down now.” She guided you back down into the water, turning you back around and resting your head against her inner thigh. She gently started to dry your hair as you settled back into the water. You found yourself wrapping your arms around her calf, clutching at her like she might fly away.

“Mama?” 

“Yes, little love?”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“How do you mean, angel?” Her voice was laced with concern. You weren’t exactly sure how to respond, so you nuzzled your face into her thigh in embarrassment. “Hey little love.” She bent down so she could see your face. “It’s okay. You can tell mama. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

You shifted around uncomfortably, unsure of how to phrase what you wanted to say. “I need you really badly mama,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I know I’m too old, but I wanna be your special little girl forever.” 

“Oh honey,” she soothed, “you’re never too old to be my special little girl. Even if you wanted me to take care of you forever, I’d love every second of it.” She laid back against the wall, closing her eyes and allowing herself to fantasize about what it would be like to have you back. Forever, this time. A faint smile painted her face at the thought. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re too old to need your mama. They might not understand it like you do, but you are a very very special girl and your mama loves you very very much.”

You nodded against her, shyly tucking your face back into her thigh. You sat like that for a minute, letting her fingers scratch your damp scalp while you smiled in contentment. 

But you could only rest naked between her bare legs for so long before the little pings of arousal took over. You turned around to face her, this time straddling a single one of her legs between two of your own. You sat back on your feet, resting your head on her knee. 

“Mama, please. I need to feel you again,” you sighed. You desperately craved the feeling of closeness you’d once shared. The feeling that you and her were the only two people in the world, and that you were as important to her as she was to you, and that was the only thing that mattered. 

You wanted her inside of you, touching all the parts of you no one else got to see. You yearned for the way she made you feel like the most precious thing in the universe, chasing your pleasure like it was her own. She felt good when you felt good. 

Conversely, you wanted to be inside of her, pushing into her like a puzzle piece that had always meant to fit together. You felt like you could rewrite time, finally inside your mama like you were supposed to be all along. 

She reached down beside the tub and pulled up a fluffy pink towel. She stretched it out with her arms, welcoming you into a soft embrace. She took such care in drying off every part of you, down to your calves that still stayed in the water. 

You sat in between her legs, her arms wrapped around your bare body. She pulled you close to her, your back flush against her chest. Then she wrapped her legs around yours, effectively pinning them open against the wall of the tub. 

You pulled at the sleeves of her sweater, desperate to get closer to her. There was still too much fabric between the two of your bodies. 

She shushed you pleas with gentle hands. “Not right now, detka. Let mama show you how much she’s missed you, okay? Then we can cuddle up all naked under the soft blankets on the bed just how we like to. Does that sound okay?”

You let out a displeased whine. You were extremely impatient. It had been years since you’d had her so close. But as she stroked your hair with one hand and your clit with the other, you found yourself more amenable to suggestions. “P-promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” she reassured. 

She kept her pace just steady enough that talking, and thinking for that matter, became difficult. “A-and we stay like that all-all night?”

“All night, angel.”

You finally nodded in agreement, relaxing against her. You kept a ironclad grip on her bicep, feeling the muscles flex as she played with your most sensitive parts. 

She moved her fingers down through your folds, teasing your entrance. You tried to force your hips down onto her fingers, but her legs kept you from moving. You settled instead for whining like an injured puppy. “Please mama, please.”

“Mmm,” she hummed in your ear, circling your entrance with the tip of her finger. “I’m so lucky. I get to have my most special girl and all her most special parts,” she sunk her middle finger into you, eliciting a mangled groan, “all to myself.” 

“All yours,” you assured, feeling her finger curl and twist inside of you, making room for more. She was always so calculated with the way she pleased you. You were like a present she was methodically unwrapping, peeling each piece of tape off, careful not to damage the paper. She was in no rush to tear you apart. She kept her painfully slow pace, but sunk a second finger into you. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head. “I’m all yours, mama.” 

She leaned your head back onto her shoulder and kissed your cheek. You didn’t even notice the uncomfortable strain the position should’ve caused your neck. There was just her everywhere, caressing each part of your body with a tenderness you’d never experienced anywhere else. Her hand explored your chest, teasing hard nipples with gentle pinches and soft touches. Nails scraped their way down the soft expanse of your stomach, paying special attention to the curve of your hip bone.

“Mama, I love you. You feel so good inside of me, please don’t stop. Oh god please never stop,” you whined. You didn’t even care that she was moving her fingers too slow to make you cum. You were so content with just her filling you up, touching the parts of you no one else got to touch. You got to be hers all over again.

You thought back to your days with her, home alone. She’d let you sit on her lap in her office, arms and legs wrapped around her like a koala bear, her strap nestled inside of you. She was always so impressed by your ability to stay still for hours on end. But how could you want for anything more than to be full of her?

“You’re so tight and warm for mama,” she cooed. “I love feeling you around my fingers, baby. You make such pretty noises.” She sped up her movements, highlighting the sound of the wetness between your legs. You were nearly dripping a trail down the side of the tub. 

You tried to buck against her hand, but her legs kept you perfectly still. “Ooh mama. I love you. I love you mama,” you cried, unable to escape the building pleasure of her fingers. She slipped a third finger inside of you, only further spurring your desperate cries. “Please mama!  Please, I'm so full. Mama I wanna cum for you. I wanna cum on your fingers. Please! Please let me cum on your fingers.” 

Her fingers twisted and curled in all the ways that drove you crazy. You knew you couldn’t cum until she touched your clit, which she was tactfully avoiding for that exact reason, but you still felt nearly out of your mind with pleasure. You were jerking against her now, causing her to wrap her arms around your waist. “Calm down honey. Mama’s got you. You’re doing so good for me sweet girl.”

“Good girl for mama,” you mumbled brainlessly. The continuous pounding of her fingers made your head spin. There was nothing in the whole world but you and your mama. Nothing else mattered. 

“That’s right, angel. You’re mama’s good girl,” she praised. 

You nodded dumbly, unable to muster any more thoughts than “mama” which you chanted repeatedly. She shoved three fingers in your mouth, making the word come out even more unintelligible. You whined around her hand, but obediently sucked her fingers. 

“Can you touch yourself for me princess?” She asked, both her hands too occupied to finally put an end to your abuse. You both knew that just a little pressure to your clit would finally push you over the edge. 

You didn’t even acknowledge her question, just hopelessly cried around her fingers. “Aww sweet girl, you need mama to do it for you? That’s okay, honey. Mama will take care of it.” She pulled her fingers from your mouth, now covered in your spit, and reached down between your legs. She kissed the side of your head while she finally attended to your neglected clit. “That’s it, princess. Cum on mama’s hand.”

You were nearly silent as you fell over the edge, unable to do little more than jerk and squeak. She gently led you down from the high, removing her fingers and bracing you against herself so you didn’t tumble back into the now cold bathtub. She cleaned you up with a washcloth and wrapped you back up in the soft towel. 

She chuckled when she picked you up and saw your face, blissed out and stupid. She thought back to before you had left for college, when you were 18 and it took a lot more than three fingers and 20 minutes to get you here. “Nobody has touched you like that for a long time, have they angel?”

You shook your head against her chest. “Only you mama.” 

She smiled at the admission. Laying you down at the center of her big bed. You pawed at her sweater when she pulled away. “I’m just taking this off. I’ll be down there in just a second.”

She crawled under the covers only a moment later, pulling you closer and discarding the towel onto the floor. You nuzzled into her neck, wrapping your arms around her waist. You were so warm and so loved. You felt so important again, just like you did the fateful night she’d pulled you from the cold shower. In that moment, you couldn’t wrap your head around why you’d ever left. How could you ever have left anything so perfect?

“Mama, can I be inside of you next time?” You mumbled into her chest, unwilling to completely separate yourself from her. 

“Of course you can,” she replied, pulling you in to kiss your forehead. “Anything for my special girl.”

You smiled. “Can I use the dark red toy? The one that gives you the little bump right here?” You touched her lower stomach in indication. 

She couldn’t help but laugh at the request, recalling the only other time she allowed you to use that toy right before you left. Seeing the bulge in her lower stomach had gotten you so excited you’d pathetically rutted into like a teenage boy. “Only if you can be gentle with mama.”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Gentle with mama.” 

She smiled down at you, noticing your eyelids start to droop. “That’s enough for tonight, little love. Rest now and we can talk some more in the morning, okay?” She gently guided your head down to her chest. She smiled when you almost immediately took her nipple into your mouth, suckling contentedly, just like she’d taught you to do. Oh, how she loved you.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift off into a daydream. Maybe she could convince you to move schools so you could come back, live at home with her. Every stressful assignment or class or situation with your friends could end like this: in this intimate act that drowned out both your stress and hers. Maybe if you’d stay, she could get on hormones and start actually producing milk again. All for you. All for her baby girl. And she'd remind you how loved you were everyday, and you never take her for granted again. 

Yes, she’ll have you back in her arms just like it used to be. You’ll come home to her, and you’ll finally see that you’ll never need anyone else ever again.

[netherfeildren]

Kiss, Kiss, Kill, Kill!

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is a long haul truck driver. One day he finds a pretty girl in a diner and decides he’d like to keep her. 

Murder and sex ensue!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak; Graphic depictions of violence; Murder; Blood; Gore; Threat of SA; Impotence; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Loss of virginity; Virginity kink; Breeding kink; Spit kink; Rough sex; Pussy slapping; Dark!Joel; Mean!Joel (also kinda crazy and pathetic); Obsessive behavior; Possessive behavior; Discussions of suicidal ideations; Unreliable narrators; Alcoholism; Consensual non consent kind of (But not previously discussed - they're both into it tho); Use of misogynistic language; Grief

A/N: Hi :) Another one just bc I have no self control. 

Parts of the narrative read a little disjointed and/or confusing. This is intentional. I was kind of trying something weird out here, I guess.

Word Count: 9.7K

Read on AO3

The first time Joel sees you, it’s a Thursday. His least hated day of the week, but not his favorite, for he doesn’t really have any favorite things anymore. Your eyes’d stunned him at that first look. They sparkled as if dusted with frost – speared him with an intensity that burned. 

But no… that was a lie, and Joel is trying not to be such a liar anymore. He does have one favorite thing now. This middle-of-nowhere diner, this place where’d he’d found you. 

The first time he’d actually talked to you, you’d interrupted his own stubborn, sour silence with a silence of your own. Different, agonizing, compared to your usual persistent fishing for his attention. 

“What’re you doin’ out here in this wasteland, sweetheart?” Because you look sweet as that cherry pie you’re always trying to push on him. 

“Been here my whole life.” It’s verging on evening, the sky gone to melancholy, and there’s a young girl with dark hair weeping on the shoulder of an older woman in the booth over. He wants to snap at her, demand to know what the fuck she could possibly have to cry over? He’s sure she mustn’t have a dead daughter like him, and so there really seems to be no reason for tears. 

“No plans to leave?”

You shake your head, hum a little, set the coffee pot down on the edge of the table to pop a hip out and think on your answer. “Guess you could say I’m a little bit weak or scared, don’t know.”

“Doubt that,” a surprised laugh forced out of him. Entirely improbable, he knows this just by looking at you. “You’ve got eyes that seem as if they’ve never held fear within them in your entire life.” And he makes you laugh at that, head thrown back, throat rippling. The sound like the tolling of the bell indicating the start of the rest of his life. 

When you’re done gifting him your laughter, you ask, “What about you? Why are you here?”

“My daughter died.” Plain. 

Your eyes seem to shutter or flicker, something like a chimera about them, “When?”

“Two years ago.” He watches the crying girl and the old woman get up to go. And then the two of you are alone. You move to sit in the booth across from him. He’d been coming in here to see you for more than half that time since, and now, the first time the two of you are having an actual conversation, and this is what he’s decided to open with. But really, it’s the only story he has to tell anymore. He watches you watch him for a long moment, as though you’re searching for something within him, or mulling over what it is you want to say to him, the shift of your jaw from side to side as you chew on your words. He feels easily frightened now – fragile – and yet vibrantly malignant, at the same time. A juxtaposition on two opposite ends of the spectrum of good and not so good, or perhaps, verging on very, terribly bad, in the grocery store line of human morality. Two Joel’s at the start and end of the queue who could not seem to come to terms with one another. Enemies – they were enemies of each other. A Joel who’d once had a daughter, and a Joel who now did not. A Joel who’d pulled a trigger at his own temple, and one who’d never even considered such a thing. He draws his finger along the line of scar tissue at his temple.

For a long time he’d wanted to tear a hole in his world and escape, but he was no master of inventiveness. On the contrary, he found his attempt rather miserly – had short changed himself at the last moment and flinched. But perhaps, it had been for this reason – for you, to find you. He wishes he could peer inside your mind, crack open your skull and read everything you’re hiding away from him inside there. A violent thought, but you make him feel slightly violent, or – no, that’s not it – for Joel is already a violent man. It’s more that you pull a specific hue of violence out of him, incite it, like he needs to move, to howl, to claw at something, at you, scream and scream and scream to keep your undivided attention on him forever. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say finally, voice quiet. “How old was she?”

His loss. That was a funny way of putting it. It had never felt like a loss. The word was too small. Four letters was not enough to describe what it really was. There was no word for what it felt like. An emaciation of his very self until he simply ceased to exist. Something that had sucked his soul, his heart, his brain out of his body, but they didnt feel lost. They felt destroyed, decimated, or like they had never existed. Sometimes the feeling left him confused, disoriented – this strange purgatory he’d been relegated to, it was like it had never happened in his mind sometimes, or like it had happened to a different man. Like that life with that beautiful little girl with the green eyes who’d had a father who loved her, who’d then died, had happened to someone else. Someone who wasn’t Joel. Like a war that had raged and raged for centuries, and now nothing was left in its wake. Only that terribly fraught reminder of a violence too grotesque for a human mind to conceive. 

How could he miss something, wish for something so, so, so fucking desperately he’d peel his very skin from his body himself to get it back, but also feel like it didn’t belong to him anymore? Like it had never happened to him, like he remembered it out of his own body? A dream that belonged to someone else, and Joel’d only been told of it second hand. His mind was fractured now, he knew this. He wasn't right – broken or glued together the wrong way. His bones didn’t fit in his joints the way they were supposed to anymore. He was all wrong and ugly and fucked. 

“She was twelve.”

“My whole family’s dead,” you say it almost casually, with a half shrug of your shoulders. “Is that why you started driving? To get away?”

He’s been a long haul truck driver for going on two years now. Started just after Sarah – needed to get away, to get lost. He didn’t enjoy it – he does not enjoy it. Not because the work is bad or boring or what have you, but because he doesn’t enjoy anything anymore. But it’s productive and pays well and… well, he does appreciate the solitude. There is that, at least. He’d been on the route from New Mexico to Washington for several months now, and it was fine. Occasionally, he’d head up to the Dakotas – not so fine, longer, harder trek, but he managed it. He preferred this one, preferred the darkness of the north west corner of the country. He never went further south than New Mexico, though. Absolutely never into Texas. He’d never go back there again. 

“Sure… to get away.” He couldn’t be there anymore afterwards, had nothing left. “My neighbor, Anna, she’s got a teenager, Ellie. Sweet kid. Weird kid,” he laughs fondly, remembering the two of them. “The kid was friends with my daughter, Sarah. And after everything– well, after everything, Anna made sure they both stuck around. Didn’t let me shut myself away the way I wanted to,” ill-shaven recluse, confused, fractured, “They’re good people. You’d like them, I think. They’re… they’re my friends.” They were another reason he kept doing the driving, he liked to send money back to Anna and Ellie. He knew they didn’t need it, didn’t want it, but he had to. He needed to feel like he was still taking care of someone, contributing to someone’s well being. It was just part of who he was. 

“I’m sure I would.”

He watches your silent enrapture as you listen to him tell you of his pseudo life. After a while he’d realized that was all he’d started doing, making his way back to you, to this diner where you work. A sad place for ugly men to stop in on a pause from their interminable journeys and lay eyes on an angel. He hadn’t even really realized that’s what he was purposely doing or that it’d become a pattern. He just needed something to see at the end of the tunnel, a light to look towards when he was lost in the darkness. That’s what you are, a single flickering light in the abyss of darkness he exists in now. 

You’re small – tiny compared to Joel’s own hulking size. He thinks he could break you, easily, if he isn’t careful, if he so felt like it. And you were – you are so fucking pretty. He thinks of you so often. Almost as often as he thinks of his dead daughter which might seem wrong or strange, but it’s really nothing more than the two opposite ends of a spectrum of perfect beauty that he’s known within his lifetime that now he cannot reach either end of. Sarah – dead, forever out of reach. And you. Too perfect for consideration, too beautiful and good for these monstrous hands of his. The thing he’s become in his grief is not worthy of a gorgeous creature like you. His existence post Sarah’s death had become some sort of apocalyptic dysphoria where the only monster here was Joel. But he does like to watch, and he does like to think of you. To come to your diner and sit and watch you serve coffee to your customers – the scum that muddles through here isn’t worthy of laying eyes on you – men like him. Sometimes, when he sits here silently, pretending to ignore you and not be entirely beguiled by you, he feels as if he has a purpose again, like the money for Anna and Ellie, getting to inconspicuously watch over you, make sure no one gives you a hard time gives him purpose. And when he goes, even though he never really wants to, he takes you with him in his mind through the long stretches of his hauls. When there are nothing but ghosts to keep him company. When thoughts of Sarah and that dead life become too overwhelming, he calls you to mind, plans his routes to make his way back to you. 

You’re also fucking persistent – not giving him the chance to wallow away in his silence and brooding. He was rude at first, gruff and unresponsive and wouldn’t ever acknowledge your queries of, How’s it going today, and, Oh, back again I see. Sometimes he wanted to snap and just spit the truth at you, ‘course, I’m fuckin’ back, I’m here to see you, I’m obsessed with you. And rounds and rounds of, Can I get you another cup of coffee? The same as usual? You’d memorized his order. Pestered and pestered and pestered for his name until he’d finally ceded it to you, and, How ‘bout some cherry pie this time? After a while you’d gotten sick of his recalcitrant bullshit and just dropped off the piece of pie, slipping it onto the edge of the table and sliding away without a word or a half look back at him. He’d eaten the whole damn thing, savored it, and caught your sassy, little smirk after he’d finished. He’d wanted to bend you over the counter and spank your ass until you cried after that. He bets you’d taste as sweet as that pie, that if he slapped your cunt enough times he could get it red as a cherry. He bets you’d like that – that you’d like it a little rough, a little dirty, a little mean. You might look like an angel, but Joel’s seen the way you look at him, the way you follow him with your eyes, leaning against the counter, chin cupped in your small palm watching him eat his eggs and drink his coffee. 

You want him. 

But Joel is frightened – frightened and cowardly and not right, and as much as you look like an angel, he also worries you might have the ability to entice him into very, very bad things – to provoke him into depravity, even. There is a part of him, large or small given the day and the mood and the weather that he walks in here on, that has the rotten half of his mind whispering at the not-so-rotten half that he wants to defile and debase you, and that he’s pretty sure you’d like it if he did. He wants to fuck you full of his come and then watch it leak out of your used, gaping hole. Then he wants to lick you clean, kiss it all better so that he can do it all over again.

The first few times he’d stopped at your diner, he’d pretended he hadn’t even noticed you, would lie to himself in his mind and tell himself that he had no interest in a little thing like you. He had no interest in women, in making connections, in having conversations. Occasionally… well– no, not occasionally. Twice, it had happened twice now, when the urge had struck, the itch had become too persistent, and his hand not enough, he’d gotten a hooker. The first time he’d shut down completely, lost his hard on and not been able to finish. The second time… he’d finished. He might’ve even made the woman come, he hadn’t bothered to ask, but he thought he might have. Then he’d gone back to his truck and cried great heaving sobs. Like he’d said… not right, he wasn’t right anymore. Couldn’t even fuck a whore without blubbering like a baby. He’d wondered if perhaps his grief had made him impotent. That’d be funny. That type of funny thing that is also a humiliation… you know the sort?

But after a while, the lie had become too much of a farce, even for his own mind. He knew, from that first moment he’d walked in, and you’d spun around, a bright smile and chirpy, little voice telling him to sit anywhere you’d like, be right with you, mister, that he’d taken notice. More than notice. He’d put you in his pocket that day and had carried you with him in some way since. Like a stone chosen off the beach, washed up by the tide and deposited in the sand just for him to come across, or maybe like a fucking infection, like the plague, for he did not want this. He did not want to think of you. He did not want to think of anyone or anything. He wanted to be alone and without anything or anyone for the rest of his life. If he did not have anyone, if he remained alone, then he could never again experience that loss which was not truly a loss, but something much worse and devastating, and even, perhaps, a little hilarious, in that way that a hilarious thing can also sometimes be humiliating and shameful… there it is. A loss that is not a loss for it is a thing so devastating it becomes something else entirely. A humiliation to one’s very existence, a decimation, emaciation, all the things, all the things, and nothing at the same time.

His mind was wont to ramblings, on occasion now. Perhaps, incoherence, was the better word. Anxiety, as well, panic, tears. Couldn’t even fuck a hooker without weeping, howling, a few sobs. 

He had wandered so far, and sometimes he thought, I want to go home, but of course, that home no longer existed. It had been put in the ground two years ago and lost forever. The dissatisfaction of constant ennui. He could, perhaps, return to the geographical place, but nothing familiar would remain. He couldn’t live with the memory, he couldn’t live away from it. It was like it had simply ceased to exist that day that she’d died, and every moment since that moment was just a series of moments filled with a yearning for some place that no longer existed. He didn’t think he’d ever again feel at home anywhere.

And yet…

He turns back to look at you. 

“How did they die? Your family.”

“Home invasion – murdered. He never found me, hid in the boiler closet.”

“Little rabbit.”

“Hmm,” a huff of a laugh, “Maybe. Someone once said I was lucky. Pretty fucked up, no?”

“Do you feel lucky?”

“Never. Angry – that I’d been left behind.”

“Yeah…”

“Alone.”

“Are you alone?”

You turn back to him. Inspect him. He watches the slant of your eyes take in his hair, his face, wrinkled, haggard, his chest, his arms – he feels a flush flare beneath his ribs, then back up to his eyes. He wonders if you’ve ever been fucked before. You’re young – but he can’t imagine how you wouldn’t have been. He thinks he’d do anything in this moment to get between your thighs, but also, he hopes you haven’t, hopes you could be all his, only his, his his. Mine. 

He hopes he won’t cry if he gets the chance. 

“Entirely,” you say finally. 

“I had– have– ” shakes his head, “I have, I guess, a brother. Tommy. But the last time I saw him… I was horrible.” They seldom saw each other now – lie – they never saw each other now. Truth, Joel. We’re telling the truth now. 

You laugh lightly, shrug, “Happens.”

“Sure…”

“What’d you do to him?”

“Ah, just couldn’t get a handle on myself after everything. Things got bad enough eventually, and we fought… a lot. Violently. I was violent. One morning I got out of hand, terrible – one of my biggest regrets. We hurt each other with our words and our fists, and in that way only two people who know each other too well can. He cracked my ribs, gave me half his orange in the evening, afterwards – said our apologies. He was gone the next day. Haven’t heard from him since. I just got to be too much for him,” he says again, needs to reiterate it, make sure you understand that he is too much and too dark, too unmanageable – ugly. That you should not be sat here with him. That he has a violence within him, and that you should probably run as fast and as far as you can, but that he cannot promise he will not follow. “I had…” he is ashamed of this part, surprising for he sometimes wonders if he still possesses the heart to feel shame, “I had a problem with drink for a while – not anymore, though,” he says quickly. “I promise, not anymore.” He should not be promising you anything. “I got control of it – knew it was making it all worse rather than better. Felt like I was trapped underwater with my damn ghosts – that … What's that thing called when – when sick people get like – like trapped inside themselves or somethin’? You ever heard’a that?”

-

“Locked-in syndrome.”

“Yeah– yeah. I read about that once or heard it somewhere – that’s what it felt like when I was drinkin’ – fuckin’ terrible. Let it go after a while… but by that time… Tommy was gone, done with me. I was – dunno… like some sort of demon or somethin’ – somethin’ bad.” He huffs a small, derisive laugh, looks at you with that ridiculously charming, crooked half smile. 

That laugh sparks a kindling of anger inside of you for him. This is a broken, angry, creature of a man, you think. Something fractured – not whole, and he must be handled with care and gentleness. “How could he just leave you?

“Didn't give him a choice. Sometimes people deserve to be left.”

“I wouldn’t have.” That sobers him, wipes the smile right off his handsome face. You think of the invisible giants hurting this man in some unimaginable fashion; of the endless tenderness coiled up inside of him and how the crushing of that tenderness – the death of it – has given way to what may be considered madness. Because after all these months of watching him, of him watching you, you can see it, recognize that tenderness for what it is, but also the madness, for it is impossible to ignore if you’re really looking. Soft marrow at the center of a hard man. 

“I did other things… worse things.”

“Try me.”

“I tried to kill myself.”

You whistle, long and low. You actually had not been expecting that one, at least, not the admittance of it, “You’re just full of truths,” for looking at him – the sort of man he’s built as, the thought that he could be felled by anything, even his own hand, is a little hard to believe. 

“Feels like a sort of confessional in this–”

“Shithole–”

“Diner–”

Your voices overlap. You both laugh. You think you quite like the sound of your voices intermingling one on top of the other. 

“What happened?”

“Flinched–”

“I flinch all the time.”

“Have you ever thought about killing yourself?”

You hum, tilt your head side to side on your neck as if you’re letting the thought slide from ear to ear within your skull. “Perhaps only the peripheral idea of it, but never with much imagination or dedication. I don’t think I have that much to kill myself over, you know?”

“Your family?”

“Not really – it’s sort of become just this… this thing that happened once. I don’t feel much ownership over it anymore. Don’t know why, exactly.”

“Sure, that’s how I feel about it sometimes too. That belongs to a different man now – like– like some actor or a facsimile, and I just look in on it as if from a distance. Enjoy the sight of someone else's suffering…” He shakes his head, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, no, I understand. Something to do in the way that a tragedy can be compelling to watch. You can let go, let go of your awareness of yourself and experience it in a way you’d never do so in the present moment.”

“A dissociation.”

“Yes. Why would you want to go and relive the basest parts of yourself all alone, over and over again? Not likely.”

“But it was me.”

“A dissociation,” you repeat, smile. 

“Yeah,” he pauses, turns the coffee cup round and round with the slow spin of his wrist as if to dissolve the remains of the grounds you know the shitty machine has left deposited at the bottom. There is a small dusting of golden brown hair covering his wrist and disappearing up his forearm beneath his flannel. You want to taste it, follow the trail to places unknown. “Not so well adjusted, us two,” And he laughs then. A real laugh. He lets you have a real laugh of his, and it is powerful – special. 

“Well… no.” Of course not. “I don’t think either of us could ever claim that.”

“Bet you’ve never been bad a single day in your life, have you?”

You cock your head, let your eyes slide from him to peer out the dark window. His lonely semi is parked under the single flare of light out there. The evening has sunk into a deep blue, the hue of mourning, of melancholy, and the pavement is wet with evening rainfall.

You'd heard that some trucks had spaces behind the seats where truckers could put a bed, have a place to rest. You wonder if he’ll take you back there and fuck you in his little bunk. And honesty is a fickle thing when discussing a topic like this, isn't it? There’s a depravity about him, and you can’t tell if the truth or the lie would placate him – incite him – more. To be similar in such a way as that which he’s imagining. A little bit of both, then. After all, intent holds weight – imagination, desire, it has a mass to it that can, if enough pressure is exerted upon it, be transformed into something else. 

“Not yet,” you tell him, sliding your gaze back to meet his, “Haven’t had a chance – but there’s still time.”

-

“What would you like to do?” He wants to take a bite out of that soft flesh you’re encased in, draw blood.

“Something depraved?” You’re taunting him – trying to provoke. It makes him slightly angry, but also hard. You should know what it is you’re toying with here. 

He frowns at you, at the lilting song of your words trying to beguile him into doing whatever it is you think you want him to do to you. “What is it that you think you want here? You don’t know what I was, how I lived. Shouldn’t be sat here with me, little girl,” he scoffs. “I was– was not– I don’t fucking know, not a man. I’m not, I’m not. Not a person anymore, just this thing that continues to exist. I should not have been expected to survive. This should mean something to you too. You also have no one. You’re alone too. You’re alone in the world. You know what it feels like to only live in the winter.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, and then you say: “I think I’ve come to quite like the winter.” And at that he knows he’s taking you for himself, whether you agree in the end or not. You’re going to be his. 

But he knows he must also let this roiling anger, this depraved hunger settle before he lays hands on you. Like this, in this state, he’d be too rough, break you, nothing compunctious about him or his jaggedness. He excuses himself for a smoke, your only response simply more of that inciting silence – more thoughts of cracked skulls and a cherry red cunt and tears after failed trysts with someone who doesn’t even know his name. He’s fucking embarrassing. What would Tommy say if he knew Joel couldn’t even get it up for a paid fuck anymore? He’d laugh in his face, never let him live it down. He misses his brother very much. He misses lots of things. 

He’s sucking on his Red under the awning of the diner’s entrance, imagining what it’ll be like to suck on your little clit, when he hears them. 

“She’s usually out about midnight. We’ll snag her then.” Grating, guttural voice.

“But I get to fuck ‘er first. This was my idea so I go first.”

“Yeah, whatever. S’only happenin’ ‘cause of me. Too fuckin’ stupid to see the plan through after all these months of watchin’ ‘er.”

“Fuck off.” Silence, and then almost with giddy elation: “We gonna kill her too?” Something cold and terrifying settles within Joel. 

A beat, “Should we?”

“Dunno, man. Might be fun, huh? Never done it before.”

“She’s fuckin’ pretty,” the voice draws the vowel out in a high pitched, sacharine whine. “Got the face of an angel.” Joel’s angel, his, his, only his.

He’s got his Bowie in a sheath on the back of his belt. Perhaps, this would be a useful exercise in release. After he’s dispelled his excess energy he can come back and touch you, take you. 

“Can’t wait to taste that cunt.” His cunt.

“Seen her tits, man? Fucking round and bouncy. Wanna make ‘em bleed.” And there’s only one avenue of consequence after that. After all, this is not the first time Joel’s done this. 

His most well kept secret.

Sometimes, when the itch cannot be eased, abated, by his hand or a fuck or a drink or any of the other readily available vices, he turns to this. Only when the straits were dire. Only when he saw no other recourse. Only after his daughter was dead and in the ground and his brother gone away from him

. 

But sometimes… sometimes it’s just fun. Sometimes it’s useful for a man to do that thing that he really feels he wants to do, if only to enjoy himself, if only to let go of some of that suffocating tension. If only to keep vermin like this away from an angel like you. 

“We’ll chill in the woods for a while, wait the little thing out, yeah?” Joel edges his way towards the edge of the building closer to them, peeks a lone eye around the corner. Two men, middle aged. Not a problem. Not for a man like him. 

He waits for them to make their way to the edge of the tree-line, watches them disappear into the gloom. He looks back into the diner through the murky windows. The warm glow of the overhead lamps washing you in a hue of golden light that brings out all the warm goodness in you he’ll take for himself once he’s snuffed out this issue. 

No one’s going to touch you but him. No one’s going to hurt you but him. 

As he rounds the corner of the diner there’s a piece of metal pipe propped up against the building by the dumpsters. Very nice. 

He goes after them. 

At the edge of the tree-line, under a swaying, low hanging branch, there is a tiny unfledged bird, helplessly twitching its way towards death in a puddle. He pauses to watch its struggle, gathers his skin about him, tightens his seams – prepares to gorge. He watches the inch by inch pilgrimage towards its last breath, then stillness. He feels so much older than his years, like he’s lived a thousand terrible years, watched a thousand terrible deaths. But there is a buoyancy about him, as well. Filled with a saccharine sweet fizz of sticky anticipation. He’s going to taste your cunt after this is done.

 He moves into the gloom. He’s going to kill them for you, and his cock is hard at the thought.

Stepping beneath the canopy of the trees, into that cold, damp darkness, he sees the absolute truth of the world. On the heels of two men who’d do you harm, he knows that he’d failed to save someone he cared about once, he’d not be bested by failure a second time. Darkness implacable, the crushing black vacuum of their overheard words buzzing in his head like flies, of the harm they’d do you. Two hunted animals moving away from a creature much darker than they could even imagine, scurrying on borrowed time. What most moves him is that the things they’d do to you are not so dissimilar to the things he plans to do to you, as well. The only difference being that after he’s done defiling you, he’ll keep you for himself, with all the care and gentleness a little thing like you so deserves. 

-

You press your ear to the cracked open door leading to the back of the building. It’s not the first time those two’ve talked their filth regarding you. The murdering is new, though. You’d not thought they were smart or inventive enough to come up with an actual kill plot. Rape enough of a hardball for minds as shallow and small as those two’ve got. 

You’d never really considered them much of a threat. Or maybe you’d just never really cared enough to pay them much attention. But as you watch the broad, rippling expanse of Joel’s muscled back stalk after them, his pause at the tree-line to look down at something on the ground, you think he must be more in the vein of taking a stupid man’s shit talk to heart than you’ve ever been. 

He has a thick, forearms-length of steel pipe gripped in his huge fist, and there’s a wicked looking knife strapped to his belt on the back of his hip. 

Interesting. 

You look back at the empty diner, the lonely parking lot beyond the glass of the windows, only Joel’s semi still taking up residence on the wet pavement. You turn back to follow after the three men. 

One you want, two you’re interested to see what fate awaits them.

For some reason, when you step outside, you’re expecting there to be snow on the ground, but there is none.  

You move across the pavement towards the forest-line, and the pilgrimage towards the verdant darkness feels very much like your one-way ticket out of this forlornness you’ve been trapped in your whole life. You’ve been stuck in this small town for so long, for too long. One man had already tried to forcibly evict you, had taken your entire family with him, maybe this one, maybe Joel, would do so in a way you’d more likely enjoy. 

There’s been a steady, faint drizzle all day long, and the puddles of rain look like holes in the dark pavement, apertures into some other realm that glide past underground. You wonder if you stepped through if you’d disappear below into some other place. You wonder if he’d be able to find you even in that unknown other. 

You cross the line into darkness. 

The familiar terror of silence – you don’t seem to find it here. There is only the sound of your rushing blood, the cadence of his voice rumbling through your psyche, firing your neurons up into a frenzy. There is a twisting heat low in your pelvis, dampness between your thighs. What’s he going to do? Why’s he going to do it?Is it for me? Is it for me? It’s for you.

You let out a low whistle between your teeth and move beyond the trees. There is a giddiness about the darkness of the wood – the motley of shadows, the aroma of mushroom rot. 

The familiar terror of silence. Perhaps, that is what they are experiencing now. The great horror of being set upon by a beast more terrifying than anything they could have ever conjured up on their own. 

That infinite tenderness from before, that acute madness – it coalesces in the gap in the trees as you come upon the three men. 

Joel has already started on the first. He murders almost tenderly. With great care, but infused with an aroma of agitated frenzy that seems flavored in the same notes of erotic buzzing that hums beneath your own skin. There is blood and viscera splattered on his face and clothes, in his hair. That great hunting knife embedded in the throat of the first man. The body lays facing you now, eyes open, shocked at his own death. Funny. Perhaps, that’s how they would have liked you to have ended up once they were through with you. 

Oh, how the tune changes when the monster is on your side. 

What are you? Be a creature. Be a creature. Be a creature!

You take Joel in. Thick, massive frame. You love his hair, it was one of the first things you’d noticed, thick dark curls streaked with the silver veins of his age and experience. Something that promised of care and knowledge and patience. His patchy beard with the heart shaped gap in it, you’re going to write your name into that space. His powerful arms, muscles coiled tight, his shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders as he brings the steel pipe up above his head, pauses to look down at his next victim. 

“We won’t bother her anymore, never again – p– please, please, I swear,” the man on the ground begs and cries. There are tears and snot bubbling down his ruddy, pocketed face. 

Joel is silent and terrifying and glorious above him, and then a small nod: “That’s alright… I believe you.” The metal comes down in a whistling arc, makes contact. 

Flesh and blood splatter, the sound of it is pulpy and wet and vindicating. He starts with the man’s knees, then his head, caved in like the shell of an egg, the yolk spilling out like vermilion drool. 

He heaves silently above the man that would have done you harm. Makes the threat go away. 

You step forward, cunt pulsing and wet and eager for him. When he’s gotten his fill of bludgeoning he turns slowly back towards you, as if he’d known the entire time that you’d been stood there watching. 

And the look on his face, it makes something electrifying and sticky buzz up your spine and ooze down your veins. You shift back on your heels

He shakes his head, his eyes are huge, pupils blown wide. “Don’t run,” he says slowly. If you hadn’t just watched him murder two men in cold blood – no, in your defense, he saved you, he protected you, fizzy heart full of satisfaction – you’d say he almost looks a little doe eyed. 

A hollow pounding begins in his heart, as if it had remained silent for the past two years and was only now taking notice of its own silence. His cock, hard enough to burst, angry and throbbing beneath the confines of his blood soaked jeans. Fuck this scum laying on the ground beside him, look at what he has infront of him. Nothing else matters but you. A goddamned angel. Damned for he’s found you now and nothing good can come of this. He takes a step towards you, and you match him with one backwards, away from him, his blood starts to howl in his veins. Different to the humming frenzy that had filled him as he did his murdering. This is hot and viscous and ravenous, and he knows he’ll get to keep his catch once he’s gorged himself on it. He knows he’ll get to keep you once he’s caught you. 

You take two more nervous little, quick steps away from him. Your eyes are slightly manic, face flushed, frame jittery, excited. A rabbit that knows it’s about to be caught. He watches the pause of your limbs as they fill with coiled energy, getting ready to make the bound and leap towards escape. He lunges, goes in for the kill, teeth bared, talons  brandished. 

Faster than you can even comprehend, he lunges, takes you to the ground with one massive, powerful shoulder to the vulnerable, soft of your belly, one huge paw cradled at the back of your skull to protect you from the hard ground. Your spine hits the cold, wet earth, the breath knocked out of you. You think you let out an animal noise, high pitched and supplicant. A thing that knows it’s been caught and is soon to be devoured. Your limbs scramble against the dirt, heels digging into the ground for purchase, you feel the loss of one of your shoes, as you try to get away or to crawl closer, who can be sure. A spider caught in the web or a larger, hungrier arachnid. He sets the huge heaviness of his muscular weight over your much smaller frame, one strong hand caged around the column of your throat, the other pushing your chest into the earth as he shoves his hips into the cradle of your own, forcing your thighs apart and your skirt to pool at your waist. You feel the stretch of the center plaque of your tights as his wide breadth settles between your legs, making room to take you for himself. You bring your own hands up to the wrist holding your throat and dig your nails into the skin there. You can feel the light smattering of hair covering his forearm beneath your soft palms, the cold, wet dirt beneath you, the searing stretch of the inner muscles of your thighs spread wide for him, the damp of the air surrounding the two of you. He leans forwards, pressing you down into the ground, and you have the fleeting thought that you want to transfuse yourself into the earth, into him. 

He pauses then to look down at you, appreciating the gloriousness of his catch. “Caught ya.” And he’s filled with an exuberance, a sort of victory. Look at what he’s snared – all for himself. 

You try and struggle again, if only to see the flare of annoyance in his eyes. It makes your cunt tight and achy. Even more than it already is. There’s a part of you that thinks you want him slightly angry – rough or mean. That you might like it even more if it hurts. Be kind enough to be cruel about it, you want to beg him. He leans forward to press his nose to your cheek, drags the cold vermillioned flush of it along your jaw, down the line of your throat, bites harsh and painful at your collarbone then over the peak of your breast. 

“Are you a virgin?” He whispers into your skin. It sounds very much like a threat. 

“Yes.”

“Saved this cunt all for me.” And it is not a question. Yes, you moan anyways. Let him know. Let him know that this defiling is a gift you’re granting him. He sits up on his haunches between your thighs, his hands sliding down to press on your lower belly and digs his fingers into the center of your tights and pulls, ripping a hold in them for his pillaging. You try and press your knees shut at the feel of the frigid air on your sensitive inner thighs, dig your nails into the ground above your head to try and drag yourself away from him. 

He digs his own fingers harshly into your flesh, his nails biting painfully into the soft skin of your thighs and ass and brings you back towards him. There’ll be streaks of pain left in his wake after this. Bad little rabbit. He smacks the inside of your thigh, watches the smooth flesh ripple for him. You let out a warbled, angry screech, little nails still trying to claw yourself away from him. He laughs then, a little mean, condescending. “Fight harder, little baby. This is pretty pathetic.” He rips your thighs apart, keep your fuckin’ legs open for me, his hands slick with the blood of his victims slide up the back of your thighs, anchoring his palms beneath the damp creases of your knees to press you open and wide for him, slaps your cunt, hard, over the soaking gusset of your panties. 

“Who the fuck’re you wearin’ this tiny little thong for?” he growls. It’s white lace, with a sweet, little pink bow adorning the front. “Me? Wrapped yourself up all nice and pretty for me?” Your little foot sneaks up under his armpit and tries to push with, what he’s sure is all your valiant might, at his chest, trying to unseat him from his conquering position above you, but he takes your ankle in a vice like grip, bites harshly into the meat of your calf so that an animal squeal of pain is clawed out of your throat at the same time that he slots his fingers under the damp center of your panties. “Sing as loud as you want, sweetheart. No one’s gonna hear you out here.” He can feel the soaking wet seam of your cunt against the backs of his knuckles, and he rips them clean off you. The sound of the last remaining barrier of protection of your cunt against his ravaging being decimated has you going shock still – prey that knows it’s caught and has decided to give up. Good, this is how he wants you. Your big, wet eyes look up at him as he flings the lace towards the still steaming dead bodies. That’s all they’ll get of you. The rest is only his. Mine, mine, fucking mine. 

You let your arms go limp above your head, soft and pliant and ready for ravaging, melting into the earth.

He presses your knees back and up, letting the red blossom of your wet cunt bloom for him. It’s slick and swollen, and he knows when he shoves his cock inside it’ll be burning hot. “Look at this gorgeous virgin pussy, baby. All for me. Only for me…” he murmurs, hypnotized, mesmerized. He drags the back of his knuckles over your slit, uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart, admires the swollen nub of your clit. You’re just as hungry for him as he is for you. Messy, eager little whore. He moves to undo his belt and free his aching length. Huge and brutish, thick veins pulsing just beneath the thin skin. He’s going to split you in half, break you, mold you in his image. 

He spits right onto your soaked folds, watches the thick glob of saliva slide down to mingle with your own leaking slick. He’s not even going to make you come first. Little virgin cunt and he’s not going to even bother getting you ready – just gonna shove the whole, unforgiving length of himself inside of you. Force you to take it. He fists his thick fist around himself, jacks his cock once, twice, squeezing at the bulbous head so that a trickle of precum seeps out of the slit. He presses his head to your clit, slides down to give you a small threat of pressure at your opening. When he looks back up at your face your eyes flutter shut, a look of pure contented submission washing over the gorgeous planes of you. 

“Not gonna be gentle, baby. Don’t got it in me.” He notches the fat head at the slick mouth of your entrance and crams his cock inside of you in one go, meets that thin barrier that says you still belong to yourself and rips through it. Mine now. No reprieve, no respite. And God, the feel of it, cleaved in half, scorching hot, filled to the brim and never deep enough. He is a rabid, snarling beast of a man as he hits the very end of you, grinds his cockhead at the mouth of your womb. You let out a warbled, pained moan, little fingers coming up to claw at his throat and chest with kitten-strength, down to dig into his thick thighs as he pins you down, and you tilt your hips to let him in deeper or escape him, he doesn't know. He doesn't care. He pulls his hips back and forces himself back in, too thick cock wedged into the too tight space. “Christ, goddamn tight fuckin’ pussy – made for me,” he grits through bared teeth.

He fucks you raw and cruel, and he needs you to just lay limp and still and take it.

And you do. And he does not cry this time. 

He sets a brutal pace, throbs deep in your belly at every pause as he grinds at your cervix. It must be painful for you, perhaps, but the flush in your cheeks, the fever in your eyes, the ripple of your cunt around his driving length tells him you also like it. “What a good girl, taking my big cock,” he coos. You preen, tilt your hips this time in supplication he’s sure, hitch your feet higher along his sides. There are tears running back down your temples and into your hairline. His cock makes you cry. If he could, he’d split your throat and drink, he would. But he cannot, so he’ll split your cunt instead. He thrusts into the hilt, complete negligence for care, for gentleness lost in the dark wood, for the desperate necessity of feeling your virgins blood coating his cock. Your protestations lost to the louder song for more, for harder, for deeper

Joel, Joel, Joel. 

He’s going to listen to you sing his name for the rest of his life. 

He feels unhinged, a thread picked at too many times, spun loose, unraveled and frayed. That edge that separates good and evil – his bloody fingers clamp down hard on the edge of your jaw, forces you to open for him, and he spits into your mouth – direct, dirty … warm. “Lemme see…” he rumbles, and you stick your tongue out for his inspection. Once he nods, pleased and smug and conquering, you close and rub the slick of his saliva onto the roof of your mouth with your tongue, savor the taste of him. This was the taste that you’d longed for… that which teaches you what that professed edge really is. Is he good, is he evil – he’d just killed two men, you’d watched him, cunt wet at the sight of it. Albeit to protect you… sure – but does it even matter? You swallow his spit down. Probably not. 

He is huge and life altering inside of you. Your virginity scoured away on his invading length. 

He leans forward, hand clamped around your jaw to pierce you with his manic gaze, like his cock pierces your cunt. He smells like the forest and sweat and power. “Little fuckin’ tease,” he grits, “Bringing me cherry pie like that all the time – fuckin’ provoking me. You just wanted me to pop your cherry for you. Didn’t you, little girl?” All you can do is nod dumbly and take what he gives you. He hooks one of your knees over his elbow, the other propped over his shoulder, foot bobbing limply at each slam of his hips. He has you bent entirely in half, cunt splayed wide open for him to fuck down into the deep, devastating end of you. Your vision goes blurry, black stars streaking across the back of your eyelids. All you see is him. Perhaps he’s all that exists now. Maybe you’re just as dead as the two bodies laying beside the two of you. You wonder peripherally what the sight of the four of you must look like. Joel’s hulking form fucking you like an animal into the dirt. You open your eyes to look up at him, there’s blood splatter across his face, in his hair. His skin is burning hot against yours. You think that perhaps you’ll have scorch marks in the shape of his fingers in your skin after he’s done with you. Two dead, brutalized bodies cooling beside the place where the two of you are fucking. 

“Can feel ya tightening up, baby. Gonna come all over my cock.”

He does something to change the angle, and it fucking hurts. “Too much,” you beg, try to push him back weakly, but your cunt pulls sharp and tight, and then your muscles are rippling around him, womb contracting painfully as your orgasms blinds you with its sudden intensity. 

“Don’t care,” he growls back. “Do not fucking push me away.” No, he must not care. Prey doesn’t decide how it’s felled, after all. 

He pulls out and back then, suddenly, slaps your cunt harshly, once, twice. You mewl, high and shocked, writhing around in the dirt. He grabs you by the hips and flips you so fast you’re left disoriented, pulling your ass up, up, up. 

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he croons, bends to bite down on the meat of your asscheek, and then notches back at your gaping, fluttering hole, orgasm still running through you, and pushes back in. You’re soaking wet, slick and fucked open by him and the taking is much easier this time. You feel his thumb press down on your asshole, “Gonna take this too. Gonna have every part of you, every piece. Gonna swallow you whole.” All you do is arch your back further, cheek smushed into the dirt, fingers digging into the cool earth for purchase, for salvation.

The sight of you stretched around his thick base, so slick he feels you dripping down his balls and further below, into the bloody earth. There’s a red tinge of your own blood coating his skin, and he’s going to come. He’s going to fill you up with his spend and fuck it deep into you until it takes. Until no matter how far you want to run, he’ll be with you, always. He lets his head fall back on his neck and stares up at the dark canopy of the trees, groans low and deep.“You’re gonna be my little hole now,” he promises, presses one large palm into the small of your back to deepen the angle and fuck down into you. “Gonna take you with me and fill you up whenever I feel like it. My gorgeous little cumslut.” The ramming of his hips starts to grow sloppy and stuttered, close to the edge now. Victory is so, so near. 

You start to claw at the dirt and wiggle again. Little knees chafed raw and scrambling against the hard ground trying to get away. He slaps your ass hard, hopes there’ll be the print of his hand to appreciate later. 

“Not inside, not inside – not – no birth control,” you stutter, beg.

“I’m not fuckin’ pulling out.” He twists a cruel and unyielding hand into the back of your hair and presses your face harshly into the ground. Your eyes pinch and tears seep and mingle into the blood and dirt beneath you. “Gonna pump you raw and full. You don’t gotta worry about anythin’ anymore, baby. Gonna take care of you,” he grits and you press yourself harder back into him. There is an existential seesaw inside of you – a volleying of your wants – you want him to hurt you, to force you, to take care of you and keep you, all at the same time.

“Promise – promise me you won’t leave me,” you cry and beg because really, that’s all you want. All you’ve ever wanted. For someone to stay, for someone to never leave, no matter what.

“I promise – fuckin’ swear.” And you go loose and passive again at that – his to do with as he will. Nothing else really matters after all that.

He senses the change. The loosening of your muscles into capitulation. He stops his thrusting and grinds, strums at your clit. “Oh fuck, you want me to fill you up? And what happens if I do? What happens if it takes? Want me to get you fuckin’ pregnant?” Starts to fuck into you again, “I think you do.”

Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care.

“You’re mine. Fucking mine.” He says it again and again and again, yes, yes, yes, lets himself fall forward, anchored above you with one strong arm as he presses as deep as he can physically go and starts to fill your pulsing cunt with his come, the heat of his spend inciting you to roll into one more throbbing orgasm. He brings his face down close to yours, open your eyes, little thing, lemme see you. The fluttering of your lashes, sweaty, dirt-streaked face, and you are seraphic, the wet crimson heat of your blood pounding beneath the delicate membrane of your skin. Gorgeous, perfect, conquered and his. 

“Fucked full’a me now,” he whispers, presses a soft kiss to the tender skin of your eyelid. You nuzzle into him, and then look up at him with the warmest, most vibrant gaze he’s ever seen. Fucking pleased and sated. 

“They wanted me, but only you get to have me now,” you whisper. “How does that make you feel?” Provoking, provoking again. 

“Like I fucking own you.” He grinds his still spitting cock further, feels the pull of your muscles milk him deeper. 

He lets his weight fall partially over you, too heavy for the full mass of himself. You are, after all, a delicate thing, and he must remember to handle you with care, occasionally. He feels the pulsing and quivering of your cunt around his softening cock, and the two of you settle to lay there in the dirt, bodies still dead, virginity scoured and stolen, and stare at each other. 

“Have you ever been in love?” you whisper, dragging the tip of one little finger, whisper soft, over the arch of his brow, the slope of his nose.

“I feel a little in love with ya right now,” he confesses, and you press that finger against the seam of his mouth, begging for entrance, and then inside, against the flat of his tongue to inspect the wet gleam of it. It’ll be inside of you soon enough, you should take a look at that which you’ll be writhing against in due time. 

“Good. That was my plan all along.” Smug, conniving little creature. 

-

Once it’s full dark, he packs you into his truck, buckles your seatbelt for you, tucks a blanket around your dirty knees and drives off as if he hadn’t just murdered two men and taken your virginity with their blood still hot on his skin. He goes for miles and miles, eventually finds a dark, secluded spot to park the truck for the night. He takes you into the back bunk and fucks you like you’d wanted him to, on your side, one leg slung over his shoulder, hand gripping the lush of your ass to pull you onto his impaling cock, watches your ass bounce against his thrusts. A demanded play with it, lemme see ya push it back in, as he watches himself drip out of your messy hole. Eats your cunt until you cry. Afterwards, the two of you lay, naked and damp, facing each other, tracing the lines of one another in the quiet dark. 

Sometimes he’s worried he’s blood hungry – or pain hungry. Starving for something he doesn’t have a name for. But he thinks that, perhaps, he can use your name to fill in the blank space now. He’d always felt as if his devotion was a punishment to the receiver. After all, everyone Joel has ever loved has left him. But as he looks at you, there’s something in your eyes that tells him that perhaps, you’ll remain. Perhaps, he can compel you to, force you to. Perhaps, he can anchor you to himself, and in turn, give you everything. 

“Are you a ghost?” he asks.

“No. Are you?”

“Sometimes I think I am.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re like a fuckin’ angel or somethin’. What were you doin’ out here in this wasteland?” He asks you again.

“Maybe I was waiting for you.” This answer he likes.

He’s quiet for a long time after that – taking you in, cataloging you, memorizing you. His fingers ghosting over your face, your hair, strumming the fan of your lashes. Later he asks: How do you remember the memory of someone else? How do you keep them when they’ve gone somewhere entirely unreachable?

“Because you love them,” you tell him.

“That’s enough?”

“Of course. Will you ever forget that you loved her?”

“Never.”

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

As You Wish | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Summary| You've had your eye on Neil for a while now and Neil's friends can tell but Neil isn't so sure until you come into Gumshoe Video with a boy on your arm with horrible taste in date-night cinema. When the date goes awry, Neil jumps to action.

Warning| Age gap, reader (19) and Neil (27), rudeness, flirting, touching, Neil being a little creepy, Neil's dubious consent, talk of virginity and inexperience, kissing, blowjob.

Mastermind- Taylor Swift (yeah, I said it) 🎵

Colorblind- Counting Crows 🎶

word count: 4933k

*sentences in italics are quotes from The Princess Bride (1987)

Please read warnings before continuing- thanks!

“That kid keeps coming around. If you’re not careful she’s gonna fall in love and you’ll be in deep shit,” Lucien fixed the thick frame of his glasses on his angular nose and returned the fake pipe to his mouth. 

“Why don’t you shut up, Lucien. It’s not like that. Just keep your weird thoughts to yourself in my store.” Neil called over his shoulder as he stocked the shelves with returned VHS tape sleeves. He ran his elbow over his forehead, wiping away the thin layer of perspiration. 

“Everyone’s thinking it…” Lucien raised his hands in defense and Neil rolled his eyes. Jonathan came in from Neil’s office holding a milkcrate full of new movies, still wrapped in plastic. Neil whistled at him. 

“Jonathan, do you think that girl likes me?” Neil shot Lucien a look as Jonathan answered. 

“Oh yeah, 100% dude.” 

“What, no! Jonathan, you were supposed to say no.” Neil spoke with his hands, slapping his hand against his face. Lucien chuckled and Jonathan looked between them, confused.

“What? Neil, did you want me to lie or something?” Jonathan put down the milkcrate and leaned against the checkout counter. 

“He’s blissfully unaware of how much that girl likes him.” Lucien sucked on the empty pipe and coughed, swallowing his spit the wrong way. 

“How? Neil, she comes by like twice a week to talk to you and shows up at all of our softball games.” 

“She’s only nineteen! For all I know, she just wants a job here one day.” Neil shrugged and went back to stocking the shelves, a blush creeping into his high cheekbones. 

“Sure she wants a job here if it means that she gets to fucking talk to you everyday, all day about classic films and shit!” Jonathan laughed. 

“She’s nice!” Neil exclaimed defeatedly and massaged his eye sockets. 

“Yeah, so’s my aunt but she doesn’t come around here every week to tell me about the latest movie she’s watched.” Lucien mumbled. 

“That wasn’t as effective as you think it was,” Jonathan sighed, then just to Lucien, “don’t use a family member next time, ok?” 

“Ok, OK!” Neil interrupted them, shaking his hands. “It’s not like that and she doesn’t like me like that. I’m like eight years older than her…” 

“That’s never stopped people before,” Lucien reminded Neil and he withheld a few choice expletives as the shop door opened and a customer came in. The bell twinkled and Neil called out the familiar greeting. 

“Welcome to Gumshoe Video!” 

“Hi, Neil.” Y/N smiled shyly. Lucien and Jonathan’s quiet snickers stopped as a second customer entered after the girl. “This is Woody. Woody, this is Neil.” 

“Hey, how’s it going?” Woody waved to Neil and his friends on the back couch. They waved back in shocked silence. 

“What happened to you?” She asked, recoiling away from the employees who stared at her as if they’d seen a ghost. Neil blushed, still embarrassed. 

“I was just not looking forward to telling you that we lost the copy of um, The Virgin Suicides that you wanted. It’ll take another few weeks and I assume that’s why you stopped by.” Neil scrambled for a reliable answer, and one that was partly true. She blushed slightly when she heard Neil use the word ‘virgin’ and laughed it off. 

“It’s ok, I just wanted to show Woody my favorite place.” 

“We’re going to get a movie,” Woody smiled and began to scan the shelves. 

“Sooo what do you like? Classic horror, westerns, Spike Lee, Hitchcock, Coppola?” Neil listed off categories of films he viewed to be superior and Woody shook his head, oblivious to Neil’s edged tone. 

“I like action movies mainly. I haven’t seen much else.” 

Neil smiled at the girl’s embarrassed reaction. He knew well that she didn’t like action movies and refused to watch them even if Neil recommended one. 

“So like war movies?”

“Sports movies.” Woody corrected and pretended to shoot a basketball. “Anything about football or basketball.” 

Neil felt a sharp pain in his chest at the boy’s words. He was a walking abomination to the film community. Lucien made a sound similar to a whimper and Neil cleared his throat to mask it. 

“Well uh i’m sure that we can find something for you though we don’t tend to carry sports movies because we have so little demand for it,” Neil explained blandly. “Have you ever seen anything by Tarentino? His movies tend to be more action-oriented. That and the old Bond movies.” Neil started to list movies he was almost completely sure Woody had not seen. Every shake of Woody’s head scratched a strange itch inside his head. What was this girl doing with someone like Woody? 

“Ah maybe,” Woody shrugged. “Do you have Rudy, Bull Durham, Remember the Titans?” 

“No, we don’t.” Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled stiffly. “We do have the Air Bud movies,” Neil mumbled as a joke but Woody looked interested. 

“Where’s that?” He asked, looking around the store. 

“The kid’s section. It’s about a dog that plays sports,” Neil deadpanned and Jonathan and Lucien stifled their giggles. 

Woody was completely oblivious to Neil’s pointed comment and shrugged. 

“Sounds good to me,” he looked at the girl with a smile. Her lips were parted in a look of displeasure and shock. 

“You want to watch Air Bud?” She stressed the name of the movie like a bad word. Woody smiled, still not catching the tone of dislike in her speech. 

“Um…” She started and trailed off, totally caught off guard. Neil smiled, almost enjoying the direction that this interaction had gone. 

“I’ll get it for you,” Neil used his best customer service voice and turned around. He widened his eyes at Jonathan and Lucien, I told you so. Lucien narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, not wanting to admit defeat just yet. 

“Sooo are you two dating,” Lucien tried to sound casual but his tone was suggestive and Y/N blushed deeply from embarrassment. 

“No, we’re just friends,” she answered too quickly and Neil glowered at Lucien. Jonathan looked down at his hands, wanting to stay out of the conversation. Woody looked at her and frowned. 

“Well on that note, I think I’ll just get going. Forget about the movie, dude. Thanks anyway,” Woody snipped and left the store abruptly. The bell beside the door clanged loudly as he walked down the sidewalk, fumming. 

“Lucien!” Neil exclaimed and Jonathan swatted Lucien’s arm. 

“Sorry…geez!” Lucien deflected Jonathan’s hands and scooted away. Neil, holding a copy of Air Bud on VHS, lowered it and slid it onto the checkout counter. 

“Sooo no more Air Bud?” Neil tried to break the awkward silence. She gave him a look that quieted him immediately and left the store, going the opposite way that Woody had turned. She went around the side of the building where she knew there was a shabby basketball goal and a place to sit. She wanted to wait it out, to make sure that she wouldn’t run into Woody again that afternoon. It was safer to hide here than walk home. 

“Nice going, Lucien.” Neil sighed and returned the tape to the shelf. 

“You just fucking ruined young love,” Jonathan quipped and Lucien gasped defensively. Neil joined them on the long section couch and they sat in silence for a while. A loud bang made them all jump. 

“What the hell was that?” Jonathan turned to look where the sound had come from. The three of them stood to investigate. The second time they heard it, the shelf of tapes on the wall was josuled. They each jumped again and Neil drew his face up into a tight line. 

“Is someone throwing something against the wall?” Lucien surmised and spoke with his pipe in his palm. 

“I’ll check it out,” Neil looked at the shelf warily and backed away. He left the store and went around the side of the building. Seeing Y/N made him jump again and he clutched his chest briefly. She had a basketball and was chucking it at the hoop without much care for whether or not it went in. The ball hit the wall again. Jonathan and Lucien collected the tapes that had fallen off of the shelf only to have more tapes fall on their heads. 

“Maybe you should watch more sports movies, it might help you with your technique.” Neil crossed his arms casually across his chest and smiled. She dribbled the basketball slowly and caught it in her arms. 

“It was more of an exercise of rage,” she spoke between heavy breaths. 

“Sorry about Lucien,” Neil gestured to the store. “He’s not great with people.” 

“I could tell… but I’m not really upset about it-”

“You fooled me,” Neil interjected with a laugh. She rolled her eyes with a small smile. 

“He gave me an out but it wasn’t the right time. I shouldn’t have said it like that to Woody.” She dribbled the basketball again. 

“So were you dating?” Neil opened his hands, signaling her to throw him the ball. 

“Kind of,” she tossed him the ball and shrugged, “we’d gone out once or twice. We met at a party. Nothing was official yet.” Neil aimed and threw the ball, it fell through the hoop with a quiet whoosh before bouncing on the pavement below. She retrieved the ball and with one hand, she fixed the legs of her shorts, pulling them down over her thighs. He looked away quickly. 

“Did you know his taste in movies before you started going out?” Neil asked and watched as she aligned herself to toss the ball. It bounced off of the backboard and spun into the hoop. Neil applauded and she smiled. 

“He said he liked action movies but I didn’t know that he meant… sports movies. He’s a business major and I doubt he’s ever taken a film class or seen anything that wasn’t about sports in some way.” She nearly shivered. “And you had to suggest Air Bud?” She asked him pointedly and he pursed his lips defensively. 

“That was not an actual suggestion. I can’t believe he fell for it,” Neil dribbled the ball around his legs lazily and circled her before shooting. He missed and she giggled. “I think you dodged a bullet,” he told her honestly and when they held eye-contact, he felt his navel twitch. 

“Could you imagine if I had to watch Air Bud on a date?” She looked down at the ball and missed the hoop by a few feet. She sighed and fanned herself. This is exactly what she had been hoping would happen. She wouldn’t go as far as to say that she was a mastermind but she’d been trying to get closer to Neil for weeks. She’d liked Woody enough but taking him to Gumshoe Video was more strategic than cute. She hoped to make Neil a little jealous, and show him that she could get other guys. Nothing had actually happened between her and Neil besides long chats and lots of laughter. Maybe she could change that. 

Neil picked up the ball and bounded over to the hoop, jumping and shooting the ball. His fingers pushed the ball into the net as he landed back down on the ground. When he turned his eyes widened slightly. 

“It’s really fucking hot today,” she mumbled as she pulled off her t-shirt, having just a camisole underneath. Her cutoff denim shorts and black camisole left little to the imagination but Neil still tried. She tossed the shirt to the side and dribbled the ball, her eyes focused on the goal. Neil looked down her camisole, staring at her chest as her breasts shifted beneath the fabric in her bra. Her pink bra straps slipped on her shoulders and after shooting the ball, she had to snap them back into place. He blushed more and looked away. She crossed the small makeshift court and sat on the shallow ledge beside the store, swinging her legs up and underneath her. Neil held the ball awkwardly in his hands and approached her slowly. 

“What movie would you watch on a first date?” She asked him.

 “Uh,” his mind blanked, “definitely Air Bud,” he nodded and she laughed. He sat beside her and shoved his hands into his pockets. 

        “Neil! I’m being serious!” She pressed the toe of her foot against her chest.

“Ok, ok ummm,” he wrapped his fingers around her bare ankle with a smile and moved it back to the ledge in between them. She shifted her body so that she was facing him, both feet planted on the ledge in front of him. “Maybe The Wizard of Oz.” 

 “Why?” She asked with a soft smile. He rocked back and forth, using his hands to support himself. His large hands sat on either side of her feet, his chest directly over her knees. 

“Well it was one of the first movies to use color,” he said first, “and it would give me a chance to brag about how much I know about film.” He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. She laughed and shook her head. 

“I thought you hated musicals!” She protested and he looked away sheepishly. 

“I do but I can’t pass up an opportunity to impress someone, especially a girl.” He looked at her and then blushed, looking away again. “I mean,” he started and she nodded.

“No, I get it. Do you like romance movies?” She fluttered her lashes discreetly, making Neil second guess whether she had done it intentionally or not. “You don’t seem like one but we all have our secrets,” she dragged her hand up her leg, drawing his attention to the contours of muscle beneath her shin bone. 

“You could argue that every movie is a romance,” Neil sputtered slightly, collecting himself. 

“Even Air Bud?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and he scoffed, looking away. 

“I don’t know about that.”

“What’s your favorite romance movie?” She rested her forearms on her knees and leaned forward. He looked at her briefly, his eyes dipping to her cleavage before meeting her eyes again. 

“Uh w-what?” He asked and she giggled.

“What’s your favorite romance movie?” She asked again and he thought quickly. 

“The Princess Bride,” his eyes flicked to her’s for approval and that surprised him. 

“I love that movie,” her eyes widened as she recalled the plot. 

“What about you?” 

“Well The Princess Bride is the best answer but I like The Great Gatsby too,” she smiled shyly. 

“The Great Gatsby is a tragedy at heart,” Neil argued and she shrugged.

“As you wish,” she quoted from The Princess Bride and his eyes flicked open wider for one second before he cleared his throat. The sun was starting to set and the sky bled with a sated orange color. She looked up at the sky, showing the vulnerable underside of her chin and swallowed. Neil watched, letting his eyes wander over the soft expanse of flesh. 

“We should probably go inside,” Neil broke the silence, “or I-I should go back.” He jerked his thumb back to the store and she lowered her head again and let her head fall to one side. 

“As you wish,” she said again and laughed. He watched her silently and licked his lips. He felt like he was going to say something but no words came to his mind as he sat there. 

“Or do you want to come inside? Sorry, I’m not trying to get rid of you…” 

“Ok, sure.” She nodded and followed him around the store, pulling on her big shirt again. Jonathan and Lucien were arguing inside but stopped when they walked inside. 

“Basketball game?” Lucien asked over his pipe and Y/N nodded with a sigh. 

“Sorta, I had to blow off some steam.” 

“He’s sorry by the way,” Jonathan added and Lucien started to argue but she cut them off. 

“It’s ok. You saved me a night watching Air Bud.” She winked and started to browse the aisles again. Jonathan shoved Lucien. 

“What? What’s your problem?” Lucien protested and Jonathan gestured to the door, hinting that they should leave. “You have to be joking,” he muttered under his breath, irritated. 

“Hey uh, Neil?” Jonathan cleared his throat. Neil broke his obvious concentration on the girl and looked at his friends on the couch. 

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna head out. Lucien owes me a beer and I want to beat the bar rush,” Jonathan grabbed Lucien by the shoulders and shuffled out the front door. 

“It’s not even seven yet-” Neil started but they were gone before he could finish. His heart started beating quickly and he glanced anxiously at the disappearing silhouettes of his friends. The girl walked through the aisles, biting her bottom lip slightly as she looked. He didn’t want to be alone like this with her, it felt weird. She was young enough to be his younger sister and it irked him… and yet, she looked so pretty beneath the yellowish fluorescent bulbs inside the store and her hair was sticky from the humidity. 

“We should watch something,” she said quietly behind a rack of VHS and Neil cleared his throat. 

“Together?”

“No, in separate rooms… yeah of course together.” She laughed lightly and showed him the movie she had found. He chuckled and shrugged. 

“The Princess Bride? Ok, sure.” He approached the small box tv in front of the sectional couch and inserted the tape. Y/N slipped discreetly to the front doors and turned over the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and locked the door. Neil stood behind the couch and set up the box player, struggling with the buttons on the remote. She collapsed on the couch and rested her legs on the wide ottoman. Her hair spread over the back of the couch and covered Neil’s hand. He looked down at it and struggled to exhale normally. The movie started and she wiggled in excitement. Neil sat on a stool behind the couch, worried about sitting beside her. After the first ten minutes of them each reciting the lines back to the tv, she looked over her shoulder, flashing a toothy grin. 

“Neil, come on, sit with me. It’s weird to have you looking over my shoulder like that.”

“Um I- uh yeah ok,” Neil stammered and joined her hesitantly on the couch, his hands between his knees. His longer hair brushed the tops of his shoulders and she resisted the urge to sweep a strand into her hand. Slowly he relaxed and they acted to each other as well as to the tv, adapting the characters they liked best. As the movie went on, she braved looking over at him more and holding his startling eye contact. They laughed hard at one scene and bent over with laughter, shifting their bodies closer in the process. Eventually they were nearly arm-to-arm on the worn brown sectional. Neil’s breath escaped in pained bursts as he looked at her thigh, relaxed on the couch beside his leg. Her shorts had creeped up to her crotch as they sat and she’d made no move to pull them back down. He caught himself staring at the crease at her crotch and wondering if the tightness was uncomfortable for her, how warm the material would be against her like that… he shook his head to clear his thoughts and clenched his jaw when he felt his cock twitch. 

“Neil?” She turned slightly to him and his breath hitched as he turned his attention to her. She bit her lip lightly and slowly pressed herself up onto her knee. He watched her, his eyes flicking between the tv and her face, inches from his face. 

Hear this now: I will always come for you. 

She exhaled softly and her breath rippled across his face. Her hands inched closer to his stomach clothed beneath his light blue shirt. Her bright eyes intoxicated him as she brought her lips to his, offering herself. When she kissed him, her eyes squeezed closed and she sucked briefly on his bottom lip, lacking technique from her barely nonexistent experience. When she pulled away slowly Neil’s brow creased as his brows flew up. 

“Y/N… we uh we shouldn’t.”  

But how can you be sure? 

Her eyes crinkled in embarrassment and her small cheeks flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispered and sat back against the couch, pressing her sweaty palms against her thighs. Neil looked over at her and licked his lips, fighting an internal argument against himself. 

This is true love- you think this happens everyday?

She flexed her thighs anxiously on the couch and the movement sent a shock up Neil’s body, making his crotch throb slightly, weary from the close proximity to her warm skin. 

You mock my pain.

Neil brushed a shaky finger down the side of her thigh and felt her inhale quickly. She looked at him slowly, her lips parted. His hand slid up her body to her head and cupped her cheek. He leaned over and kissed her, not harshly but not subtle either. Their lips popped wetly when he pulled away. He looked down at her, she was panting slightly, her heart fluttering in her chest. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Neil whispered and fell back into the couch beside her, clenching his fists. They sat in silence, their breath mingling in the space between them like a mixture of heat waves. Neil smelled faintly of mint mouthwash and musk, the sweat worked up during their “game” clung to his body. 

Life is pain, princess. Anyone who says differently is selling something. 

And quick as a flash of lightning, their bodies flew together, their mouths finding each other like opposite ends of a magnet or a cap over a pen. She climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips and held his head in her small hands. He wrapped his arms around her waist, bunching the fabric in his hands. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and he greeted it with enthusiasm, his hands tightening around her waist. She licked his lips as she closed down around them, sucking everything out of him. He moaned softly against her kiss and his arms flexed, his cock hardening. She gasped when she felt him get hard against her crotch. He broke their kiss abruptly. 

“Fuck, sorry.” He loosened his grip on her waist and went to shift out from under her. “I didn’t mean to get…” he trailed off and moved her off his lap easily. She watched him, her mind already caught in a lapse. 

“This was a mistake. You’re in college. I shouldn’t have encouraged this,” he dragged his hands through his dark hair and pulled at the roots, mumbling incoherently as she looked up at him, her eyes wide like a doe. The front of his pants tented out and he started to walk to his office. She jumped and grabbed his hand, catching him before he disappeared into the backroom. 

“Please, stay.” She whispered and bit her lip, dispelling some of her pent up energy into the action. 

“You’re too young.”

“I’m nineteen.” 

“I’m too old for you.”

“You’re 27.”

“You’re a virgin.” 

She flushed redder and looked away, embarrassed. “Not really.” She looked back at him and shrugged. “We all have our secrets, right?” She cocked her head and tried to smile, her heart beating so fast that she felt dizzy. 

“I don’t know…” Neil added half-heartedly, having run out of reasons. “The customers!” Neil remembered and glanced, panicked, at the front doors. 

“You closed early.” She smiled embarrassedly and rubbed his wrist with her thumb. “Please,” she tried again and he looked down at her. His cock throbbed uncomfortably in his pants. He allowed her to lead him back to the couch and watched as she lowered herself onto her knees. Her hands rested on his thighs as she opened his legs wide enough to sit between them. He watched dumbly as she unbuckled his belt and slowly unzipped his fly. She tugged down the crotch of his jeans, exposing the waistband of his checkered boxers. 

“Wait,” Neil blurted and she looked up at him, “come here.” He asked softly and waited as she rose to her feet, her hands moving to his chest as she leaned closer. He pulled her back onto his lap, straddling her over his lap and kissed her, lapping at her mouth with his tongue. His small biceps flexed around her, his hands finding her hair and wrapping his fingers in it hungrily. She sat up on her knees and pressed her crotch against his chest, making him sit up taller to reach her mouth. She whimpered softly as he kissed her as if he was eating her, slowly getting deeper. His kisses felt so good on their own that she almost moaned into him, licking the tip of his nose. She licked the edge of his jaw and he let her, savoring the immature way she approached tasting him. His hands supported her back as she panted, bucking her hips against his chest as she kissed him feverishly. Racks of tapes shielded them from view but Neil hoped passerbys couldn’t hear them through the storefront’s display glass.

Slowly she slid down his chest and returned to her spot between his legs. She licked the warm mound at his crotch, leaving a wide wet spot. Neil sighed as he watched her, his cock twitched again. Her hands squeezed into his thighs and she licked his erection again through his boxers. 

“Oh god,” Neil gasped and looked up at the ceiling. She hooked her hands around his waistband and pulled it down slowly, finally releasing his cock which glistened with precum. She stared at it for a moment before kissing the head. Neil’s mouth fell open in pleasure and shock. “Look at you, god… fuck.” She smiled, self-conscious and wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, squeezing him slightly. He groaned and bucked his hips. She rubbed the head against her wet lips and slowly slipped him inside her mouth. Her mouth was already watering and he whined loudly as she took him in, hallowing her cheeks on accident but soon realizing that it made Neil feel good. She went as deep as she could and pulled away, allowing a thick line of spit to connect her lips with his cock. Neil’s eyes widened and his head dropped back against the couch. His hands flew up to his face and massaged his cheeks, unsure how to handle the things he was feeling and not wanting to force her head down on top of him. 

She took him back into her mouth and swirled her tongue around him, bobbing her head up and down. She rocked her head slightly and tried to create a rhythm that elicited the most pitiful sounds from Neil. His cock shook inside her mouth and she sucked hard against it like a lollipop. Neil’s hands tightened around his face and he moaned loudly, exhaling sharply. 

“Oh god, honey. What the actual fuck.” He whined between even breaths. He looked down at her pretty little mouth sucking him off and he nearly finished then when she pulled off of him and started to jack him off, her tongue pressed flat against his head. Her fist clenched around his length and he sputtered, unable to form words. After a dozen hard and fast jerks, she took him in her mouth again and bobbed up and down quickly, drooling heavily around him as she tasted his salty precum. 

“Oh fuck- fuck- fuck! Shit, I’m gonna cum.” He panted and moaned loudly, his hands finally finding her hair, the pleasure becoming so overwhelming that it was almost painful. The friction and sensation heightened and his knuckles turned white around her long hair. He thrusted his hips gently into her mouth, not wanting to gag her. She welcomed it, opening her throat and humming to let him deeper. She breathed deeply through her nose and her exhales feathered across his crotch, adding even more to the sensations he was already feeling. With a yell Neil spilled into her mouth, bucking his hips and falling back on the couch. She proudly continued to suck him off, pulling everything out of him. He watched her, breathing heavily. She swallowed his warm cum with a smile. 

I told you I would come for you…

Neil glanced up at the movie screen and chuckled. She licked him from the base up and plopped back onto the couch, breathing heavily too. Neil tucked himself back into his pants, leaving his belt unbuckled. She arranged herself proudly beside him on the couch, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“That was fucking incredible,” Neil slapped his forehead and laughed breathlessly. “So so good…” he shook his head and looked at her, smiling lopsidedly. She snaked a hand onto his crotch again and rubbed him before wrapping her arm around his sweaty neck. He wrapped his arms around her and supported her body weight as she laid against him, their stomach crushed against each other. She shivered as she heard his heavy breath against her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered and sighed. He rubbed her back and kissed her shoulder through her shirt. She turned over, sitting nearly on his lap. His hands clasped around her stomach and held her tightly. Her soft belly shivered beneath her slowing breaths. They both relaxed again into the movie.     

[ambrosialdesire]

cacoëthes

[ PART ONE ] [ PART TWO ] [ PART THREE ]

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DNI

pairing: s4 reiner x fem!reader word count: 12.7k warnings + tags: general yandere and obsessive themes, explicit sexual content, unhealthy relationships, kidnapping mention, gore/violence, minor character death mention, usage of the word "dog" in a derogatory/offensive/mocking sense, chasing (hide-and-seek kinda), misogyny, physical assault, suicidal ideations (reader talks about dying a lot), stockholm syndrome, heavy manipulation/guilt-tripping, p*rn w/ plot, noncon/dubcon, hatefucking, mean dom reiner at first, praise & degradation, hair-pulling, slapping, forced f & m oral sex, vaginal sex, sorta missionary, slight belly-bulge mention, doggy-style, breeding (mating press), choking (sexual and nonsexual), marking, virginity loss (both of you), overstimulation (both of you), edging, dacryphilia kinda, mind-break (reader is implied to kinda lose her mind), size kink, brief tit-sucking/breast play, reiner has a short refractory period bc i said so >:), kinda aot spoilers if you haven't watched it before, all characters are 18+ synopsis: everything has fallen apart by the seams even more. reiner knows everything and you have nothing else to lose. taking your chances, you escape his clutches by slipping through liberio's alleyways but there's only a handful of buildings that can hide you before he catches you. terrified isn't the only word to describe what you were feeling and you can't imagine what he'd do to you if he gets his hands on you. a/n: finally the whorish activities begin! thank you all sm for the support for this series and my other fics! i've also reached over 1k likes in this blog and wow, i literally can't believe that my writing got this much attention in roughly 6-8 months! ik i said that i would be doing a konig fic before posting this and a hell of a lot of kinktober prompts but a bunch of shit came up irl that made it nearly impossible to have time to myself and this blog. really sorry about that but life happens unfortunately. anyways, i really ended this series off with a bang (literally) and i hope the ending is somewhat good enough. i would like to thank my friend for getting me back into aot bc without them, i wouldn't have seen the final episode nor would have made this blog. i think 6th/7th grade me would've been so surprised but feel so complete knowing that aot reached its end in the anime. thank you all again for investing and reading the cacoëthes series!! note: please keep in mind of the tags above and do not proceed if triggering or uncomfortable, especially if you are a minor!! do not read my or any other writers' dark content if you are underaged. this is a fictional work and does not reflect irl morals, do not believe this is how a real romance works or functions.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.───

It's over.

Three years of meticulous and dedicated planning were all torn away by a single bullet. What were the chances of this happening? Why did you never consider that he would kill the old man like this? He was supposed to be completely knocked out. The dosage was supposed to be enough for you to escape.

Everything was supposed to go your way.

"H-how are you even... Wh... Why did y-you..." You gripped the jacket in the middle of your chest, the air weighing heavy with every frightened breath you took. A man was dead because of you. No... because of him.

Where did he even get a gun?!

Reiner stopped aiming the rifle towards you, standing up straight while letting the gun fall to his side. There was no hint of any exhaustion from the drugs except the fact that he was heaving slowly, most likely from running. His appearance was definitely disheveled, the rain pulling down at his clothes and short hair. In the twisted crevices in your mind, you would've found it just a tiny bit attractive.

Regardless of that, you should've never underestimated him in the first place. How could you forget that he graduated second overall in the 104th Training Corps right behind Mikasa, the most terrifyingly strongest woman that matched up right to Annie’s level. You barely even reached the top twenty when you graduated, let alone the top ten.

He said nothing but raised his hand, beckoning for you to come to him as if you were some kind of lost pet. Was he joking? You shook your head and stood your ground, strands of wet hair sticking onto your skin. There was no telling whether it was the rain that caused that or the blood. He murdered an old man — he was a Marleyan traitor sure, but he was still a human — just to keep you here.

"Y/N—"

"No!" You finally snapped, the wind carrying the words that you've held back for so long. "I'm not coming home with you! I'm never going back, I'd rather die than carrying your fucking spawn!"

"You don't mean that."

How delusional can he be? Can nothing get through that stupidly thick skull of his?

"I meant Every! Single! Word! I hate you Reiner. I've always hated you! For three years, I had to put up with all of your shit! Not because I was beginning to fall for you or that you made me realize that maybe something… something in Marley was worth staying for, but because I was trying to survive. I did everything in order to live through this torment that you forced me into. So no matter what you do, no matter what you say, no matter who you kill," Your fists were balled up so tightly, you were sure that it had cut through the skin of your palms.

"I'll never love you."

It felt like the largest weights of the world had finally lifted off your shoulders and it took all your might to finally look him in the eyes after your confession. He bore a face of devastation, his mouth parted open and eyes wide in a state of complete shock.

You grinned, partially because you were happy to finally say something that bruised his spirit. Now that he was frozen in place and his eyes were slightly glazed over, you had to hastily figure out the controls for the boat.

As you turned away to try and get into the control room, the sound of the rifle went off once more. What the hell did he shoot at? The whistle of the bullet neared and suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through your arm. You cried out in pain, almost stumbling onto the corpse below you. In an instant, you placed your hand over the fresh wound, your undivided attention now back onto him. The rifle was back up and full aimed, faint amounts of steam coming out of the end.

Reiner shot you.

Though you were quite a distance away, you could tell that something changed in him. This was not the same man that you've just screamed all the vile profanities at. You had to get away, now. There was no time to figure out the controls, not when he's now trudging towards you at an alarming rate. You got off, nearly colliding to the ground from the rock of the boat and the slickness of the rained docks.

"Y/N!" He screamed your name out and you could hear the rage laced behind it. If he caught you, you were a dead woman. You started running, as fast as your legs could carry you. In an endless blur, you went from the docks into the empty streets of Liberio.

SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT.

You dashed left into an alleyway, almost stumbling and slipping on the smoothly cobbled streets, turning towards the farthest right that you were able to reach. Ducking down into a pile of soggy old boxes, you continue to grasp at your injured arm. You couldn't see the damage that was done but you could feel it, clenching your teeth as you ran your fingers across the wound.

You winced and cringed wordlessly as you tried to figure out how big it was and how deep the bullet went, feeling a good amount of your blood trickle down your fingers. There was no entry hole so he must've grazed you, but it was barely a miss in your opinion as it continued to gush out liquid at an alarming rate. You quickly glanced up at the storming sky, watching the lightning zip through the inky clouds before ripping a heaping chunk out of the end of your dress, timing it with the clashing clap of the thunder.

You bit down on the other part of the cloth as you tightly secured it around your wound. The effects of fatigue were finally starting to overtake you now that you had the chance to relax, the adrenaline within your veins weaning off bit by bit. With every breath you took, your lungs ached and burned unwillingly. Not to mention, your feet were definitely all cut up from scurrying around barefoot. You couldn't get tired here, not when you were running from a literal madman.

The wet stomps of boots neared and you stiffened up once more, hyper-focused on which direction it was going. It was unsettlingly still, the air suddenly feeling stuffy and murky as you held your hands against your mouth and nose. The situation felt exactly like the elevator in Trost, where groups of Titans were slowly closing in and all you could do was wait.

You tried to take in slow and steady breaths, but it was more difficult than you realized. There was a growing pressure on your chest that was making it completely strenuous in order to breathe properly, and to make matters worse, your heart was beating at an alarming rate. It had to be absurdly loud from the way you could hear it thump away at your eardrums.

"Where are you?" He trailed his voice off in a taunting manner, his breathing hard yet erratic. You could only imagine his eyes darting about in the dark, trying to pinpoint your exact location.

"I'm going to fucking find you and when I do—" The sound of a crate being kicked and smashed against the brick wall nearby made you flinch, your hands gripping onto your mouth harder as you began to shake in fear.

"Y/N, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you, honest. I'm just... losing my temper. It's your fault y'know but I didn't mean to shoot you — well, I did, what else would stop you from running too far?" The more he spoke, the more nauseous you felt. Reiner really lost his goddamn mind.

The minutes felt like hours the more he stood there trying to figure out where you've wandered off to. You closed your eyes and started to pray, as if some God would be listening to someone like you. The sounds of shuffling and a frustrated growl slowly started to fade away from your proximity, and you let out a silent shaky exhale of relief.

You felt absolutely filthy. Your clothes were torn up, you were sitting in a dirty alleyway, and blood was all over you. It's a miracle that you were even still alive right now.

If you didn't move now, he'd double back to check the areas he originally skipped over. Peeking over the boxes, you slowly got up, trying to change your position along to the sound of the thunder and wind. You peered around the corners of the alleyway, not being able to see a few feet in front of you from the sudden appearance of fog. You could use it to your advantage. Reiner didn't know where you specifically were either; there was your second advantage.

In the same alleyway you were currently in, there were other various passageways. Despite being here for so long, you haven't really memorized the layout of the internment zone. Ugh, you should have done so in the first place but you didn't really create a plan B to your escape plan. It was all going swimmingly up until that moment.

Maybe there was a way that you could retrace your steps back to the boat but you ran mindlessly, just thinking about how to get as far away from him as possible. You couldn't really think, not when he had continuous months of training and you barely had any brush up of any of your skills.

You exhaled and started walking with your body snug against the wall at a brisk pace, taking a few look backs just in case. In your mind, you had to have hope. The kind of hope that you were able to get back to the fishing docks before he could find you. Liberio was a pretty large area so it could take him a while to locate you, unless he transforms and wrecks every building in sight. That was unlikely since this was his home, but him waking up from the drugs was also unlikely and yet it still happened.

Fate was against you and so was time. When morning comes, you'll have nowhere to hide and there was the possibility that Reiner would alert the militia that a threatening "rogue" Eldian was wandering the streets. All you could rely on was yourself and hopefully that could be all you needed.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

Lost.

You were lost.

You thought that if you just kept wandering around, then you'd end up in a street that you'd recognize and use it to get to the docks, but there was jack shit. Everything looked the same: the windows, the walls, the streets. The fog was starting to get on your nerves as well, the rain was able to loosen up but the haze was still blocking most of your vision.

Were you stuck in hell?

The good thing was that you hadn't heard any boots anywhere nearby so you definitely had to be a safe distance away from Reiner. A warm dribble ran down your arm, causing you to halt. The laceration was still bleeding, the cloth now a darker shade of red than before. It was to the point where it was steadily dripping down your fingertips and onto the stones. If you died from blood loss before getting on the boat, it would be better than nothing.

"C'mon me. You've been through worse," You mumbled quietly to yourself as you tore another piece off from the dress, tying it over the soaked one. "You're almost there."

It had to be past midnight by now, time felt like it was working differently once you became lost. Like clockwork, you began moving once more. You had no other choice in the matter, any more hesitation and you'd get caught. Everything felt like it was at its complete limit than before but you had to push through, for your sake.

If you got out of here, you swore to be a better person. You'd be more hesitant, more calloused towards others. Back in Paradis, your kindness was the literal death of you. You held too much trust in others and look where it got you, married to an insane man who's been fucking up your life since day one when the breach occurred in Wall Maria. You were merely a puppet in the hands of Reiner and it wasn't fair.

When the Armored Titan ran through the Shiganshina District, the rubble that came from it pulverized your family. That marked the very moment where you became an orphan. A child to no one.

There were no final goodbyes, there was nothing. You didn't even get to see them brutally pass either. When you dashed home after the Colossal Titan kicked the wall in, you came upon the discovery that your house was completely crushed, fresh crimson splattered everywhere. Would that have made you feel better? Seeing them lose their lives right in front of you?

You don't even remember how you got on one of the escape boats, everything was a faded blur. As the boat sailed out of Shiganshina, you knew deep in your heart that if you had gotten home sooner from the market right before the Colossal Titan came, you would've died with them and that would be it.

You wouldn't have the unwavering decision to join the training corps the moment you became of age. You wouldn't have been matched up and sparring with Reiner for the first time just because Instructor Shadis wanted you to have a challenge. You wouldn't have been saved from him during the Trost disaster. You wouldn't have befriended both him and Bertolt afterwards, acting like the three of you were the bestest of friends. You wouldn't have been shipped off to Marley like a piece of precious stone that he had caught sight of. You wouldn't be in this complicated and hectic situation in the first place.

Placing a hand on your face, you realized that tears had started to wet your cheeks. When did you start crying? How long has it been since the last time you've cried this much? It was back when you had that fight with Porco, wasn’t it? He’d call you a crybaby if he saw you right now. Besides that, how long has it been since you've contemplated your past to the point where you started crying about it again? A soft hiccup left your lips and you sniffed, wiping the tears away with your hands.

You wondered if your parents would be proud of you for trying to escape the very person that took away their lives. Your older sister and brother could be cheering you on and that's why you're still standing despite the many things that happened to you. Afterall, they've always wanted the best for you. Your little brother would be telling you that if you gave up now, he'd take all of your favorite candies and toys and play without you. You wrapped your arms around you and sobbed, heavy tears dripping down your nose and jaw.

Reiner took all that pure love from you without even knowing and tried to replace it with a festering rot, something that he thinks is love. He betrayed you over and over again, misconstruing everything that you've done for him as the desires and pursuits of romance. Nothing in the world can redeem what he has done to you, he created too many shattered pieces.

As you finally looked up through your tear-blurred vision, the fog began to part to the point where you were able to see through it. You wiped your eyes, in disbelief in what you saw. It couldn't be, could it? Piled up boats. Ocean. The dock.

You… did it? You did it. You did it!

The soreness in your body felt suddenly a million times better as you ran forwards, the air in your lungs feeling even more fresher than before. Your eyes ran through the various ships, trying to find Mr. Kraus' as fast as you could. Adrenaline pumped through you when you spotted the lantern at the edge, almost cheering loudly in the night. You stepped slowly aboard, trying to ignore the fact that the captain was still lying dead on the deck.

Crouching down, you placed two fingers over his eyelids and shut them close. His body had long gone cold but you felt absolutely awful. At least he was with his son again.

Should you... bring him along for the ride? You'd probably dump the body once you were more at sea but it was only fair. He was able to give you this chance of escape and the most you could do for him now was to take him to a place where no one would bother him anymore.

You rummaged carefully through his pockets, finding a key located in his chest. There was a photo of his son and him connected to it, so you decided to remove it and tuck the picture back into his jacket pocket. "Thank you Mr. Kraus. For everything."

Entering the control room, you felt like a completely new woman. Under the darkness of the night, you struggled to locate where the key was supposed to be inserted. You've never operated machinery this complicated before or rather, any machinery. ODM gear and the kitchen appliances were the closest you’ve ever learned about that was a machine. Reiner never bought a car, he was probably worried that you'd use it to escape or because a woman wasn't able to drive one. They were pricey too, his warrior salary was pretty good but not good enough to buy one of them.

Fumbling around for a bit, you finally inserted it into something that felt like it was fit for a key and twisted, the instrument panel lighting up and the boat roaring to life. Letting out a light laugh of relief, your focus was now on how to make it go forwards. There were a bunch of levers and buttons, most of them not labeled or containing numbers that made your head spin. Well, there was this big red lever so it must be indicating that it was the forward—

A large arm wrapped around your throat behind you, utter horror and anguish shooting through your body as your thoughts were completely interrupted. They squeezed hard around your neck and pulled you back roughly, making you gag and involuntarily fall backwards towards the violator. You could only assume the worst on who it was.

Your nails dug deeply into his rigid muscle as you desperately tried to escape, your vision beginning to form dark spots from the lack of oxygen. No... no! This can't end here! You've gotten so fucking far, you're not about to lose now.

You reared your foot back into his knee, hearing him cry out in pain and loosen up around your neck. Dropping one arm from clawing apart the skin, you elbowed as hard as you could into his stomach. He didn't let go and you kept hitting, letting out a flurry of choked out curses at him until he finally released you. Falling to the ground, you grasped at your throat, sharply coughing up and heaving as you tried to breathe properly again.

"FUCK! You... You still got it." He coughed a few times, a grin forming on his face.

"It took me a whi... a while to find where you went, but then I saw the blood trail you left behind and saw... that you were heading back to the dock. Terrible decision to be honest." Reiner was out of breath too, probably because you beat the shit out of his stomach and chest trying to free yourself. Steam was rising off of him though so he'd be fine in a matter of minutes while you still struggled to get a good word in.

"But it's the end of the line, no more running. We're going home."

"I'm... I-I'm not going." You managed to blurt out before coughing again but you knew you couldn't move any longer, everything was starting to hurt again.

"Don't you get it? There's nothing for you in Paradis, you only have me." Reiner crouched to your level, resting his hand on your shoulder just like he did back when you were still soldiers. Why was he acting like he was still this merciful and kind knight? He was far from it.

"I'll carry you and clean you up, don't worry."

You spat on his face, watching the liquid dribble down his face as you scowled. "I'm not going anywhere with you, you fucking dog."

It was an abrupt pain.

He raised a hand and struck you, hard. Hard enough to almost make you black out from the sheer force. Hard enough to have the dark spots in your vision make its reappearance.

The side where he hit you made your ear ring and every inch of your cheek had a lingering sting. You could taste the hint of iron on your tongue as you turned your head back to look at him. He was infuriated, more so than when you tried poisoning him. Oh, so that's what pisses him off.

"Don't you fucking dare call me that."

You spat the blood out of your mouth, beginning to giggle like a fool.

"Why? Isn't that what you exactly are? Cause your dear Marleyan daddy didn't love your poor devil mommy enough to stay for either of you."

Reiner struck you again with the same amount of force and you started laughing aloud, feeling more blood trickle down and into your mouth. Maybe the blood loss was making you spiral out of control. Who cares? Everything was starting to fade and go all static-like so who cares what's coming out of your mouth right now.

You started to slump down to the ground unwillingly, the world feeling woozy and cold. Your burning limbs were on the brink of snapping off from moving too much this past evening that you could no longer support yourself. He stopped you from collapsing any further however, holding you against him as if he hadn't previously slapped the literal soul out of you.

If you died here, you'd die not being held by him. Weakly, you tried pushing yourself out of his arms but didn't budge an inch. He leaned close to your ear, bushing strands away from it. You weren't able to hear what he said, losing consciousness the minute he began to speak.

‘•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•’

You wished everything was still a dream. To no surprise, you awoke back at home on the bed, completely cleaned and patched up. You were no longer wearing the filthy dress and jacket, rather you were in a nightgown; not in your most provocative one luckily. It absolutely ached — even to just hardly shift around — so you didn't bother punishing yourself that much, only barely moving your head here and there.

The first thing you noticed after your eyes adjusted was the coverings of your injuries. Your arm gun wound was wrapped up in bandages and there were smaller dressings around your feet; damn, he really took care of you while you were still passed out. The next thing you noticed was how Reiner wasn't in the room, probably preoccupied with something. Right, he had to leave for another battle.... today? What time was it? What day was it?

You turned your head towards the closet, seeing that it was pried completely open, the hinges nearly torn off the wall. He probably hid the rifle in there for years and you've never noticed it, even when you were hiding something in there too. Everything was knocked over as if he was in a panic trying to find it and you weakly sat up to see the casualties of the items in there, your heart sinking down in your stomach as you saw the shoebox knocked over and the contents inside being completely empty. He knows, he had to.

At that moment, the door swung open and you winced trying to fall back down on the bed to pretend that you were still sleeping. It was pointless however, he already entered before you could close your eyes.

"You're awake. Morning— er... Good evening actually." From what you can barely see from the hallway light, Reiner had a bowl of soup in one hand and the journal — your journal — in the other. Can this get any worse?

"It's been four days—"

"Four?!" You shot up, wincing as your muscles pulled themselves taut. He settled the soup bowl down on the nightstand, turned on the lamp, and pushed you back down on the bed, hushing you like you were some kid. "Why are you still here then? Aren't you supposed to fight in another stupid self-war?"

"I told my superiors that you severely injured yourself to the point where you weren't able to move. I didn't tell them that you were trying to escape because they would've taken you away from me, luck is once again on your side." He lightly laughed as if it was some funny joke.

"Anyways, since you didn't have family here and my family refused to take care of you, I told them that I wanted to stay until you got better. After that, I'll do whatever they want me to do. You can call this an extended vacation." He explained and you wanted to throw yourself off of the building right now.

"Can't you just kill me already?" You groaned in anguish and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"No can do, I love you too much to do that."

"Well I don't love you."

"I know. I've been reading this little book of yours when I woke up from that trick of yours and stumbled across it," He shook it in his hands and opened it to a random page, your face contorting to panic. "Nearly three years of extensively written details about how much you hate me."

"Reiner—"

"Here's a passage from last year on July 5th: Reiner's downstairs right now so I'll make this quick. He asked me again about children, well not really asked, alluded to the fact that he wants them. There was some kids playing outside, kicking around a ball, and he said that he wished that we had a child to join them. I didn't say anything in reply. But I can't take it anymore, I have to get out of here. A child between us would be detrimental to my sanity, I couldn't bring myself to love it. Not when it's a part of him." His voice was cold as he read and you couldn't bring yourself to look at him.

He went on to read more pages, paragraphs of you talking about wanting to kill him, the failed methods you had planned, the whole plan between Mr. Kraus and you. Did you feel embarrassed that he finally found out that you were acting or humiliated that everything went wrong? You heard the noise of flipping pages and he cleared his throat.

"This was the final thing you wrote in this. I'll skip the beginning since it's not the main point I want you to hear." Your eyes widened and shot up, your hand darting painfully to grab the journal from him. He can read anything, anything but that excerpt. He stepped back and you fell off the bed with a heavy thump, a strangled out cry coming out of you. Your arms shook as you attempted to push yourself up, but he kicked you back down to the floor and placed a sturdy boot down on the middle of your back. You yelled out to him to stop — to stop reading the very secrets you kept from him — your voice starting to go hoarse.

"...If you, Reiner, find this when I'm long gone, know that I've always hated you. I've always been sickened by your touch and your kisses, I never meant any of those I love yous, and I've always wished you died horribly during the times you went off to those battles. I wanted to receive a letter or be told personally that you were killed in action, shot down by the cannons that were able to pierce through your armor." Reiner dug his heel into you, an agonizing shriek being pulled out of your beaten body.

"I'd weep, not of sadness but of joy because I would be finally be free from your clutches. Whatever you thought you taught me in order to be your perfect spouse, I was playing a role in order to survive this insanity of yours. I never loved you and I never will. Don't try to go back to Paradis to find me. You would have to bring back my dead body in order to bring me back to Marley." This was a complete and utter nightmare.

"I treated you to a life of safety, I took care of you when you were sick and injured. I didn't have sex with you because I wanted to respect your space. I fed you, clothed you, I did everything. I put you on a pedestal all because I love you." He dug deeper into your spine, your nails scraping into the wood.

"And this is what I get in return? An ungrateful little bitch who'd rather be ripped apart by Pure Titans than love me. A fucking whore that bats her eyes at a different man while calling the man she's married to a dog."

You gritted your teeth as hot tears poured down your face. "Yeah, that's right. I'd rather die horribly against a Titan if it meant that I'd never be with you. I'd fuck Porco if I could, I would do it behind your back if I wanted to too. Out of everyone you chose in Paradis, you married the one that was too much trouble. That's what Hoover said about me, right?"

His foot finally came off your back, letting you finally breathe, until he crouched down and pushed you up against the side of the bed, holding you there. Reiner was pissed beyond belief, teeth bared at you. "He did. He did and even if he was right, I didn't care because I thought I could change you."

"But you never were able to, you failed. Nothing you can do can change how I feel about you. But what can I expect—" Your narrowed eyes met with his, seeing the conflicted anger bubble in his brown irises. A small smug smirk grew on your face, your head tilting off to the side tauntingly.

"A dog will always be a dog."

A singular hand wrapped around your neck in a flash, the sheer force making you gag as he cut off your air flow once more. You fought back, trying to pull off his arm with both of your hands around his forearm. Small little sparks flickered off of him, fear melting into your expression. If you weren't imagining it, that would've meant that he was ready to turn. If you so much as put the smallest scratch on him, he'd transform. He'd kill everyone in the vicinity because of you.

" 'M s... s-sorry." You strangled out and he finally let you go, watching you fall back onto the ground. Your neck had to be bruised from getting violently choked all the damn time.

"If that's how you see me, fine. I'll just fuck you like one since that's all you see me as."

What?! Did you hear him right? That was literally the last thing you wanted! And maybe that's why he's resorting to it, the sick fucker.

The sound of a belt unbuckling caught your attention and you panicked, quickly pushing him away and attempted to retreat by crawling. Everything in your body still sorely burned but it was better than getting your virginity taken. He grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you back, making you shriek in surprise. Before standing up, he placed you back in your original position, making you sit on the ground right in front of him with your head against the side of the mattress.

"I should've done this right from the start." Reiner sneered, pulling out his partially-hard dick from the confines of the dark uniform pants he wore. Your eyes widened at the sight of it, thighs and mouth clenching tightly as if they were suddenly glued together. On numerous awkward occasions and the night of the Porco incident, you've felt it up against you but never seen it like this; the only time you ever seen a dick was diagrams of it in class during the training corps.

But this monster!? No fucking way that thing of his would fit anywhere inside your body. It was stupidly thick, his hand loosely wrapped around the veiny shaft as he slowly stroked himself hard directly in front of you. The tip towards the midpart of his cock was slightly flushed a soft pink and when he tugged back the skin for you to see, the tip was actually a rosy color. You couldn't even bring yourself to describe how hefty his balls were as they rested on the outside of his pants.

Reiner's heart was thumping hard as he jerked himself right in front of your face, his cheeks burning up as your owlish eyes stared at it. Was it that fascinating? This was terribly embarrassing for him — he was still a virgin too and this was technically the first time he's done anything sexual in your conscious presence — but you've led him on for years, this was punishment for the cruel lies you've fed.

He let out a quiet, shaky breath when he showed you the tip, your curious eyes still observing him. God, the two of you should've done this way back in the honeymoon. Maybe this wasn't the way he wanted each other's first times to be, but he would be lying if your stubbornness wasn't completely making him hard right now.

Once it was completely at full mast, you were pretty sure it was bigger than the length of your face. This was a threat, a danger to your body.

"Open." You glared at him and shook your head in refusal, even going so far to put your hands over your mouth. Who the hell does he think he is? He scoffed, his free hand grabbing the hair at the back of your head and jerking it back roughly. Asshole.

"Open. Or else."

You rolled your eyes at him, removing one hand as if you were complying. Instead, you put your middle finger up and smugly smiled under your other hand. He frustratingly growled under his breath and pulled at your hair again, holding onto it this time around until your scalp began to sting. You started slapping and hitting at his thigh to make him stop, carefully trying to avoid touching it. If this went any longer, he'd probably sever your scalp from your skull. But he refused to let go, waiting until you took off your hand and replaced it with him.

"Alright! I'll fucking do it! Just stop!" Screaming into your hand, you finally unwillingly gave in after the pain got too much for you but hesitated to even lay a finger on it. He loosened his grip but still held onto your hair, lightly caressing it between his fingers.

He was still holding it in one hand so you put your hands on his thighs and nervously leaned in. Closing your eyes shut, you shakily placed the tip in between your lips. It was warmer than you thought, a sticky substance staining your lips as you began to pull away. Was that satisfying enough for him? Absolutely not. Unbeknownst to you, he had other plans, unexpectedly shoving his cock through and bottoming out completely.

Your eyes shot open as you gagged badly, trying to wiggle out of his grip and recoiling your head backwards against the mattress. Panic ran through your body as he refused to let go, only pushing in impossibly deeper down your throat. This wasn't meant to be in your mouth, much less shoved completely down your throat without care. You resorted to try and settle down, breathing through your nose in panicked bursts. If you threw up on him, he'd probably pull out but if he didn't, you'd choke on your own vomit.

An audible groan came out of him once everything was in and he clenched at your hair. Reiner partially felt sorry for doing this to you but he couldn't resist when he watched you basically give a cute little kiss on his tip. He tilted his head to the side, experimentally thrusting in short bursts and watching your reaction. The inside of your mouth was insanely hot and you kept vocally protesting, sending vibrations down and against his dick. You kept constantly moving, almost bobbing your head back and forth along with his light prodding, persistently trying to get him out. He felt your tongue stroking against the bottom of his shaft, a shiver going down his spine.

Your tear-stricken gaze looked up at him, inadvertently begging him to free you from this but he only felt himself become even more stiff. Shit, he could cum right there and now. It felt too good for him to take it out just because you were suffocating, you deserved all of this after all.

Tears began to fall down your cheeks as he kept his cock locked in, your jaw already aching from being pried open for so long. You tried biting down but the sheer thickness made it quite literally impossible. You didn't want to die suffocating on his dick, what a humiliating headstone that would be. Here lies Y/N Braun: Beloved daughter and wife, died being forced to appease her husband sexually since she wasn't able to escape Marley fast enough.

Reiner suddenly started to let out soft grunts and forcibly pushed you closer from the back of your head with both hands, your face flushed against his lower half. Something viscously warm went down your throat in inconsistent spurts, eyes widening in shock as you were forced to swallow the liquid. What the fuck, did he just—!?

Copious amounts of drool and still-warm cum spilled out as he finally pulled out, the fluids dribbling down your chin as you started coughing up a lung. The taste was unlike anything you had before, meshing from a dull salty to a bearable bittersweet flavor. To your horror, he was still hard, twitching right in front of you as pearl-like beads of white ran down his length. Weren't men supposed to go soft afterwards?

Reiner didn't say anything, only panting before crouching down to your level. You shot a glare at him as you rubbed your throat, heaving slowly. Unlike you, his large pupils were blown out with lustful possession and he dove in to kiss you, ignoring the fact that he was consuming his own fluids intermingled with your saliva.

You fought back, teeth hitting teeth. It only egged him on however, pushing you against the bedside as he continued to ravage your mouth, biting down on your bottom lip. An involuntary gasp slipped out and he pushed his tongue in, the muscle brushing against yours. You could barely breathe, completely overwhelmed with everything that was happening to you.

Large hands grabbed at your hips and pulled you closer to his lower half, your body twitching at the sudden movement. You went to shove him off while he was distracted sucking your face off, but he barely pulled away to let the two of you breathe. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes locked on each other as the two of you drew in intense, erratic breaths.

"Can Porco kiss you like that?"

You were rendered speechless, Reiner suddenly picking you up from the ground. You didn't fight him when he did, already exhausted and still shellshocked from what he had asked. He laid you down on your back but your legs still dangled off the bed, confusion forming in your expression. His figure shadowed over you, the lamp barely illuminating his features.

He thought you were still so pretty despite becoming a mess that he caused, your eyes still glimmering in uncertainty. Since you've graciously let him accidentally ejaculate in your mouth, he had to return the favor to you, even if he was still angry at you. Tonight was the night to do absolutely everything, even if you still hated him at the end. He'll change your feelings towards him no matter what, even if he reached the end of his Titan's inheritance.

He dropped down in front of you, lifting up one of your legs and started placing short kisses down your calf to your inner thigh. It was sorta ticklish, partially because of his stubble, until he started needily sucking and licking the skin. You bit down on your tongue, tired of giving any satisfaction of whether something he did was pleasurable to you. He won't win, not this time around.

He reached for your other leg as he dropped the other on his shoulder, and repeated his actions, biting down when he was close to your womanhood. You winced at the pain, trying to push his face away with your hand. But before you could, Reiner pulled away and you swore you saw your blood stained on his teeth before he licked it away.

"What are you—" You inhaled sharply as a finger tentatively prodded against your covered hole, face immediately erupting in heat.

"You're wet." Reiner bluntly stated as he withdrew it, a string of your fluids still attached. He was just as surprised as you were. He didn't even do anything to you yet, unless you liked getting your throat stuffed with every inch of him. His cock twitched impatiently underneath him, no longer drenched with your saliva and his cum.

"W-wait that can't be, I-I..." You fumbled around your words, utterly lost on what was happening to your body. You tried to sit up but he started to tug your nightgown upwards, alarms setting off in your ears. You couldn't be attracted to this, to him.

"Hold on. R-Reiner st... stop—" You were cut short when he pressed two of his fingers back onto the dampened cloth, slowly beginning to rub up and down. One hand shot up to your mouth, swallowing down any little moans that tried to escape. The pleasurable shivers from the last time he fondled you were back, a shudder going down your spine.

Reiner wanted more, almost ripping the fabric off. But he restrained himself, no matter how much his dick was begging to be touched or be inside of you. He pulled them off, weaving it through your legs before you could protest and enveloped his mouth in-between your slickened folds. He groaned heavily against you, eyes almost rolling to the back of his head. You tasted so sweet, better than he had ever imagined in his mind. He began to lap up the liquids that continued to gush out with every stir of his tongue, your thighs squishing his head.

He could die a happy man now that he finally had a taste of you.

You shivered as his tongue teased around your hole, greedily licking up your arousal that continued to spill out. The hand against your mouth clenched into a fist and your fingers ached as they gripped the sheets underneath you tightly, head throwing back as he began to attentively suck on your hardened clit. Why the hell was he so good? It was impossible to think that he learned this from someone else.

Unconsciously, you pushed your hips more towards his face and bucked when he laid his tongue flat against you. Soft moans started to slip out along with your panting, the fuzzy pleasure getting to your head. His hands grabbed the meat of your thighs and forced you to stay open, his grip tightening if you tried to close them. This shouldn't feel so good, betrayal whispering in every cell of your brain.

"Reiner," A pathetic whimper of his name came out of your mouth before you could stop it. He looked up at you, still dragging his tongue from your entrance to the hardened nub. "Please, please stop, s-something doesn't feel right."

He ignored you per usual, as if anything you say now would change anything, but his eyes never left yours. There was a sort of pressure building up around your lower half and it was terrifying, you didn't know what was going to transpire. As if he knew what was happening, the pacing of his tongue quickened, your hand shooting up and grabbing his hair. The sensation was too much for you to handle. As you tried to tug him away from your pussy, he moaned against you, a shot of pleasure running through you.

You were close, he could tell from how much you desperately started to ride against his tongue, his nose nudging against your clit with every little flinch. The influx of juices that were leaking out started to even become more apparent. You couldn't hide it, you loved him pleasuring you. He would've been willing to do this for you whenever you asked, all you had to do was let him into your heart. As much as he wanted you to suffer, he's a kind man, he'll let you release in his mouth. Without hesitation, Reiner started to rub your clit with his fingers as he tongue-fucked your entrance, feeling your walls clench around the muscle.

Your involuntary moans became louder until your orgasm hit you fast and hard, your back arching as blinding white stars filled your vision. Your body shuddered and rode against his face, your hand accidentally gripping his hair too hard and pulling him close to your pussy. It felt like you were knocked dizzy as if he had struck you once more, panting heavily as you came down from that giddy high bit by bit. He finally pulled away but still was lazily rubbing your clit, your body quivering with every teasing rotation.

"You did so good baby, you're so good." Reiner quietly praised, placing a wet kiss on your thigh. You couldn't say anything in reply, still completely drained out of everything. He removed his fingers away and got up, your body lightly twitching from the loss of contact.

You had to watch him remove his shirt, heart skipping as you saw the ripples of muscle you've avoided to look at for years. God, you missed out on a lot. His chest was beefier than you expected, only feeling it against you through his hugs and the occasional times that you've accidentally touched them.

He pushed down his pants further, almost completely bare from what you were able to see. There was a trail of slightly dark blonde hair above the base of his dick, the wisps of it stopping below his belly button. The sound of thuds from his boots followed suit and were shoved aside with his foot. Terror began to claw out through the warm haze as he pulled you more to the edge by your hips and started to line his cock up to your entrance, the fat tip nearing your hole as he held onto one of your thighs to keep you open.

"W-Wait Reiner, it's not going to fit!" You begged, the realization finally hitting. You were going to get destroyed by him. If you finally got fucked, there was no going back. There was a chance that you were never going to be the same person ever again afterwards.

"I don't care, I'm fucking you whether or not it fits." He lowly growled, his personality doing a complete turnaround suddenly. You tried struggling, hands shooting up to his chest and pushing, digging your nails into his stupidly meaty pecs as he ignored you. Your legs were wildly kicking around in protest from a sudden shot of adrenaline, but the hand on your thigh had squeezed you to the point where you thought he would rip your flesh right off if you kept fighting him. There was no way out of this anymore, complete and utter hopelessness settling in the pit of your stomach as you finally gave into his desire.

He pushed the uncut tip in through your folds, a pained whine coming out of you as he continued to stretch you out. It burned as he slowly and completely sheathed himself in you, hot tears falling down your cheeks. He was simply too big for your poor body to handle, unused to anything being inside. You uncontrollably tightened around him, almost hyperventilating from the pain.

"Reiner it hurts, take it out please!" You cried out and tried to move off of it, only meeting with painful throbs in your gaped cunt. The hand that held you open went to your hip and kept you steady, still speared around his cock.

Reiner used his free hand and wiped your tears away, licking his thumb afterwards. Was that supposed to be some form of dull comfort? What a jerk, punishing you like this. A few more agonizing seconds went by and he experimentally rolled his hips against you, a gasp shooting out of you as you felt the tip briefly press against your cervix.

You started pleading with a mantra of his name, teary eyes inspecting his, searching for some sort of penitence. There was nothing, nothing but a burning fire of anger. It was your fault that it had gotten this far, the rage blinding him to go through this sort of tortuous action.

Maybe if you let him do you once before, he would've been satiated from the start.

He was holding himself back, feverish gummy walls clenching onto his cock like a vise. You were babbling like an idiot from the slightest movement, saying his name as if it was the only thing that was keeping you from going mad. He thought that it was cute how you started shortening his name to only Rei, he'd never heard that before.

"Did you forget how much you hate my guts? How much you'd rather die than get fucked by me, a dog?" Reiner finally spoke, taunting as he began to rub your clit, watching how your head rolled back into the messed up sheets in complete submission.

"Fuck. I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You whimpered out a quick apology, the same build-up of pressure forming in the pit of your stomach. Why were you apologizing? You never felt the slightest bit of pity for this man before, but you'd do anything for him to get this thing out of you as soon as possible.

"Rei, I'm sorry. I really am. You're not — ah — you're not a dog. Y-you're not. T-take it out please, you're too big."

"Sorry doesn't fix what you said." He felt you clench up, pulling him in deeper. He started to pick up his pace, embarrassing squelching sounds of your sopping pussy becoming louder as he started to steadily pound into you. Reiner watched with every heavy thrust he made, your stomach would slightly bulge out. He almost laughed at the sight, he really is too big for you.

"Reiner—"

"Sorry doesn't fix what you wrote." You couldn't stop yourself from crying out as he ceaselessly bobbed back and forth, the stretch becoming less and less painful the more he fucked you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he hit a particular spot within you, core squeezing. He took notice from how your muscles tightened around him, beginning to angle himself to only hit that specific area, a towering pleasure enveloping your insides. This cursed man and his godforsaken attentiveness.

"Rei—"

You couldn't hold back your moans any longer, the constant stimulation on your clit and within your pussy was undeniably too good for your body to ignore.

"Sorry doesn't fix three years of lies." Reiner pushed himself in roughly, his lower half flushed against yours and you immediately fell apart, wanton moans following as you came on his cock in short spasms. His hand gripped your hip in an achingly rigid fashion as your walls fluttered, trying to milk him for all he's worth.

Disgust began to crawl in and you turned your head away from him as the euphoria fogged up your thoughts once more. He didn't stop despite you already finishing, short little whimpers escaping you as you felt his veiny shaft continuously bully your oversensitive walls. He leaned in and forced you to face him once more, kissing you hard but slow. Your arms wrapped around him suddenly, your hands clawing down into his back. He winced against your mouth and bit down on your lip in return, a painful cry slipping out as you pulled away for air.

Reiner dove back to kiss you, barely giving you any second to recuperate. Your moans muffled against his mouth as you came again without warning, wrapping your legs around his waist at the same time as you unintentionally pulled his torso closer to yours with your arms. He let out a soft groan against your lips and you felt a burning warmth fill your insides up, devastation immediately filling your mind.

This was it. Everything that you've worked so hard for in order to prevent this scenario had crumbled to pieces. Was it really worth it to even try in the first place? You despised him, you hated his entire being so much.

You then realized that he hadn't pulled out, vaguely feeling that he was still hard but his pace going back to a slow rock. You were so exhausted and so sensitive, what more did he want out of you?

He could see that you were already getting weaker, slow and heavy breaths against his chest. Your pussy was still so warm and tight that his mouth nearly watered as he leisurely fucked you at a snail's pace. He needed more, needed more of you.

While still sheathed inside, Reiner lifted you up further into the middle of the bed and slowly turned you around, making you hold yourself up on your hands and knees. As much as your limbs burned and ached, every light movement he made within you had you twitch and gasp, grasping at the sheets beneath your palms. He carefully removed your nightgown, weaving it through your arms and head with little resistance and threw it somewhere in the room. You didn't try to hide your bare body from him anymore, flinching as you felt him lean over and lovingly kiss down from your nape to your back. For some reason, that pained you even more.

"You wanted a dog," Reiner's voice gruffly whispered into your ear, your eyes widening as his hips began to move away from yours. "So I'll give you a dog."

He completely pulled himself out of your pussy and sheathed it back in all at once, the thickness filling up your insides. You cried out in shock, almost barely noticing the fact that his inhumanely stiff cock was no longer hurting you but instead flooding your body with an undeniable pleasure. His hands gripped the side of your hips once more, setting a brutal pace that nearly had you start drooling.

With this new position that Reiner put you in, it felt like his cock was pushing impossibly deeper with every aggressive stroke and the oversensitivity had caused your gummy walls to keep squeezing along with his thrusts. Your arms were shaking even more, barely able to keep yourself up on your hands.

"Fuck baby, you're squeezing me so much." He groaned and from his tone, you knew he had the smuggest grin on his stupid face.

"Almost makes me think that you like getting fucked in this position." Reiner's warm body leaned against your back and one of his hands left your hip, wrapping itself around your throat and forcing you to make eye contact with him.

You were right — he was smiling like an idiot — a faint sheen of sweat laid on the skin of his face, small beads rolling down. From the lamp's light, you could see that he was flushed pink, similar to when he began to get alcohol into his system. Little did you know that he was pussy-drunk, obsessed in the way you squeezed down on his shaft with every thrust he did, trying so desperately to look like you weren't enjoying this when your body was saying otherwise.

"For someone that says that she hates me, you sure are taking me so well." He cooed, his teeth biting down on the corner of his lip.

"F-fuck you." You barely managed to say those words with his hand choking you but he finally let go, strands of hair falling into your face. Reiner chuckled to himself while placing his hand on the midst of your back, pushing you down until your chest was pressed against the bedding and your ass facing up.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Both of his hands resumed back onto the peaks of your hips and he started plunging his cock into you at an alarming rate. The unwavering pattern of wet slaps of skin-on-skin contact paired with the sounds of his heavy breathing and your short gasps started to make your head spin. Reiner's hands were squeezing your hips so tightly as he continued to ravage your drenched and dribbling hole, you were sure that his handprints left their mark behind.

It was animalistic and you could feel yourself slowly losing to the carnality of it all. In a matter of minutes without realizing it, you began to rock yourself back and forth to match up to his thrusts. Does it really matter anymore? Might as well enjoy it as much as you can.

"Hah— You wanna cum?" His hand slipped around, his fingers dawdling around your swollen clit, not quite putting pressure on it but enough to where it made you desperate.

You nodded quickly against the mattress and a sharp strike on your ass was given, your body jolting from the suddenness of it.

"Use your words." He teased and you swallowed your pride, tilting your head to the side.

"I wanna — ngh — I wanna c-cum." You mumbled quietly only to retrieve another strike to your ass, the flesh jiggling under his palm. His pace slowed back down, the pressure within you slowly fading away. No, no, no. You were almost there. You attempted to buck back on his cock in an urgent fashion but he held you still, frustration bubbling in your mind.

"Louder." His fingers traced over the welts and bruises on your skin, a shiver going down your spine. "Louder and I'll give you what you want."

You forgot that he was torturing you. This whole thing that he started was a punishment but the way his words and his light touches immediately went down to your cunt, you couldn't help but feel your body betray your mind. It felt too embarrassing to repeat until the fingers on your clit pressed down with more pressure and started to rapidly circle around the nub.

Why was he doing this? Part of you could care less, not when you could feel yourself getting close again. You moaned, grinding against his movements as if any apprehension that you once had before never existed in the first place. Close, you were getting so close once more and then he abruptly stopped, the pads of his fingertips slipping out from in-between your puffy lips.

You looked back at him with almost glassy eyes, a crushing disappointment bubbling in your throat. "W-what?! Why'd you stop?"

Reiner only smiled, as if he had done no harm. "What do you want again baby? I'm sorry, it slipped my mind."

Is... is he serious? No, he had to be joking. The cruel bastard was building you up, only to make you dissatisfied. Dissatisfied and wanting more. You bit the side of your tongue.

"I want you to make me cum." The familiar feeling of his hand hitting your ass again had your skin begin to throb, a pained cry escaping you. "P-Please."

"So polite are we?" You could feel the pads of his fingertips near your clit once more but his cock started to slip out of you, every slow inch of his veiny shaft sliding out of your walls left you breathless. He barely left the tip in you, mixed essences from the both of you beginning to slowly spill out and down your inner thighs. "But I didn't quite catch that."

From there, over and over, Reiner built you up towards your impending climax, only to pause when you were right about to burst. It was like he knew you were almost about to get there, as if he was some kind of prophet. His fingers were wet with slick and cum, and you were acutely aware of his cockhead tormentingly moving in and out of your hole with little to no movement.

Your body was trembling, not from the exhaustion anymore, and a complete haze of lust and desire sunk its claws deep into the crevices of your mind. How much longer would he play this game of his? You knew he was holding himself back, tormenting himself from the satisfaction he was seeking for the entire night. As his fingers slipped away from your swollen cunt for the umpteenth time in a row, all of a sudden, something inside you cracked.

"Reiner, please please I wanna cum. I-I need to cum. God, just fuck me already!" You cried out, grinding your lower half against his for any sort of stimulation in absolute delirium. Reiner felt your hand try to slip him back into you, but only resulting in his cock messily slipping through and clumsily bumping against your clit. You whined in mute anger but still rubbed yourself against the stiff shaft, making do with what you were given.

He was thrown off from how quickly you folded to his request, almost freezing at the sight. To see you in such an achingly frantic state was everything that he didn't know he needed. His poor, poor wife, maddened by the desire and pleasure. You missed out for years due to your pathetic vows to abstain from any sexual contact from him and now that you've gotten a taste, you became immediately addicted to the feeling. To him. How cruel it was for him to keep you away from his cock, his heart aching as tears begin to fall down your beautiful face. Oh how can he stay mad at you?

After all, he can never say no to his beloved wife.

As promised, he started putting more pressure as he rubbed your clit, sheathing his dick quickly inside of your hole. You've never felt such relief in your life, walls squeezing and welcoming his thickness in with every greedy plunge.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckkkk..." You mindlessly drawled out curses into the wrinkled sheets and he muttered jokingly about something about you being so foul-mouthed but who the hell cares? A smile grew on your face until you saw white stars, searingly coming undone once more around his shaft. You could feel his tip press against your cervix, your figure stiffening and jerking against him with every quick spasm. His heavy body leaned over against your back, mouth enveloping the crook of your neck and biting down as he came with you, hot spurts of cum filling up your womb even more.

Unlike the other three times you came this evening, this orgasm ripped through your body. You might as well have blacked out from the blinding ecstasy.

You could barely feel yourself be turned back around, eyes tiredly flickering over and looking at his face. You stared at him absently, mind slowly going back in time. There were times throughout your life from when you've known Reiner that you've thought that he was irrevocably handsome. Yes, you've once and had begun to always considered him as family as a soldier, but you couldn't fault yourself for looking at your friend — husband — as more than something from time to time when the two of you were younger.

He's always been there for you, had seen you at your worst moments and yet, yet... he was the one that stayed. When you've made numerous attempts at his life, when you've nearly died from a Titan and blood loss, when the two of you would get in trouble with the superiors in Paradis; over and over, Reiner would be there. No matter what, he's the constant in your life, be it by choice or not.

He was kissing down your neck, nipping at your skin, and leaving purple marks with every light kiss. His calloused hand brushed against one of your tits, palming and squeezing at the flesh before he dove in and began sucking at the hardened bud. Your breath hitched as you watched and felt him roll his tongue around your nipple, kneading the other one with his free hand.

Sucking your breasts seemed to leave him entranced, a heavy sigh leaving him as he started to grind himself against the area underneath you. In the weirdest way possible, it was almost memorizing watching him, softly moaning when he switched over to the other breast. This whole experience was making you crazy, maybe as insane as he is.

Reiner muttered something against your chest about milk coming in and how good the taste would be, quietly assessing your expression afterwards. There was a hint of indifference within your eyes but you couldn't muster up any more words to snap back to him, complete exhaustion weighing heavy on your slackened limbs. You could say the same about him, it seemed that he was barely running on anything as well but that damned determination in his eyes said otherwise.

You knew his goal. You knew that this wasn't the last time the two of you were going to do this until he reached it. Maybe even then, he wouldn't even stop there either. That's just who Reiner is, the stubborn man.

He reached over to brush the strands out of your sweaty face, the burning warmth of your cheeks connecting against his palms.

"I love you."

You didn't even realize that he had pulled out from before, but regardless of that, he still positioned himself above you to push his dick back in your dripping sore cunt again. His thighs had rested on top of yours and he began to push your legs back towards your chest, holding you open by his muscled arms. Though he towered over you, he positioned himself to face you, his hazel eyes lovingly staring down into yours.

"Say it back." He let out a quiet whimper as he pushed his sensitive cock back into you, your brain melting at the overstuffed feeling that it gave you once more. "Please."

The gentleness of the way he said it, even within your dazed mind, had your heart pounding.

"I love you." He stated again as he began to rut his thick cock into your used core. You could only breathlessly moan in response, feeling him even deeper than before. You've never realized how much burningly warm Reiner was when he's this close on top of you, his body almost swallowing yours. You watched as his face contorted in complete focus as he methodically rutted into you, his hefty balls slapping against your ass with every given thrust.

This was different, not like the other times in this long night. It was tender, cautious. It was as if he was afraid of breaking you, as if you were suddenly the most fragile thing in the world. For some unknown reason, this realization made your stomach flutter like nothing else before. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to your face.

The two of you stared at each other quietly, lips parted and steadily heaving. Without the fuel of your hatred, all you could think of was how lovely he looked like this, as if he belonged in this position above you.

You moved and pushed yourself upwards, willingly kissing him for the first time in years. You lost yourself to the feeling of his lips on yours, all the while as his cock continued to spear your hole. Unlike him for most of the night, he stiffened and stilled, hesitantly kissing you back in return. The confirmation that he desperately sought for years, this was more than enough for him. His thrusts picked back up and became more steadier in pace, taking his time in pleasing the two of you.

He pulled away from your swollen lips for air, his breath shuddering as your aching walls quivered around him. Your hands cupped his face, quietly begging him to give you one more orgasm. One more but you’re so spent and sensitive, unsure if you had another one in you. You had to, for him.

"C-cumming, 'm cum—!"

You wordlessly cried out from another body-wracking orgasm, legs wrapping around his waist tightly and pulling him in even deeper than humanly possible. Your body became so pliable underneath him and without skipping a beat, he began to slam himself harder into you, the squelch of his cock jutting into you becoming louder by the second. To impregnate you with his child, that would be his final parting gift to you when he gives up his Titan. He had to reach his goal, hell, he might've already from the first time he got into your pussy.

There was always a however. Even then when he unfortunately leaves you alone with his kid, what Reiner wanted the most in the entire world was to hear you say that you loved him. Not in the fake way that you did for the past three years, but as your true self. The one that he had completely exposed tonight and the one he fell in love with ever since that fateful sparring day.

"Please Y/N, say it back." He panted and you tiredly shook your head, biting at your bottom lip. "I need you to say it out loud."

"I... I-I can't. Reiner, I just ca— HMPH!" He quickly silenced you with another kiss, rejecting the notion.

Why? Why? Why? Why can't you? It didn't make sense nor did it settle well in his stomach. Of course there were things that you could never forgive him for, he was dangerously flawed for the most part but somehow, in some way, he wanted you to see him as redeeming. If you can't, then how can he live with the burden of everything he's done?

Reiner suddenly removed his lips from yours again, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes closed tightly shut as he worked towards his final orgasm. His movements were becoming more erratic until his lower half stilled and once more, you could feel his hot cum spill into your womb, occasionally rutting to push the liquid impossibly deeper. His grunts were broken and airy, as if he had been finally emptied of everything in him.

The two of you were quiet despite the heavy breathing that was unevenly shared. A few minutes later, he slowly started to slide his softened cock out of your achingly raw pussy.

You laid there, used and tired. Reiner didn't move from on top of you and you almost knocked out before small, warm splatters made contact against your chest. You reopened your eyes to see him crying over your body, his lip quivering and his body shaking.

"Why are you...?" You began with a hoarse voice, attempting to sit up.

"Five years."

"What?"

"I have five years left," For some reason, your blood ran cold and your heart sank down to your stomach. "It's a Titan inheritor thing. Whoever receives any of the Nine Titans has thirteen years to live."

Reiner looked at you, trying to wipe away his tears with a short laugh. "I know you won't forgive me, I wouldn't either. I'm just another devil that couldn't keep his hands or eyes to himself, and I'm a shameless traitor for bringing you here but Y/N..."

His hand reached over and caressed your cheek slowly, just like he did when he brought you over to Marley. "I really do love you. No matter what, my very heart and soul belongs to you. Do what you want to me but nothing — nothing — about how I feel towards you will ever change."

Tears of your own started to trail down your cheeks, your head shaking slowly. Why were you crying? Isn't that what you wanted? It's strange, feeling this new moderation towards him. No matter how much you pushed him away or attempted to kill him, he took the pain. Was it because he knew how little time he had left? Yet on the same side of the coin, was he lying in order for you to feel bad about his situation?

You don't know. For the first time, you've never felt so unsure of yourself. It should be final, you should've only felt complete hate for this man but...

"Say something, anything." Reiner put his hands on your shoulders, his grip tightening as he shakily spoke.

"Hit me, choke me, spit at me. I'm a selfish monster, I ruined everything for you."

Fear. You've seen such an expression on his face before, when you knocked him out with the pills and when he almost lost you to that Titan. Yet something about this face of his made you feel indifferent, guilty even. You realize now that it wasn't a suitable look for him.

"Yeah, you did ruin everything." You quietly replied, completely sitting yourself up and moving towards him cautiously.

"My home, my family, my dreams of becoming a proud soldier in the Survey Corps. All of those things, you took them away from me." Taking his head into your hands, you started to wipe the tears away from his face. He looked stunned as you began to slowly climb on top of him, your dripping pussy rubbing steadily against his partially-hard cock, belly half swollen with his cum.

"Maybe I still hate you for that Reiner and I'll spit on your grave when it comes to it, but there's one thing I can't deny." You airily giggled as you lined yourself up once his cock hardened.

"I love the way you fuck me."

His knuckles turned white as you lowered yourself down, completely sheathing him inside you. His face softened in pleasure as you began to ride him; ah yes, this is what you liked to see. Your legs were shaking like no other but the pleased smile you had on your face was unwavering.

"If you make me cum enough times, I might just say that I love you too."

Reiner's hands immediately latched onto your bruised hips, a similar grin growing on his face. He's got you right where he wanted you. You may think you had always had the upper hand till now, but he's not stupid. Getting you addicted to the feeling of his cock was the first step, next was you getting comfortable with the idea of having his kids. Well, you could already be halfway there from the way you were slamming your hips down into his.

He buried his face into your neck, his canines dragging against the marked skin as you bounced yourself on his length. Though what he said about his short lifespan was true, he'll spend it fucking you stupid, until you can really mean your 'I love you's'.

The devil he couldn't resist from the land of hell. You were his and he was yours.

Forever and more, till the end of time.

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

Where There's a Will, Right?: Dante x Male Reader

SUMMARY:      After Dante’s successful defeat of Argosax, he’s been ever-so-slightly more talkative than before; at least, that’s what you think. Both Trish and Lady noticed that Dante’s mood hasn’t improved and, if anything, he has only become more distant. Upon telling them that they’re wrong, they both tell you something that sends your mind reeling. 

MINORS DNI--Seriously, go away >:[

BEGINNING NOTES: ✨Dom/Top Dante* x Male Sub/Bottom Reader *Takes place between DMC 2 and 4 on the timeline; meaning Dante’s a bit angstier than normal--kinda Vergil-esc but he gets closer to normal at the end. ✨Unestablished relationship but everyone (including Dante) knows that you have a thing for him ✨The reader lives at the shop ✨Mentioned dark topics (nothing in depth but Dante having been suicidal is mentioned a few times) 🍊🍊🍊 ✨Fluff ✨Angst (? kinda) ✨Smut; Dante’s first time--the reader’s body count is not specified but it is implied you aren’t a virgin--meaning he is very sensitive to your touches. ✨Biting--draws blood and enjoys it. ✨Rougher--It’s not great but I wanted to try writing something a bit rougher, experimentation if you will.\ ✨Oral--Dante receiving ✨Reader gets emotional afterwards; like sad fluffy stuff. 🍊🍊🍊 ✨A little self-indulgent. I could’ve written this as G/N (and if anyone wants a re-write, I can totally do so) but I wanted something a bit gayer than normal smh ✨I know absolutely dick-diddly about motorcycles, so you best believe I just googled all of it lmao ✨Not used to writing Trish or Lady so they might be a bit OOC; if anyone has any better ideas for how they should sound (if they sound off) please let me know! I want to try and use them more often. ✨The reader uses Revenant (as per usual) and Ifrit. How can you use those wonderful gauntlets? You are just stubborn or strong enough to resist their demonic nature; idk just let me have this lmao. Demons are from DMC 1, 2, and/or 4 (Also I didn’t really feel like writing too much combat since “Bound by Blood” is so combat heavy, kinda got bored with it lmaoooo). ✨THIS IS NOT A PREQUEL TO “Deep Regret” THAT FIC. IS STILL IN THE WORKS (AND IS REALLY ANGSTY LMAO)

==

     “Really?” Trish leaned against the wall of the garage, watching both Lady and you work, “You sure we’re talking about the same Dante?”

     “What?” you set down the socket wrench and looked over at her, “Don’t believe me?”

     “No, not in the slightest,” she mindlessly looked at her nails as she continued, “I don’t think I’ve heard Dante say more than five words at once in years and you’re telling me--”

     “That he and I talk all the time?” You stood up, wiping your hands on your jeans, "I mean, we do live together-- what's so hard to believe?"

     Lady laughed, catching your attention, “Well, Dante’s not exactly the talking type anymore,” the raven-haired woman turned from the workbench, “Can’t say I blame her, hun.”

     “But that’s where you guys are wrong,” you sighed, “I mean, he’s not super talkative but we can hold a conversation for a good while,” you walked over to the stairs, grabbing your open beer on the way, and sat down with a huff, “You’re telling me that he doesn’t talk to you when you are on a job or anything?”

     Lady shook her head, “Do you know how rare it is for him to even say “hello” anymore?”

     “Bah,” you made a dismissive flick of your hand, “You two are full of shit, there is no way he’s that quiet.”

     Trish said something under her breath as she crouched down to check the work you'd done.

     “Huh?” You cupped your ear in a joking manner, “I’m getting deaf in my old age, Trish--you gotta speak up.”

     “I said,” she stood up and turned to look at you, “Maybe it is because Dante loves you.”

     Beer shot out your nose as you choked on it, going wide-eyed feeling flustered beyond belief. 

     “You can’t tell me you don’t have a thing for him,” the blonde walked over to Lady’s workbench, pushing up on the edge and sitting on the tabletop.

     “I do not!” 

     Lady shook her head, “It is painfully obvious that you have a crush on him,” she leaned her side on the bench, facing you, “I’m sure he knows, too.”

     “How is it obvious?! I mean--” You pursed your lips knowing you just dug your own grave.

     The women shared a laugh before Trish answered, “The two of you are practically joined at the hip.”

     Lady then jumped in, “He won't do anything without telling or asking you first.”

     "You're the only one allowed in his room."

     "And the only one that can use his weapons without him getting pissed, especially Rebellion."

     “Dante stares at your ass a lot.”

     Once again, you choked on your drink.

     Lady laughed at Trish’s comment with a shrug, “Can't fault him for that, you do have a nice ass.”

     The sound of the roller garage door being lifted caught everyone’s attention. In the doorway stood the very topic of the conversation with a few bags of groceries in his arms.

     “Welcome home, Dante!" You shot him a warm smile, "How'd shopping go?"

     Dante stared at you then at the women, “Why are they here?” His voice was cold and flat, his typical way of speaking nowadays. 

     “Oh!” Your voice was semi-cheery as you stood up, tossing the beer bottle in the nearby trash, “They stopped by right after you left. Asked to use the workshop for a bit.”

     He stared at them for a few more seconds before walking through the garage, past you, and into the shop.

     Lady grumbled to herself before sticking out a hand, gesturing at where he’d gone, “See! I told you!”

     “You two are looking too deep into it. Dante doesn’t,” you shrugged, “you know…”

     “Bullshit!” Lady pinched the bridge of her nose, “I swear-- if the two of you don’t hook up soon, I’m going to--”

     A quiet sound of a door being cracked open cut her off. Dante looked at you and quietly mumbled, “You coming?"

     “Huh? I-- Yeah,” you smiled at him, “I gotta finish the oil change and I’ll be in, okay?”

     He said nothing and shut the door. 

     Trish slid off the bench with a sigh, “Come on, let’s give the lover boys their room.”

     “Try not to break ol’ Dante," Lady jested as she picked up her tool bag, "He’s not as spry as he used to be."

      You flipped her off and she stuck out her tongue in return. As they left you meandered back to Dante’s bike, you couldn’t help but mull over what the girls said.

     “There’s no way that they are right,” your brow furrowed, “Dante is-- well, Dante. He’s a ladykiller, not into men… right? I mean, he has a mountain of bikini girl magazines-- ” 

     Lost in your thoughts, your hand slipped and you dropped the open bottle of oil, “Son of a fucking bitch!” 

     You snatched the bottle as quickly as possible but the damage was already done; over half of the contents were now in a black pool on the floor. A dejected grumble left your lips as you laid on your back, staring at the ceiling of the garage with a forearm resting across your forehead.

     “Everything okay?”

     “Hmm?” You tilted your head up slightly and saw that Dante was standing right at your feet, “Yeah… Just my good ol’ butterfingers…” Your head hit the concrete again as you sighed and looked at the mess, defeated. 

     His eyes trailed over to the oil on the floor before he wandered off. You propped yourself up on your elbows and saw Dante had grabbed the cat litter.

     “You don’t have to--” He looked at you for a moment before dumping the litter on the spill, “Thanks, I-- Sorry, that was like a brand new bottle,” you leaned up in a sitting position, “I promise I’ll clean it up and replace the bottle.”

     “It’s fine,” Dante stuck out a hand, helping you up. 

     As you got to your feet, you fell into him a bit and found yourself leaning on his chest. Your face instantly became hot as you froze. Strangely, Dante made no move to push you off of him or remove you, he just stood there and waited for you to do so yourself

     “Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your space, hah…”

     Dante didn’t say anything, but rather, he grabbed your hand and pulled you inside the shop. On his desk was a box of fresh hot pizza and a few cold unopened beers. 

     Which in hindsight, you aren’t sure how he got the pizza. He didn’t have it when he entered the garage. Unless he got it delivered at the exact moment he got back… Or he had already stopped back in the foyer of the shop only to come around back to “interrupt” your conversation--but there’s no way he would do that, right?

     “So,” you grabbed a slice and sat on the edge of his desk, “What’s the special occasion?”

     “ ‘was hungry,” he grabbed a slice for himself and sat in his desk chair, putting his boots up on the tabletop.

     A look of shock spread across your face, “Really?"

     “What?”

     “It’s just,” you shook your head, “I’m just glad that you’re eating, is all," you smiled warmly, "It's nice."

     The red devil stared at you for a moment before continuing to eat. 

     Ever since defeating Nelo Angelo, Dante’s “human” habits had gradually deteriorated. He wouldn’t sleep, bathe, or even eat; any and all self-care was put on the back burner. You had to force the poor man to take care of himself--which is much easier said than done. 

     At one point, things got so bad that Trish acted more human than Dante. There was a small ray of hope, however; since Argosax’s defeat, Dante had begun to regain some small bits of life. He’d been bathing more often, eating every once in a while, and even smiling again. Most importantly, however, Dante hadn’t tried to off himself in almost six months which was a victory in and of itself for the tormented man; this, by extension, made you feel a little more at ease that the chance of you coming home to Dante on the cusp of death had slimmed significantly.

     “Hey,” you pursed your lips and waited for him to look at you in acknowledgment, “Do you care if I turn on some music?”

     He shrugged, "Don’t care."

     You hopped off the desk edge and waltzed over to the "well-loved" machine. Hitting a random track--and praying to god it worked--you went back to your resting spot against Dante's desk. The two of you sat and ate together, listening to the jukebox and enjoying the quiet company. 

===

     A loud knocking at the front door of the Devil May Cry woke you up. You must've fallen asleep downstairs. Across from you, in the middle of the room, was the coffee table with a TV that had been playing a DVD’s menu screen for only god knows how long. You were on your side and resting on the floor, in front of one of the couches… Even though there was an open couch adjacent to this one. 

     A large blanket was draped over you and onto the furniture behind you. That's when you heard a  snore and realized why you weren't on the couch. Dante was fast asleep and face down against the coffee-colored pleather. Goosebumps ran up your spine as you realized that his arm was across your chest, his fingers loosely grabbing the fabric of your shirt. Carefully, you slipped away from the sleeping devil and let out a soft groaning yawn as you stretched. 

     Another set of knocks. 

     You sighed and stood up, walking over to the door, opening it.��

     “Ah, good morning Mr. Morrison,” you smiled tiredly at the man, welcoming him into the shop.

     “You know, you make me feel old when you call me tha--” he stopped and stared at Dante, who was still asleep on the couch.

     A small huff of a laugh came from your nose as you whispered to Morrison, “I know. Shocking right?”

     His volume matched yours in return, “That would be an understatement," he turned to you, “Sorry to wake you but I have a job for the two of you that requires immediate attention,” he held out a manila folder.

     “What is it?” A flat voice asked, making both Morrison and you jump.

     After the two of you took a moment to calm down from the unexpected voice, the broker walked over to Dante and handed him the file, “Huge swarm invaded a nearby city--didn’t even have time to evacuate.”

     You walked over to Dante, peering over the edge of the file. He noticed your interest and scooched over to one side, allowing you to sit beside him. As you attempted to read, you found yourself leaning towards your partner, squinting harshly at the small text. Dante moved closer to you causing your sides to touch; which, despite how many times he’s been this close (and closer) to you, never failed to make your heart race. 

     As the two of you looked at the file, you couldn’t help but remember what the ladies had said yesterday; how stony he is to them compared to how acted with you. Dante might be a bit cold but he has his sweet moments--even if it’s him sharing paperwork filled with pictures of hundreds of demons and a destroyed cityscape.

     You whispered to Dante, “So, wanna do it?”

     His eyes flicked to you before he looked over the file once more, “Fine.”

     “Sweet!” With a jovial smile, you grabbed the paperwork. Your eyes flicked up at Morrison who moved to the edge of Dante’s desk, leaning on it with a lit cigar--as per usual, “We’ll take it!”

     The broker shook his head with a small smile, “I’m beginning to think you enjoy these types of jobs.”

     “Actually,” you stood up and walked over to him, “I do. Don’t have to worry about destroying things," you handed him the file which he grabbed.

     He laughed softly and shook his head, taking a puff of his cigar, “You two are quite the pair.”

     You tilted your head in confusion; that’s when you felt an exhale of air on the back of your neck, making your hair stand on end.

     “We takin' the bike?” Dante’s voice was low and his warm breath lightly tickled your ear.

     “Y-yeah,” you turned your head to the side and were only inches away from the sultry devil.

     His turquoise eyes locked onto your gaze for a few seconds before he gave a flat, “Ok,” and went upstairs to get changed. 

     Once the youngest son of Sparda was upstairs, Morrison laughed as he stood up from the desk, “I’ll let the city know you're on the way. You two be careful,” he nodded goodbye and headed for the door before stopping, turning his head over his shoulder to you, “Don’t forget that there is still a lot of people trapped and--”

     “And we should try and help them, don’t worry,” you winked at him, “Dante and I got this.”

     Morrison opened his mouth but said nothing; instead, he continued out the door whistling a tune to himself. 

     You raised a brow at the odd action but decided it was not worth dwelling on. 

     Humming to yourself, you made your way up to your room. One of the spare bedrooms of (The) Devil May Cry that you were “only staying in for a few months”... that was over a decade ago. A smile tugged at your lips as you reminisced about a time long since passed. 

===

     Rain quietly beat on the roof of (The) Devil May Cry as the well-loved jukebox played quietly in the background. It had been exactly a year since Dante had officially named the shop and begun to take jobs as a demon hunter. Sitting at the large wooden desk was said devil hunter without a shirt on, only opting to wear his pants and boots. His arms were placed neatly on the top of his desk with his head resting on them, facing down at the tabletop, snoring happily. A half-eaten pizza and several empty beers were scattered about, painting the same old scene that he partook in night after night. 

     That’s when you showed up in his life. 

     You burst into the shop, stumbling and out of breath; leaning against the door, holding it shut. 

     “We’re closed,” Dante didn’t even open his eyes. 

     Before you could reply, obnoxious loud banging and shouting could be heard from the other side of the door. Dante raised a brow and tiredly looked up at you, curious as to what was pursuing you so fervently. The shirtless young man’s ears twitched as he made out what was on the other side of the large wooden door; it wasn’t demons or devils, it was humans. A mob of what sounded like fifteen to twenty people that were spouting off insults that ranged from vaguely rude statements to flat-out death threats. 

     Dante sighed, standing up from his desk with a huff. Casually, he grabbed Force Edge from the wall it was resting against, walking over to you. 

     You, of course, were terrified, debating if it was better to take your chances outside. Bursting into some random dude’s shop was dumb but you didn’t expect a smoking hot white-haired man (who was possibly the owner) to approach you with a massive gothic sword. 

     He flicked his hand telling you to move off to the side, which you fearfully obliged. With a warm, soft, friendly feeling, he smiled at you revealing his oddly sharp teeth, “You’re gonna owe me for this,” your face instantly became flushed in embarrassment.

     Dante opened the door wide open and stepped out of the shop, the large blade resting on his shoulder. As he slowly went down each stair, the mob backed up away from him, “I’m only gonna say this once,” his voice was cold, loud, and angry, the complete opposite of what you’d just heard, “Get lost.”

     One of the group’s men decided to act tough and approached Dante, “And if we don’t? What are you gonna--!”

     The red devil grabbed the man by the face and held him up, not phased by the man’s struggling, “You know, I hate people like you,” his fingers tightened, “People that just don’t know how to listen.”

     Muffled complaints came from the man as Dante’s fingers tightened further before tossing him at the others, knocking several of them over. They helped each other stand back up but none of them moved to leave. 

     “Now scram,” Dante’s brow furrowed, “Last chance before you really start pissin’ me off.”

     With that final warning, the group ran like the wind and disappeared. A small laugh came from the red devil as he re-entered the shop. 

     “So,” Dante set Force Edge back where it was, “What is a guy like you doin’ being chased by a mob at this hour, huh?” He leaned against the edge of his desk, folding his arms. 

     “I uh,” your face became hotter and hotter as you looked at the smiling man, calling him stunning was an understatement. It didn’t help that he was lightly soaked from the rain which was dripping down his body, emphasizing his physique, “I just pissed off the wrong folks, that’s all.”

     “Uh-huh,” Dante pushed off his desk and wandered over to you, “That why you smell like gunpowder, blood, and demons? Or’s that some sort of weird cologne?”

     You froze.

     “You know," he continued, "it’s not every day I get to meet someone in the same line of work as me,” he now stood in front of you, his hands stuck in his pockets and a casual tilt to his posture. 

     “I-- What?”

     Dante’s smile widened, “You’re a demon hunter, right?” 

     Your expression said it all, making the young man laugh.

     “Now,” he turned from you striding over to the corner of the room, “as payment for waking me up from my nap,” the white-haired man stood near one of the couches, grabbing his black long-sleeve shirt off the back, “You’re gonna take me with you to finish your hunt.”

     As he slid the tight fabric over his body, all you could do was stare. Not only was watching him get dressed semi-erotic, but, the idea that you’d finally met someone else who enjoyed demon hunting like you do was enough to send shivers down your spine.

     “That’s what you were doing right?” The red-clad man raised a brow as he slid on his vest, buckling the straps.

     You blinked back into existence with a nod, “Yeah, you sure you want to come with? It isn’t exactly a small job, and,” you avoided his gaze, “it’s not only demons.”

     “There are cultists, too--I know,” Dante slid on his gloves, “Figured that out the moment I saw ‘em outside,” he tossed his coat on, adjusting the lapels.

     “O-oh…”

     He meandered over to the same sword from earlier, placing it on his back, “So,” he raised a brow, “We doin’ this or what?”

     You smiled sheepishly, “Sure.”

     “Ah… Almost forgot,” Dante turned around and opened a desk drawer, grabbing his keys, “Here, catch,” he tossed you a box of shells, “Those work?”

     “Really-- I- Yeah, why are you..?”

     Dante began to walk out the door, you right behind him, “Can’t do all the work myself, babe,” he turned to you with a smile.

     After he locked the door, you led him to a building that was right outside of Red Grave; it was an old abandoned apartment complex. The two of you made quick work of the job; given, it was half-finished from your earlier attack.

     Despite not even knowing each other’s names, the two of you fought together quite well. Neither of you got in each other’s way. When you did interact, it was damn near perfectly choreographed; as if you’d known each other for a long time.

     “You know,” Dante dodged a Death Scissors, “You’re pretty good at this.”

     “Oh yeah?” A small amount of playful sarcasm loomed over your words, “I’m still not impressed with you,” you ducked underneath a Frost’s attack and shot it right in the small of its back, “mister white-haired stranger.”

     “Eh,” he used Force Edge to slice three Abyss in half, “Had to leave you something to fight.”

     Both of you shared a laugh and stood in the middle of the room, looking around at the carnage. Dante turned to see a cultist trying to escape. The red devil pointed Ebony up and shot the human, much to your dismay.

     “Hey,” you shoved his shoulder, “You stole my final kill.”

     “Oh,” he holstered Ebony and turned to you, “Didn’t see your name on ‘em, sorry.”

     You playfully rolled your eyes and sighed, “Thanks for your help,” you avoided his eyes, which were trained on your face, “I appreciate it.”

     “No problem,” Dante smiled, “This was fun, been a long time since I’ve had a partner to work with,” he stretched his arms upwards, cracking his shoulders, “Lady’s been off doing her own thing lately.”

     “Lady?” You raised a brow, suspicious of the red devil’s seemingly fake person.

     “She’s an old friend,” Dante and you began to descend back down the building’s stairs. It wasn’t until the two of you got outside before he spoke again, “Hey, so,” his voice was quieter than before, “You work by yourself all the time or?”

     “Yeah,” you sighed and placed a hand on the back of your neck, “Never been able to find someone who’d join me on a hunt.”

     “Well,” Dante put his hands in his pockets, “If you want, I’ve got an open spot at my shop...”

     “Really?”

     “Mhm, haven’t had a partner in a while and could use the company.”

     You laughed.

     “What?”

     “I don’t even know your name and you are offering me a job?”

     The red devil stuck out his hand, “Name’s Dante.”

     You smiled and shook his hand, “Well, Dante, I think I’ll take up that job offer,” you sheepishly turned your head away and mumbled, “I think I could use some company, too.”

===

     “You coming?” 

     A sudden flat voice from your doorway made you jump with a loud startled shout. Quickly, you turned around to see Dante, fully geared up, and leaning against your doorframe with his arms neatly folded.

     “I- Yeah, sorry,” you shook your head, “Just lost in thought.”

     Dante stood up, saying nothing, and headed back downstairs into the garage. 

     With pursed lips, you continued to get ready; that’s when it hit you. Dante must've been standing there for quite some time, watching you; you who was standing in bagging half falling off underwear the entire time. Your face became hot, the idea of Dante seeing you this exposed was enough to make your mind reel. Shaking off the growing hot feeling, you shoved yourself into your hunting gear; which included Dante’s Ifrit and your shotgun, Revenant.

     Upon reaching the garage, you saw that Dante had already started the bike and was waiting outside for you to join him. Although you weren’t sure, you swear it looked like he was smiling at you; only hinted at by small creases in his cheeks. You joined him in the alley with a stuck-out hand, waiting for Rebellion, which he gave you. As you slid the sword on your back, you flashed a wide smile and playful wink at Dante. Then you mounted the back of the bike and a heavy wave of embarrassment filled your face as you firmly placed your hands on Dante’s waist. 

     Without a word, Dante kicked up the stand and you were off. As you held onto him, you couldn’t help but lean further onto his body, your face against his back. His cologne was that of lemongrass, lavender, and a light dusting of patchouli. You took a deep inhale, sighing longingly at the comforting scent; which didn’t go unnoticed by the white-haired hunter. 

     The two of you arrived shortly at the nearby city. Once both of you dismounted the bike, Dante stuck his hand out--mimicking what you’d done earlier. With a smirk, you pulled Rebellion off your back and held it out in front of you, blade facing down and your fingers tightly wrapped around the grip. The red devil grabbed the sword, making sure to just barely ghost your hand with his in the process. 

     A bright blush adorned your face as you gave him a small content laugh and looked at the less-then-happy scene before you. To say that the place was crawling with demons would’ve been an understatement. 

     An irritated long groan came from you as you slumped forward, “Those pictures must’ve been old; this is so much worse,” you looked over at Dante who was staring at you, “Wanna call in the ladies?”

     “No,” he turned from you and began to walk toward the city.

     With a baffled sigh, you shook your head and jogged to catch up to him, walking right beside him.

     When the two of you got to the edge of the zone, a large platoon of soldiers was along the city’s edge. As expected, the two of you were approached by the armed people and questioned as to why you were there. 

     You sighed softly, “We were hired by the city to come in and exterminate the infestation.”

     A mixture of various “bullshit”s and “no way”s were heard throughout the platoon. A greatly unamused Dante slyly reached down and grabbed one of your fingers with one of his, a sign he used when he wanted to move forwards.

     “Just stay out of our way,” you shoved past the soldiers, Dante right beside you. Before you got too far, you stopped and turned to the men, “Wait about thirty minutes and start sweeping this end of the city for survivors, continuing further inwards; we’ll have most of the demons cleared out for you.”

     Once more there were various forms of ill-natured or overly skeptical comments from the crowd; but, after all these years of hunting, it was expected at this point. The two of you just continued onwards, Dante’s finger still wrapped around one of yours.

     It didn’t take long for you to encounter a horde. At first, you were excited and readied Ifrit; however, Dante has taken up to not allowing you to fight anything more than Misras or Frosts. Today was no different.

     You vocalized your irritation (as you had done many times before) but it always fell on deaf ears, Dante simply didn’t care. Things came to a head when you were nearly finished with the job and the red devil had been nearly gutted by a group of demons but he still wouldn’t let you fight.

     “Dante,” you furrowed your brow as the two of you walked on, “Could you at least let me kill something? I’m getting bored with fighting small fries and playing cheerleader.”

     The red devil stopped and looked over at you, but said nothing.

     “Come on,” you made your best puppy dog eyes and stuck out your lip in a pouty manner, “Please?”

     “I can handle it,” he turned to continue on the path, “You are a human; humans are fragile.”

     “Excuse me?” You walked beside him, “You forget you’re human, too?” 

     “I can heal within seconds,” he glared at you from the corner of his eye, “You can’t.”

     You moved your jaw in thought, mulling over things before speaking again, “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should push yourself like this,” the red devil’s head turned slightly, indicating he was listening, “Just ‘cause you can heal…” You reached out and lightly grabbed his bicep, “I’m your partner, remember? I’m here to help you.”

     Dante stopped and pivoted to look at you. His brow was slightly upturned and his eyes held an odd unplaceable emotion, “I know.”

     A small sad tilt decorated your brow as you lightly squeezed his arm before letting go. You had an inkling as to why he acted this way but had never been able to be sure; hell would have to freeze over before you’d get a clear answer from the red-clad half-breed.

     The two of you entered the center of the city where the demons seemed to have come from. In the middle of the large leveled area was a large mass of sorts. Both of you knew exactly what it was, the start of a demon nest.

     Almost as if on cue, an insurmountably large quantity of demons revealed themselves. The two of you split apart. Finally, you were able to fight something decent and were relishing in it. Your targets were, for the most part, Blades and Gladiuses; which wasn’t that big of a challenge but it is better than nothing. A smile shot across your face as you got to have some fun with Ifrit for the first time in years.

     In the complete opposite of an over-strained Dante trying to deal with several Plasmas and Blitzes.

     You had nearly finished up your half (well more like two-thirds) of the horde and destroyed the budding nest before you noticed Dante struggling. Quickly, you killed the last of your targets and rushed over to help the red devil, who had just been thrown through a building. 

     “Dante!” You kneeled down by him, “Hey, you alright?”

     “I’m… fine,” his voice was strained as he tried to sit upright, only to bare his teeth with a grimace.

     “Stay here, I’ll take care of this,” you stood up but found that your wrist was ensnared by Dante’s grasp.

     “No,” he attempted to stand again.

     “Dante, I can handle them,” you tugged your hand away, “Let go of me, please.”

     His expression was blank as his fingers only tightened around you.

     “Dante…” Now, you are starting to get irritated.

     “I can handle them, just let me do it,” he stood up and you saw that his ribcage had concaved, clearly broken.

     “No Dante-- You are in no condition to fight right now,” you pursed your lips, “I can finish this,” giving him one last chance to let go.

     “No, I am fine.”

     “Goddamnit Dante!” You snapped at him and yanked your hands out of Ifrit’s gauntlets, removing Dante’s grip on you, “You’re always protecting everyone else, so please, for once in your life,” you stalked over to Rebellion, which had been stuck in the ground nearby when Dante attempted to stop himself, grabbed it tightly and turned back to him, “Let me protect you.”

     His eyes widened, showing a mixture of confusion and anger, but you didn’t give him a chance to refuse. You had already gone off and were slaying the rest of the demons using Rebellion. If Dante wanted you to stop, he could have recalled his sword; he should’ve recalled the blade but, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to.

     Although you were still concerned for Dante, you couldn’t deny that you were having the time of your life. You'd only been allowed to use Rebellion one other time on the field, which was shortly after being hired at the DMC. The feeling of wielding such a mighty blade was insurmountable; not only that, but the frictionless feeling of slicing through demons was damn near erotic. A wide smile spread across your face as you finished off the final few demons, pinning the final Plasma down into the ground using the blade. 

     “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

     “You’re just jealous that I got more kills than you,” with a playful shake of your head and a small laugh, you pulled Rebellion back out of the ground and turned around. Dante had healed and was giving you quite the venomous glare, your expression dropped, “What?”

     He aggressively grabbed the sword from your hand, placed it on his back, and turned to walk back the way you came, “We’re leaving.”

     You bent down and picked up Ifrit, sliding the fiery devil’s gauntlets back on, “Huh? We haven’t done our sweep back--”

     “Now!” His voice was much angrier than you’d heard in a long time, so you remained silent and followed behind him. 

     The walk and ride back to the shop were eerily quiet. Neither of you said a word, not even to the soldiers that you passed in the city. During the bike ride, you did your best not to latch onto the red devil and held onto the bike itself--which wasn't exactly comfortable or easy, but you were pissed off and didn't care.

     As the two of you entered the shop, you had thought about saying something to the devil but weren’t going to give him that satisfaction; no, you just silently went up to your room and slammed the door behind you. Leaving him in the foyer, alone.

     Doing your best to ignore the guilty feeling in your gut, you hopped in a quick shower and took a small unintentional cat nap on your bed right after. Around an hour later, you woke up and groggily wandered downstairs to get a glass of water--and to see where Dante had gone. As you looked around, you pursed your lips in confusion. Dante typically after a job would just get drunk at his desk or on the couch but he was nowhere to be found. It was rare for him to actually go to his room; but, then again, it is even rarer for the two of you to have a disagreement or fight like this. A sigh left your lips as you traversed back to your room. A small amount of regret lingered at the edges of your mind for using such harsh words at the poor devil.

     Mindlessly, you had wandered to stand in front of his room and stood there with your hand up, ready to knock. After a minute you decided to put your hand back down, hoping that maybe he’d be the one to come to you and apologize for once. With a heavy sigh, you entered your room and turned the light on, then nearly had a heart attack. 

     There, sitting silently on the edge of your bed, was Dante in his boxers and a long-sleeve black baggy shirt. His forearms were resting on his legs--one of which was bouncing nervously, his hands intertwined as he mindlessly twisted and played with his fingers, and his gaze fixated on the floor.

     “Uh… Dante? Everything okay?” You shut the door, set your glass of water down, and slowly walked over to the bed, sitting beside him. 

     “You remember why I hired you?” His voice was soft and sad, something was wrong.

     You shook your head, confused at the seemingly out-of-nowhere question, “Huh?”

     “Do you remember why I hired you?”

     “Because you said you needed company..?”

     His lips twitched at the answer; however, he said nothing and just stared at the floorboards in front of him.

     “Dante?” You gently and cautiously grabbed his forearm, making his leg stop bouncing.

     His voice became even softer, becoming barely audible, “Do you regret it?”

     Your brow softened as your fingers gripped him tighter, “Dante…” 

     His brow furrowed as he moved his jaw for a second before giving you a sad huffed laugh, “I wouldn’t blame you if--”

     “Stop,” you stood up and moved to stand in front of him, then knelt between his legs, “Look at me,” his eyes coyly met yours as you grabbed both his hands, “I have never regretted anything I’ve done with you, nor will I ever.”

     A small quiver found its way to Dante’s lip, “Why?”

     “What do you mean why?” You gave him a bittersweet smile, “I like being with you, Dante.”

     He opened his mouth but no sound came out, only a crack and a small whimper as tears filled his eyes. Then you did what you should’ve done the moment he started talking, you stood up and enveloped him in a tight hug. Dante quickly wrapped himself around you. The red devil’s fingers dug into your back and grabbed generous handfuls of your shirt. 

     Half-formed sentences and choked-up versions of “I’m sorry” are all that he could manage through the unwavering barrage of tears. All you could do was hold him tight and tell him that everything’s okay--that he doesn’t have to apologize, not for breaking down like this. Gently, you kneaded against his shoulder blades and placed one hand in his hair, petting him. You noticed his hair was wet; which, not only meant that’s where he was when you were searching for him but, this was the first time he'd taken a real shower in nearly three weeks. It seemed like a lifetime had passed before his tears began to slow, eventually boiling down to just small hiccups. 

     However, his hold on you didn’t loosen, if anything, it got tighter. You had placed the side of your face against the top of his head and quietly hummed, hoping to comfort him.

     “Hey…” Dante’s voice was thick and quiet, a hint of nervousness ghosted his words.

     “Hm?”

     “Would it be okay to stay like this? Just for a little longer…” He waited with bated breath for your response.

     “Mnmm… How about this,” you pulled back from him, making him hesitantly release you. A small warm smile tugged at your lips as you straddled his lap and re-wrapped yourself around him with your legs around his middle, “This okay?”

     Through your shirt, you could feel Dante hum with a small smile, “Mhm,” his arms regrafted themselves to your body as he pushed his head into your body.

     The two of you sat together for nearly two hours, Dante softly purring against your skin as you lightly rubbed his back and played with his hair. If the front door hadn’t opened, the two of you would’ve stayed linked together for much longer. 

     “I’ll get it,” you slid off his lap but were stopped by Dante grabbing your wrist.

     “Do you have to?” His expression was oddly shy, which sent a sharp pang of love through your heart.

     “Join me?” You smiled as you pulled him up. A small surprised laugh left your mouth as you felt him lace your fingers together.

     A bright smile adorned your face as the two of you made your way downstairs and found Morrison standing in the foyer.

     “Afternoon, Mr. Morrison!” You waved with a small happy noise but realized that he was staring with wide eyes. 

     “I’m not… interrupting, am I..?”

     You stared at him in confusion before you realized how the two of you looked; both of you were semi-disheveled, only in underwear and a shirt, and Dante’s hand was in yours, “No! No- not at all! We-- It’s not what it--”

     “You are," Dante released your hand, moving further into the room, “but it is my fault for not locking the door. What’s up?”

     A sputtered confused noise left your lips as your face became unbearably hot, mortified at what Dante was implying.

     Morrison laughed, “Blunt as always, huh Dante?” 

     “Why bother lying about it,” Dante leaned against his desk, arms folded casually.

     The broker shook his head with a smile, “I’m just here to drop off payment from the job earlier,” he handed Dante a thick envelope, “The client was impressed with how quickly the two of you worked--made sure to get it to you just as fast and added a little extra cash, too.”

     “Oh? Really?” Dante opened the packet and counted the cash quickly, “Huh… Thanks, Morrison.”

     Morrison did a double-take, taken aback at not only Dante’s words but, Dante’s willingness to talk, “No problem, Dante…” The broker looked over to you with a raised brow before turning to leave, “Sorry for interrupting, I’ll lock the door on the way out. Goodnight you two.”

     “ ‘Night, Mr. Morrison!” Your voice was sweet but still had a lingering sense of embarrassment to it. 

     Dante opened the top desk drawer and tossed the money in it, smiling.

     With a sudden nervousness, you approached the pants-less devil and joined him near the desk, “So… What was Morrison interrupting, Dante?”

     His turquoise eyes slowly moved up to meet yours, a heavy odd feeling behind them. 

     Your face became even hotter as you swallowed hard, “Dante..?”

     “We were sitting together,” small creases formed on his cheeks as he smiled wider, “Why? Did you have something else in mind?”

     Another loud set of sputtered discombobulated noises came from you, unsure how to respond to such a loaded question. 

     A dark chuckle came from Dante as he meandered over to you, slowly inching you towards the wall behind his desk, then placing a hand beside your head, “Something wrong?”

     “No, I--,” you closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to keep yourself from spontaneously combusting in embarrassment, “I’m f-fine.”

     He lifted a brow and placed his free hand on your cheek, running his fingers gently across your skin, “I dunno, you seem rather feverish… You’re not sick, are you?”

     “I’m just a little warm, that’s all,” you let out a half-hearted laugh, doing your best to ignore the pounding in your chest.

     The red devil wasn’t satisfied with this answer and moved his face closer, putting his nose right beside yours, and made half-lidded eye contact, “I don’t believe you.”

     Bit by bit, you leaned closer to him, placing your lips as close as you could without touching his. The two of you hovered for a moment before Dante pulled away and turned to look to his right, “Do you mind?”

     You mimicked Dante's action in confusion and saw Trish standing in the shop. 

     “Lady forgot a few things in the garage,” Trish raised a brow and addressed you, “You believe us now?”

     “Trish!” Dante’s face was bright red, “Seriously?”

     “What?” She placed a hand on her hip, “You do love him, don’t you?”

     Dante mumbled something you didn’t quite catch before his voice returned to the previous volume, “Can you leave? You’re kinda killing the moment.”

     “Just make sure that you two can work in the morning, we have a contract to do.”

     “Trish!”

     She gave you a wide smirk and a wink, “Have fun.”

     The two of you waited for the garage door to shut before Dante sighed, “Guess the moment’s kinda ruined, huh?” 

     He sheepishly turned to you, to which you grabbed his shirt and yanked his lips down to meet yours. A surprised muffled grunt came from the red devil as he placed his hand over yours, his thumb slowly running over your skin and removing you from his shirt. Gradually, he regained control over the situation and pushed you back against the wall. His lips were broiling and desperately pushing against yours, almost painfully so. 

     Dante grabbed the sides of your hips, picking you up slightly, so he could pin you against the wall using only his body and a knee that he had placed between your legs. Your hands frantically grabbed at his body, eventually settling for one hand in his hair and the other groping at his upper back. His hands wandered all over your body, sliding underneath your shirt and touching as much as you as he could. 

     Eventually, you managed to wrap your legs around his middle and his hands slipped down to support you from underneath your thighs. You cupped his face in both your hands to deepen the fervorous kissing. The red devil bit lightly at your lips, asking to enter your mouth. At first, you didn’t let him and playfully denied him entrance. Dante wanted to taste you and wasn’t taking no for an answer, forcing his tongue inside. His tongue was hot and he wanted nothing more than to explore every bit of your mouth, to devour as much as he could. The unexpectedly long appendage made you jolt and gag slightly in surprise, which made Dante smirk with a small amount of pride. 

     Only once you were both out of breath did the two of you separate, leaving you with labored breathing and hazy loving smiles. 

     Your thumbs gently rubbed the stubble that decorated his jawline, “Dante, do you really..?”

     He meekly smiled and mumbled, avoiding your eyes in embarrassment, “You think I’d treat anyone else like you..?”

     You placed a soft kiss on his forehead, “I love you… So much”

     A soft huffed laugh came from his nose.

     “What?”

     He placed a small kiss on the side of the base of your neck, “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

     You laughed softly, “Dante,” he looked up at you and you ran a hand through his hair, “You want to know something?”

     “Hmm?” He began to purr and melt into your touch. 

     “Although, there’s obviously more a more emotional aspect now,” you broke eye contact and turned away to avoid his gaze, “When we first met if you had asked me to… ya know… I would’ve,” your face was completely on fire as you regretted opening your mouth.

     “Oh?” Using one hand to support you, he used a hand to turn your face to his, “What was that now?”

     Your voice was high-pitched and cracked from embarrassment, “N-nothing!” 

     He had a sultry smirk tugging at his lips as he ran his thumb over your trembling lips, “You know, I thought about asking for that--instead of joining your hunt.”

     “You-- you did?” Your face only became hotter with each word.

     “Mhm,” Dante put his lips above yours again, “Not every day a smoking hot, sopping wet, guy busts into my shop.”

     The two of you connected lips again and Dante’s hands gripped the sides of your thighs harshly, his nails digging into you, and dipped your ass lower to meet his growing heat. A small growl came from the back of the red devil’s throat as he ground his hips against you. Your hands grabbed his shoulders as you let out a small moan from the friction of Dante’s grinding. In response, Dante began to roll his hips harshly against you, shoving you against the wall with each thrust. Your hips jolted from the sudden rough movements and you broke from the kiss, letting out a low hissing groan. Dante, however, wasn’t done tasting you and immediately placed his lips back over yours; making sure to devour each one of your sweet noises. 

     He turned around and began to support you using only one hand again. With his free hand, he moved his mother’s photo to the desk drawer, closing it softly, and then swept his arm across his desk, throwing everything else off the top--making an absolute mess of the already cluttered shop. 

     Dante dropped you onto the desk and broke the kiss. Quickly, he removed your shirt and began to bite at whatever he could, making you squirm from the sudden, almost animalistic, aggression. His teeth broke through your skin and Dante excitedly lapped up the crimson lines, letting out a continuous lowly growl. A sharp loud gasp left your mouth as you arched your back towards him in response to him biting your neck; still drawing blood as he did for the other marks. Your fingers dug into him only further encouraging him to do it again.

     However, you weren’t about to let Dante have all the fun. You kneaded your way down his torso and to the edge of his boxers. Coyly, you palmed over his bulge with widening eyes. Of course, it was easy to tell that Dante had a nice dick from how visible it is through his pants but you didn’t expect it to get that much bigger.

     The sultry devil caught onto your sudden surprise and let out a small breathy laugh against your neck, “What’s the matter, babe?” He ran his tongue along one of the bleeding marks, “Surely you knew..?”

     “I,” your mind was blank, “I thought you were a shower, not a grower,” you let out a half-huff half-laugh noise through your nose.

     “Oh, just you wait,” a small seductive laugh came from him as he leaned back up to look you in the eyes, “Still not quite there yet.”

     You rolled your eyes and casually draped your arms over his shoulders, “You know, just cause it’s big doesn’t mean anything if you don’t know how to use it,” you let out a playful low laugh, staring at him with half-lidded eyes. 

     Dante leaned in, “Oh, don’t worry,” he kissed you again, “I know exactly what you like,” smiling happily. 

     The two of you exchanged loud pecking kisses, “Mhm, sure you do.” 

     He stopped and left his lips right above yours, his breath ghosting your kiss-swollen lips, “I can hear things, you know…” 

     Your eye went wide, “Wh-what are you--”

     “Every night, in your room,” he moved to kiss right behind your jaw, whispering against your skin giving you goosebumps, “Begging for me, saying my name,” he ran his tongue along the shell of your ear, “You’re much louder than you think, babe,” Dante gently bit your ear before he leaned back up to meet your gaze. 

     All you could do was stare back. Admittedly, it had crossed your mind a few times over the years that Dante might be able to hear you but you figured that he would’ve said something by now; especially with how long it’s been since you moved in. The idea that Dante had been listening to you for so long made your entire body hot and threw you for a loop.

     Through all your discombobulated noises, you finally managed to sputter out, “Why didn’t you tell..?”

     “Because,” he leaned in, intensifying his eye contact, “I get off listening to you,” he kissed your jawline, “I love hearing you come undone.”

     A shiver ran up your spine as you completely froze. 

     The red devil noticed your change in expression and began to panic, “I didn’t upset you--!”

     You yanked him down to your mouth, kissing him harshly once more. As you did, your hands ran up his shirt and began to grope at his pecs, eliciting a moan from the white-haired devil. Your nails ran down his body leaving loving irritated red skin, making him groan much louder.

     He broke off from the kiss and quickly pulled his shirt up and over his head, tossing it in a random direction in the shop. When he looked back at you, his heart skipped a beat at the face you were making. Although you were obviously already flustered, your face had turned darker by tenfold and your eyes were wide; staring directly at Dante’s bare body.

     “What?” He smiled with a tilt of his head and hips, “Like what you see?”

     You coyly reached out to touch his chest again, Dante watching you intently. Softly, you kneaded against him and whispered, “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

     Now it was his turn to become red in the face, “H-huh?”

     “I said,” your voice returned to normal volume, “You’re gorgeous, Dante…”

     He stared at you. Although the red devil plays the confident type, his self-esteem was rather poor, and, to be quite frank, he hated how he looked most days; being reminded of his dead brother every time he looked in a mirror. However, hearing you say something so simple and, yet, so impactful made his head spin and his heart wrench.

     You leaned in and placed a string of gentle kisses along his collarbones. As you did, you could hear him purring ever-so-slightly and were able to feel the vibrations through your lips. Eventually, Dante snapped out of his stupor, he slipped his hands into your underwear and found purchase on your ass, groping and kneading against you harshly. Next, you placed kisses up his neck and placed a long kiss against his Adam’s apple, pushing against it slightly; eliciting a groan from Dante. 

     Now back up at his lips, you connected with him once again. The red devil leaned you back onto the barren desk, without breaking the kiss, and pulled your hips tight to his. Once you were fully laid back, Dante moved down your jaw all the way down to your chest with soft kisses. A loud hiss left your mouth as you felt him bite down on one of your nipples, tugging on it slightly--doing his best to make sure he didn’t give you an accidental piercing. 

     “Fuck… Dante,” you ran your hands through his hair and looked down at him, he was already staring back at you; something was different, “Hey,” he released his bite, “You-- You alright?”

     His brow twitched in confusion and he tilted his head, his gaze thinned.

     “Your uh… eyes are--” You pursed your lips, his eyes had become a vibrant burning red-orange

     “Oh- Oh!” Dante laughed softly, “Don’t worry about that,” his voice was quiet, seemingly shy, “I’m just excited, that’s all.”

     You smiled at him and placed a hand on his cheek, thumbing over his flushed skin. He moved back up to you and stared down at you. His eyes are the exact same as when he uses his Devil Trigger except for his pupils, which are heavily dilated. It was a chilling reminder of how dangerous Dante really is, how much stronger than you he is.

     “Are you sure you are alright with me-- with us-- doing this?” His brow was upturned and his voice was filled with a unquenchable lust that made your entire body hot.

     “Of course,” you gave him a long drawn-out kiss and bit his lower lip, slowly pulling on it, “I wouldn't have it any other way,” you felt him shift his hips slightly and whispered against his lips, “I want you, please, Dante.”

     He nodded and took a deep breath, leaning back up. 

     Before he could do anything, you sat up and pushed him away lightly with your fingertips on his chest. A sultry smirk tugged at your lips as you slowly slid down to your knees, placing the occasional kiss along his abdomen. 

     Dante’s breath hitched upon realizing what you were doing, “You don’t have to- ah~” He let out a small groan at the feeling of your lips against his still-clothed cock. 

     You looked up at him and placed a few more kisses down his trapped shaft, feeling him twitch against you. With almost painfully slow movements you kissed back up his shaft then slid your fingers behind the band of his boxers, pulling them down. His cock sprung up proudly, already dribbling pre-cum. 

     With a small smirk, you looked up at him and ran your tongue up the underside of his dick, making sure to lap up the small bits of milky fluid. His eyes broke from yours and were staring upwards.

     “Dante,” you stopped, making him look back down at you, “Look at me, please,” you leaned back in closer to his body, whispering against his sensitive flesh, “I want to see if you are enjoying what I am doing or not”

     He swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath, “I don’t know how long I… If I watch you.”

     You smiled and let out a sultry laugh, placing a kiss on the underside of his tip, “That’s fine, as long as I get to watch you cum.”

     The red devil’s face was bright red, not only from your words but from, watching you give his slit small kitten licks. You made your way down his shaft with slow kisses again, reveling in how much he was squirming from your touch. Once down to his base, you moved to the side--between his cock and the meat of his thigh--and bit down on him, leaving a loving dark mark. All the while Dante was groaning quietly as he bit his lower lip, attempting to stifle his vulnerable noises. In fact, he was biting down so hard that blood had begun to trickle down his chin.

     After you felt the mark was dark enough, you placed several kisses on his balls and curled your tongue around his shaft, moving from the very base all the way back up. Slowly, you placed your lips around his cockhead and made sure to watch as Dante released his lower lip, unable to contain himself any longer. Bit by bit you took his length into your mouth, to the best of your ability; it’s not every day you suck an eight-inch cock after all. 

     Unhurriedly you bobbed your head up and down, making sure to savor his taste and the lewd mewls that he was making. You used one hand to play with his balls, making him buck his hips at the unexpected touch. Cautiously, he placed a hand on the back of your head, his fingers just barely ghosting against you. Noticing his hesitation, you used your free hand to push his palm harder against you. As you worked yourself into a rhythm, you noticed that he was moving his hips gently into you, making you take him in ever-so-slightly deeper with each intake. 

     You placed your free hand on your own dick and began to stroke yourself at the sight of Dante towering above you. He was breathing heavily with half-lidded eyes and was moaning sweet praises; such as “Holy shit” or “Goddamnit”. 

     After a while, you moved back to kiss down his shaft and his balls. Carefully, you licked his sack and took one of his balls into your mouth very gently sucking on it.

     Dante put his hands against the wall, pushing up, and arched his back as he let out a loud unfiltered moan, "Fuckin~~! God~" His fingers clawed through the wallpaper, all he wanted was to grab you and fuck into the back of your throat, but he needed to be careful and have patience; the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

     As you released his ball, you lightly ran your teeth against the skin, making him let out another loud moan. You flattened your tongue and ran it up between his balls, making sure to go slowly between them, all the way back to his tip only to generously give his slit more kitten licks. 

     Once again, you returned to bobbing up and down on his cock, moving a bit faster this time. One of your hands began to fondle his balls again whilst the other wrapped around to hold the back side of his thighs; encouraging him to thrust harder into your face. The red devil caught on quickly to the idea and placed both his hands on the back of your head and began to thrust his hips into you. 

     Admittedly, it was perhaps a bad idea to encourage him to face-fuck you since he managed to make you deep-throat him; something you weren’t able to do. Tears sprung to the corners of your eyes at the feeling. All you could do was wrap both your arms around his thighs and hold on for dear life, hoping he didn’t get any rougher. 

     Thankfully, it didn’t take Dante long to reach his peak. Your eyes met with his and he let out a thunderous whining moan as his fingers dug into the back of your head, pushing his cock as far into your mouth as he could. As expected, his cum didn’t taste the greatest--caused by his diet or lack-there-of, it was very salty and rather bitter. On top of that, he was choking you and pushing rather hard into the back of your throat but that didn’t matter much; you got what you’ve been lusting after for so long. 

     The look on his face alone made it worth the probable sore throat in the morning. He was disheveled with his hair falling in front of his face, some of which was stuck to the thin layer of sweat on his brow. His eyes were heavy and even more dilated than before. A dark red stain adorned his lower lip from his own smeared blood. Heavy labored breaths left his ajar lips, giving you a good look at his sharp teeth. You could tell that he wanted you, that he wasn’t done with you yet; which is exactly what you’d hoped for. 

     You felt him pet the back of your head as you removed his cock from your mouth. With heavy eyes of your own, you looked up at him with your mouth hung open slightly and breathing heavily. He noticed the tears that had finally run down your face and thumbed them off your cheeks, cupping your face in his hands. 

     Without breaking eye contact, you leaned against one of his hands and took his thumb into your mouth, biting it softly. 

     Dante’s voice was soft, “Can we do more?”

     With a smirk, you let go of his finger and stood up, placing a hand on his chest, “You sure you’re up for it?”

     The red devil picked you up, placing his head between your neck and shoulder, whispering in a low dark tone, “My room or yours?”

     A shiver ran up your spine, “E-either one’s fine-!”

     Dante bit down softly over one of the marks he made earlier in an attempt to satiate some of his growing desires, internally he felt himself becoming increasingly impatient. After a minute of thought, he went upstairs with you still in his arms and kissing your marred skin. Dante decided to use his room; after all, he knows where his lube is--plus he doesn’t have to worry about ruining your bedding, bed, or room in the heat of the moment. 

     He supported you with one arm as he futzed with the doorknob. You grabbed his face and moved it to yours, kissing him once again. Dante’s kisses were much less innocent and sweet this time; this time, they were overtly lustful and sinful. He wanted to indulge both himself and you in these unholy urges, to make you feel as good as he does; which, come hell or high water, is exactly what he’s going to do. 

     Finally, he got the door open and pushed it open using your back. Your hands made their way up to his hair, grabbing handfuls of it as he placed both his hands on your ass, pulling you as tight to him as he could. The only light in the room was provided by the sunset that was peaking through the blinds on his window; which poured directly onto the bed. He brought you both to the foot of his bed and laid you down, moving his kisses down your neck and to your shoulder. 

     When Dante leaned up the sight before him is one that will be immortalized in his jumbled mind. You were a hazy mess and were sprawled out on the untidy sheets. The sunlight gave your body a golden glow and only emphasized how beautiful you are to him. You looked heavenly, angelic almost. A small amount of pity sat at the edge of Dante’s mind, pity at how he is going to stain your pure and holy nature; how this devil is going to destroy you.

     He grabbed one of your hands and kissed the back of it, placing genteel warm kisses up your arm and stopping on your shoulder. His breath was hot and tickled your ear as he whispered to you, “I love you,” he placed a long kiss on the side of your neck, “So damned much…”

     Before you could speak, he placed a soft peck on your lips and stood up, moving over to his bedside table. You scooched up further onto the bed and Dante climbed onto it, a bottle of lube now in hand, sitting on his knees. To say he looked stunning was an understatement. You weren’t sure if he looked heavenly or if he looked demonic; perhaps he is both a devil and an angel wrapped up in a half-human shell. The sunlight made him appear god-like; between the sheer definition of his frame and the orange eyes that were trained on you, he looked surreal. Said eyes were flicking all over your body, absorbing every bit of you that he could, but he was hesitant; what if he messes things up?

     After a few minutes, you sat up and placed a hand on his bicep, “Hey, you okay? We can stop if you don’t want to do more, Dante.”

     He shook his head, “No, I want this, I want you. I just--” his gaze broke from yours and mumbled, just barely audible, “I’m nervous.”

     You gave him a gentle smile, thumbing over his arm, “You’re doing great, Dante,” you leaned the top of your head against his chest, closing your eyes, “Besides, that’s supposed to be my line.”

     He let out a warm laugh and placed his hands on your back, kneading against you. 

     After a moment, Dante leaned you back down and slid his hands into your underwear. He pulled your last bit of clothing off and tossed it somewhere within the messy room, then he took his own off; leaving you both completely exposed. The red devil then paused in thought for a moment before carefully turning you over onto your stomach.

     You peered over your shoulder at Dante. He was staring at your bare form, biting his lip. A small groan left your mouth as you felt him place his warm hands on your ass, kneading. After a moment, you heard him shuffle around and then he sat for a moment. A sharp gasp came from you as you felt him smack your ass then aggressively grabbed the slowly redding side. Dante’s lip twitched into a smirk as he did it again, hearing you let out another moan. 

     He put both hands back down and groped at your ass, listening to your whimpering beneath him. Admittedly, he wanted to continue teasing you but he was losing grip on his own emotions; fighting back an urge to Trigger. So, he let go of your tender flesh and grabbed the bottle of lube. Instinctively, you put your ass up a bit; laying in a downward dog position. Dante split apart your cheeks and applied a generous amount of lube before slowly running his finger around your hole. 

     A small buck of your hips back told Dante you wanted him to hurry up so he slid one finger inside you. You buried your face into the bedding in hopes to suppress your voice but were quickly pulled back up by Dante’s hand carefully around your throat. 

     Through a strained growl, Dante confidently huffed, “I want to hear everything, and,” he leaned down, slowly adding a second finger, and whispered in your ear, “I don’t want you to fake anything.” He kissed the back of your neck, “I want your real reactions, ‘kay?”

     Quickly you nodded, laying your head to the side and letting out a quiet groan as you felt his fingers fuck into you faster. Dante curled his fingers towards himself and felt you jolt forwards as you let out a guttural groan. So, he repeated the action and, when you repeated the same response, he continued to do it faster and faster. 

     Dante added more lube and slid in a third digit and saw that your brow furrowed a bit, grimacing slightly; however, you didn’t tell him to stop so he pushed it in further. As he played with your hole, he noticed you had begun to practically ride his hand. Mindlessly he opened his mouth and began to play with his teeth using his tongue, he found himself distantly regretting waiting so long and wished he had been able to gratify these taboo feelings sooner. 

     “Dante,” you stared at him from the corner of your eyes, “I want you,” you felt his fingers quicken, making you moan, “Please, Dante.”

     The red devil shifted his jaw in thought, still playing with your ass. He wanted to watch you squirm underneath him longer but he couldn’t deny that he was also growing increasingly desperate. With a small sigh, he removed his fingers and gently coaxed you to turn over; laying belly up. 

     Slowly, he ran a hand down your middle and gently thumbed over your aching cock, and the pre-cum that decorated the tip. You whimpered from the unexpected feeling of your long-neglected arousal. Dante leaned back to sit his butt on his heels and, using some lube, stroked himself to the sight before him. 

     Once fully slicked up, Dante aligned himself with your hole. A devilish smirk tugged at his lips as he teased you, running his tip along your hole; he wanted to hear you beg as he had heard in secret for so many years. 

     “Please Dante,” you pursed your lips and rolled your hips, “Please, I can’t-- Please~!”

     With a low growl, he pushed his tip inside and you let out a sharp gasp at the feeling. 

     Bit by bit Dante entered your body. You were doing your best not to tighten your body around the unfamiliar feeling. Admittedly, it made your whole body tingle in delight; never had you had such a large partner--living or plastic--making this quite a new and thrilling experience. It took nearly a minute for Dante to finally be fully inside and both of you were already on edge. You reached up for Dante’s head, pulling him down for a kiss. Your legs rested on the outsides of his hips, allowing him to bend down fully to kiss you. The kisses were slow, loud, sloppy kisses; both of you were a mess.

     Dante sat back up, holding you around your thighs, and ever-so-slightly pulled back then pushed back inside. He continued these small careful movements for some time. 

     “More, please, Dante,” you spoke between heavy breaths, “I don’t want you to hold back,” you flashed him a warm sultry smile, “Do whatever you want with me, Daddy~” You added a playful wink to the end and laughed as his eyes went wide with embarrassment.

     Your laughter quickly died down when you felt him quickly pull out over half his length and jab it right back in eliciting you to let out a loud unfiltered moan, “Do whatever I want, huh?” He gave you a dark full-teeth smile, you felt your stomach drop in a fearful arousal type of way.

     Dante pulled out almost the whole way and, once again, slammed right back inside. You let out another sharp moan and arched your back at the feeling. The red devil repeated this action until all you could hear in the shop was his balls hitting your ass and you spouting out random jibberish; singing the devil’s praises. 

     You went to jack yourself off but were stopped by Dante’s hand grabbing your wrist. Without slowing down, Dante leaned down and looked you dead in the eye, “You only get to cum when I say you can, babe.”

     “What~Ah~!” 

     Dante yanked you up to sit on his lap, making hard deep hard jackrabbit thrusts right into your prostate. As he did that, he also had begun to bite over your skin again and his hands hand found their way to your ass; groping it hard. You wrapped your arms around him and held on to him, leaving deep scratches on his upper back. His lips met with yours again for more sloppy wet kisses, his hands slowly traveled to underneath your thighs. 

     In one swift motion, he had both of you up off the bed and you pushed against his wall. His thrusts had slowed to a moderate pace but were still short, only pulling out two or three inches. You decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and bit down on his shoulder. Dante let out a loud sharp unfiltered moan and his fingers dug into your skin, clawing into your thighs. 

     Once you felt the mark was deep enough, you placed a few more; making sure to mar up each side, and with each bite, you got another frantic moan. You leaned back to admire your work and felt him start making longer, more drawn-out movements, purposefully teasing. 

     Now resting his head against the side of your neck, he placed a few kisses, “I don’t remember saying you could bite me, babe.”

     “Whatcha gonna do about it, hm?” 

     Dante pulled out of you and the next thing you knew you were being pushed face down into the floor, his hand grasping the back of your head tightly. He re-inserted himself inside you and began to fuck you even harder than before; pulling out to the very tip and slamming into you. Using his other hand, he took one of your arms and held it behind you, pinning it to your back. Your free hand was stretched in front of you and you were gripping the floor with your fingertips, desperately trying to ground yourself. 

     Admittedly, you were on cloud nine as you felt him continuously re-penetrate your hole. Your legs felt weak and you began to, unknowingly, drop your hips down; which caught Dante’s attention. The red devil pulled himself back out and took you to the bed, laying you face up. He remained on his feet and re-inserted himself, then yanked your legs up and over his shoulders. All you could do was grip the bedding tightly and continue to babble random moaning phrases to him, egging him on further. 

     This pose didn’t last long, Dante removed your legs and leaned down to you. He gave you a long impassioned kiss before resting his forehead against your chest. One of his hands grabbed yours, intertwining your fingers, and the other found purchase on your cock. With each jab inwards, he jerked your dick in rhythm with his hips. Your free hand gripped his hair, holding him into your chest. 

     Dante’s voice was ragged and low, almost desperate sounding, “I don’t know how much longer I…”

     “Cum inside me, Dante,” you didn’t even need to hear the rest, you knew that he wanted to know what to do. 

     He moved his head to rest between your neck and shoulder then picked up his pace tenfold, in both his hips and his hand. Your body arched tightly against his and your fingers clasped even tighter around his hand and his hair. It only took a few more short sharp jabs for him to reach his climax, spilling himself deep inside you. Dante’s teeth sunk deep into your skin, breaking it once again, and creating a vice grip on you. 

     The hot feeling from his cum quickly spread throughout your body as his pace around your cock sped up, the combination of the two soon brought you to your own peak, “Fuck, Dante~!” Your voice was loud and semi-whiney and you pushed your head against his. 

     A gentle purr could be heard from him at the sound of your orgasm, despite him still having his teeth sunk into you. You gently ran your fingers through his hair and felt as if you were going to cry. The two of you laid connected for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of being so close.

     Dante carefully removed his bite, making you let out a hiss in pain, and released your hand from his. He leaned up and gently removed his cock from your body, making a shiver run up your spine. With a happy content huff, he relaxed back down on you and propped himself up by resting his forearms on your chest. A warm smile and half-lidded eyes adorned his face as he placed a soft innocent kiss on your cheek and then rested his chest on his arms, staring at you.

     Your hands slowly ran up his biceps and rested on his shoulders, mimicking his smile with one of your own. As you thumbed over his skin, you couldn’t help but think about how much you truly cared about Dante. Wandering thoughts devolved to the memories of coming home to a near-dead Dante laying on the bathroom floor; which only further darkened to the idea that it could always happen and, someday, you might not make it home in time to--

     “Hey,” Dante’s soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. His smile was gone and his brow was creased, “What’s wrong?”

     A tremble found its way to your lips as you stared at him and you realized that you had several tears running down your face. Unable to spit out what you were thinking, you spoke with a small crack in your voice, “Can you come closer?”

     He gave you a small sweet smile with a happy huff, “Here.”

     Dante stood up, picked you up, and placed you on the bed--laying you the correct way. The red devil then slid onto the bed next to you, placing his head on your chest. He laid with his body half on top of you and wrapped his arms around your middle, allowing you to do the same. Although you typically would’ve immediately gone to wash up after such a strenuous event, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of him. A loud robust purring filled the room as both of you relished in the feeling of holding one another.

     You placed a soft long kiss against the top of his head, lingering against him for some time before whispering sweetly against his disheveled hair, “I love you, Dante; you know that, right?”

     The red devil turned his head to look at you better and placed a soft kiss against your lips, “I love you too babe,” he placed his head back on your chest, nuzzling into your hard, his arms wrapping tighter around you, “So damned much.”

==

ENDING NOTES: ;skfajfjlkdsjafkldj this wasn’t supposed to be this long--it’s 22 pages in docs; how the fuck-- This was supposed to be a short Dante smut fic, what happened lmaooo 🍊🍊🍊 Quick thing: If you are curious as to why I think a younger Dante would have issues with how he looks; it is because it reminds him of Vergil (Vergil has the same issue when his hair is down, thinking he looks like his brother--I mean, they are twins after all).  🍊🍊🍊 You know, I have written quite a bit of smut, right? So you’d think that I would stop laughing and getting embarrassed over writing words like “nipple” or “balls” but no, I fucking still giggle to myself like a fucking idiot when I write those words like… wtf is wrong with me smh Like I sit here typing one letter at a time all flustered when writing those two words specifically even though I just wrote about Dante fingerings the reader or like the reader linking Dante’s pre-cum like wtf is wrong with me lmaooo

==

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

[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

[destieltropecollection]

DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 30 | Wing Fic

Blanket Nest | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,840 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Season/Series 08, Wingfic, Nesting, Angel Culture & Customs (Supernatural), Wing Grooming, Fluff, Light Angst, First Kiss, Grace-Soul Bonding (Supernatural), Interspecies Romance Summary: Dean sits on the bed and Castiel repositions to make room for him. Strong, careful fingers begin combing his plumage and he immediately fluffs up slightly in response, which is something he can’t control. Castiel has been refusing to acknowledge for years how strong their bond has become, and he ignored it further in purgatory because their lives were constantly under threat, but now… now, in the safety of the bunker, Dean’s new home, he’s losing the struggle to not finally address it.

Wet Hot American Hunter | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3,055 Main Tags/Warnings: First Kiss, First Time, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Rutting, Massage, Coming In Pants, POV Alternating Summary: Dean and Cas take a nice hike together on a sunny day. An unexpected development on their excursion results in some long-overdue changes to their relationship status. TL;DR: Cas's wings pop out, so Dean and Cas fuck a little.

Un-Simple Miracles | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4,122 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Season/Series 15, Heavy Angst, Castiel Out of the Empty (Supernatural), Winged Castiel (Supernatural), Suicidal Dean Winchester, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Miscommunication, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Animal Death, Angel Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: It’s so stupid. Dean doesn’t even fucking like dogs.

Fractis Alis | @unanimous-anonymous

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,669 Main Tags/Warnings: Wing Kink, Wing Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, First Time Confessions, Internalized Homophobia, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has Anger Issues, Pushy Bottoms, Loss of Virginity, Happy Ending, Post-Leviathans Summary: [This fic takes place after Leviathan!Cas when tensions are high and Cas's guilt is thick. Cas appears in Dean's motel room, injured after an altercation with the angels. Dean plays nursemaid.] “Uh, Cas,” Dean cleared his throat. "How come I can still see your wings? I usually never see them for more than a couple’a seconds at a time.” Dean peered over Cas’s shoulder, letting the washcloth lag over his collarbone as curiosity got the better of him. Cas took in a sharp breath and retreated just slightly from Dean’s proximity. “I seem to be having trouble stowing them away entirely. My apologies, they became slightly damaged in the altercation.” Dean furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, ‘entirely?’” “What you see is only their shadow; not their physical form. I keep them in a different plane of existence, but when they need tending to it becomes… more difficult to keep them hidden.” Cas’s body language was steely, as usual, and hard to read. “You mean what I’ve been seeing is just some heavenly jacked-up angel-juice projection? You have actual, physical wings, like with feathers and crap?” Dean raised his eyebrows in amazement, but Cas seemed tense.

Wish Upon a star | @malicmalic

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 10,000 Main Tags/Warnings: WingFic, BlanketForts, Nesting, FallenAngel Castiel, Angel/Human relationship, Human AU, meet cute Summary: Prompts: - wingfic (wing grooming is especially a bonus) - snow fort building OR blanket fort building after a day in the snow. basically: forts and comfort - nightmares and h/c - picnic (cloud watching, homemade food, etc etc) but honestly i’m not picky - as long as it’s destiel, i’ll devour it hahah Or the one where MalicMalic decided to write ALL the prompts.

Flight Back to You | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: General Word Count: 11,924 Main Tags/Warnings: Resurrection; Fallen Angels; Exes to Lovers (Dean and Cas); Supportive Sam; past minor character death; past Amelia Novak/Castiel; Castiel/Michael and Jimmy/Dean in a way but not really Summary: Dean's exhausted, wracked with strange dreams that bring back memories of a teenage fling he had years ago. While on the way to check out a potential case with his brother, his exhaustion catches up with him, nearly sending both him and Sam over a cliff's ledge. Luckily, a familiar face from Dean's past comes at the perfect moment to provide them shelter for the night. The thing is, as it turns out, they actually have a lot more history than Dean initially remembers. And all three of them apparently have a lot more feathers than Dean is comfortable with.

My Soul Whispers Your Name | @casblackfeathers

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,933 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent, winged Dean, wing kink, wing grooming, soul and grace bond, fluff, hand jobs, blow jobs, bunker, domestic, happy ending, mutual pining, jealous Castiel, protective Castiel, sweet Dean, getting together, hurt and comfort Summary: When Amara tells Dean that she will give him what he needs most, the last thing he's expecting is to sprout fucking wings and to be able to sense what his own soul — and heart — really want, making it impossible for him to ignore all the feelings he's been harboring for Cas over the years. It’s no shock that Dean’s soul is drawn to Cas like gravity and now that Dean can perceive Cas’ grace all the time, he’s constantly reminded how stupidly breathtaking it is. He had been a goner since the second he laid eyes on Cas, and this just seals the deal. Now that he’s stuck like this, he might as well pull his head out of his ass, give it a shot, and finally get what he always wanted.

Cupid in Love | Destielshipper4Cas (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 18,285 Main Tags/Warnings: Strangers to Lovers, Pining, Retired Hunter Dean, Angel Castiel, Oil Gland Kink, Wingfic, Bottom Cas, Top Dean, Omega Cas, Alpha Dean, Happy Ending Summary: Castiel’s success rate for matching humans who stay together for the rest of their lives is the best among his kind. Enter Dean Winchester, an alpha who breaks up with the perfect match Castiel found for him not once, but twice. If he wants to save his reputation as a cupid, Castiel has no other choice than to go to Earth in order to find out what this alpha’s issues are. It is supposed to be a quick trip. But things don’t always go as planned…

We're Butter off Together | @whichstiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 27,207 Main Tags/Warnings: Butter sculptures, Bed sharing, Magic, True love's kiss, Bed and breakfast Summary: Set immediately after the Season Five episode “The End” this canon-divergent story begins with Dean and Sam heading to the Wisconsin State Fair to check out a butter sculpture of an angel that sounds awfully similar to Castiel. Sure enough, when they arrive the incomplete sculpture looks a lot like Cas - enough so that the Winchesters call in the angel himself to help investigate it. Castiel, upon arrival, is mistaken as Dean’s partner - as in “life partner” - and they’re forced to share a room at a local B&B during the investigation. When Cas falls prey to the dark powers at work, Dean must confront his feelings in order to save Castiel.

Calming the Weather | @seidenapfel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 35,490 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post 15x18 – Despair, the finale never happened, Angel Dean Winchester, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Wings, Repressed Dean, Internalized Homophobia, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Dean Winchester in Denial About Sexuality, Dean Winchester Has Sexuality Realizations, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eventual Smut, Kid Jack Kline, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, First Kiss, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Castiel's True Form (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester Wing Kink, Wing Kink, Mild Smut, Angel Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: Rescued from the Empty, Cas is fully human, and miserable. So, rather than acknowledge what happened in the dungeon, Dean searches for a way to change that. He finds it in a simple spell. The spell gives ordinary humans a limited dose of angelic powers. Too afraid it might harm Cas, Dean tests it on himself. But it backfires. Thanks to a piece of Grace bound to his soul, Dean wakes up fully powered, wings and all. With their roles reversed, it is up to Castiel to teach Dean how to wield angelic powers, and for Dean to share the peaks and lows of humanity with Castiel. Misconceptions come to light as they learn from each other. Meanwhile, a storm is brewing. In order to stop it, Dean not only has to get a hold on his emotions, but he must face a revelation about himself, one he had repressed all his life.

The Angel's Widower (WIP) | @pray4jensen

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 60,416 Main Tags/Warnings: top!cas, bottom!dean, soul bond, mating rituals, wing kink, enemies to lovers, s12 canon divergent, angst with a happy ending Summary: After Castiel dies, a portal to another world opens and obliterates the universe that Sam and Dean know. A world with new rules and new consequences, a world where humans live in camps enclosed by high walls to keep angels out, where angels will do anything and everything to seduce and lure humans away. Why and to where beyond the wall, no one knows. But then one night, on the other side of the wall, in the middle of a snowy blizzard and under the cover of darkness, an angel with beautiful black wings and a familiar face appears. His name is Castiel. And he asks Dean to go with him.

Dangerous Temptation | trenchcoat_paradigm (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 101,143 Main Tags/Warnings: Curse Breaking, Mutual Pining, Dreamsharing, dream walking, Castiel Gets Wings Back (Supernatural), Wing Kink, Dean Winchester Can See Castiel's Wings, Mutual Pining, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Smut Summary: “The fuck is that?” Dean grabbed his wrist before fingers could make contact with his forehead. The gold talisman swings wildly with the sudden and fierce motion from Castiel’s clutched fist. Dean’s posture slumped in discontent as green eyes met his stare. “Damnit, Cas.” -------- When a childhood fairy tale comes to life, Team Free Will 2.0 is left with the challenge of finding and destroying an enchanted talisman known as the ‘Crown of Luck’. A mystical medallion so powerful that it is said to grant the wearers' most deep-seated desire. But the boys know all too well from past experience how detrimental that can be. However, Castiel is oblivious to its true power, (even if it managed to fully reconstruct his wings) he already knows the one thing his heart truly desires is something he can never have. Dean thinks he’s going crazy, he’s always had a little crush on his best friend, a ‘look but don’t touch’ kind of thing. But with his head giving him ideas, dreams shared with his favourite angel (and with him flaunting those damn wings all the time!) it’s making his little infatuation harder to ignore.

[ysabelmystic]

My friends and I are rewatching a bunch of Christian films from my childhood and we completed the original Left Behind trilogy the other day. Here were my observations

I do think it's funny that the plot essentially begins with GMOs. GMOs are bad because more people being fed means world peace and globalism. That is bad.

"I'm Buck Williams and I'm standing in a wheat field" is now doomed to be repeated within my friend group for at least the next two years.

The antichrist's name is Nikolai Carpathia. He has the accent of a guy mimicking a Russian accent. This feels on par with JK Rowling naming her one Asian character "Cho Chang".

The character names also include (aside from the aforementioned antichrist and Kirk Cameron's character) Rayford Steele, Chloe, and Patty. Somehow it has the aura of a porno.

Despite the only demographic to be exclusively raptured is children under the age of 10, this fact is pretty much ignored.

Kirk Cameron's character (Buck) confronts police officers who are shooting at looters and teenagers for lacking compassion. By today's standards, this is woke propaganda.

I'm pretty sure the prior thing is to show that Buck is a good and pure soul who just needs to read a Bible to be fully redeemed because how else can you have a non-Christian protagonist in a movie like this. Or maybe this is to show that he's misguided and worldly. However, despite being a hot, sexy, prolific journalist, the movie also points out that he is a virgin.

The alleged romantic tension between Buck and pilot-not-porn-star Rayford Steele's daughter is painful to watch because Kirk Cameron will not kiss anyone other than his wife. There's a lot of awkward side hugs and leaving room for Jesus. Given that they end up getting married later, this is amusing to me.

These movies really want you to know two things: World Peace Is Bad, and Jews Are Bad. There are direct plot points specifically about converting Jewish people to Christianity so that they cannot usher in the rule of the antichrist.

I think it's really funny that, despite TV and the internet existing during the time this series takes place, the connection between the rapture prophecies/fanfics and The Fucking Rapture is only discovered by our protagonists and a handful of other random guys. I think a mass disappearance of certain branches of Christianity and children would provoke some kind of doubt and curiosity, but no. That's bad for plot. Instead, the whole world goes straight to "y'know what? Let's just get rid of all religion at once. Forever." This is because all other religions are made from faithless heathens who just really hate Christians, and since there are no longer Christians, they no longer have to Do Religion. I guess.

I also think it's funny that the main characters, though they themselves were convinced to convert because of the rapture, do not use the rapture as a means to convert the masses. They jump straight to bunker church and secret Bible brigades. When they do successfully convert others, it is either by trotting out the tired, "YOU THINK THIS WORLD WAS AN ACCIDENT???" Case for Christ nonsense, or basically threatening their victim with damnation.

Case in point, Rayford Steele talks a guy out of suicide by reminding him that he will never see his wife and child again if he goes through with it. Suicide = Straight To Hell.

There's a scene where the antichrist like... tries to "test" Rayford Steele by revealing his uber spoopy ghost face and seeing if he reacts. Because I guess the uber spoopy ghost face only works on believers. Te uber spoopy ghost face is his figure showing up in infrared, then his face stretching out cartoonishly, and his eyes turning black. This scared me as a child. It is the second funniest part of the movie.

Also, the title of the second movie being "Left Behind: Tribulation Force" is giving big "Electric Boogaloo" energy.

The antichrist reveals of the evil Global Community organization to the protagonists by handing them a piece of loose leaf printer paper with a logo that I would've made in the computer lab in 2005. This is done to the tune of sinister and dramatic music. This is the funniest part of the movie.

The third movie begins with the introduction of The President. It was previously stated that the president had been raptured. There was no mention of presidents up until this point. I know the line of succession exits but it really felt like they just forgot.

Oh yeah...the Pope was also raptured because he was secretly protestant.

Buck marries Rayford Steele's daughter at the same time Rayford Steele marries a random blonde lady. It feels weird and icky, which is furthered by the fact that the now married daughter will henceforth be referred to as "our girl" by both of these men for the rest of the movie.

We also had to stop the movie several times due most of the female cast consisting of skinny white blonde ladies. We could not tell the difference between any of them except for by their eyeliner. If she wears dark eyeliner, she's a whore.

Due to the plot involving the release of a virus that mainly only affects Christians, this film was definitely the most fun to dissect.

The virus is stored in badly CGId glowy green goo bottles, which for a series that has tried very hard to be serious, was awfully cartoony.

This movie does not give a fuck about the protagonists. This movie is about the president. I'm pretty sure this is because the protagonists, who are Christian, are no longer allowed to commit murder. The president is not a Christian, so he gets to use a gun.

The president has random warehouses to do casual interrogations in wherever and whenever he wants. It is clear that the creators were really struggling to make due with the set.

We know the antichrist is bad because he wants to take everyone's nukes. The president's main goal in this movie is to keep the nukes.

Back in the side plot, it turns out that the Christians are getting infected with green goo disease because the antichrist hid it in their Bibles. As the protagonists drown in guilt, the suspense of the plot really starts to fall apart. Their entire goal is to Get More People Into Heaven, and in this series, reading the Bible will automatically make anyone a Christian (the Bible's words cannot be resisted). If anything, they just fast-tracked a bunch of people into heaven, and they no longer have to endure the next seven years of apocalypse.

We should've all watched these movie pre-COVID. The only person who wears a mask and gloves is the antichrist. The protagonists also mention avoiding vaccines and relying on God/sacrificing themselves instead. This movie predicted 2020.

The super advanced green goo virus has an instacure antidote. Fucking red wine. This seems like a helluva lot of oversight to hand the "drinks red wine as part of religious rituals" group a virus that can be instacured by red wine.

WW3 starts. Somehow, this does not cause a nuclear winter.

The antichrist discovers that he can force-choke people.

The president suicide-bombs the antichrist's tower in order to "slow him down". Given that the antichrist cannot be killed and cell phones exist, I have no idea what exactly that was supposed to do.

As someone who grew up fully believing that Obama was the antichrist and Muslim (which is conservative for "literally a member of Al-Queda/ISIS").... and Black but they didn't say that part out loud), it was interesting in retrospect to watch this movie unfold. The president in this movie is a Black, non-Christian man who is initially for world peace, but then converts to Christianity and suicide-bombs the antichrist. We all have different interpretations of this, but we do agree that they would not have made that specific set of choices today. That said, my interpretation is the correct one /hj

[ofmermaidstories]

HI same anon from earlier. but. how did you develop your writing style? i love how personalized your voice is and it’s genuinely so enjoyable to read! sm appreciation for you and your art <3

you know how like, people have accents? not regional ones—but like, you might meet someone at uni or work, and almost immediately you can clock that they a) watch a lot of anime and b) maybe read a lot of 80s/90s fantasy/scifi? it’s like that! it’s when someone’s voice is very clearly informed by what they’re consuming or are active in. like how being chronically online means you can pick a twitter user (they’re always inserting disclaimers or over-explaining themselves to prevent misunderstanding or explicitly clarifying a position). it’s the same principle!! i write like i talk, and i talk like i do because i consume a lot of stuff lmao.

one of my favourite tiktoks is like, this girl pouncing on an older woman—she’s big in the fashion industry but her name is escaping me rn—to ask her where she gets her style from, and the woman is just like, “be interested in other things!!!”. and we say that all time in writing circles, right? like, read more, watch more movies, etc etc but it’s so true, because it’s only by exposing yourself to whatever you can that you can then start like, parring down the things you like, and then work through what you like about them.

i like poetry. and i like music. we all like music!! but music has cadence the same way us speaking to each other does. some of my favourite books are in first-person and because we’re in first-person, we’re in the character’s head 24/7, which means we’re privvy to the music of their thoughts. because it is music! i don’t think in complete sentences, do you? i think in—fragments, like a burst of song. or in details. i like details!!! they’re often the first thing i notice in situations, so i include them when i write, and i’ll read authors that include them, too. but then it’s a bit of a trap, because you have to have a light hand with it—you can’t just over-describe everything, it’s going to bore everyone—so we come back to poetry. it’s a good way of reading about that momentary focus on an otherwise mindless detail, and realising how much grounding it can bring to a piece (or a sentence). but then we come back to music and our thoughts. details don’t just stand alone! they exist as a part of other things! you don’t just have the smudged silver of an ice bucket from an empty ice machine in a motel, you have an ice bucket because you’re… standing in the burning hot heat of a motel in the middle of the desert. and maybe the bucket is smudged because the manager running this place literally doesn’t care, and the cleaner is busy scrubbing vomit out of the carpet in the room next to yours, and it’s a worn-down, hard-luck place where people don’t come by choice because it’s like, built on the old highway that existed before they put it one of those mega-freeways that have now bypassed the town and everyone here is poor. i’m not american, i don’t know anything about freeways, but i like history!!! i like things, i like fashion. i wanted to be an animator when i was a kid, and the lingering result of me frantically taking in whatever i could, back in the day, is that i still have a interest in like, idk, cold-war era animation lmao. and this all sounds stupid just rattling off, but what i’m trying to say is that when you take in and discover things you love, it informs your voice and ultimately your style. like i could give you a laundry list of my favourite, personhood-defining books right now (flowers in the attic [read when i was twelve, has always stuck with me in the imagery], chuck palahniuk in general [one of my first intros to second-person pov], shirley jackson in general again, romance novels written in the 90s lmao, the virgin suicides, like—there’s a lot) but it’s not a recipe, because my other interests feed into how i write. 🥹 i like perfume (literally fighting with someone about it rn on twitter lmao), so i’m on fragrantica, a site for reviewing them. which means i am routinely exposed to like, people describing scents!!! and the thing with perfume is that like, if you don’t know what an iris smells like, then you’re kinda up shit creek, right? like, sometimes we’re just not exposed to things! so it’s really common for perfume reviews to try and invoke feeling—and some of it is like, yeah, marketing lmao, like, trying to get you to feel sentimental or hopeful enough to buy a bottle, but if i say “this smells like iris” vs. “this smells creamy and powdery soft, like uncapping an expensive lipstick” you’re gonna get a better idea of things!!! like you still might not know what an iris smells like—but you know what creamy is, what powdery might be. what overpriced luxury type items might entail.

the worst part about this is that none of it came together overnight. like i wish i could just prescribe things, books, like, yes, read this and then you’ll be able to write the exact same way. but it doesn’t work like that! this is quite literally a lifelong effort. so if you wanna develop your own style then like—you have to tend to everything else first. 🥹 you have to love and be excited about other things, because it will tighten your sentences (or blow them up!) and give you music—or an accent lmao—to think in. 🥹

[orionsangel86]

Are there anythings that you would have changed about The Sandman?

The show or the comic?

Plenty of things I'd change about the comic. As great as the story is, it is a product of its time and there are some underlying messages whether intentional or not that are inappropriate and fucked up and don't really belong such as:

The racism towards black women implied to be cursed to die violently when linked to Morpheus in some way following the Nada situation.

In fact the whole Nada story is pretty gross. When she thinks that by cutting her hymen she'll remove her virginity to put Dream off her, but then its stated that healing her hyman doesnt restore her lost virginity... like first of all. No. Second of all - shoving a rock up your vag does NOT remove your virginity lets not spread the message that it does.

The way Dream comes across a bit rapey in the Nada story overall and its not made clear how much influence Desire has in that.

The inherent misogyny which is typical of 80s/90s comics but in particular the violence towards women and overt sexualisation of women. Whether for shock value or not, its just not necessary.

The implied message that depressed and suicidal people should just kill themselves and everything will be better once they are gone.

The idea that a person who is depressed can be replaced by a better good version of themselves and even their family and friends will just treat that person as the new them. The implication that the depressed person isnt valued and must instead conform to the responsibilities and burdens of the system they are trapped in - rather than changing the system.

The concept that the moon is inherently transphobic and that witchcraft is transphobic just irks me as a pagan person- like yeah there are huuuuge problems in the community and the whole divine feminine and fucking womb magic bullshit is all over it but I really really hate how Sandman perpetuates that myth and indicates its the goddess that encourages that view and not asshole closed minded people. The moon isnt fucking transphobic FFS.

Everything about Gwen and Hobs relationship in Sunday Mourning. Its problematic AF and I hope I don't need to explain why.

Not a fan of the portrayal of Loki and Sigyn. Its too black and white for such a complex myth.

That fucking awful reaping joke in Collectors which I loathe with every fibre of my being.

Even with all these points I want to caveat this by saying that I love these comics. I KNOW that a lot of this is subjective and open to interpretation. These things have many shades of grey to them. I adore the comics in so many ways but that doesn't mean they dont have their issues. I know people are emotionally connected to these comics and this criticism isnt meant as an attack on them.

For the show, well tbh I think its practically perfect, but a couple of niggles:

That fucking awful reaping joke in Collectors - can't BELIEVE they kept that in. I mute my TV at that moment so I don't have to hear it every time.

Hob's slave trade ties - They needed clarity here and should have kept the regret in 1889 more obvious. I understand why they changed it but I think that topic should have been thought through better.

There were complaints I read about how black characters and black men in particular seem to disproportionately suffer violent deaths. I know this was unintentional and a simple matter of open casting for extras and minor characters which is a GOOD thing, but sometimes casting should be less blind, and more considered where minorities are concerned.

Some of the dialogue in Johanna Constantine's episode is clunky - but that only bothers me because I've watched it 284929294787 times and have it memorised.

Despair was handled poorly. It wasnt great rep for fat bodies (like me) and she comes across so weak and submissive to Desire. Which she just isn't at all in the comic. Thankfully it looks like they really did take that criticism to heart and made positive changes in Dead Boy Detectives. She was fabulous in her cameo in that.

Not enough gay sex. The 1 star homophobic reviews really overexaggerated on that and left me disappointed. There should have been at least 1 gay or lesbian sex scene in every episode. Do better season 2. Do better. (For legal reasons this one is a joke - Sandman is a goldmine of queer rep and should be on every queer fans watch list 100 times over)

There you go. No piece of media is perfect. There can always be changes and improvements, but the Sandman is a story that really does fit the description of masterpiece. I think my ideas of things that need to change are generally matters of framing. I dont think the comic story should be drastically changed in the show, I don't think it should be given a different ending. Its a tragedy after all, but tragedy can come in many forms and perhaps the story can be adjusted so the tragedy isnt so harsh. But anyway. This is all just my opinion and as with all things i'm sure there will be plenty of people who disagree with me.

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

Love Until We Freeze Ch.7 Day 6 - Breck/Reader

[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 ]

Warnings: Dead dove, do not eat. No use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader, desperate begging, nonconsensual (at first) fingering, threats of assault, manipulation, russian roulette, reader causing violence in self-defense, descriptions of extreme cold and its resulting injuries, sleep deprivation for safety, mentions of suicide and assault, tasering.

Wordcount: 8864

Summary: This was the last straw, you were getting out before it was too late, and no one was going to stop you.

Notes: Very rough start to this one to those who don't like dub/noncon and I mean that even though it eventually does end up as consent, this is still a stockholm syndrome fic after all. Apart from that, when he switches to Snowbunny, he's referring to these, not the other definitions google later told me about :T it's supposed to make the reader feel even more vulnerable and weak, like they're even less in his eyes in this moment instead of something fragile and perfect he can protect.

You waited for freedom, for everything to instantly shatter and let you fly again, but as the seconds passed and all you did was open your eyes, you knew that you’d never be so lucky.

He was shivering above you, his eyes looking over your face as you took in the situation, and even though you still couldn’t move you had feeling enough to be aware of the hard heat pressing into your thigh. He slowly removed the gun from your mouth, his own cracking into a grin before he licked the saliva off the barrel and took out the magazine for you to see. ‘One bullet for him, for breaking the rules and showing you those single moments of kindness; you think I’d bring a loaded gun in here when you hate me so much? I really did think you were smarter than that.’

You couldn’t even speak, you were hot and cold at the same time, your eyes drifting from him to the ceiling as the most powerful relief you’d ever felt in your life washed over you, as well as a despair you couldn’t see yourself ever climbing out of. ‘Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?’ you needed to know, and he set the useless gun down on the bare mattress next to you.

‘Why would I ever want to kill my precious Snowbunny? Especially now that you’ve just admitted how you feel about me?’ He was fucking insane, you knew he was, this wasn’t just a game of waiting for him to crave you enough to strike and run, he was never going to let you go until his tactics worked and you stayed with him, became his of your own volition. ‘Besides, since I am, again, a man of my word, and you made it past midnight, I still need to give you your reward.’

You watched as he crawled backwards down the bed until he was resting between your spread legs, the numbness still strong enough to stop you from closing them, covering yourself, shoving him away. ‘Breck, I don’t want it,’ you tried to tell him, and when he glanced at the gun you actually twitched in pure terror at the thought that he might use it on you again. ‘Please, nonononono, just wait until I can move again, we can do whatever you want, but don’t… fuck, don’t-!’

‘Why wait? This is your reward, not mine,’ he just murmured loud enough for you to hear, his hand running up and down your thigh as he took you in, and when he raised his hand to his lips you could only clench your teeth in terror as he sucked his index and middle fingers into his mouth. A string of saliva connected them to his lips as he removed them, and you felt no desire as he reached down to place the first against your twitching entrance.

‘Wait! Please, use my mouth, you can shove your cock down my throat and fuck me until I pass out if you want, just don’t do this, I’m begging you!’ you cried out, his fingertip circling his desired area as he hungrily gazed up at you with half-lidded eyes.

‘Why, could it be that you’re a virgin?’ he growled, you’d just made it worse, and you knew he’d never stop even as you desperately nodded in a final attempt for him to take pity on you. ‘Fuck… you really are so fucking perfect for me, aren’t you?’ Your eyes shut tight as you bit back a yell, Breck sighing as he pushed into you, felt your last remaining part open up to him, welcome him in, share your heat with him. He let out a shuddering breath just from this much as he pulled out again, pushed back in, forced you to get used to the small intrusion, his palm pressing against you as he found a better angle and started a slow but steady pace.

You just stared at the ceiling as he took what he wanted under the guise of it being for you, your body opening up to him the more he stretched you, and when he found that spot deep inside of you and your breath hitched even amidst the discomfort you wished you had closed your eyes so you would’ve missed the way he bit his lip at the sound of your pleasure. He started to move faster, his legs shifting across the mattress as he moved even closer, and when he found that spot again you actually heard him groan along with you. He aimed for it, watching the twitching muscles in your stomach as your pleasure was forced to build, and when he added in the second and your back arched a little he started to pant, needing more, he needed to give you more.

Your breaths came quicker as he picked up the pace, your eyes finally closing as you heard the sound of his fingers fucking into you and wished that your watcher would press the button again and deafen you for good this time. It was starting to feel good, it’d hurt so much but your body had been craving release ever since he’d held you down in the snow and grinded against you, and it betrayed you as the first moan slipped free. ‘There you go, you’re taking me so good, I knew this was what you wanted,’ he murmured as he leaned forward to lick a stripe up and over your waist, his hand never stilling. You shook your head, thighs trembling as he smirked and nipped at you, the small gasp you let out only making him happier.

He straddled your right leg and rolled his hips, the pain of him scratching all the new wounds taking away from the pleasure before he shushed you, held you down when you started to arch away from the aches, his hand moving faster as he found that spot and aimed hard for it until you saw stars. You’d never been touched like this by another person before, your mountain of excuses to avoid intimacy that you’d been building all your life now avalanching away as he took them from you, your mouth starting to curve from a wince to the starts of a smile as he built up something new inside of you; he told you praises as you started to react in kind, your moans coming more easily as he no longer pried them out of you but encouraged them, begged for them.

‘You’re so good to me, I’m the only one who can make you feel like this,’ he was saying as it all built higher, you weren’t going to last but he’d burned you before, and you didn’t know if you could take it if he left you again. You wanted to beg him not to stop but you were terrified that if you opened your mouth he would, your only coaxing in return the sounds you were gifting to him without end. ‘I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you leave, I had to make you mine…’

He pressed in hard and you keened long from it, you were so close this time, the words threatening to come out until you bit your lip and groaned. An excited breath came from his direction as he picked up speed, fucked you harder, you could hardly stand it, you needed more, you needed to hold him, kiss him, fuck him-

‘Breck…’ you sighed just like you had in the bathroom that night, your hands shaking as they curled into fists, and he only stopped for a moment to cherish it before adding in a third just to be able to feel you more. It was too much, you couldn’t handle it, and when he looked down to see you spread around him he moaned out your name so good that you finally came hard. Your breath caught in your throat as your entire body seized, his hand not stopping until he wrung out every last bit of pleasure from you, it so good that you could barely keep your eyes open after everything else he’d put you through.

‘I can’t… fuck, I can’t wait anymore,’ he said above you as you came down from your high, your afterglow turning into something dark as you looked back down and saw him reaching for his belt. You tried to tell him to wait but your mouth was dry not just from your orgasm but from the growing panic, you knew you’d wanted him in the moment but you didn’t want him to actually have sex with you now, it was too fast, you couldn’t even hold him off as you felt the rope dig into your wrists as more of your feeling came back. ‘Looked so perfect around me, I need to know what you feel like, we’re running outta time, Bunny-’

He popped the button on his pants and yanked down the zipper before you could even blink, you’d begged him so easily before but now the words refused to come, the ringing in your ears returning as he shoved his pants a little down his hips and gripped himself through his briefs; you could already see the damp spot forming from earlier, he wasn’t going to be satisfied with just grinding or jerking off on you this time.

‘I’ll make you feel good, we’ll feel so fucking good-’

‘Breck.’ The door opened as his hand slipped into his briefs so he could take himself out, your breath stilling as he shakily turned to face the Diamond standing there, this one wouldn’t be sent away so easily. ‘You have a message from the Lodge, it’s urgent.’

You watched as he gave himself a slow tug out of sight, his shoulders shaking as he swallowed, his chest heaving dangerously as his eyes grew dark. ‘Can’t it fucking wait?’ he snapped, he was furious, but still, he was no higher than the Diamond in the doorway, and even in your terror-fueled haze you knew that anything from the Lodge was big.

‘No, it’s from Mitch,’ was all he had to say, and Breck took another unsteady breath before removing his hand and fixing himself up. The Diamond didn’t look away from your shame as Breck straightened his sweater and hair, the fingers that were inside you washed off in his mouth before he gave you one final glance and walked out to answer the message, but as soon as his guide was gone he hesitated, leaned back in to say one last thing.

‘No matter what you’re thinking right now, you can’t tell yourself you didn’t want this,’ he said, and you were about to attempt to reply when he motioned to your hands. ‘The ropes were never tied, you could’ve pushed me away the moment you could move again, all you had to do was try.’ Ice ran through you as you turned your heavy head to the side, your hand raising as you saw how limp the ropes actually were, and you felt nauseous as you saw that he was right; they’d faked actually tying the other ends to the frame so you wouldn’t thrash, the moment you had nodded your head at him you could’ve ended it right there, you’d just been so convinced that you’d been restrained that he was right about that too, you didn’t even try. ‘You would’ve let me fuck you, not because I had them stop you from fighting back, but because you wanted it too; you’re mine, and now we both know it, don’t we?’

You let your hand fall back to the mattress as he closed the door again, and when you shut your eyes and tried to hate him more than you hated yourself, you let out a cry as the buzzer rang through the room.

You were in darkness again, but you weren’t lying down or floating or buried, you were sitting.

You felt your mattress under your legs and your headboard against your back, and you were surprisingly calm as the mattress dipped down in front of you and Breck came into view. The diamond on his sweater drew you in like the abyss as you glanced down at his hands, a revolver held up for you to see instead of the black handgun you’d seen earlier. He opened up the cylinder to reveal a single bullet inside, and you just nodded with no fear as he snapped it shut again and spun it.

‘Your family leaves soon,’ he told you as it kept spinning, the sound echoing off the walls around you. ‘You’ve failed all my other tests, so here’s your final one: survive one round with me, try and get out of here, and I’ll let you go.’ You looked down at the cylinder as it just kept spinning, noises coming from around you the longer it went on.

‘There’re no winners in this game,’ you told him, you knew how this worked, and he reached out and took your hand and placed it on the grip over his own.

‘If I kill myself, then you’ll get to leave the mountain,’ he explained, the spinning sounding louder as his eyes looked deep into yours. ‘But if you kill me, then they’ll bury you in the snow with me, I won’t let you leave me even in death.’

‘And if I die then you’ll just add me to the list of others you’ve murdered,’ you breathed, his brown eyes almost black in the dark.

‘If I kill you, or you kill yourself, you know that I won’t win; I need you, Bunny, why do you think you’re still here?’ You looked into the darkness beyond as the spinning grew even louder, it was almost deafening, and his other hand clasped over yours as he didn’t look away from you.

‘You’ll really let me go?’ He nodded, the diamond sucking you in even more as you stared down the barrel. ‘Then I’m ready.’

A light came on above you at once, the other members you’d met standing around you in its weak circle of illumination as they waited to see what would happen, red dots cropping up between and above them, cameras everywhere, you were being watched. You didn’t look at them as the cylinder finally stopped all at once, your ears ringing as he slipped his finger over the trigger; he didn’t fire, just leaned forward so he could lift it to his temple, he wouldn’t use his first shot on you. You swallowed as you were forced to lean forward until you were inches away from him, your mouth falling open just a little as he pulled and heard a click with a twitch of his eye, and then it was your turn. You didn’t aim at yourself, the gun flipped to fit your hand as you pointed it at his chest and fired with another click, and he almost looked hurt over it as it was flipped again and held up to his forehead.

Another click, three shots left.

You quickly aimed at him again, your heart racing as he just waited, and when you heard another click you felt the tears well up in your eyes. ‘It doesn’t work if you only aim at me,’ he said softly before placing the gun in his mouth and firing, another click, last one.

‘You’ll never let me go,’ you whispered as his hands left yours, the gun heavy in your palm as you brought it up to your temple, but he didn’t look pleased about it as he held your free hand in his own, sharing his warmth as the members around you all whispered about how he’d killed another one. Your finger trembled on the trigger as you hesitated, you knew this would be the one, all you had to do was decide if you wanted to fly back home or be buried with him, if you’d rather kill yourself or let them pile the snow on top of you while his lifeless arms held you to his chest as the cold surrounded you, forever sharing the warmth he never had.

‘Why don’t you ever try harder?’ he asked lowly, and you bit back a sob as he crawled over to you, your hand leaving his to grip the center of the diamond and stop it from trying to trap you against him again.

‘I tried so hard,’ you sobbed, but he just shook his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead, your breathing evening out as you felt peace at the touch.

‘I lo-’

BANG.

You startled awake as the buzzer rang through the room, your hearing fully returned as your watcher caught you nodding off and woke you up again, and you grit your teeth so hard your jaw hurt as you felt your tears drying on your cheeks. It was just a dream, none of what he said was real, and you felt so angry at yourself for even pretending like he’d admit to loving you after what he’d just done. You felt sick with yourself at it, you weren’t going to put up with this shit anymore, you knew who he was now.

This was it, you weren’t waiting around anymore, fuck that.

After that you knew that he would actually be the death of you, there was no more doubt about it; even if he knew the gun was empty he’d still killed your Diamond right in front of you just because he’d been sorry about hurting you, had tried to talk to you as he gagged you. He would never see you as a person, just something for him to claim while he pined over the power he thought he deserved, a possession he could hit and beat and fuck while he threw his tantrums and pity parties, and he would kill you with it.

You didn’t get buzzed as you sat up and massaged the rest of the feeling back into your aching limbs, your back sticking to the mattress and causing you more pain, but the feeling of the now cold wetness between your legs from what he’d done propelled you to get up, to move. You took off the ropes and saw the lines left behind to match everything else, just another thread in the tapestry he was weaving over every inch of skin he could get his hands on, and when you went to the bathroom and saw yourself in the mirror you didn’t cry this time. It was bad, it was so fucking bad you felt sick, but you just glared at your reflection and avoided staring at the camera as you turned on the sink to just over lukewarm.

You washed yourself off as gently as you could, clearing away the dried blood and seeing what had torn, the scratches from the fence now buried under everything else. You couldn’t do your back but they allowed you to clean everything else in peace, and when you stood in the shower to let the red run down your back and legs you left the curtain wide open so they could see. You didn’t have any new towels but that was fine, as much as you hated it you were used to the cold of your room now, your body adjusting to it more and more as your wet skin air-dried until you were able to get dressed. No pants, no sweater, just the thick socks and tight, protective clothing for the cryo, your shirt ruined but that was fine, you still had the underwear.

Your mattress looked like a crime scene when you returned, the red and other stains showing what had happened, and you just stared at it before flipping the mattress to the other side and hearing a noise; you peeked under the bed and found a Zippo lighter tucked against the wall, you’d missed it when you’d gotten up, and when you grabbed it and inspected it you found yourself swallowing at the inscription on the side.

To my best friend, my other half, the love of my life,

Mead

This was Breck’s, it must’ve fallen out of his pocket when he was undoing his pants, and you flipped it open to fit the top perfectly against the angry welt on your wrist. Your hands shook as you closed the cap and set it down beside your boots, you wouldn’t use it here, not yet. You went back to the mattress then, it was thin, so both sides were thankfully usable, and you sat back down and waited patiently until the sun rose out of sight, the sound of the key in your lock signaling the arrival of your breakfast. You were wide awake as you stood, the rope quickly picked up and wrapped around your wrist as you kept it out of sight from the camera, and when the Square, Chet, you recognized him instantly, walked in you had just a moment to take your small glass of water and splash it directly into his face.

It surprised him just enough to get him to stumble, your plate taken from him easily as you smashed it into the side of his head; he cried out and covered the injury, you’d cut him on the shattered porcelain, and you counted the seconds as you dragged his head down to your level, raced around to his other side, and wrapped the short rope around his neck. You knew you were being watched, no one hitting the buzzer as an alarm went off in the distance, Chet fighting you until you were able to choke him just enough to knock him out, not kill him, his body falling to the ground before you tore off his sweater and pants and grabbed your gloves, boots, and Breck’s lighter. You didn’t put them on until you reached the garage, the snow not scaring you this time as you quickly yanked everything on and opened all the doors.

You could hear them coming for you as you blocked off their only way in, they’d have to take the long way, and you used your remaining time to grab the firewood axe off of the wall and smash as many ATVs as you could, making sure to give his the worst treatment before gripping your weapon and running out into the white. It was already starting to come down but you were trained for this now, you’d spent so long in cryo that this didn’t actually feel so bad, and you thanked him with a determined smirk before running off in the direction you’d seen the lifts stretch into the distance. The facility was sounding off bells and whistles behind you, you could hear it from the open garage doors since otherwise it’d be too dangerous, and you sickly hoped it would start an avalanche and bury everyone inside, even if it meant it’d bury you too. 

You just kept running, sticking to the trees and breathing in the fresh air until it stung, the top of Chet’s sweater pulled up to cover your mouth as protection, your breath wetting the fabric but also providing you with a bit more warmth in the meantime. You used the axe to support yourself, the gloves extra thick and keeping the cold of the steel away from your palm, your heart pounding more and more the further you got away. It wasn’t your exact plan but it’d still worked, you’d gotten out even if you hadn’t been able to thank Breck for everything he’d done to you, you were going home.

You blinked away the tears so they wouldn’t freeze on your face as you kept going, using the angle of the mountain to keep yourself going in what had to at least be somewhat of the right direction, it didn’t have to be exact, just as long as you kept going down in the end. Since it was snowing there might not be anyone out but that was even better for you, that meant no more members guarding the courses, and it’d be the longest walk of your life but you’d chop down a tree and use it as a sled if it meant securing your way back to the hotel.

You froze when you heard the vehicles, of course they had extras, there were so many of them that that was probably just Breck’s own garage, and you ducked behind the low, weighed down branches of a bent over spruce as they grew closer. You held the branches in place, hiding in the shadows as you gripped your axe to your chest, you hadn’t wanted to kill anyone but you would now that you were out, especially Breck if he so much as dared come near you again, if they so much as tried to bring you back you wouldn’t hesitate to stop anyone else either. The ATVs rode until they lost your tracks, the storm was covering them up even with the trees getting more dense here, and they looked around for any sight of you before one of them cupped their hands around their mouth and stood up tall.

‘There’s a blizzard coming, the rains have been too strong downwind and it’s reaching us, that’s what Mitch warned Breck about!’ he yelled despite the danger of the piling snow, and as if on cue the storm picked up a bit more, the clouds dark up above. ‘You need to come back with us or you’ll freeze out here, we can protect you from him, we know what he’s been doing to you!’

You shut your eyes and blocked him out, he couldn’t help, they were all in on it, everyone saw what he’d been doing all week and never said a single word, not even when your Diamond had been carried out of your room on a fucking snow sled for christ’s sake; they were all insane, you had to do this on your own.

‘Please, tell us where you are, this has gone too far, we can bring you down when the storm is over!’

Lies, all lies, they were all liars-

‘Tell him there’s no response, we need to keep looking, we can’t let anyone who knows that much get off this mountain,’ you then heard him say to the person nearest to him, the axe digging into your chest just a little as you dug your fingers into the bark of the tree; you knew it, you were just being tricked again, and once the ATVs were gone and no one was left behind but you you just pounded your fist into the snow and screamed into your hand.

It was getting even darker despite the time, the snow whiting out everything and making you disoriented as you started to sway. You’d been walking for what had to be an hour, avoiding the sound of the vehicles to your left and keeping more to the right, the knowledge that eventually the slope would end and you’d be on flat ground again keeping you going. The bitter wetness of the snow was slowly getting worse than the dry cold of the cryo, it was seeping into your bones and slowing you down as time went on, and no matter how many times you stopped in the cover of the trees and pulled out his lighter to heat yourself back up, you feared that it wouldn’t be enough soon. You weren’t dressed properly for this, not for a blizzard, your unprotected face burning and blotchy as you tried to cover your cheeks with your gloves and only felt the ice that was gathering on the fabric each time you put them back on.

It was impossible to see what lay ahead now, you didn’t know which direction the lifts were in as you just kept going, for all you knew you’d surpassed them and were just heading off into the wilderness, and when what had to be a solid hour of nothing but stinging snow passed you started to course correct to the left, just in case. Either way it still kept going down, and the trees were thick when you needed to hide and take a break, but the lighter was slowly running out of fuel, you were still running on two days of no food or sleep, and your bare ears hurt so bad that you were afraid to touch them in case they broke off like in the movies. The thought nearly made you heave so you kept going, it was your only choice lest you actually did freeze to death out there, this would all be worth it when you finally saw your family again.

You smiled weakly as you imagined their faces when you arrived, pushed through the double doors and collapsed into their arms. Your cousins would want to know all about your harrowing escape, your aunts would dote on you while they stormed the kitchens for warm food, and your father and uncles would get the police to tear this place down for what they’d done. All the while your mother would hold you close like when you were a child and she loved you unconditionally, not like the past few years as you pulled away from everyone, your depression getting worse and your mother only growing fed up with you when she didn’t know how to help.

And then he’d come in, escorted by the cops, the cuffs surely not tight enough as you’d get to hit him back, smash things over his head, let your family beat the shit out of him until he was broken and bruised. And then he’d go to jail, and you’d never have to see him again, you’d be free. You’d go home to the warmth and comfort, clean your apartment up til it was good as new, get yourself fixed up, and wear your battle scars with pride because you’d escaped, you were home, you’d survived.

You didn’t realize you’d collapsed until the cold came back to you hard, your eyes shooting open as you felt the warmth from your vision start to sink in; this was worse than bad, you were so cold that it burned, and you pushed yourself up on shaky arms before testing your fingers to make sure they still worked. They did but it was hard as you pulled out the lighter again, your body protecting it from the wind as you desperately lit the flame once more. It brought a bit of life back to your purple fingers until it finally gave out on you, the last bit of warmth he’d ever give you, and you fought not to cry as you kept flicking the igniter until you gave up. You drew back your arm to throw it, bury his last memento from Mead as your final revenge, but you couldn’t as you shoved it back into your pocket and slapped yourself awake.

You couldn’t fall asleep out here, the moment you did your death would be confirmed, and you’d end up just another skeleton on Everest, another missing person to join the corkboard in the police station back in town.

You pictured what was waiting for you and forced yourself to stand, your knees and ankles weak as they instantly gave out and you fell back down, the snow catching you softly as it threatened to cover you in a thick, warm blanket. You won’t bury me, you thought as you tried again, the axe digging into the ground as you got up, your eyes on the endless sheet ahead of you. I’m not dying on this fucking mountain.

It was hard but you started to walk again, making sure to stick even closer to the trees as you took breaks under each one, your progress slow but it was something, it was one step closer to home. You kept your mouth shut tight as you breathed through your nose, blocking out as much of the cold air from your lungs as you could to save them and your throat, it dry as you swallowed and hurried to the next tree, then the next, until the clearing you reached had you flailing blindly in the white until you found a pole. You looked up, just faintly heard the creaking of metal above as the lifts swayed back and forth, and you coughed out a sob of pure joy as you followed the angle of how they sat and took off.

The course was a straight shot down, you were completely exposed out there but the end was within reach like this, you couldn’t stop no matter how much it hurt. With each step you pictured him hurting you, messing with you, assaulting you, each thing only pushing you to go further, faster, you could not stop. You’d rather die out there than go back to that place, he’d kill you for trying to leave him so if you had to die then you’d choose this, but when a hard breeze caught you in the back and you stumbled you knew that you’d have to make the choice sooner than later. You lost your balance, your brain having just enough time to throw the axe away from you as you covered your head and rolled, the mountain carrying you down again.

You gathered snow as you fell, the course clear for the safety of the skiers and the gathering powder soft and thick, but they still found ways to hurt you as you just kept going, the world flashing quickly by in different shades of white and gray, no sky to break it up under the storm. When you finally stopped you just laid there, no Breck to race down and make sure you were okay, the distant thought to make sure everything still moved only getting further and further away as your axe slid into place next to you, the ice formed around it from the trek stopping it from settling when you’d thrown it.

You reached for it, needing its help so you could stand, you had to be so close by now, you’d been walking forever and falling for just as long, but breathing hurt, your clothes were soaked through and digging ice into your broken skin, you couldn’t get up from this one. You sobbed into the ground and felt the sting worsen, the wetness freezing and making you shut your eyes to save your last moments of vision, you were so close, you had almost made it out, you were so close-! The sound of shoes crunching on snow made you look up again, your body shaking so much from the cold and exhaustion that even just that much nearly made you pass out, and when you saw the heavily dressed man in front of you you just cried, your head sinking into the powder.

You’d know him anywhere, even when the only thing you could see was your warped reflection in his goggles.

Just leave me here, you pleaded mentally as you looked up again, you didn’t know how he’d found you but he did, and he just stared at you as the snow kept falling. I can’t do this anymore, just let me go…

He kneeled down to brush the frozen hair away from your face and even then you couldn’t help but lean into it, and when he removed his glove to touch your cheek it burned hotter than anything else before it. He watched you whimper before putting his glove back on and turning, and he pressed the axe into your hands before standing and waiting to see what you’d do. It was heavier than it’d ever been, your body just as much as you tried again to stand, Breck just giving you space as you just barely were able to do it with the last of your energy, and when you were facing him, panting heavily as the wind and snow tried to knock you back down, he raised his arms and waited for you to make your choice.

You braced yourself and lifted the axe so you could swing, you could end it right here, one hit would be enough for the cold to take him no matter where you got him, and as you stared him down you saw that you were at the bottom of the lifts, the same place he’d first offered you the ride almost a week ago. Despite the pain your tears still fell as you shook your head, begged him not to make you do this in the motion, but he just waited, just like he did in your dream as he stared down the barrel, and you let out a scream for everything as you swung as hard as you could.

The axe slipped from your tired grip as you swung at him, it falling to the ground as you almost did too, Breck unharmed apart from the thin slice across the front of his thick coat where his diamond lay underneath, and he let his arms fall down to his sides as he looked away, so that was what you’d chosen.

You had just a moment to try and run before he was wrapping his arms around you and carrying you towards his ATV, others coming into view as they pulled a hat over your head and a new gag over your mouth, your hands bound again and your legs grabbed as you screamed up to the hotel for help. Your family was in there, they were so close, but you only saw shut blinds as everyone huddled up in warmer places from the cold of the blizzard, no one was coming to help. You were sat on the lap of another member to make sure you didn’t throw yourself out the door as Breck climbed into the driver’s seat, your sobbing not ceasing as he reached for the key and sighed.

He looked like he wanted to say something but he didn’t, if he did you couldn’t hear it behind his ski mask to keep the cold out, and you let yourself fall limp but not sleep as the group of vehicles all roared to life and headed back up the mountain even in the storm.

It took longer this time, everyone knowing the way even though they couldn’t see just like he had that night, and you didn’t fight back as two members carried you inside as he led the way. He didn’t take off anything as you were taken straight to your room, Brit already waiting on the bed and standing when she saw that you were okay, the only genuine kindness out of anyone you’d met so far. She went to speak but stopped when Breck held out his hand, motioned for her to move aside, and she got right to work as you were stripped back down for her to examine.

When his lighter was pulled from your pocket he flinched, and for a moment you wondered if he might say something as he snatched it from the member’s hand; he turned it over before patting his pocket, he didn’t know he’d lost it, but he just glanced at you before putting it back in its place and going back to watching.

The other members left to ditch their outfits as the blizzard threatened to knock out the power, a backup generator surely in place considering the location, and you just allowed her to move you every which way as she took in everything. Breck was still there even now, still fully clothed as he leaned against the doorframe, two nurses coming in to help after a while so you could be lifted, and when she saw your back she actually gasped. She didn’t say anything to him, your bed eventually moved away from the wall so everyone could get to you with more ease, and this time when the needle came out to numb you you just shut your eyes and waited.

It eased the growing pain as your fingers were spread out and wrapped up, the gloves good but not for that amount of time outside, and you saw how the skin had gone from purple to red and raw before everything was covered in more white. Your feet fared better thanks to the thick socks and your boots, but the spaces where the ill-fitting pants had been pushed up were also raw, the same going for your wrists.  You were gently held up as Brit applied salve to all of your open wounds, more bandages and gauze coming through the door to cover every bit of evidence up in a ribbon and bow, Breck just watching and not saying a single word.

You bet you would’ve flinched as she then tended to your face and ears, she was extra careful with them as your head was held up and your ears were bandaged, your delicate skin all cleaned up by hands that were a thousand times more caring than his had ever been no matter what he told you or believed. When she was done you were set back down again, a new, warmer blanket brought in to wrap around you while the numbness kept the pain at bay, because once it wore off it would hurt; this would be an agony you’d never known before, one that was all your doing this time, your hands doubled bandaged into mittens so that your fingers could remain straight and heal properly after the cold had tried so hard to crack and break them at each joint.

She only gave Breck a look before she and the others were gone, and he was about to shut the door and sit with you when he stopped, his hand hovering over the wood before clenching into a fist and lowering to the doorknob instead, and he left you there to rot as you went back to staring at the ceiling.

You were forced to stay awake again for your own safety, the buzzer bringing you out of it as your despair only grew. More people came in to tend to you during the day, make sure you got some liquids in you as you were able to move again. It took you a while to notice, but as more things were placed on your bed you realized that your table was now gone, no more temptation to take down the new camera with it absent and your chair destroyed. It didn’t matter, your face hidden under the blanket as you pinned it between your hands and pulled it up, but you only got a moment of that before but it and your pillow were taken, the buzzer thankfully spared this time as the Square took care of the obstruction.

You attempted to curl into a ball but it hurt too much, your knees had suffered a lot during the walk and they were incredibly tender, your only option to keep laying on your back until the thought of someone watching and waiting for you to mess up became too much. You forced yourself to move, sliding inch by inch to the edge of the bed until you could unsteadily lower yourself to the ground, the camera quiet until you pushed yourself into the small space under the bed and basked in your seconds of freedom, there, in the dark.

You expected the buzzer this time but you didn’t move, the bandages made it easier especially when your hands were also pressed over them as softly as you could, and when the door opened you expected to be dragged out again. The mattress was instead flipped onto the floor, bloody side up, before your bed frame was carried out and into the hall, no more spaces to hide. The door slammed and you pulled yourself back onto the mattress and off the bitter tile, no strength to flip it back over as you laid there in the middle of the room and cried.

You had to be fed when dinner came, the sight of plain, canned, crackerless chicken noodle soup bringing you little comfort as the spoon was lifted to your mouth. You felt like a child, the woman currently helping you looking nothing like your mother as she fed you since your hands were useless, your eyes empty as you gulped down the warm meal until your stomach complained a little less. She placed a straw in the bowl so you could drink the broth once the chicken and noodles were eaten, and you licked your horribly cracked lips before she did the same to your glass of water. It was cold, but the cold was everywhere, this would make no difference to you.

You didn't miss her presence when she left too, the small amount of food not settling as well as you'd hoped as it just sat in your stomach, the nausea mixing in with everything else and just making you wish you could just fall asleep and wake up when it was all over. You tried again to sleep and got the buzzer, and when the voice on the other side quickly apologized you just motioned in the camera's direction, you knew this one wasn't supposed to be a punishment. Still, just waiting by yourself was lonely this time after spending so much time around him, and with him still not visiting you yet you felt the emptiness of the room from every corner.

‘Hey,’ you muttered to the ceiling, no one responding, ‘is he there?’

Silence, and then, ‘No.’

‘Is that true?’

‘Yes, don't interact with the camera.’ A pause. ‘Please.’

You swallowed, your lip already quivering. ‘Can you find him?’

An even longer pause this time. ‘No. I won't ask again.’

You closed your eyes as a tear fell, and your fingers twitched as you tried not to make fists and wreck them even more. ‘Please,’ you asked the camera, no response coming this time. ‘I don't… I don't want to be alone…’

More silence, and then your light went out as you went to ask again, the darkness enveloping you before a strobing light from the camera trapped you in the flashing. You instantly felt disoriented, the room spinning as the lights triggered your slight epilepsy; you froze as you were forced into an almost trance, vertigo taking over and silencing you so absolutely that even when it stopped and your light came back on you couldn’t even make a noise. You got it, no more talking allowed as you attempted to blink away the flashing burned into your eyes and painfully rolled onto your chest, your head still spinning as you wept into the mattress.

More Squares came in a few hours later, your body completely stiff as you stared listlessly at the dust that'd gathered under your bed. They didn't speak as they picked you up and carefully brought you to the bathroom, your hands covered in plastic bags to keep them dry. One of them sat behind you to help you stay upright as the other worked the nozzle, and the only thing you could do was think of him as they changed your bandages and cleaned you up now that you were adjusted to the temperature again. They were so gentle with you this time, no more punishment in order since you'd technically passed his test, your current state was punishment enough, and the kindness along with missing the way he'd done this to you made your shoulders shake as they wiped the water away from your eyes and reapplied the salve Brit had given them.

You didn't thank them when they were done, didn't want to get anyone else killed, just stayed silent as they set you back down on your bed and walked out again. You didn't know how late it was but you doubted you'd be able to sleep anyway, the chill so ingrained into you that you didn't even feel it anymore as you lost that way to keep yourself awake. You wanted so badly to talk to the camera again, and you let the loneliness creep in from everywhere until you couldn't hold it in any longer.

‘Breck? Are you there?’ No answer, but no buzzer either. ‘I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- you once asked me if I was afraid of you, and if I thought that you'd do something to me.’ You pictured him standing there, just listening beside you, because the thought of saying all this to just your current watcher was too much to bear, you needed him to hear it too. ‘Even though I tried to kill myself, I was so afraid… when I thought that you were gunna-’ You sucked in a sharp breath, still feeling the gun in your mouth and how excited he'd been over it even though he knew it was unloaded, just because you'd given him the exact reactions he'd wanted. ‘And then, when you almost- you make me hate myself, because every single time I start to understand what you mean about happiness, you do something like that and I can't figure out if you love me or if you despise me.’

You laid your arm over your eyes as you sniffed, the Breck in your mind sitting down next to your mattress, and you reached for him even though you knew he wasn't there.

‘Why couldn't you just let me go? You said you wouldn't hesitate, you could've let me freeze out there and moved onto the next, just like the last one. You’ve already convinced me I'm nothing, I know that I am, no one even came to find me, I was here the whole time and no one…’ You grit your teeth and felt your lip split, the cold had put them in such a bad shape but you didn't even feel it, you couldn’t feel anything anymore. ‘I want to know how to be happy, I can’t remember how that feels, and I haven’t for such a long time, so please just… come in and make me feel something again, Breck, you already know I don’t care if it kills me, I don’t wanna feel like this anymore, I don’t wanna be alone, so please-!’

No response.

No buzzer.

No confirmation if anyone was even watching as the red light blinked steadily down at you, your reflection the only one to meet your eye.

‘Answer me!’ you yelled as loud as you could, your voice echoing off of your empty room now that all you owned was the dirty mattress you were laying on.

The door opened and you instantly sat up even though it nearly made you pass out, your wide, hopeful eyes narrowing in sheer disappointment when you saw that it was just Chet, a ring around his throat and a bandage on his temple where you’d hit him. He looked angry at you, you’d really hurt him, but the anger faded as he glanced at the camera and stepped in, the door locking behind him. He didn’t speak, it was too dangerous, just sat down across from you on the mattress and placed something between you. You looked down to see a taser, harshly black against your messes, and when you looked at him you knew what was coming.

His eyes flicked up and to the right towards the camera behind him, he was probably already on thin ice for letting you not only get to a phone but to escape, and you didn’t even attempt to try and grab it with your mitts as he picked it back up, apologized with his eyes, and jammed it into your stomach.

Instantly you retched as your body seized, the little food in your stomach threatening to rise as he counted under his breath and pulled back. You collapsed back against the mattress, your eyes unfocused as your stomach muscles twitched, you could still feel it, your breath refusing to come as you choked on air. ‘Don’t interact with the camera again. Chet will be watching until dawn,’ your watcher said, a new voice from last time, and even though it hurt and it would keep you awake, nevermind the fact that this could kill you in the process, you just laid there and silently thanked him for the company.

‘What… time is it…?’ you whispered carefully between breaths, your mouth moving so little that the camera wouldn’t see no matter the resolution, and when he pretended to check your pulse he allowed his sleeve to raise just enough for you to get a glimpse of his watch, your first real tell of the time since your arrival.

8:49PM.

You closed your eyes and tried to imagine lasting the next nine hours, and when the buzzer went off again to wake you, you felt the electricity shoot through you again as he was forced to join in for as long as it screamed down at you.

[luxicides]

a femcel's guide to films ˖⁺ ⋆ ୭

hi. 2022 is (sadly? thankfully?) coming to a close - and i've watched quite a number of films this year. i think.

and, as a ~film student~, i think it only fitting that i ever so kindly share with you, fellow tumblr user, the top 10 most female manipulator lana del rey gone girl jennifers body effy stonem girlblogger2008 manic pixie dream girl movies i've watched so far.

if you're anything like me (read: anxiety-riddled, deftones listener, lana del rey fanatic, pinterest addict), perhaps you'd find these films enjoyable.

(don't take this too seriously. but do. because my taste is great. kidding.)

the virgin suicides (1999) dir. sofia coppola

girl, interrupted (1999) dir. james mangold

black swan (2010) dir. darren aronofsky

gone girl (2014) dir. david fincher

ginger snaps (2000) dir. john fawcett

palo alto (2013) dir. gia coppola

buffalo '66 (1998) dir. vincent gallo

ex machina (2014) dir. alex garland

sucker punch (2011) dir. zack snyder

birds of paradise (2021) dir. sarah adina smith

i'm aware this list is very basic and really that's because i'm just a bad film student. lol.

this list is not in any way serious - this part, however, is (ish).

as much as we all love categorising media into neat little aesthetic categories à la tiktok and its constant outpour of increasingly niche aesthetics, whittling films and really any piece of media into just an aesthetic is, honestly, kind of strange.

yes, films can have elements that are inherently aesthetic. and, yes, tone and vibe does contribute heavily to a film's quality. but a film is so much more than just that.

i'm aware that a vast majority of people don't actually watch a film for solely its visual aestheticism. and i don't mean to attack anyone who watches a film simply because they are attracted to its aesthetic quality. i'd be lying if i said i haven't done that either.

okay, i give up on pseudo-analysis. i don't really know where this is going. i guess that's it from me.

xoxo

[episodeoftv]

Prelims, Vote 3 of 8

The top 4 finales will move on to be included in the main bracket

Propaganda is under the cut, may include spoilers

Blake's 7 - 4.13 Blake

Technically, the episode is a very, very good one. Hell, I wouldn't wish for a different finale, to be honest. It's perfect, in its own "What the actual hell!?" way, and it does wonders for the show's themes of doomed struggle. The problem with it is that it was intended to be just a *series* finale, not the *show's* finale, so it ends on an extremely high-stakes cliffhanger. It's fantastic, it's scary, it's heartbreaking, you want more, you want to see it resolved... and the show was cancelled after the fourth series. So all we have is an extremely bleak ending with all but one character presumed dead and that damned last smile in the face of overwhelming odds in a completely hopeless situation.

Castle Rock (2018) - 1.10 Romans

When this show was coming out I was still deep in my Stephen King hyperfixation so needless to say I was *stoked*. But man this was one of the most underwhelming things I've watched. With episodes released weekly we had two months of people going insane with theories, new revelations, Stephen King fans digging up their old books to pick for scraps of hints that could explain what's going on, every week there were new video essays and analyses of the new episode, subreddit buzzing with the wildest theories about who is this mysterious character of The Kid who's kicked the whole plot in motion and what the hell is going on with the seemingly cursed town. And then the finale came and just. Nothing. Everything went back to square one. The Kid is locked back up in the same cage he was originally found in. Nothing was explained. Everyone moves on as if nothing happened. After two months of Castle Rock being the main focus of all of my free time this completely took the wind out of my sails and I completely lost interest in the show and honestly, soon almost forgot it even existed. When the second season came out I didn't watch even the first episode, even though the second season *might* have explained everything, I simply didn't care enough to find out anymore. And from what I've seen, others have felt the same way because since the first season ended I haven't really seen anyone talk about the show.

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina - 4.08 Chapter Thirty-Six: At The Mountains of Madness

Ok so in fairness this entire final season sucked but the real kicker is that in the final scene we learn that after the main character died, her love interest killed himself in order to be with her in the afterlife. Yeah, a teenager committed suicide and we were supposed to see that as a happy ending.

Choukou Senshi Changerion - 1.39 Over the Times...

It's the last episode, which means no new information or worlds should be introduced, right? WRONG. Inoue (the main writer) decided that, for this last episode, we should see into an alternate (maybe, perhaps) timeline alongside the regular content. The bad guys are coming, except our main guy is starting to go down and remembering all the things that have happened, as well. And then it just ends. On an explosion, of course. Roll Credits!

The Get Down - 5.11 Only from Exile Can We Come Home

rushed to complete the show and low on budget, the writers sent every character besides the protagonist (zeke) to their worst possible fate. shao, finally free and with the person he loved, was coerced to return to the sexually abusive woman who had been his boss since he was a child. dizzee is implied to have been struck by a train after breaking his boyfriend out of prison for graffiti. and boo-boo, the 14 year old, is arrested for selling drugs. in some ways its thematically appropriate, but the unrelenting viciousness of the end of each character's story is sudden, deeply tonally jarring, and leaves the audience feeling despondent and hopeless even with the main character surviving to sing it all as an adult and his love interest finding success as a singer, albeit far away in another city. tgd is an excellent show, but besides being cancelled, the big kicker for it was that the romantic lead mylene didn't hit for a lot of people, and watchers who preferred shao and zeke to get together due to having such strong chemistry and a well-developed bond probably had a very different experience than the writers had intended. mylene is a fine character and she's unfairly disliked by a lot of watchers, but her romance with zeke was simply not as well developed as shao's and zeke's relationship was

Grimm - 3.22 Blond Ambition

It forgoes the usual: 'there is a scary wesen that is causing problems and we can solve this' formula to pay off other plot points, but it kinda makes the episode feel less tethered. The focus is a wedding between supporting characters, whilst a former finale villain is just stalking around town and also a (corrupt) FBI agent is preparing to make his move. Both make their moves and the results are kinda lame. The agent is almost immediately beheaded rendering his active threat moot. And the other villain disguised herself as the MC's girlfriend and sleeps with him. The only major points are the wedding, a police captain getting shot (glossed over here but become relevant next season), the FBI agent dying (it starts a dull investigation next season), and the MC losing his power right at the end (which led to one of the worst periods in the show until he regains his powers...)

Jane the Virgin - 5.19 Chapter One Hundred

No propaganda submitted

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 10 (Finale and true ending)

Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Tommy Miller x reader

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, and 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, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

UUUUHHH ya'll i put the warnings there so uh you can't blame me for what I've done.

Before anything i gotta say the "id do anything for you, you amost killed me, that was for you" bit is curtesy of me and @the-fox-den messing around so credits to them XD

I cannot appreciate y'all readership more. I cried writing this on and off not only bc the content but that it's over. full emotions at the end!

Enjoy! (this is not enjoyable.)

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

“Hey honey.” Tommy’s voice was groggy and sweet in the late morning. “You up already?”

You shuffled your body back, closer to where Tommy lay, warm and inviting… you missed him. You missed him so much. “Yeah just thinking…”

Nestling his face into your face, Tommy holds you tighter, a protective hand over your belly. “What about?” When you didn’t answer, he knew what you were thinking of. “Ah… you miss him, don’t you?” There wasn’t judgment in his voice, just the soft understanding that Tommy always gave, a grace that showed he knew what Joel had done to your mind.

Nevertheless, you tear up, embarrassed at your own weakness for the man who had nearly killed you and your baby. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me… he had me so messed up and twisted… I didn’t know which way was up half the time… I felt like I was living in a haze…” You begin to cry, letting the frustrations out.

“Hey, hey now it’s alright. He’s good at that… he’s good at jumbl’n you up enough you can’t see straight… and he’s got that look… something in his eyes when his attention is focused on you… just makes you want to make him happy… I know what you mean… Did he hurt you a lot since I left?”

“No” You shake your head. “That was the strange part… It was… it was good… especially after he found out I was pregnant… It was… it was good, actually. I thought he changed… He didn’t… but I had a lot of freedom, I could do pretty much anything with Lorenzo watching me.” You chuckle a little bit, thinking of your friend. “At first I don’t think he was thrilled to be on babysitting duty, but when he realized he could drink and smoke all day I think he liked it a lot more.”

The smile in his voice was evident. “I’m glad you had a friend after I left, honey.” He brushed hair out of your face. “I saw… I saw Joel a few months back… he said you and Lorenzo had gotten close.”

“Yeah” But the tears came again.

“Hey, hey what’s wrong?”

“I never said good bye” You cry. “Lorenzo… everything happened so fast and I didn’t get to say goodbye and now I don’t know if he’s even gonna live.”

Tommy coaxed you to turn over and face him, his face beautiful in the rising orange sun kissing his skin and complimenting his dark hair. “Honey, listen, Maria is gonna make sure he’s taken care of. He’s gonna be okay and once he’s rested up, I’m sure he’ll come to Boston, or at least get word out if he’s got other plans.” Tommy didn’t actually know any such thing but he wanted to comfort you.

“He’s coming to Boston” You assure. “He promised me… and him and Zach are a couple, actually.”

His face was one of confusion, then realization. He chuckled. “Love really just… finds a way, huh?”

When you look into his eyes… you can’t help but agree. “Yeah, it does…” He face was so close to you, it’d been so long since he’d held you… even before he left, you two had grown distant, Joel successfully putting a edge between you two, and you hadn’t spend the time with him you used to, angry and upset with him for reasons that didn't make sense… but that was how badly Joel had messed up your sense of direction. And yet, none of that mattered when Tommy was in trouble. You’d put yourself between Joel’s gun and Tommy, and if you weren’t pregnant you’d do it again. Tommy was always there for you, as much as he could be… he was manipulated by Joel, just like you were, but still he tried… and here he was, sleeping on a cold hard floor with you because he uprooted his entire life with Maria… for you.

The kiss was sudden, you pressing your lips to his and for a sweet, lingering moment he kissed back, chest rising as he breathed through nose, savoring you before pulling back whispering your name. 

“I love you…” You confess, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together.

“Honey, you don’t… you don’t have to feel or do anything just because I’m here-”

“I love you.” More assertive this time. He thinks you feel like you have to, like there's pressure… but you never felt that with Tommy. Tommy wasn’t Joel. Tommy was kind and patient, Tommy was loving and gentle and good… Tommy was the one you loved.

Tommy reached out, caressing your hair. “I love you too, honey, I’m sorry I had to leave you” the words just began spilling out from him, tumbling out Tommy’s mouth like a desperate plea for absolution for sins he never willingly committed. “I’m sorry I never stopped him, I’m sorry I didn’t do more, I’m sorry I left you alone in all that-”

You cut him off with another kiss, needier and lonely, clamoring for a connection. “It’s okay, Tommy. It’s okay. I’m okay now, everything will be okay.” And it would be. You were with Tommy now, and Tommy would keep you safe. You hands wander, trailing down his back as you continued to kiss him, feeling him, getting to know the curves and dips and muscles of him for the first time. Your hands move to undo his pants, but he stops you.

“We don’t- honey you’ve had a traumatic week”

“Tommy, I want you…” You whine, and you did. You did, so fucking bad. You missed Joel, you missed Tommy, your head was swirling with guilt and fear and a deep, deep down ache of loneliness that you didn’t know how to fill other than skin on skin. It was all you really knew. Nearly everyone you had cared about, save for Zach, and Lorenzo showed their love with touch. Even June did, although it wasn’t sexual. Tommy always held you when you cried, sat up in his lap with arms wrapped around you as he did now. “I want you Tommy, please?” You whine. You couldn’t deny that the pregnancy hormones worsened things, making you incredibly needy. “I need you, Tommy”

Tommy sighed. He knows he shouldn’t. The week you’ve had, the year you've had, hell, the entire life you had groomed you into submitting your body to men for money, shelter, affection. This is what you knew. Then there was Maria, his girlfriend who he lived with, with whom he swore fidelity too, who had seen this poor, young traumatized her and willingly let him go because she trusted him… That was the other thing, you were still so young… Tommy had made the comment to Joel that if Sarah had lived, he she would be older than this girl in his arms was now… That should’ve made Joel disgusted… shouldn’t it disgust Tommy too? But Tommy was weak, he knew he was weak… and he loved her, didn’t he? This wasn’t a lust filled rape, this wasn’t him taking advantage of her youth and naivety, they were in love, and she needed him. 

“Yeah baby, I’ll take care of you.” Tommy allowed you to undo his pants while he quickly undid your flannel. In the daylight and as he pulled it and the dress over your shoulders, he could see the full extent of your injuries. Where your collar hid, there was a mixture of purple and green bruising around your neck and throat, accentuated by red from the rope burn, and yet the hardest to stomach was your chest. A large black bruise formed on your chest from the repeated punching. “Oh honey… you’re lucky he didn’t break a rib.”

“I don’t wanna talk about him.” You grumble, beginning to shimmy him out of his pants. “Just want you, Tommy. I want you the right way, like we never got the chance to, the way Joel took from us.”

“The right way” He kissed you, lips full of love, offering protection and solace in the distortion. He wastes no time  pulling your underwear down and slipping a hand to cup your sex, immediately giving you the pleasure he swore he could your first time together, but you had refused. He felt so good, firm and assured in his movements between your legs, but soft and caring, making you feel special in his touch.

You spit in your hand and begin to jerk his cock as you both laid there, your giant belly getting in the way. “Usually wetter, the last month things have been… different” A bit embarrassed, you mutter into his shoulder. You were turned on, very much so, but your lower body didn’t seem to get the message. Joel never seemed to care much. You got wet eventually, especially after cumming, but the in between usually hurt.

“That’s normal.” Tommy assured. “Pregnancy hormones. But I’ll make sure you’re real wet, baby, get on your back.” Doing as you were told, you roll over, Tommy slithering his way down you and pressing affectionate kisses over your swollen stomach. “So beautiful…”

He ate you like a man starved, like a past meal on death row, desperate and savoring every last taste. Joel always felt good, so, so, good, but there was an electricity here, all the built up tension between you two, like a rubber band finally snapping and he couldn’t get enough. Tommy worshiped at the shrine of you, adoration in the prayer on his lips, his arms wrapped around your legs as you grew closer so you couldn’t wiggle away, he needed every second, every inch, every taste, every sound reclaimed for him. It was a conquest, a crusade, a burning need as he licked into your folds, pleasure and fire and love building in your core, fingers opening up to prepare you to take him, fucking into you and god, you were moaning for him.

“Tommy! Tommy please make me cum, please, I’ll make you feel so good, I’ll do anything you want, just-”

“Lay there and take it, princess, that’s all you gotta do.” His head dived back between your legs and eagerly devoured, lips latching on your swollen mound, sucking noisily, soaking your as promised. Two fingers turned into three, and while his lips sucked his tongue flicked at your clit, causing your legs to shake. You entangle your fingers in his long, dark locks, having grown longer since you’ve seen him last and yank him towards you. You didn’t need to guide him, you didn’t need his tongue deeper inside you; he knew what he was doing. What you needed was something to grip onto as your world shattered around you. Tommy was always who you reached for. Everything you needed, Tommy did his best to provide, and when you were terrified, as Joel dragged you away to kill you, all you wanted was your Tommy. You screamed his name as you did now. Gushing cum on his face, you yank at his hair and fuck his face while you ride out your orgasm on his still moving mouth.

Vaguely, you register him kissing his way up your body, laying around you as he couldn’t lay on top, Tommy kissed you back to life, finding his soft eyes staring at you as you open your own… 

“You still want me?” He asks, a rough but caring hand stroking your face.

“More than anything.”

He was careful, he always was with you, treating you like a fragile porcelain doll, but you promised him you could take it and he sped up, fucking you, really fucking you the way you had wanted for months after you grew comfortable in that house. He knelt before you knees on the hard floor but showed no signs of pain as his hips snapped into you, your moans growing louder.

“Tommy!” You call out for him, ecstasy building inside you like the sweat on his forehead.

“Right here honey, I’m right here.” He rubbed your knee that he had braced himself on. “Neve gonna leave you again, I promise.”

“You- you promise?” Looking up at him from this angle… he looked god-like. Tan and strong, but handsome and kind… you wanted him forever, you wanted only him and for him to have only you. He filled you up over and over and over, your hips canting up to meet him.

“Promise, princess. I’ll never leave you, ever. You’re mine.”

His.

“I’m yours” You whine for him, on the precipice of your climax, you just needed…

“And I’m yours. Now, I need you to come, and when you do, I want you to scream my name, okay? Can you do that for me, beautiful girl?” His hand was on your hip, large and rough and covering Joel’s initially branded on you.

You’re panting heavily, so, so close when he sets a brutal pace, spilling you over. 

Tommy thinks this is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. All the times you called for him when you needed him, when Joel was done, when you were hungry or needed to use the bathroom or just were lonely, none of it compared to this…

You scream for him, crying out loudly as he continues to thrust into you, talking you through it like he had the panic attack that had overtaken you when you gave him your virginity.

“Just like that, honey, good girl.” He coo’s, ever letting up on your sensitive cunt. “So pretty coming on my cock, love when you scream my name… there you go, pretty little thing…”

Tommy was right. He made you scream his name louder than Joel’s.

When he came inside you, claiming you as his in a primal, animalistic sense, the cold began to settle on the sheen of sweat between you, and Tommy pulled a blanket over you. A little rest before heading out.

“Did you mean what you said?” You ask.

He didn't need clarification. Tommy knew you well enough. “Yeah, I did. I’m gonna stay with you, honey.”

“What about Maria?”

A fair question, but Tommy sighed nonetheless. “I’ll send word I won't’ be come’n back… I think… I think she knew, she knew before I ever did.”

When the two of you set out on the road again, you wanted to walk for a while. All the riding the last day made you sore and you just walked to stretch your legs, aching joints and pregnant body needing movement. You and Tommy talked, really talked about the future, what it would look like in Boston, wherever it is exactly Lorenzo and Zach had for you… Someone Tess knew? A couple who had been a ‘doomsday prepper’ before… You wouldn’t live on their farm, but in a house nearby. Somewhere fairly safe for you and your baby, and Lorenzo, Zach and Tommy to protect it… Tommy confirmed what you had secretly hoped but could never ask. He’d be your baby's father, he’d raise them with you, loving it as his own.

“Well ain’t that sweet.” You freeze in place when you hear Joel’s voice, the older brother stepping into sight from a tree, gun pointed at you and Tommy. “Fucked my wife, stealing my daughter,” he looks at Tommy. “I can’t believe you’d sink this low, Tommy.”

The irony of who was sinking low was lost on Joel, Tommy was aware. There was no point fighting it. One hand held the reigns of the horse, his right was in the air as yours were. “Joel, c’mon, I know damn well you aren’t going to hurt either one of us so just let-” He was cut off by his own scream, falling against the horse and gripping his upper arm.

“TOMMY!” You scream for him, rushing to his side before Joel shouts to get away. You want to help Tommy… but you had a duty to your child, a duty you knew Tommy would understand. You cried, looking him over. He was still standing, clearly in pain, but blood shooting out of his arm. Nothing vital.

Joel only looked at you. “That’s right, scream his name, little one. Always his name, isn’t it?” Joel stepped forward, ignoring Tommy’s anguished plea’s for him to stay away from you; Joel’s sights were on you and you alone. Nothing else existed, not even his bleeding baby brother. “Sceam’n for him when you think I’m hurting you, when you think I’ve been cruel, when you want his company because I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH”

You barely registered your own tears, the trembling in your stance, knowing there was nothing you could do.

“That’s how I found you, heard you screaming my own fucking brothers name like a whore in that cabin while pregnant with my daughter!”

Shaking your head, you take a weak step back. “Joel, please, I was scared. I was so scared, you tried to kill me-”

“Is that what you think that was?” A cruel, mocking laugh escaped him in his mania before turning to Tommy. “Is that what she told you, Thomas? ‘Oh Tommy!’” His voice was light and girlish as he mimicked you. “‘Oh Tommy, Joel’s so mean to me!’ Well that ain’t the truth. She’s a cheating whore, and she needs to do better for Sarah, so I’m trying to teach her.” 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the visible confusion on Tommy’s face turn into shock and horror. “Sarah? Jesus Joel! Is that what all this is? You’re trying to recreate Sarah? Or is it the picket fence two parent household you never got with her?” 

“Don’t talk about her!” Joel screamed at the younger man, his attention turning to Tommy, and you watched for your chance.

“SARAH IS DEAD! SHE’S DEAD AND SHE’S NOT COMING BACK!” His next words… Tommy didn’t mean, not one single bit, he witnessed himself how much Joel tried to save his child, the little girl who was the entire world to him… But he needed Joel’s attention on him, he needed to be the focus of Joel’s anger. “SARAH IS DEAD AND IT’S YOUR FAULT!”

You take a step back.

“SHUT UP!” Another scream from Joel.

“MY NIECE IS DEAD BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T LOVE HER ENOUGH TO TRY HARDER-”

“SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH!”

But Tommy already moved, Joel’s teary eyes and blinding anger slowing his perception and Tommy moved the barrel of the gun away from him and you before Joel took the shot.

“RUN!”

And you did. You didn’t know where to, but you ran for your life, for your babies. Hearing a gun go off again, you stop briefly wondering if you just heard either the man you loved or the father of your child die… but there was no time to mourn or think, you needed to go. 8 months pregnant, you do everything you can to keep running, but you are stopped by a blinding pain in your stomach, causing you to scream before you can even stop yourself.

When it fades, you open your eyes to see an infected.

There was no time for pain.

Contractions going again, you prayed for another round of braxton-hicks and not actual labor, you prayed Tommy was alive, you prayed the infected behind you couldn’t move fast due to one thing or another… but you couldn’t stop to look. The adrenalynn did most of the work, as did sheer willpower. You didn’t think you could power through running so fast and so long if it was just you, but the mother instinct to protect this baby went above everything. Like a blessing, you see the cabin you had stayed at and took off towards it, infected at your heels, horrific noises that you shall surely hear the rest of your life should you survive this letting you know there was no time to even wince at a particularly sharp contraction. They were not spaced… and if Lorenzo was right, and if this wasn’t braxton-hicks…. You were going to give birth in this cabin.

The slam of the door behind you did not save you, as soon you found yourself sitting in an empty room with a chair propped against the door as the infected tried to get in, your switchblade gripped in your hands, as the baby tried to come out.

You can’t help but scream in pain; the infected already knew where you were, it was only a matter of time until it came in and you had to be face to face with it for the first time. You’d seen them from afar of course, but you had never been close; someone always protected you, Zach, Lorenzo, Tommy, Joel… you’re whole life you had depended on men to save you from other men and a litany of evils in this world and none of them had been able to stop this. No one stepped in between you and your dad, no one stepped in between you and Joel, and no one would step between you and this abomination… 

But you’d try your damndest to step between your baby and whatever might harm them, and if that meant facing this infected, you’d do it.

When it burst in, you don’t bother hiding our scream; they looked horrific and the sounds were just as bad, but god, the smell was nauseating to your pregnant senses. None of that compared to the genuine fear as you fought for your life and for this baby. The creature was right in your face as you stabbed him, the jackknife now successfully ending two threats to you; the infected and Nick.

The moment you have to breath is gone when you hear the cry of your baby on the floor. You had given birth to a baby girl, just as Joel wanted, alone, with a bite on your leg.

You were infected, and this baby would grow up without a mom and with a psychopath rapist and murder for a dad. Tommy was surely dead, and even if Joel found you in the cabin she’d grow up with Joel. You didn’t believe he’d sexually abuse her, but physically? She’d be lucky if she made it to 10, not the mention the other men around her…

There was no time to cry or to smile, you couldn’t rejoice in the birth of this little girl or cry at the circumstances, you thought back to what Maura instructed you, Joel, and Lorenzo to do in the event you gave birth without her. Using that knife, you cut the cord and tie it.

Had you given birth before the bite? Was she infect? Had all your efforts to protect this innocent been useless? You once again kick yourself for not leaving with Zach any of the times he offered…She’d suffer because of you, if she lived at all. 

As your daughter screams, you scream too, loud and anguished and nameless. You didn’t cry for Tommy, for Zach, for Joel, for Lorenzo or June or anyone that had ever shown they wanted to help… no, you just screamed, because there was no other option.

Tommy had seen you run and tried to follow you, tried to call to you, but you either couldn’t hear him or could defier his voice from Joel who was currently crippled with a shot leg… Tommy couldn’t bring himself to kill Joel… he couldn’t. No matter how much of a big game he talked, Joel was still his big brother, and despite the telling signs of aging and the obvious way Joel was no longer Joel behind those eyes… They were still he eyes, and as Joel looked up at Tommy pointing the gun down on him, Tommy couldn’t fire. He couldn’t fire at the man who had saved his life countless times, the father of his niece, the father of the baby he had swore to raise as his own, and despite the way Joel had clearly lost his mind, lost all sense of reality… Tommy couldn’t kill his brother because yes, that was still his brother.

When he found you, it didn’t take long to figure out what happened, with the baby in your arms and the infected on the ground… your bite was clear and prominent.

“Oh honey… no…” Tommy dropped the gun on the floor and likewise dropped to his knees as he walked to you and the child. A little girl… 

“Tommy, please, please take her. If you don’t want her, take her to Zach and Lorenzo, just please take her-”

“I’ll take her, I’ll raise her, I swear.” Maria and him had talked about kids before… would she want this? Tommy couldn’t stop looking you over, he couldn’t process that you had been bit… this wasn’t a rattlesnake bite, there wasn’t a way to get the venom out… it was over. “I’m sorry.” He cried, tears flowing over before he registered they were coming. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, I’m sorry-”

“Tommy” You stop him, tears matching his. “Tommy, it's okay. Just protect her, okay? That’s what matters now, her.” Everything hurt, and you could swear there was something already changing in you, but maybe it was in your head.

Heavy boots clomping on the floor. “Get away from her.” Joel spoke, his voice low and dark, despite being unarmed. You notice his limp and the blood… Tommy hadn’t shot Joel to kill… and had greatly underestimated what Joel would do to get to you, including walking on a shot leg.

Tommy didn’t even turn around, still holding you and his, yes his baby, because there was no way in hell Joel was walking out with her. “She’s infected, Joel.”

Joel didn’t reply, and you looked up at him over Tommy’s shoulder, confirming it. You nudge Tommy to move, revealing his daughter. You speak before Tommy does. “I cut the cord before I was bit.” Your eyes dart to Tommy. “Before.” You lied, and you knew it was dangerous… but you needed your daughter to have a fighting chance.

Joel shook his head. “No, no we’ll get you help, theres gotta be-”

Grabbing his gun, Tommy turned around. “THERE’S NO HELP, JOEL!” He shouts. “This is your fault! This is all your fault and you can’t fix it!” His steps were long and quick, pinning an unarmed Joel to the wall gun to his head. Tommy was shaking, but you didn’t need to aim to shoot point blank. “I’ll fucking kill you for what you did to them.”

For once, you believed it. 

And it seems Joel did too. “That’s my daughter, Tommy. Yuh ain’t take’n her.” But Joel’s voice was weak, small… 

“Yes he is, Joel.” You speak from the floor. “He’s taking her, and one of you needs to kill me.”

Both of Miller brother turn to you at that, anguish and pain in Tommy’s eyes. “I… I can’t do that… I can’t… Honey, no…” You knew how badly he was hurting right now… but you didn’t want Joel dead, and someone needed to do it. You didn’t know how long you had.

“I know, Tommy. I know.” You smile sympathetically at your lover, and beckon him towards you. Tommy gives Joel a warning look, but takes the pistol off his brother and comes to you. “I know. I know you can’t and that’s okay. You take he, that’s what you need to do for me, okay?” Looking down at the crying baby in your arms you give her a kiss and whisper that you love her before pushing her into Tommy’s welcoming arms. “I know you feel guilty…” Reaching up to touch his face one last time, you smile as he leans into your touch. “Sweet, sweet boy… you have nothing to be ashamed of, you’ve always done right by me. But if you feel you need absolution, this is your chance.”

Tommy looked at the little girl in his arms… she was so small, so fragile… but he would protect her, he would do right by her the way he couldn’t do to you. She was his baptism, his new life, a fresh start. He was a father now. “I will” He looked at you again.

“Her name is Ellie” Fimly, you spoke it into truth. “It’s not Dorthy, it’s not Dolly, its Ellie.” Looking up at Joel, the hurt clear on his face at the erasure of what he wanted to give her, you offer a small mercy, the middle name he agreed on, named after the singer he liked so much, and your friend back home. “Ellie June.”

Tommy nodded. “Ellie June, it’s beautiful.” He touched his forehead to you softly and you slipped your hand to touch Ellie’s little toes. This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none, and this little piggy cried wee, wee, wee… “I’ll never forget you, and I’ll make sure she knows about you, okay? She’s gonna know who you are.”

“Zach… please, get word to Zach somehow, tell him he’s an uncle.”

“I will, I swear.”

“And Lorenzo, Lorenzo said he’d be the godfather. Please thank him for everything he’s done for me.” You sob thinking about your best friend.

“I will, I’ll tell him.”

“And Zach, please tell him I love him so much, and thank him for being my big brother.”

“They both love you, hermosa, I know they do.” He stroked your hair with his free hand.

“Tommy, one more thing?”

“Anything”

“June, please, can you find her? Tell her I loved her, she’s Ellie godmother in spirit.”

“Abslutly, is there anyone else? I’ll do it.”

You shake your head, tears flying as you do. “No, those three… they are all I know- wait, Maura and Jack, Jack risked everything to help me escape, and Maura with my pregnancy” You chuckle a bit. “Who knew dying had so many many loose ends to tie up” You hadn’t realized… you had grown a small community. It had taken a village to keep you and your baby alive.

He smiled. “I’ll tell them all, honey, I promise, especially Zach.” Tommy had an older brother too, and a;thought his had turn into a monster, he understood the love of a protective brother, and would not be who he is without Joel in their childhood and youth.

You whisper a thank you, before sealing his promises with a tearful kiss. When Tommy pulled away, you knew it was time…

“Goodbye Ellie, mommy loves you.”

Then, it was just you and Joel. 

“I never wanted this, little one.” He spoke, voice filled with sincerity and pain. “I know you think I hate you, that I want you to hurt-”

“I don’t think that Joel.” You deny his accusation, but you are honest. For once, you can be honest. “I think you’re a broken man who doesn’t know how to love, but I don’t think you hate me, and I don’t know you never wanted any of this.”

“I loved you! Everything I did was for you!”

“You almost killed me-”

“THAT WAS FOR YOU!” He screamed at you, but it wasn’t rage or fury, it was wretched and broken and him. A heart broken father who had lost his daughter, and is now about to lose his wife, and if Tommy can help it, his brother and baby.

Closing your eyes, you move on. “You can’t have her, Joel.”

He steps closer, boots loud against the creaking floor. “Tommy ain’t taking my daughter, I ain’t losing her.”

A dry laugh. “I’m not sure you ever loved Ellie-”

“Her names not Ellie, it’s Dolly-”

“You loved Sarah, and Ellie was a replacement. What if we had a boy, Joel? C’mon. Let her be, let them go.” Couldn’t he give you this? A deathbed wish to save your baby… 

“No.” But you could tell he was wavering. “That’s my daughter.”

“What’s your plan then? You don’t have day care. The only raiders you could have trusted with her are Tommy and Lorenzo and they are gone. You can’t do it alone… You’ve seen those men gang rape women, you think they won’t rape Ellie?”

“Stop calling her that.”

“You think they won’t beat her, touch her? Even if they don’t, is she suppossed to grow up around violence and rape? You gotta think this through, Joel! There’s no day care, no PTO, you’re two top men just left you, you can’t keep her safe! You can’t protect her, she’s gonna die like-”

“Fine!”

There's a long, shocked silence between the two of you, the gravity of what he’s agreed to give up… You weren’t sure if you believed in god, and if you did, whose god it was… you weren’t sure you believed in an afterlife, or anything of the sort. But if you did… you could be convinced that Sarah’s spirit touched Joel, breaking through his obsession, his mental illness, the delusions he had… to keep her little sister safe. 

“I’ll… she can go with Tommy.” Heartbroken, Joel acquiesced, then knelt in front of your exhausted body. “I know you don’ think I loved you, but… just know I cared, okay? I just-”

“I believe you.” You took in his scent once more. “For what it’s worth, I think maybe we loved each other in our own sick way… It was always gonna end like this… ” You push the jackknife into his hands.

“Where did you get this?” Joel referenced the knife with wooden encasing. 

“Nick’s skeleton.”

Joel couldn’t help but smile “Brave girl” He kissed you, and you allowed it, wanting to taste him just one more time. 

Knife in grip, you taking rough hand and bring it to your throat, tucked under your chin just beneath where your wet faces pressed together, foreheads and noses and lips melding into one as he could consume your soul, bring you into him forever.

“I love you, little one. Always have.”

“And I loved you, Joel.”

“What’s that song you like?”

“Red River Valley”

“Yeah, that’s the one. How did that last line start?”

You smile, eyes closed, and start singing it. “Come and sit by my side if you love me…”

Joel joined in the pair of you singing together. “Do not hasten to bid me adieu, but remember the the red river valley” You’re voice choked up so bad on the last word, you couldn’t finish it.

You think back to the night Ellie was conceived, the night Tommy left, they way Joel fucked you, words uttering into life the possession he had over you. It was foolish to think you could be free of him in this life. That pain? The pain is mine. Your cries are mine, your cunt is mine. And if you bleed?

Joel sang the last line for you, voice as soft as a whisper.. “And the cowboy who loved you so true.”

His lips pressed a final kiss and you felt the sharp pain and oozing liquid leaving you, your gasps and cries of pain stifled by his mouth. Eventually, the warmth of the blood enveloped you into darkness, and the agony of this life you were subjected to since childhood ended.

If you bleed? Your blood is mine.

Joel inhaled your last breath into his, sucking in the evidence of your life with his lips attached to yours until his head grew dizzy from lack of oxygen. Your blood was cooling on his body.

Joel limped out of the room, covered in her blood, only to find Tommy rocking a baby in one arm and a gun aimed at Joel with the other, tears streaming down his face.

“You killed her.” Tommy stated the obvious.

Not even bothering to raise his hands, Joel replied. “The infected killed her, Tom-”

“No.” The low tone of voice warned of something serious, and Joel pondered if Tommy was capable of actually killing him. “You did this. All of this. This last year you beat and tortured and raped her and made her think this was love. Calling her your wife, Joel?” Tommy shook his head in disgust. “I didn’t think you were capable of this, even after everything.”

Joel glowered his eyes at Tommy, not happy to have this talk again. “I didn’t see you ever stop’n me, Tommy.”

“No.” Tommy’s answer was candid. “That’s my cross to bare. And she-” he needed down to the sleeping baby in his arms. “She’s my vindication, and I’m gonna do right by her.”

Joel held out his hands, causing Tommy to step back. “Give me my daughter, Tommy.”

Worry crossed his face. “You promised-”

“I just wanna say goodbye” It was rare Joel spoke like this… so quiet, so soft… But Tommy didn’t trust him. “No, you-you’ll hurt her.”

The way Joel looked in Tommy’s eyes was earnest… so much hurt and sadness Tommy felt like he was actually looking at his brother again… “I’d never hurt my daughter.”

Tommy believed him. “Gun to your head the whole time. You try to take her away, I shoot you.”

“Okay.”

He was right, the gun was pressed to his head as Joel said his goodbye. “I love you. No matter what anyone tells you, I love you, and I loved your mom. She’s up in heaven watching out for you, she’s there with your big sister, your grandparents, everyone. They love you, just like I do, just like Tommy does. I’m gonna protect you still, okay? Jackson is under my protection, nothing bad’s gonna happen to you or your family.” Joel will protect his daughter with his life, and that means protecting those who care for her. Tommy, Maria, all of Jackson. As long as she's taken care of they are safe. “I love you, baby girl.”

Hesitantly, Joel handed Ellie back to Tommy, her new daddy, and he felt like he was letting go of a peace of himself. Nother brother bothered hiding the tears.

“I never want to see your face again, Joel. Do not come near me or my child ever again.”

Joel wanted to argue, to say it was his daughter, and he could take her whenever he wanted… But she was right. Ellie was better off with Tommy. Tommy could provide a stable home, with a mom and a dad, a community to make friends, school, church, and most importantly, safety. Tommy was younger, he could keep up with a child, fight off what he needed to… Tommy was a good uncle to Sarah… he’d be a good dad to her.

“Tommy, wait” But Tommy kept walking. “Wait!”

“SHHH!” Tommy whipped around, whispering harshly. “You’ll wake her!” 

As if Joel didn’t raise a whole child himself. “Just… here.” Joel cleaned of the knife and handed it to a nervous Tommy. “For her.”

Tommy glared at the gift. “You want me to give her the knife you killed her mother with?”

“She killed the infected with it, and that’s what I killed Nick with… I used it to ortect her, and she used to to protect… Ellie.” Joel said her name outloud now. “You don’t have to tell her about me just… I want her to have something, please?”

Tommy stared at Joel for several moments. He hated Joel… but he’d always live him. Joel raised him most of his life, and they raised Sarah together. Joel was his brother, always, and the reason his now-daughter existed. “I’ll tell her about Sarah. I’ll… She’ll know she has a sister.” A fresh tear escaped, Tommy wiped it with the sleeve of the arm holding the knife as he sniffled at the mention of his precious niece he loved so much. “I dunno how I’m gonna explain the rest, but she’ll know she had a sister.” A deep breath. “And she’ll have her knife, so no matter what… you both with be protecting her, okay?”

Joel nodded.

“But you can’t go after the others. Zach, Lorenzo, Jack, Maura, got it? They are gonna suffer enough. With this news, just… leave them be.”

Joel agreed, then explained his horse is out front, a quick ride back to Jackson. Joel would walk back on his wounded leg. “Thank you, Tommy. I love you. I’m always gonna love you, even if you hate me.”

Turning on a heel, Tommy walked away, carrying little Ellie, taking off his scarf to wrap around her in the cool weather. It wasn’t anything too cold, the sun was out and shining at least, and no wind. Tommy was dead set and determined to walk away, to never speak to his brother again… but he stopped. He didn’t look back, but he spoke, quiet but just loud enough for Joel to hear. “I love you too, hermano.”

With that, Joel watched the only two things left in this life that he loved, walk away.

***********

Joel at the end, what Tommy see’s as Joel exits the room after murdering little one

Art my @melodymakesart

Continue the story 16 years latter with Ghost of You, Ellie’s journey in finding out the truth

Wow. WOW. I cannot thank you guys all enough for how much support i've gotten on this series. Biggest thank you's to the-fox-den, dinsbaby, foggymoonbanana, primos world, Fen, my dear maura, miraclesabound, not a unique snowflake blog and koshkaj for always leaving such nice comments! (everyones comments are appriacted and loved i just see these guys do it every single chapter without fail.)

also thanks to everyone who reached out about the bomb threat. we are all doing much better now.

I love you al so much and cannot ever express how much the reaction to this series has touched me.

That's right, the baby is Ellie.

I do want to say, that in this series, since reader isn't Anna, this means Ellie can look like anything, no matter the race. It just matters she's ellie and she's immune. Little one isn't a great reader, she's largely oc but i wanted to keep things as inclusive as i could instead of an OC

and i did say major character death ;-; good bye little one. You deserved better.

THOUGHTS?!?!?! shout out to spadesjade on ao3 who correctly guess that little one dies and tommy and maria raise the baby!

Remember, there's still the alt ending! This one will be a bittersweet, happier ish ending.

As always, if you hate both endings, my fics are open for you to write your own version of the end or use this universe in anyway. And if you'd like, i'll add it to the masterlist for additional reading!!!

In the mean time, come read Dirty Little Secret, my dark!joel one shot

LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!

Remember, reblogs spread the work, comments motivate!!!!

@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 @pedritosdarling @dreamonseems @alwaysdjarin @amoramorquetepintas @milla-frenchy

[synesindri]

archangels weekly prompt response: orphan

It’s nothing special. In the history of the world, countless big brothers and sisters have gone down a bad road. Kicked out, thrown in jail, found in ditches or drug dens. That's just how it goes, sometimes.

After things like that, families tend to change. Maybe Dad starts smoking again, goes out for cigarettes one day and thinks to himself, “I can’t keep doing this. I need a break. My eldest can keep it together for a while. My third is a good kid. My youngest will bounce back fast. They’ll be alright for a few days.”

Maybe he really means to come back, maybe not. Either way, he never does.

That’s rough on the kids, but what can they do? Learn to keep things running, is the only real option. Get neurotic and burnt out, but it’s not like they’re just going to lie down and die because Dad is gone.

Plenty of little brothers and sisters would probably decide they have to get out somehow, though. Have you seen “The Virgin Suicides”? Life sucks when you’re young and you don’t have any control over anything. So maybe the baby of the family up and leaves one day too.

The eldest keeps calling Dad’s phone when the youngest disappears. We need help, Dad. Please, I don’t know what to do.

He does know what to do, though. He has to, or he has to figure it out, because Dad isn’t coming back. He can keep calling that old number as many times as he wants and he’s never going to get an answer, because Dad is as gone as Lucifer and Gabriel, if not even goner. It’s hard to watch your older brother be so in denial about something, but it’s hard to blame him too. Every time he tries to get a hold of Dad, Michael is refusing to be an orphan.

Raphael, though, has long since made peace with the fact that that’s what they are. At least they still have each other.

That is, until Michael goes too. Then, there’s no family left at all.