#Ominous Fence | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rainrot4me · 7 months ago

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Behind The Veils

Summary: Hiking to capture the perfect sunrise photo for your portfolio, you stumble upon a supposedly abandoned cabin, your curiosity driving you to investigate. When you're met with two very large and very aggressive masked men, they decide that they'll put you to good use.

Characters: Masky & Hoodie x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Bondage, gagging, choking, throat fucking, restraint, teasing, dominance, threesome, vaginal, anal, eating out, cumming on face, threatening, chasing, bargaining, mentions of guns, ropes

Words: 6.1k

You would do anything for a good shot. Trespassing included.

Working on your portfolio for school was proving to be more physically demanding than you anticipated, but if it meant you got in on a good scholarship, you were willing to break a few laws.

Your heart raced as you pushed down the barbed wire fence and swung a leg over. These woods were off-limits as deemed by the state, but you knew of a beautiful mountainscape that would make for a perfect sunrise picture. And, considering how your portfolio was currently looking, you needed this shot. Glancing at the “Private Property, Do Not Enter” sign one last time, you swung your other leg over and pulled your backpack back onto your shoulders.

You filled your large pack with enough stuff to last you a day. A sleeping bag, a one-person tent, a fire starter, and all the other junk you could think of. It was late afternoon now, and you planned on setting up camp closer to the lookout and hiking the rest before sunrise. It would be a couple of miles, but you were willing and excited. Photography was your life and passion, and you planned on following it through no matter the challenge (or legality).

Pushing away from the barbed fence, you trekked through the dense forest, with no clear path in sight. You pulled out your phone and found your map, searching for an easier way to the scenic lookout, but finding no angle except the one you were taking now. You groaned, shoving your phone back in your back and continuing on. It wasn’t all that bad though. The weather was warm, a breeze blowing through the dense trees and cooling you off. The late summer afternoon had animals and bugs buzzing, creating a nice scenery to walk through. You wouldn’t only get a good picture, but a nice hike in as well.

But as the day passed and the sun stooped lower into the horizon, the woods were becoming less and less inviting. The animals had gone quiet now, with no chirping or singing of birds in the trees. The only noise was the low humming of insects in the grass, an ominous feeling creeping on you the darker it got. You knew it was only your mind tricking you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching you. Only about two miles out from the lookout now, and this felt like a good place to set up camp.

Hurriedly, you unpacked your bag, popped up your tent, and rolled your sleeping bag out. The sky was dark with the colors of the sunset, but it provided just enough illumination to gather fallen branches and make a small fire stack. You crouched down, tossing some brush and leaves into the pile and striking the fire starter, creating a spark that flamed into a small fire. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to heat your bowl of food and provide you warmth against the cooler night air. Still so strangely quiet, the forest was dark, unable to see past the glow of your fire. You tried not to psych yourself out, but you gripped your pocket knife close, fiddling with the blade anxiously. You knew there were no people out here. At least none besides brave teenagers who dared each other to throw parties out here. Your main concern was a bobcat or some wild animal running up on you, but you thought scaring anything off wouldn’t be too difficult.

You breathed deep, trying to calm your nerves against your racing mind. Deciding you were tired enough, you zipped open the small tent and wrapped it up in your sleeping bag, closing the tent back and nestling it. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and grasshoppers in the grass, but your brain was still on high alert, listening closely. But when nothing came, your eyes eventually fluttered close and you slipped into sleep.

Morning eventually came, and you were pleasantly surprised with how little you stirred during the night. Unzipping the tent, the cool morning air rolled in, pulling you awake. The forest was covered in a dense wave of fog, the sun still low on the horizon and just barely peeking up against the horizon. Jumping up, you quickly packed your things and shuffled your backpack on. But when you went to stomp out your smoldering fire, something in the dirt nearby caught your attention. Peering closer, your heart sunk, fear rising in your throat. In the damp dirt, a very large bootprint was sunk into the ground. As you looked, you found more following closer to your tent. You began to silently panic, swinging your head around to look through the trees, but sighing when you saw nothing. Your heart still raced with the knowledge that someone had been walking around near your camp making you sick.

Stomping out the rest of the fire, you scurried away back onto your path, walking a little faster than you were before. As you walked, you tried to convince yourself that maybe you were tricking yourself. Maybe it was your boot print that you accidentally left, or someone that had hiked there before and it was just their leftover tailmarks. But you knew that boot was easily four sizes bigger than your own, and that boot print looked way too fresh. Shivering, you continued your trek but kept a close eye out, jumping at any slight movements.

Eventually, you crept up the mountainside, breathing heavily as you raced against the sunrise to the rocky overlook. The fog had settled, a thin haze of mist against the grass all that remained. Gripping onto trees, you pushed up the hill, the lookout coming into view. You sighed heavily, tugging yourself up the rocks and eventually reaching the top, breathing heavily. But as you caught your breath, you tossed your backpack off and rummaged through for your camera and the stand. The sun was just barely peeking up, offering a nice pink haze across the entire scene. Your excitement bubbled as you found your supplies and began to set up at the edge of the rocks.

High up on the mountain, you could see the stretch of the forest, the trees looking even more dense from up high. It was stunning as the sun reflected off of the morning dew. The mountain range in the distance complemented the horizon beautifully, the sun shining right between the peaks. Clasping your camera onto the tripod, you turned it on and angled it, catching the expanse of the forest in the lens. You smiled wide, snapping dozens of pictures before repositioning and capturing more. You would go through them all later, editing and angling them just perfect for your portfolio. This scene just screams adventure, solitude, and daring. It was perfect.

As you finished taking pictures, you noticed a gap in the treeline further up the mountain, another great angle of the mountain range. Grabbing your stuff, you hauled further up, clicking through the photos you had already taken as you walked. These were exactly what you needed, but you wouldn’t mind snapping a few more from a different angle just in case.

Pushing through the brush of the mountain, you finally reached the higher peak, already throwing your stuff down to set up again. But as you set your tripod up, something in the trees caught the corner of your eye. Turning, you could barely make out the cabin hidden amongst the large trees. Peeking, your brows knitted, unsure of why there was a cabin out here in the first place. Turning back, you quickly snapped a few pictures before packing your stuff back up, the sun well above the mountains now.

Pushing deeper into the trees, you studied the cabin, the small lodge otherwise invisible from outside the forest. The thick leaves and foliage disguised it, making it all the more ominous. Maybe it was a hunting cabin used during the winter or some old abandoned home before the state closed this forest off. You knew you should’ve been more cautious, but as the sun peeked through the trees and cast a warm glow against the dark wood, all you could think of was how good it would look in a photo.

Pressing closer, you hugged against the trees, trying to see the best angle for a picture. The cabin was older, with weathering and vines decorating the exterior. But it was charming, in a creepy kind of way. As you rounded to the side of the cabin only a couple of yards away, you lifted your camera and shot a couple of pictures, admiring the mist radiating around the lodge in the early sunlight. You trudged around to the back, lifting your camera again but stopping quickly. At first, you thought it was just the sunlight shining through one of the windows. But as you looked closer, you could see a small lamp turned on inside of the dusty window.

Your heart stopped, a cold shiver shooting up your spine. There was no way someone was out here. Especially not inside that decrepit old thing. You knew you should’ve high-tailed it out of there, packing up your stuff and shooting back down the mountain. But you being your daring self, you pressed closer to the small porch of the cabin, trying your best to peek inside the fogged window. When you eventually got so close your feet knocked the steps of the porch, you stepped up, sliding to the window.

Cobwebs decorated the porch, and large vines and patches of weathering surrounded the wooden door. You couldn’t see very well through the window, but as you crouched against the cabin and peered inside, you were shocked to see nothing. There were no signs of life inside besides the small lamp, somehow powered on in the middle of nowhere. How it was getting electricity, you were too dumb to figure out.

You stood slowly, trying your best to see further than the lamp through the fogginess of the glass. Maybe it was just left on accidentally? You hoped so. But who would come all the way out here? After deducing that the place truly was abandoned, you set your bag on the porch and lifted your camera. Even though scary, the closeness would make for a good picture. Angling, you captured the lamp framed by the foggy window. However, when the flash of the camera went off, a sudden thud echoed inside the lodge. Your heart dropped, white fear shooting through as you backed against the railing of the porch. Shit. Shit. Shit. The sudden loud thuds of boots sounded inside, your body scrambling quickly to grab your bag and run, but it was already too late.

The door slammed open in your face, knocking you back on your ass down the steps and onto the grass below. You didn’t even look up, turning quickly to dig your feet into the ground and sprint. You held your camera close to your chest, panting heavily as you dodged through the trees. You had no idea who was in that cabin, but you weren't going to stick around and find out. If they were crazy enough to live out here then they were crazy enough to hurt you, and fuck that. Nudging through the brush, you pressed through the trees, heaving desperately for air as your legs burned with fear. As soon as you felt like you had gained a good distance away, it all ended. You felt your head stop before the rest of your body, your limbs shooting forward before you were slammed down to the ground with a loud thud. Your head pounded, a large hand pressing your face down into the ground and giving you a terrible impact headache. You’d be lucky if you didn’t have bruises from how hard your body stopped.

Groaning sharply, you squinted your eyes, your vision partially blinded by the thick fingers pressing down against your face. Your body panicked, writing under the weight as the body on top of you pressed down harder, restricting your movements. You wanted to scream, but your head was pounding too hard to speak, let alone scream. Clawing at the hand on your face, you whined, desperate to move as fear ran through you.

“Quit fighting.” A gruff voice groaned in front of your face, pressing your head down harder into the grass. You tried to see him, your head pressed to the side so all you saw was the dirt and grass beneath you. Until you heard those boots thudding beside your head again, echoing against the forest floor. When they came into your vision, you panicked, the thick black soles blocking your vision. The figure knelt, the other person holding you down angling your head up to get a clear shot of the man crouching beside your head. “Well, hello.” This voice was lighter, scratchier than the other but not as rough. They were both men though, and large enough to hold you down.

The man in front of you was odd, something straight out of a movie. He wore a white mask decorated with a face, little holes cut in the eyes so you could see his dark eyes. He glared at you, his brown hair messed in front of his face. You were caught in confusion, your eyes flicking quickly against him as you tried to gather as much about his appearance as you could. The other man gripped your face tight, angling you to look at the sky as the two of them talked.

“She’s a fast little fucker.” The lower voice growled, nails digging into your cheeks as you began to struggle again. “Hold her steady, don’t let her wiggle out.” The other one commanded, standing and shuffling away. You finally caught sight of the other one, a mustard hoodie pulled over his head, a dark ski mask painted with a red frowning face. Who the hell were these two? They looked like some emo band wannabes and it seriously was beginning to scare you. What in the world were they doing in the middle of nowhere dressed like that? The one with the hoodie was staring right at you, his face covered but his eyes roaming your body. “What the hell are you doing out here anyways?” He gruffed, snapping your camera out of your hands. You gasped, reaching for it but him holding it above your reach.

“I was- ah- taking pictures. Of the sunset. I- I’m a photographer.” You huffed, tears pricking at your eyes as he remained unamused. He ignored your response, looking to the other one who was now dragging your bag towards you two. Zipping your backpack open, they rummaged through your belongings, throwing your supplies out onto the ground carelessly.

“Damn, so she was the camper out last night.” The lighter voice rang, tossing your sleeping bag onto the ground. Your heart sunk, tears finally spilling over your cheeks. So someone had come to your campsite last night. This was getting worse by the minute.

“Shoulda just killed her then like I said.” The darker voice growled, throwing your extra pair of socks down too. You sobbed into his hand, your hands clawing against his hand as he refused to let up. The one in the white mask crouched again, staring you directly in the eyes. “Knock her out, bring her back to the cabin.”

The last thing you saw before you blacked out was the hilt of a gun slamming down against your head, a sharp pain rining before everything went dark.

You had no clue how much time had passed when you awoke, but the sun was low in the sky, the colors of the sunset already spilling against the horizon through the window. The inside of the cabin was warm, a low fire crackling in the fireplace across from you. You glanced around, the inside was just as shabby as the outside, but the furniture inside wasn’t half bad considering you were tied to a table chair. Thick ropes wrapped around your torso, securing you against the back of the chair as you struggled. Your head pounded, a sharp throbbing echoing from the spot the gun made contact with your head. When you fully came to, you heard the loud ring of arguing from somewhere down the hallway, the small cabin doing little to conceal their words.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Masky, that on our only fucking week off some bitch decides to get curious.” The one in the hoodie, you recognized his voice. There was loud stomping, one following the other as they came closer down the hallway. “I say we just kill her, Hoodie, but you always need to interrogate the little shits.” The masked one growled back, the both of them coming into view through your hazy vision. They both glared at you, closing the distance between you as you struggled against your restraints. You could barely breathe as they hovered over you, their intimidating presence making it hard to stay calm. “Ple- Please. I just, ah, got lost. Please.” You gritted, pressing your feet against the floor and pulling against the ropes, but they didn’t budge. Respectively, Masky and Hoodie, their names fitting, leaned closer, basically ignoring that you had even said anything.

Masky slid away, grabbing your camera off the dining table and sliding it to Hoodie who turned it on. They flicked through the photos, you awkwardly staring as they studied each photo. “Seems like she was just taking photos,” Hoodie grumbled, handing the camera back to Masky as he glared back to you. “Ain’t half bad either.” You flicked your eyes hurriedly between the two, anxiety growing in your stomach as they silently examined your camera and you. There was no reading these guys, their every emotion concealed behind their stupid masks. Were they going to kill you? Over taking some pictures too close to their shitty cabin? What a way to die.

Masky tossed the camera down, you cringing as it scooted onto the table. “Looks like she wasn’t lying. Lucky you.” He grinned slyly, leaning against the table. They both had this bad habit of just looking at you and not speaking like they were communicating in their minds. It seriously freaked you out as you again tried to tug against your restraints. “Just let me go and I swear I won’t tell nobody. I- I’m just tryna take some photos.” You whined, shriveling in on yourself when they pressed closer again. They stood tall, looming above you and just stared. It was impossible not to just squirm under them, their eyes studying every inch of you. Their weird dynamic made you unsure, their personalities so different but complimenting each other perfectly.

Defeated, you hung your head, your head hurting too bad to plead anymore. But when you looked down, you noticed what they were looking at. Your face blushed, eyes widening as you shot your head back up at them. Your shirt was torn to pieces, your bra doing little to hide your tits through the shredded fabric. It must have happened when you were slammed to the ground, the thick underbrush tearing at your clothes before they dragged you back to the cabin. Your cheeks went dark, embarrassment creeping as you tried to hide yourself, but the ropes under your tits pushed them up further. When they noticed your embarrassment, you could hear them chuckle. “Embarrassed, huh? Sorry, Hoodie here isn’t very good about being polite while chasing someone.” He laughed, pressing close to your left, his gaze fitting on your tits. You squeezed your knees together, your stomach tight with embarrassment as Masky stared at you through the mask.

“Yeah, not very sorry if it meant I got a view like this,” Hoodie grunted, shoving Masky’s shoulder as he pressed closer to your right, leaning his masked face down closer to yours. You glanced quickly between the two of them, unsure of what to do as you felt trapped between two wild animals. Anger ragged at you, your face growing hot. These creepy freaks were perverts too, great. You thrashed against the ropes, kicking your feet forward but Masky held your knees easily. Hoodie gripped your jaw in return, angling your face to look at him as they held you still. “But I’m still not opposed to shooting you.” Masky huffed, digging his nails into your skin. Hoodie laughed, turning your head in his hand to get a better look at you. You struggled slightly, pressing your face against his hand in retaliation. “Feisty.” He smiled. Hoodie’s playful provocations and Masky’s intense gaze made you acutely aware of the charged energy between the three of you.

Masky gripped your knees tight, pushing them down against the chair and sliding his hands to your crotch. He tried to rub his hand against your clothed cunt, but you resisted, wriggling your hips down against the chair. “Don’t be all bratty now. I’m sure Hoodie would love to break that little attitude.” Masky huffed, gripping your legs apart. You whined, Hoodie’s answering grip against your cheeks. You glanced between them, shutting your eyes before sighing. “If I let you… whatever. Are you still gonna kill me afterwards?” You whined, struggling against the ropes one final time. The men glanced between each other, then back to you.”Depends on how good you take us. We’re trying to enjoy our week off of work but you had to just run up on us, huh? You gotta earn your way out of this one.” Hoodie barked, fiddling with the zipper of his jeans when you noticed the slight bulge prodding through. Your cheeks grew dark again, your eyes shutting as you gritted your teeth. “Not my fault you’re squatting in the middle of nowhere.” The hooded man gripped your face tighter, tugging his pants down and letting his large cock spring free, the thick length bobbing in front of your head eagerly. “Then maybe don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Giving the length a few good pumps, he pressed his cock head against your mouth, tapping it against your lips before pulling your jaw down. You glared up at him before sliding your tongue out, flattening against the head. Hoodie’s playful dominance contrasted with Masky’s more forceful desire, their eagerness coaxing you.

Hoodie grunted, holding your jaw open as he pressed the rest of his length in, your jaw unhinging to fit the sheer thickness of him. Your eyes slammed shut, throat constricting around him as you strangled to breathe. He huffed above you, fist tugging at your jaw as he forced you to begin bobbing on the length. You strained, tongue pressing against him as he fucked into your mouth haphazardly. This was rough, but his tight grunts and moans made your stomach flutter. Masky was quick to wrap his fist around your hair, gripping it tight and tugging your head in time with Hoodie’s thrusts.

It was becoming difficult to breathe as Masky slid his free hand down in between your thighs and began to unzip your jeans, pressing his hand down underneath. His fingers found your clothed clit easily, rubbing harshly against the bud and waking it up. You grunted hard around Hoodie’s cock, breath catching and ragged as he refused to let up. His large hands were rough on your jaw, forcing it to stay open as his hips thrust into your throat. It was like Masky could read his movements, pulling your hair back or pushing your head forward to match his hips, making Hoodie grunt and moan loudly above you.

Tears pricked your eyes, the need to breathe becoming desperate, but you knew they didn’t care. Masky hands had abandoned your panties and were now under them, rubbing against your bare clit and making your hips jerk. “Ah- Damn. Bitch’s got a damn good mouth.” Hoodie growled, gritting his teeth. Masky just chuckled, sliding his thick fingers down your folds and pressing against your entrance, your stomach fluttering when he pressed the digits inside. You moaned loudly, slobber drooling out the corners of your mouth as Hoodie nestled his cock inside your mouth and refused to move. Your body strained against the ropes, hands gripping the chair as you begged for air, eyes wide and pleading with tears. Hoodie laughed, hands holding your head still and keeping you suffocating on him. Masky was gripping your hair in return, prodding his fingers deep inside of you and watching closely as you choked.

“Come on now, don’t make the poor thing pass out.” Masky cooed, curling his fingers inside of you and making you gag hard, body straining to moan around the cock. Your head was light, the lack of air getting to you as you choked, eyes growing heavy. Hoodie huffed before he popped out of your mouth, a thick string of slobber still connecting his head to your lips. Pressing your cheeks together, the hooded man chuckled, slapping his glistening cock against your swollen lips. “Nah, she’d be too boring knocked out. I like to watch her submit.” He growled, fisting his length.

You moaned sharply, eyes closing as Masky continued to curl his fingers, drawing noises from your mouth. He slid them out, his fingers glistening with your arousal, holding them up. He let go of your hair, his hand tugging down his zipper and freeing his strained cock. It wasn’t much bigger than Hoodie’s, but your raw throat didn’t make you thrilled to have two large cocks in your face. Hoodie gripped Masky’s wrist, pulling his hand to his mouth as he slid his mask up, barely revealing his mouth. Taking the soaked fingers in his lips, he swirled his tongue around them, reveling in the taste. Masky watched carefully, cock twitching in front of your face until Hoodie popped the fingers out of his mouth, smiling wickedly. “Yum.” He growled, kneeling between your legs and shoving your knees open. As he shoved your jeans down and off your legs, Masky was quick to grip your cheeks and slide the head of his cock into your mouth. However, unlike Hoodie, his hands let go, placing them on his hips as he watched you. “Well?” He grunted, your questioning look evident as your lips stayed wrapped around the head.

Hoodie was pressing your folds apart, his mask still hooked above his nose as do dove in, licking a thick stripe between them. You grunted, flinching as he lapped at your arousal. Masky still watched impatiently, eyes baring into your face. “Told you you were gonna have to work for it. Either get to sucking or I put a bullet there instead.” He grunted, tilting his head.

You furrowed your brows, your anger pooling but soon interrupted by Hoodie’s tongue breaching your entrance and curling. “Fuck you.” Reluctantly, you began to bob your head, chest straining against the ropes to suck as far down as you could. Masky was cocky, a smug expression in his eyes as he watched you slide down as far as you could before choking and retreating. You slipped your tongue around his head, lapping at the precum that pooled out. The tongue in your cunt made it hard to focus, little whines and moans vibrating on the cock in your mouth as your pleasure grew.

This was all kinds of insane, but your resolve was slowly breaking the further Hoodie’s tongue lapped up into your cunt. You huffed, sucking hard against the head of Masky’s cock and trying your best not to gag. He watched, unamused, very different from the grunts and gasps that Hoodie sported earlier. “You can either gag on it, or I’ll make you. I won’t be as nice as my friend though.” He snarled, smacking you on the face lightly, leaving a little red mark. You huffed, Hoodie still eagerly eating you out, groaning as he fisted his cock between his legs. Reluctantly, you unhinged your sore jaw, your throat pleading not to as you pushed further, throat constricting as his head pushed through. Gagging, your eyes slammed shut, gripping the chair beneath you. Only then did Masky’s face contort, little grunts and huffs of air muffled behind his mask. His nails dug into his hips, shallowly thrusting without showing too much desperation.

Your cunt was growing strained, Hoodie’s tongue poking and prodding and dragging you closer to your orgasm. Your back arched, choking on Masky’s cock as your orgasm rocked you, your hips desperately stuttering against Hoodie’s tongue. Your walls constricted, Masky shoving his cock deeper as you heard him grunting, warm seed shooting into your throat. It caught you off guard, but as your eyes rolled and cunt throbbed, you mindlessly swallowed the liquid.

Hoodie pulled his tongue out of your cunt, standing quickly as he pulled a pocket knife out of his jeans. You panicked, fear contorting your face before realizing he was cutting your ropes off, them falling to the floor. “You’re gonna cum on my cock next, sweetheart,” Hoodie growled, gripping your arms and pulling you, hauling you to the couch behind you. You were still panting heavily as he sat on the couch, hauling you onto his lap and straddling his legs. Masky was quick to follow, his ragged pants behind you as he stood behind your back, pressing his chest against your shoulder blades.

Trapped, Hoodie gripped your hips, cock throbbing under you as he angled himself, nudging his head against your clit. You flinched, sensitivity running through you as Masky ran his hands against your ass, gripping tightly and pulling them apart. Reaching around, he forced his fingers into your mouth, your tongue running over the thick digits. Hoodie gripped your hips down, pressing your entrance open with his thick cock, straining against your sensitive walls. You whined, stretching sharply as he pressed inside, moans stifled by the fingers in your mouth. Pulling back, Masky rubbed his wet fingers against your puckered asshole, your spine instantly straightening as you realized what he was doing.

“Oh, don’t get scared now,” He smiled, sliding the digits against your hole. You gripped Hoodie’s shoulders as he pressed inside, your cunt throbbing as he bottomed out, moaning sharply. At the same time, Masky pressed his middle finger inside of your asshole, a sharp sting ringing through your body. Hoodie pulled your hips up, thrusting you up and down against his length, your hands gripping tight on his shoulders. Masky curled his finger, probing and stretching the tight ring of flesh as he worked you open, soon adding another one. You were overwhelmed, the mix of pleasure and pain sending you reeling with moans, your skin hot to the touch.

“God, you’re so tight. Pussy sucking me in.” Hoodie huffed, nails sharp against your hips as Masky tugged your shirt over your head, free hand kneading your tits. You were whining, head spinning as Masky stretched you open, Hoodie filling you at the same time. “Bet you’ve never been fucked in the ass before, huh? Gonna have you screaming.” Masky cooed against your neck, mouthing against the skin as he fingered your asshole quickly.

Pulling out, he nudged the cock head against your hole, gripping your waist as he slowly pushed. “Hold her.” He grunted at Hoodie who held you nestled on his cock, hands forcing you to bottom out as he twitched inside of you. As you felt the slow push, you began to squirm, hips jerking forward. Masky nipped at your neck, sliding his tongue up to the back of your ear and nibbling, groaning as the head of his cock pressed through your entrance and popped in, a sharp sting rining you. Crying out, Hoodie began to slowly thrust up again, huffing his pleasure as he watched your face contort. “Looks so good when you’re helpless.” He grunted, your hands gripping his hands around your hips and pulling, begging him to let off. He still held, teeth gritting.

Masky pressed slowly, cursing as your tight ass clamped down, offering him little room to thrust as he rutted against you. He was big, and the stretch was uncomfortable. But as he reached his hand around to rub your clit, your whines turned to strangled moans, Hoodie resuming his devastating pace.

Before you knew it, they were both thrusting into you, your mixed grunts and gasps echoing through the small cabin. You were overwhelmed, jaw going slack as their hips thrust in time with each other, cocks brushing against the other inside of you. They pressed close against you, Masky’s teeth digging into your skin as his fingers rubbed harshly against your swollen cunt. “Relax, sweetheart, let us just ruin you.” He groaned, hips pressed flush against your plump ass and rutting up, making you whine.

Their pace was ruining you, for sure. Your eyes roll and jaw slack as you grip tight, trying to steady yourself. You couldn’t breathe, air catching in your throat as you cracked a moan. You could feel yourself getting close again, Masky’s fingers working you just right. The sweet mix of pleasure and pain ruined you, gasping hard when Hoodie slammed your hips down. Their pace was becoming ragged as well, hips rutting against you as their groans grew heavy. “Go on, cum all over us, sweetheart.” You whined, their hips heavy and voices rough as you felt that familiar pull spill over. “Oh God, please-”

Your cunt constricted, clit throbbing under rough fingers as you screamed your orgasm. It was dizzying, both holes clamping down and throbbing around the thick lengths as they continued to pound you. Your sensitivity rocked you, hips squirming and tears spilling down your cheeks as you tried to claw away from their still brutal pace.

“Oh don’t go running now.” Hoodie huffed, lifting his hips off the couch and slamming inside, relishing in the way your tightness held him. They both grunted, Masky tangling his hand in your hair and slipping out of your ass, your loud whine making him curse. Hoodie was soon to follow, standing and throwing your back down on the couch, the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder above you. You were panting, sweat coating your brow as you watched them fist their cocks in front of your face, their grunts and huffs echoing behind their masks. “Open up.” Masky barked, pressing his cock close to your face.

Fucked out, you obliged, too tired to give up a fight. They groaned, cock heads touching as they came on your flattened tongue, their seed striping across your face. You closed your eyes, squirming as the warm liquid coated your face and their moans became ragged.

After they settled, your eyes were heavy, blinking calmly as they watched you. Hoodie slid over to the kitchen table, grabbed your camera and flipped it on, laughing as he snapped pictures. Your cheeks were dark, your face fucked out and tired as the flash blinded you. “Looks real good without cum all over you.” He smiled, stuffing his cock back in his jeans as Masky did the same. Masky grabbed your ragged shirt, huffing as he wiped your face clean, your tired eyes making him laugh. “I like you a lot better when your mouth isn’t running.”

You couldn’t be bothered to give a response, just slumping down further into the couch as sleepiness dozed you. The two men chuckled, watching closely as you finally slipped into a very vulnerable sleep.

When you stirred, the first thing you were met with was the forest floor, grass tickling your nose. It was light outside, the early morning light slightly blinding your tired eyes. You sat up, looking around quickly but sighing when there was no sign of the men or their freaky cabin. Your backpack was beside you, leaning against the barbed wire fence where you had entered the forest, your camera sat on top. Standing, you grabbed the camera, flipping it on as you quickly looked through the photos.

You cringed as you looked at the lewd pictures of yourself, embarrassment crippling your face. You were thankful for their mercy, but their bruteness made you groan, your lower region still sore and throbbing. You threw your bag over your shoulders, hopping back over the fence as you made the trek back to your car.

You glanced back one final time, nervously scanning the forest edge, but sighing when you found nothing.

You got more than you came for, but at least your portfolio would be good.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

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ominous-signs · 9 months ago

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Official ominous sign

Please do not let clown out of fence. 🤡😬

In todays episode of signs out of context 😅

#official ominous sign #sign #signs #please do not let clown out the fence #thanks for the tag!

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saintsugu · 1 year ago

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PLAY TIME; KINKTOBER DAY 5

rating: mature; mdni

pairing; yuuji itadori / ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

word count: 5.6k

content warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+, apocalypse au, vague horror (aka it’s kind of creepy), vaginal penetration, all of the explicit sex is with sukuna, manhandling, true-form sukuna, monster fucking (two cocks // four arms), non con, sadomasochism, slight dacryphilia, dvp, usage of pet, bellybulge, unprotected sex, cumflation, alluding to cucking

Author’s note: super unedited. i’m really proud of this fic + the idea as a whole, but i’m really proud of the fact that I got the last 2/3k done in about 1.5 hrs. please enjoy the last piece of 2023’s Kinktober!<3

Today, the forest is ominously quiet—even more so than usual. Dead leaves crunch underneath your boot with every step and it makes your skin crawl; not to mention how freezing cold it is. How did you even end up out here alone to begin with?

Letting out a shaky breath, which is painfully visible, you try to tug your sleeves down to cover your numb hands. As you’re in the process of doing so, the frightening noise of a twig snapping has your hand instead finding your knife on instinct.

It could be an animal, but it’s not likely. Given the time of year, most are hibernating, and those that aren’t have already been skinned and cooked.

You turn around yet are met with nothing except the forest from which you came. With the trees being as crowded together as they are, it’s easy for someone to hide, so your guard isn’t exactly down just yet.

After many excruciating minutes of silence, a voice speaks and you’re too terrified to realize who it is. Unsheathing your blade, you take a step behind you and are ready to hit whoever may be in front of you.

“Hey, stop, it’s me!”

Yuuji catches your wrist within moments of impact. Despite his desire to always be gentle with you, the current predicament required a bit of force from his end and you couldn’t help but wince before releasing the knife. The blade clatters against the stones below you and you sigh so loud in relief that you’re sure the entire forest could hear it.

Your eyes soften and you press your head against his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was you.” The statement is fairly obvious, yet you still feel the need to clarify that you didn’t mean to try and stab your boyfriend, rather than the stalker you figured he was.

“Don’t be,” you can feel his hand intertwining with yours and it makes you feel safe. “Let’s go home. I already carved out a path for us, I was just looking for you.”

The trek back to the cabin is short but a bit steep. Yuuji’s holding onto you tightly the entire trip. The grip on your hand aids in making you feel a little more at peace despite the eerie crawl of the woods.

The cold weather has been well appreciated. Both you and Yuuji find it much easier to layer up and use blankets, rather than deal with turning the generator on fully to keep cool. The way you have it now, you’re able to keep it on for a few hours at a time—just enough for you to shower and do whatever else requires electricity, before shutting it off. There are only a few downsides to the chilling temperatures; one of which, being the fog that occupies the forest.

It completely limits visibility; that’s nice if you’re holed up in the cabin, but when you’re out scavenging? Horrible. You can’t even see two feet in front of you.

“Be careful. Step over,” he carefully directs you, quiet as he grips your hand a little tighter. It’s how you know you’ve arrived home. You’re careful to raise your feet and make sure you don’t bump against the fence that Yuuji had staked into the ground.

The wiring itself isn’t awfully thick, but it keeps most animals away; not to mention that it’s main function is sound purposes. Along the wires, there are different cans and bells that will rattle if the fence is at all bumped or tugged. It’s a good method to keep you and Yuuji up worrying all night.

It’s so cold. Your words are barely above a whisper, hands shivering slightly as the cabin comes into view. You can nearly hear the frown in Yuuji’s voice when he tells you that you’re almost there. He’s been very….overprotective of you, to say the least. It’s not like you can blame him, though. The world is scary now.

“Close it a little softer next time.” You can’t help but teasingly scold your partner as you step into the warm home.

“But I wanted to shut it before the wind picked up.” It’s cute, the way he snickers at you before moving towards the fireplace. “You should change into something clean while I start the fire.”

You had planned to already, so you have no issue bouncing towards your shared room to change your clothes. When you return back, Yuuji has busied himself with the fireplace.

Moments like this are nice. Those times, no matter how brief they may be, where you get to watch your boyfriend clumsily set the logs on fire. The simplicity of it all nearly makes you forget the world right outside of your door that has gone to hell.

It’s just you and the boy occupying the cabin. At different points, people have come and gone, but it’s been a long time since you’ve met eyes with anyone other than Yuuji. A man by the name Megumi stayed with you for a bit, nearly six months, actually, before taking his leave in search of his father. The rest, you’ve long forgotten their names. It’s quite…sad, actually. You spend a lot of nights wondering about their whereabouts.

“You like what you see?” He teases. His palms are pressed against the floor behind him, lanky limbs spread out a bit as he uses his locked out arms to hold him up.

“Oh always,” you nearly giggle. He never fails at finding a way to cheer you up.

Eventually, he stands up to help you make some food. It’s nothing special, really. You just boil rice over the fire and cook it with some canned chicken that Yuuji managed to find on a run last week.

Food has been getting harder to manage as of late. Thankfully, when this started, there was already a large pantry full of non-perishable food inside the cabin. Even with that being said, it’s been years and supplies are depleting rapidly. Between the two of you, you surprisingly don’t eat much, so it’s easier to ration better, but with less than half of the supplies left, you can’t help but worry.

“It’s good,” he says, taking a bite. He’s leaned against the wall across from you—you’re both still keeping warm near the fireplace.

If it weren’t for the bitter temperatures, you would’ve probably sat at the large, oak table in the dining room— a table that’s much too big for only the two of you —but with the crisp and cold air, you opted to eat on the floor in favor of the warmth.

It’s sweet but it makes you laugh a little. He always tries to make you feel better, no matter what the topic at hand is; he’s like a man consoling his wife. “If it wasn’t, I’d be worried. Takes a lot of work to fuck up rice and chicken,” you say playfully.

“Better than I could do.” His laughter is contagious. It fills the air the same as it fills your lungs. The pure joy you feel when hearing it, spreads through your entire being as your lips curl into a smile of their own. “I’m serious!” He grins even wider. “Gramps used to make all my meals for the most part.”

“‘Dunno how you got this far like that.” You’re laying on your stomach while you tease him. Your body is nearly perpendicular with the wall, but the side of your head rests against a pillow. Having already finished your meal, you have nothing better to do than shamelessly stare at your lover.

The sound of the fire crackling mixes with the boy’s voice and fills the room. It all feels so cozy that it makes you forget what awaits you outside of that small wire fence. He makes it easy to forget—or to ignore, for better lack of words.

When you’re staring into his eyes, it’s easy to pretend like you’re unaware of the storm raging outside. As if you don’t know the world is burning the same way the shriveled firewood has.

Once he finishes his bowl, you find it as a perfect chance to straddle his lap. With your legs spread, your knees press into the plush carpeting. The moment can only be described as intimate as your foreheads touch.

“I love you.” It’s a quiet affirmation that you both repeat at the same time. The repetition causes you both to laugh, before he silences you with a soft kiss. “My girl,” he whispers.

Slow kisses begin to get more desperate as his hands roam your body. He’s in nothing more than a black tank top, and a pair of thin pajama pants that are too baggy for him. It gives you easy access as you kiss his neck, uncaring of how you do so; it’s not like anyone will see.

For the rest of the night, Yuji conveys just how much he loves you. Your time spent together consists of limbs messily intertwining as he has his way with you on the floor. Despite having full control over a willing partner, Yuuji is still so sweet and kind to you. He may accidentally overestimate his strength and manhandle you slightly, but he always tries his hardest to not hurt you in any way.

He brings you to the edge more times than you would have ever imagined and he’s a bit more…clingy than usual—not that you mind, of course. You just hadn’t realized how scared he had gotten when you got seperated in the forest. He definitely did a good job of hiding it from you.

After cleaning up and triple-checking that the doors are locked and the windows are still boarded up, you make your way into the bedroom. You feel extremely safe and secure as you lay beside him. An arm draped over your side as he pulls you close into his chest.

“Goodnight,” he whispers softly. You swear that your name has never sounded sweeter than when it’s dripping off his tongue.

Thanks to his comforting touch, you’re asleep within minutes.

— three years ago.

Run. Keep running. Don’t stop.

Those words repeat through your head on a loop. They got louder and louder the more you felt your body start to slow. You’re running out of energy. As much as you wish it could, even your sudden burst of adrenaline isn’t enough to combat your starvation and dehydration.

You feel like you’ve been running for days—like some wild animal that’s being hunted down. Every time you try to take a breath, they’re on your heels again.

Nearly 3 weeks ago, you had stumbled upon a small group. They offered you food and shelter, in return for manual labor. Due to your starved state, you didn’t think to ask many questions before taking the water they offered you and mindlessly agreeing.

Unfortunately, what you had hoped to be a new companionship, turned out to be psychopaths trying to force you to kill unsuspecting people. They would track down homes and kill whoever resided in them. You tried to sneak out, but they caught on and were quick to chase after you.

It’s been over a week of this little chase, and you can barely stand. You’re beginning to wonder if running is even worth it, at this point.

Despite seeing it, your brain doesn’t fully process the branch in the path until after you’ve tripped over it. You have absolutely no time to recover as you fall straight towards the dirt.

“Shit,” you curse, feeling thorns poking against you. As you lie on the ground, exhaustion setting in even more so now than before, your inner monologue morphs.

Get up.

You’re nearly screaming at yourself. Every part of your body feels heavy. No matter how hard you will yourself to get back on your feet, you’re rendered incapable.

The approach sound of footsteps confirms that this is the end. Once they find you, they’ll kill you without a second thought. At least I tried. It’s the last thought that runs through your brain as the footsteps get louder and everything goes dark.

It’s quiet. You like it.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt so…at peace.

“You’re awake.” The voice sounds panicked but…happy?

You’re quick to shoot up, but you’re surprised when your hands move freely. If they didn’t kill you, you had at least expected them to restrain you somehow. Yet, when you look around the room, it’s so unfamiliar.

“…who are you? A-are you with them?” You feel weak at the stammer in your voice, but it can’t be helped. Despite his soft features, you’re terrified of the man sitting across from you.

It’s clear that he’s confused, but you still aren’t convinced. “With who? When I found you, you were unconscious in the dirt.”

That doesn’t make sense. Did they…stop looking for me?

You nearly ask again, but you’d rather not be questioned about why you were running. If he wanted to kill you he would’ve done it when you were knocked out cold. There’s no reasonable explanation for him to bring you back to his home and do it there.

“I’m Yuuji,” he says and you can tell that he’s worried he’ll upset you. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

It didn’t take long for you to warm up to him after that. You truly had nowhere else to go, so you slept in the guest room of his cabin for months, until one day, things took a bit of a…different route.

“How’d you find this cabin anyways, Yu’?” Your voice is a bit higher than usual as you lean against the plush couch. On his latest supply run, the boy brought back a good amount of alcohol and you both agreed that it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head, words a bit slurred. “It was my Gramps’. Been in the family since before I was born. It was my family’s designated rendezvous place—we all kind of picked it as a joke but,” he pauses. The silence is deafening as you hang on his words. “I was the only one who made it here.”

Your expression drops. Neither of you had attempted to ask about the other’s families in the months you’ve known each other, finding it a bit of a personal topic to bring up at random, but now, considering you’re both tipping over the edge from the alcohol…your filters are a little less engaged.

“It’s okay, though,” he takes a sip of his beer as he plasters a fake grin onto his face. He pauses, before his face turns sour. Initially, you believe that he’s about to open up, add on to what he said, but you quickly stand corrected when he bolts up and starts to walk— no, run off.

“Yuuji?” You call after him as he disappears from your view. Due to the drinks, your reaction time is a bit sluggish, so it takes a minute before you’re up and following him. Once you finally follow him into the open bathroom, you find him hunched over the toilet and it suddenly makes sense.

His beer can is on the floor, its contents pooling around the base of the toilet as Yuuji uses his forearms to keep himself stable. He doesn’t throw up much, mostly just coughing and gagging— Still, the sight brings up a few…unpleasant memories and the sounds alone make a melancholic feeling settle in your chest.

“Do you want some water?” You offer, but he shakes his head.

“Stay here.” It’s a simple request. His words are slurred, but the look in his droopy eyes tells you he means it. He rests his head against his right forearm, staring directly at you as he tries to regain his strength.

Eventually, you settle onto the floor a few feet away from him. With your back against the door, you curl your knees up to your chest and just wait for him to feel better. A few minutes pass, neither of you would really be able to count how many, but he finds himself leaning against the bathtub rather than the toilet.

“’m glad I found you,” he says quietly, voice hoarse from coughing so much. “I was kind of going crazy all by myself. I swore I started hearing things,” he chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

It’s so peculiar to you how Yuuji is so…positive. Even now, drunk and hunched over a toilet bowl, he finds it in him to laugh. You don’t have it in you to tell him that you’re happy to— cause that would require admitting that you care about him.

“What were you doing before all this?” You ask him curiously, trying to change the subject. It’s something you’ve wondered for a long time yet never found a way to bring it up.

“I was just a college student,” he laughs a bit, the skin of his eyes creasing at the thought. “I delivered pizzas when I could. Did some odd jobs, too. Like…landscaping for my grandpa’s neighbors and shit. What about you?”

“Just bartending,” you nod, thinking back to those simple times. “It was good money.”

The two of you sit and talk like that for a little longer, until Yuuji eventually starts to doze off. As cute as he looks as his eyes flutter shut, you know better than to let him sleep there. “C’mon, let's get you to bed,” you say softly, helping him stand up.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmurs, half asleep and still inebriated as he leans against you. You’re practically dragging him towards the bedroom with his arm around your shoulder. “And pretty too. ‘M so happy we found you…”

That night and in that moment, you were too hung up on him calling you pretty to acknowledge the we in his words; or maybe you did notice, but it was subconsciously easier to just…chalk it off as a slip of the tongue.

—

You’re drenched in sweat as you suddenly wake up, body practically launching away from the bed. You press your palm to your chest, feeling the way your heart is beating at an inhumane rate.

For the past few weeks, you’ve been having vivid nightmares. Usually, they’re all similar; all having to do with you being taken or something of the sort. Tonight’s dream was a bit different.

You were in the cabin, but nothing was working. The boards were off the windows, the fireplace wouldn’t light, and the generator wouldn’t work. Thankfully, you woke up before anything bad could truly happen, but waking up was bad in and of itself, considering the bed is empty with Yuuji nowhere to be found.

“…Baby?” You call out nervously, leaning over to turn your bedside lamp on. You were hoping that he was just in the bathroom, but that hope is quickly squashed when he doesn’t call back.

With a stuttered sigh, your legs swing over the side of the bed as you prepare to search for your lover. Shaking hands sift through your drawer, pushing around objects you forgot existed, before landing on a thick flashlight. It illuminates the room, making your eyes widen in a weak attempt to adjust to the light.

Your footsteps are light and cautious against the creaking wood and it’s a scene straight from a horror movie. Once on the stairs, you can hear something creaking— a door or a window— but when you get in the kitchen, you can’t seem to find anything.

Timid as a mouse, your voice is quiet as you call out for Yuuji. There’s no response, of course not, but as you begin to speak again, you’re very quickly disrupted.

A thick hand wraps around your face, easily covering your lips and practically suffocating you as his fingertips dig into your cheekbones. Panic bubbles out of your throat, eyes wide with adrenaline, yet as you go to scream, another hand finds its place around your throat.

“Don’t scream.” A dark and eerily familiar sound pierces your ear. It’s a contorted and dark version of a voice you hear every day. “Or you could, but who’ll find you?” He mocks sadistically.

Your head is yanked back, nearly giving you whiplash as it makes contact with the man’s chest. You feel as though you’re about to hurl. The panic is presenting itself clear in the form of bile in your throat, and the fear in the form of tears.

“I’ve sat on the sidelines for too fucking long.”

Another hand begins to tug at your flimsy pajama shorts— wait, another hand…?

Looking down in absolute horror, you’re greeted by a third arm tussling at your clothes. You’re convinced you’re going insane, but it’s so real. At this point, with dead people walking around, nothing should surprise you, but even so, you can’t help the way your eyes widen in horror at the side of multiple sets of arms.

You’re far too distraught to even register the way the fabric tears at your thigh, completely ripping apart with a flick of his hand. The lump in your throat grows, making your mouth dry as you struggle to speak.

“W-who are you?”

The man behind you just laughs— a deeply disturbing sound as it vibrates throughout the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything, just grabs your waist with one of four hands and begins to drag you; where exactly, you aren’t sure.

Amongst the laughter, he covers your eyes as he manhandles you away. He’s keeping your sight obscured until you can ‘properly see me’, as if it’s some sort of game. It’s terrifying.

It feels like the wind is knocked out of you with how roughly he’s shoving you against a hard surface— your table, you soon realize. He maneuvers you as if you’re some kind of doll and gets you laying onto the table before your vision is finally returned. He retracts two out of four hands; keeping them only on your waist and throat.

Your heart drops when you finally see the man in front of you. It’s Yuuji— your Yuuji, but his body is deformed. He’s much taller and stockier for starters. He’s missing the lean figure that you’ve grown to adore. Instead, he’s towering over you ever more, with an extra pair of arms sprouting from his midsection. One of the most disturbing parts, though, are the second and third eyes. They’re placed directly under his regular eyes, but they’re half the size. It makes you want to throw up.

“What? You don’t like seeing your baby Yuuji?” he imitates you with a sadistic grin.

You’re shuddering in fear, throat constricted just enough to let you speak. “You are not my Y-Yuuji,” you stammer, shaking like a goddamn leaf.

He just laughs, tugging at your panties. Even with you desperately squeezing your thighs together, he rips them apart with ease. “You’re right, I’m not. Yuuji couldn’t fuck you properly even if someone was telling him how.”

What is he talking about? Who is this?

“And trust me, I tried,” he says, like he’s exasperated as he rips your panties off. “Every time I talk to him, he just ignores me. Little brat.” He’s muttering to himself as thick hands pry your legs apart.

“Please, don’t,” your voice shakes, resorting to your seemingly last option of begging whoever this imposter is. “I-I’ll give you anything else just don’t…” you can’t even speak it out loud. You know what he wants to do to you— what he’s about to do.

Your pleading is met with a loud, and mocking laugh. “You look so cute like that; all helpless and crying. You humans have always looked best like that.” It makes sense. You would’ve never described him as human. You don’t know where he’s going with this tangent, but his voice soon drops an octave and answers your question.

“Do you really think I’m gonna pass up the chance to get what I’ve been craving for so long? Why, because of a few tears?” You hadn’t even realized you were crying until then, but now that you know, the dams are releasing.

“W-who are you?” Sure, he’s claimed to be Yuuji, but it’s clear that you aren’t falling for that. His eyes zero on your cunt as thick fingers begin to prod at your folds. None of the movements make sense and it’s clearly not for your pleasure. It feels more as if he’s just inspecting it.

It’s been a long time since he’s been let out to play, after all.

“Call me Sukuna, Doll.” His words are eerily dark before he roughly shoves a finger into your cunt. For the most part, you’re fairly dry, but he knows that he can change that; and he knows that it won’t take him long, either. Humans are simple creatures.

Tears slip out of your eyes faster, only fueling him on even more as he starts to finger fuck you. His fingers are a lot thicker than the slender digits that you’ve gotten used to. It hurts but it also..feels good? You hate even thinking that, but you can’t deny the physical pleasure you’re experiencing despite the mental anguish alongside it.

“You’re wet,” he obnoxiously observes, uncaring of the way it makes you squirm. “Do my fingers feel that good? Or are you just used to Yuuji treating you like glass?” You don’t respond, instead opting to turn your head away.

A third finger slips in and you swear that it’s already the equivalent of your boyfriend’s cock. “I always told him that he needed to be rougher. The little brat wouldn’t listen but I knew better; I know that girls like you just want to be treated like whores.”

As the pad of his fingers press into your g-spot, you finally let out a moan. It’s whiney and high pitched and out of fucking nowhere. In all of the times he’s listened in on you and Yuuji having sex— which has been every time — he’s never heard a noise like that leave your lips. It has his ego inflating even further.

Immediately, you’re trying to bring a hand to your lips, trying so hard to muffle the noises that keep seeping out like a waterfall. Still, it’s no use once Sukuna catches onto what you’re doing. A large hand overpowers your own as he pins it against the hard table.

“Don’t do that,” he demands, a sick grin on his face. “I want him to hear.” Him? Yuuji can hear?

You’ve been far too scared to put together all of Sukuna’s implications. Too riddled with fear to even think about if Yuuji knew that this demon was living inside of him. Even so, from everything he’s said, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure it out.

It doesn’t take much longer for his patience to break. With one hand still buried inside of your cunt, two others are undoing his sweats. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight you see next.

Not only is his cock considerably bigger than Yuuji’s, but there’s two of them.

With panic spreading through your body, you’re very quickly trying to scramble away. “T-those can’t—“ you’re stammering, body attempting to crawl away from him and up the table. Even with you slipping away, he’s trying to line one of his cocks up. “Those can’t go inside of me. Y-you’re fucking crazy,” you curse, mind reeling just at the thought of him trying to jam just one of those things inside of you.

“Stay fucking still,” he barks, yanking you back down and right onto his dick. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, and your eyes begin to roll back. With your lips parted in an O, he finds himself groaning at the feeling of your tight heat and the sight of your oh so beautiful face twisted up in both pleasure and pain.

With a deep groan vibrating his entire chest, he bottoms out inside of you. He feels impossibly deep as he nestles inside of you. Your nails scrape against the wooden surface, and your back arches. Your entire body is being overwhelmed by the intense pain he’s causing, yet you can’t deny the element of pleasure that’s mixed in.

You would’ve never mentioned it to him, but Yuuji did always treat you like glass. He was always a bit too kind and a bit too gentle. It felt good, just not…intense.

“Sukuna,” you nearly scream the name, hips stuttering as you try to not cum right then. He’s pushing your knees up to your chest, leaning forward to get a good look at the pathetic puddle he’s turned you into, as he fucks you roughly.

“You sound good saying my name, pet,” he laughs, thrusting deep into you as his second cock rests above your stomach. “I always knew you would.”

The two of you stay like that for awhile— Sukuna fucking you within an inch of your life, and you taking it like some sort of rag doll. It doesn’t take much longer for you to cum. With the length of his second cock rubbing against your clit, you’re easily overstimulated until you're squirting all over him.

That’s another thing you’ve never done with Yuuji. It feels so dirty and twisted, but fuck, you can’t deny how good this monster is making you feel. His cock is reaching places you didn’t think possible and it’s driving you insane.

After what feels like forever, Sukuna’s finally starting to pull out. You’re practically half-conscious at this point. Your body is lolled out on the table, limply laying there as you stare up at him with lidded eyes.

You watch as his, seemingly permanent, grin widens, and you don’t fully understand why it is, until you feel something else prodding at your hole. He’s not…is he?

For the nth time tonight, your eyes widen at the sight of him trying to push his other cock into your pussy beside the one that’s already there.

“S-Sukuna it won’t fit, it won't—“

“Will you ever learn to shut up?” He snarls, starting to push in. Thankfully for him, two cocks is a quick way to get you to quiet down. You’re far too preoccupied with getting stretched beyond your limits to worry about talking back.

It feels like you’re going to explode at any given time. It’s just too much. You could barely fit what was in you before, let alone double. Your eyes twitch due to how hard they’re rolling.

Finally, as you begin to regain some semblance of control over your body, you try to refocus your vision. Your eyes land on Sukuna once more, studying how he begins to look less like Yuuji the longer this goes on. He’s beginning to morph into his own self. It’s weird and creepy and you want it to stop.

Drifting away in search of something else to latch onto, your eyes find another thing to focus on. This one, though, is much more alarming.

A thick bulge can be seen poking through your skin in the shape of his cock. You watch in absolute horror as it moves in tandem with his hips.

“You little humans,” he purrs. “All so fragile. Look at that…” once his hand goes to trace the bulge and you finally see just how large his hands really are. “Look how deep inside of you I am. C’mon,” he taps your cheek, trying to pull you from your dazed state. “You can’t fall asleep yet.”

He doesn’t even give you the chance to say something in response. Instead, he begins to fuck you at a rough pace. Not as fast as earlier, but a lot deeper. With each stroke, you find yourself crying out his name and reeling from the pleasure he’s providing. It’s sick and insane that you’re finding any aspect of this enjoyable, let alone all of it. Every single movement has you one step closer to cumming.

By the time Sukuna’s emptying both of his cocks inside of you and filling you to the brim with cum, you’ve already hit your climax two additional times. You’re completely dazed over at this point, barely even conscious, and definitely not aware enough to notice how swollen your tummy is due to the copious amount of cum he dumped inside of you.

He hasn’t even pulled out yet, but he’s letting out a deep sigh. The deal he and Yuuji made was that he got to fuck you once and only until he came. He has a feeling Yuuji won’t allow him any other fun than that, especially since it’s going to be hard enough trying to convince you this was a nightmare or whatever other bullshit he’ll try to feed you.

“Okay, brat,” he mutters, pressing down lightly on the bulge and watching you haphazardly squirm. “I’m done now. Let’s go.”

One. Two. Three.

Nothing comes. No one switches.

A devilish grin finds Sukuna’s face once more.

“God, you’re such a little pervert,” he laughs. “You want to watch me fuck her brains out again, don’t you, Yuuji?” Even with no response, he knows he’s right.

His hand strokes your cheek gently, before roughly grabbing your jaw, scaring you but not enough to jolt you awake.

“Seems like we get to have some more fun, Doll.”

tagging: @enchantedforest-network , @themovingcastlez , @hannzai , @pussydrunkfyodor , @chaoticmoonave , @kkittycries , @dilfhos , @saintriots , @suyacho , @princess-okkotsu

#jjk smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #yuuji itadori #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #itadori yuuji #yuji x reader #tw noncon #.kinktober 2023 #.ezra’s writing #.file } itadori #.file } sukuna

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4zahara · 1 month ago

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00 | The Star Child

A/N: Happy New Year!!!

—Ad astra per aspera—

Gotham's streets hadn't been designed to withstand rainfall over 30 milliliters per hour. A fact highlighted when some areas became prone to flooding due to the poorly thought out infrastructure of the sewer system. Built far too intricate and unnecessarily so, without consideration for situations such as heavy storms and raining season. The kind of problem Politicians would forever liked to preach about solving despite not a single soul believing half the funds for said project wouldn't be later on pocketed. Not a single uncorrupted branch was left on Politic matters.

Unfortunately and adding to the pile of reasons for a solitary boy to be wondering the streets drenched from head to toe at the whim of the storm—Clothes clinged uncomfortably to his skin; said kid was seemingly trying to shield a backpack with his body.

Car horns blaring in the distance in the alleys, speeding over the runoff from the storm pooling along the curbs. Streams formed, raising past ankles as the lone boy sprinted across the street, splashing in the filth to round the wrong corner. By the time he stepped in The Narrows his already worn off shoes became muddy puddles.

There was the chilling wind biting at his bones too. No matter how much he pulled at the hoodie, clearly a size too big, it did little socked and stained to provide any warmth.

A dog barking behind a fence became the only sound Jason could hear above his own teeth chattering.

He became the man of the house at a far too young age, the same day his father got arrested. Jason Todd’s survival on the streets of the country's most dangerous city hinged on a self-sufficiency no child should possess. Devastating was the burden thrusted upon him, forcing him to scavenge for food, scrape together money—stealing if necessary—and keep a eye on his mother.

He had learned through pain how things worked. Everything always getting worse over and over before ever showing signs of getting better—if they ever did. Lessons taught by the streets. Yet for all his toughness and bravado, the idea of losing his mother devastated him enough to seek help from anyone, anywhere. He'll do anything.

His mother, Catherine Todd, had never been so shameless before. Never like this, in her infinite wisdom, had she locked Jason out of the house with a storm in toe. Perhaps in her altered perception of reality, she did her son a favor. However, most children were far from far from stupid. The closest they'll have would be naivety, which her son wasn't. Jason wasn't blind and deaf like many seemed to view him as. What those days and afternoons locked out really were for Jason were failures for not having been able to stop them. Stop her.

The cure for her mother's illness was the same substance slowly but surely killing her, apparently, and according to the drug dealer that'll come to their home. As if Jason were stupid. As if he didn't know drugs were no magical spell and about his mother's addiction.

Overwhelmed, his resolve faltered. Losing on a betting game with all odds against him, Jason saw no choice but to force himself to go out under the lash of a storm in search of a new player.

Someone who had no name or face that he could remember, but whose existence was suspended in a forgotten photo half-embraced by fire; His sister.

Willis had not liked to talk about his oldest child, so you must've been a force to be reckoned with.

═════════════ • ✧ • ══════════════

One of the last threads of hope he had had, summarized in this ominous building. After this, Jason will ran out of ideas. For a while he has been standing in front of the door of an apartment in one of the many complexes nearby. After hitting one too many dead ends, Jason knew better than to let himself be haunted with What ifs.

Armed with an old picture of you, the sister he never had, in which he was an infant in your arms and your smile had missing baby teeth. Now he was ten and had to squint to find any resemblance to his old baby-self. You could've changed so much all could be for nothing if you had done as much as dyed your hair.

Just the walk from Crime Alley had costed him his backpack. Far more he should've allowed himself to for this to be worth nothing, so there better be a fairy behind this door. At the very least a decent human being.

He wasn't backing down. Jason just needed a moment, okay?

Lots of thoughts and thugs had been faced tonight—the longest walk his short legs had ever made in his short life was enough for him to get mugged by a group of drug addicts.

Facing disappointment, his great fear of being left alone, tightened his chest far more than the kick to the ribs he got a couple blocks ago. (Him being a child meant his backpack had proudly carried four pieces of gum, a pair of socks and an used toothbrush which hadn't been good enough for a bunch of crazy. God forbid a boy had his own problems.) However, he was lucky they didn't kidnap him or worse. Even if only because of knowing nothing would be gained from it after seeing the inside of his backpack.

You could be anywhere if not here, really. Even dead in a ditch. Children didn't get very far alone. They were all attracted by dim light of deception in a deep dark ocean and devoured by an anglefish or other predator lurking by.

After a deep sigh, his lungs filled with false courage and the pollution gothamies were so familiar with. Although His hand froze halfway to knocking on the door, three times did the sound echoed down the hall and Jason's arm flashed hidden behind himself just as fast.

An eerie silence settled back in before Jason tried again. Three knocks, louder this time, were intended. Jason got to one before the dull thud of something falling to the ground was heard from inside. The response had almost been immediate, followed by footsteps. Jason barely had time to take a step back before the door creaked open as far as the chain on the bolt allowed.

A somewhat gloomy looking girl peeked out. She seemed to have just woken up in any case, with her short hair a mess of spiky locks pointed in all directions. Adding to the frame of her face were blue drooping eyes lingered above Jason's head for a second too long as if she expected someone taller.

Great offense was taken at that by the way. He had gone through a lot, walked way too much, not for this—and you—to call him out like that. You weren't even that much taller than him. You weren't even standing straight hiding most of yourself behind the door. Then her eyes descended to meet him, and Jason's mind went blank.

He couldn't fully see her face. Didn't need to see to know this was you his sister. The picture he had of you felt heavy on his pocket as you looked just like your mother. His mother.

The lump in his throat made itself all the more present when he tried to speak, so he waited for a greeting of your own instead. Anything to not be the one who had to speak first would have been a good start in Jason's books.

The silence stretched despite the two. His tongue felt like it had been tied up, stammered the first thing that came to mind when nothing came of you.

“I am your brother,” he blurted out, with anxious energy so clumsy he instantly regretted it.

Taglist(?): @classicsimpforaaronwarner

#angst #jason todd #x reader #batfam #batman #batfam x y/n #yandere batfam #yandere reader #batsis!reader #batfam x batsis #kid jason todd

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ak319 · 3 months ago

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Dark J.M x fem!reader

-- ★ The Word of Claim ── Oneshot

Syno: Word of claim, a tradition where a man fires his weapon outside a woman's home and speaks her name, and in that moment, she becomes his wife. Though long banned, deemed a crime, a taboo… who cares? Outlaws never follow laws, do they? Warnings/MDNI: forced marriage, angst, blackmailing, kidnapping, suggestive non-con, manhandling, in conclusion just men being shit as usual except Hosea-// I don't condone such behavior irl! ✰ -12.5K taglist: @shackspossum @nayykura @whalecage

I concept m.list

"You ain't gonna run away this time, BOY!"

The words spurred him on, his pace quickening to a near sprint, even though his legs felt like jelly from the biting cold. He couldn't stop. Not now. Not ever.

Wait...what's that? There, a good hideout.

His heart pounded in his chest as the sound of galloping hooves grew louder behind him. Amateurs. They knew how to buy fine horses but didn't know the first thing about riding them right. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it, the lawmen were dismounting, choosing to pursue him on foot instead.

John vaulted over fence after fence, each leap bringing him closer to the dark silhouette of his salvation.

A barn.

The doors were already ajar. Luck, or maybe fate, was on his side tonight. He wasted no time slipping inside, diving for the best hiding spot he could find amidst the shadows.

Outside, the world was alive with ominous noises, the muffled crunch of boots on frozen ground, the baying of dogs in the distance. The chill in the air seemed to seep straight into his bones, but the tension was far worse.

Dutch and Hosea are gonna kill me if I get caught tonight

After a tense stretch of silence, the barn door creaked open.

"Show yourself," a man's voice demanded, calm but laced with authority. "I know you're in here, I saw you from the porch. Come. Here."

John let out a quiet, defeated sigh. He had no other choice. Slowly, he emerged from his hiding spot, muscles taut with apprehension. His eyes landed on the figure of a man, no badge, no uniform. Just a regular man. Probably the owner.

"Sir--look, it was just a pickpocketing offense, I swear! Just let me stay here for the night--no, no, scratch that. J- Just give me some water, and I'll leave! But please, don't call them back, I-"

"You got nerves."

The man stepped closer, his gaze heavy and unforgiving.

"You come onto my property, and you think I’m gonna coddle your sorry ass? I've seen plenty of boys like you in my time, desperate, and reckless, they always end up worse than this."

John flinched, not just at the sharpness of the words but at the dull throb of his wounds from the earlier scuffle with the officers. His voice wavered, desperation bleeding through every syllable.

"Please...sir. Just--water... and I'll be out of your hair-"

The man didn’t even hesitate. Without a word, he struck John across the face, sending him sprawling onto the cold, hard floor. Stars danced in his vision, but before he could even register what had happened, the man grabbed him roughly, hauling him up like he weighed nothing.

John struggled, but it was no use. The man dragged him out of the barn, his grip like iron.

Outside, the officers were waiting by the gate, their grim expressions lit by the flicker of lantern light. John’s heart sank as the man shoved him forward, handing him over without a second thought.

"You wanted him? Here he is."

"What's going on outside?" you asked, placing the folded clothes your mother had handed you into the cupboard. Your expression mirrored her own as curiosity and concern flitted across her face. Without hesitation, both of you hurried to the porch to see what was causing the commotion in the distance.

"Make sure he learns his lesson. Boys like him should never go unpunished," your father’s voice carried stern authority, cutting through the cold night air.

The officer gripping John roughly by the arm nodded with a self-satisfied grin. "As if that’s even a question. This little shit’s been stealing from a lot of folks around here. Thanks for the help."

John, still reeling from your father’s earlier slap and the rough handling of the lawmen, struggled to stay on his feet. His breaths came in short gasps, his legs wobbling under him. From where he stood, his bruised gaze caught sight of two figures on the porch. Shadows obscured their faces, but there was no mistaking it.

You, a girl, around his age. Standing behind your mother.

A pang of something sharp, humiliation, resentment, or despair, stabbed through him.

"Tsk, kids these days," your mother muttered under her breath. She shook her head and ushered you back inside, the door closing firmly behind you, shutting out the scene.

It wasn’t long before your father joined you in the living room, his face stern as he explained what had happened. A boy of sixteen--three years older than you--tried to hide in the barn after looting folks and thought he could get away with it.

"This is why one should always stay alert," your mother sighed, sinking into her chair with a shake of her head.

Meanwhile, John sat in the cold, damp cell, shivering as time passed. He waited, days blending into one another, the monotony broken only by the gnawing ache in his stomach and the wish to escape.

Then Dutch came. Days later, the gang leader strode in and bailed him out, though not without delivering the most humiliating lecture John had ever endured.

"You think this is what it means to be a Van der Linde? You think crawling around barns like a whipped dog is what I taught you?! If you’re gonna live, you fight for it. You hear me, boy? You fight."

John clenched his jaw and bore it, but the sting of those words didn’t come close to the bitterness curdling inside him. He couldn't shake the memory of your father standing over him, cold and unrelenting. Denying him even the smallest shred of mercy.

Kindness, was that too much to ask for?

The years had been cruel, but this moment burned. He’d lived through enough to know that most people treated him like a piece of dirt under their boots. But this time, it was harder to swallow.

His words echoed in his mind.

"People like you don’t deserve kindness. You’re a lesson, boy, a warning to others."

John replayed it over and over as he rode back to camp. The fury in his chest smoldered alongside an ache he couldn’t explain. But what also stayed with him most was the fleeting glimpse of you, standing behind your mother on the porch.

Oh...he won't ever forget that night.

❀˖°

"Are you insane?! What are you, twelve?!" Hosea’s voice rose, his frustration nearing its peak and so was the urge to bang his head against a tree.

"I’m not a kid, and it’s about time you stopped treating me like one!"

Hosea’s eyes narrowed, the lines on his face deepening as his temper flared. "Look, John, this isn’t just about doing it! It’s about what happens after! Are you in your damn senses? You can barely take care of yourself, and here you are, standing there, demanding to do this shit like you’ve got it all figured out!"

John smirked, his chuckle low and mocking. "That’s exactly why I’m doing it, old man. To bring someone to care for me."

Hosea froze for a moment, disbelief washing over him before disgust replaced it. "You’ve lost it," he muttered under his breath. With a grimace, he stormed toward Dutch’s tent, muttering curses under his breath.

Dutch glanced up as Hosea approached, his ever-watchful gaze already settled on the scene. "No need to explain, Hosea," Dutch said calmly, snapping his book shut. "I heard it all."

John strolled in behind Hosea, with his usual casual swagger. He leaned lazily against the pole of Dutch’s tent, his smirk still in place.

"John," Dutch began, his voice low and measured. "You sure you know what you’re getting into? This ain’t some childish stunt."

"I know exactly what I’m doing, Dutch," John replied smoothly, though the fire in his eyes betrayed his calm facade. "It’s time I take something for myself."

"You are talking about a whole-ass human here!"

"I don’t see what’s wrong with it," Dutch drawled, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "Boy wants to marry... let the boy marry. Am I right?"

Hosea’s jaw dropped, his face a perfect picture of disbelief. "Dutch, don’t tell me you’ve lost your fucking mind too! You’re gonna let this little--God help me--this child pull some old tradition stunt?! What, are you trying to check off every damn crime we’ve missed on your list?"

Dutch let out a soft snort, clearly amused by Hosea’s exasperation. Without a word, he stood and moved to shut the flaps of the tent. Wouldn’t want Annabelle overhearing now, would he? No sense in tarnishing her view of him.

"Hosea, Hosea, Hosea. We’re outlaws, remember? And this-" he waved a hand toward John, who stood with his arms crossed, a stubborn set to his jaw, "this is nothing."

“Nothing?” Hosea’s voice cracked, raw with incredulity. “That’s a person, Dutch, not some goddamn prize you can pluck from a house like a trinket! And what happens when John realizes he’s too immature to handle this? Huh? What then?”

Dutch shrugged, unbothered, his calm exterior unshaken. “Then he can toss her aside. Send her back. Leave her somewhere if it comes to it. But why fret over what might happen when we’ve got a score to secure now?”

Hosea looked like he might combust on the spot. “Are you listening to yourself?! Toss her aside?” he repeated, his voice rising. "You want John to ruin someone’s life because he’s too stubborn to let go of a grudge?!”

“It's not that big of a deal."

Hosea scoffed and glared daggers at John. But Dutch continued.

"Besides," Dutch added, tilting his head toward John with a knowing look. "Didn’t you mention they’re loaded? That true, son?"

John nodded, his lips twitching into a half-smile. "Yeah… big house. Plenty of land too."

Dutch’s grin widened, "There you go, Hosea. A little risk, a big reward. Ain’t that what we’re all about?"

Hosea shook his head, exasperation dripping from every word. "So you’re gonna loot them too? Good Lord, have mercy. You’re gonna make that poor girl lose her mind in less than a day! Look... I think looting is a fine alright? So how bout' we just do that? Isn't that enough damage, John?"

"Oh yeah? And then what?! As if that's gonna affect his rich ass! That's not enough damage! Money comes and goes...but honor doesn't. I wanna strip him of his dignity! Men like him--rich snobby assholes--that's what they deserve! And this is what we are supposed to do! We are not some bunch of softies ol' man!"

"John but you are not-"

"I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!" John’s voice was raw with rage, his fists clenched tight at his sides. "Just like her daddy didn’t give a fuck about me! So why the hell should I, huh? Why should I!?"

"I’ve never seen a man so petty in my entire life. Grow the hell up, John! You’re twenty-three, for God’s sake, and you’re still hung up on something that happened years ago. Dutch! Tell him-"

"ENOUGH!" Dutch’s booming voice cut through the chaos, his towering form commanding silence as he paced the length of the tent.

"I allow it," Dutch declared, his tone final. "John...I give you my blessing." He glanced at Hosea, raising a brow. "Hosea, how do you think outlaws got married back in the day, huh? Even now, people loathe us and spit on us. And why? Because we don’t follow their precious rules. Well, guess what? We’re outlaws. We don’t play nice. But we ain’t that bad, are we? And we require some good cash for the move. This is a good opportunity, no doubt."

Hosea groaned, dragging a hand down his face, muttering something about losing his sanity.

But John didn’t hear any of it. Dutch’s words were all he needed. A smirk spread across his face as he turned and strode out of the tent, his mind already racing ahead to the moment he would face your father. The thrill of it burned in his chest, the prospect of taking the one thing that man must cherish above all else.

Just like he didn’t respect my dignity, I won’t respect his, John thought, his resolve hardening with every step.

He remembered the day he first laid eyes on you, properly, for the first time. It was at your sister's wedding, though he had only been a silent, distant observer. From the shadows of the tree line, he saw you, a vision of elegance and quiet beauty, entirely unaware of his presence. Pretty, he thought then, prettier than he had imagined.

Pretty enough to be taken, both from home and...

Your father would have loved seeing your pretty tears if he decided to go with that plan...

He could have made his move right then. Could have stepped out of the shadows, disrupted the festivities, and declared his claim in front of everyone. The laughter, and the music, all of it could have stopped on his word.

But he didn’t. He stayed hidden, watching you smile and dance, every moment searing itself into his memory. No, he thought. Not yet. This required precision. Patience.

Through his web of old connections and childhood companions, people who owed him favors or thrived on chaos, he kept tabs on you and your family. Quietly. He bided his time, gathering everything he needed to strike when the moment was right.

And now, that moment was near. Everything had fallen into place. All his waiting, all his planning, it had led to this. You would be his. Not because he could take you, but because you would have no choice. Neither will your father.

"Boys...let's go, my treat."

"Got the permission?" Javier glanced up from the fire.

John let out a low chuckle. Sean joined in, his wild energy spreading through the air like a spark.

“Permission? Your brother here got the 'Dutch' blessing.” Their laughter was like a haunting chorus as if they had no care for anything and anyone.

The three hooted, grinning to themselves, heading towards the stables. But just before John could mount his horse, a voice called out to him again.

"John..."

“What now?” John sighed with a hint of frustration. He didn't want to listen. He didn’t need to hear any more warnings, he had made up his mind.

“Just... what if you had a sister, and it happened to her, son?”

He gritted his teeth, and for a moment, his mind flashed to something else, something buried deep within.

Damn it, I know he's right, but my reason is more important than that. Throw her out? Destroy her life? The words replayed in his mind, loud and damning. A part of him bristled at the idea, hell, wasn’t that what he’d been dreaming about? Taking something back for himself, ruining your father's life? But another part, quieter yet sharper, whispered back. And then what? What kind of man does that make you, John?

Hell, John didn't know what would happen, how this would all play out. He didn't even know how he would make it through this, let alone anyone else involved. But in the moment, it felt too distant, too abstract to fully grasp.

No...

Why the fuck should I care?

It wasn’t his problem. His mind was made up. It wasn’t about what they would face, this is a matter of his honor and self-will. The kid never did learn to respect boundaries and to listen. And damn the consequences. For now, John just had to move forward. The rest could burn.

“Well, that’s why I don’t have one. Let’s go, boys.”

The words hung in the air, bitter and final. There was no turning back now. Hosea, standing off to the side, watched as John’s figure disappeared into the dusk with the others. The old man sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his years, and his regrets. He turned his gaze toward Dutch’s tent, where the gang leader sat, listening to music with an air of nonchalance.

If only… if only your father had shown him mercy that night. If only he had opened his door and shared a shred of kindness. Maybe then, he’d be a hidden guard dog for the family, ready to lay down his life for them.

But it was too late for that now.

❀˖°

"(Y/N)--Oh my God, this girl---HEY! Wake up!" Your mother’s sharp voice sliced through the morning quiet as she stormed into your room. You groaned, snatching the covers back over your head.

"Let me be!" you mumbled, burrowing deeper into the bed.

But your mother wasn’t having it. She yanked the covers off with a vengeance, ignoring your muffled protests. "You listen to me, young woman! Get up, have breakfast, and help with dinner! Or have you forgotten your sister is visiting this evening?"

You groaned dramatically, rolling onto your stomach. "What do we even have maids for?"

"They are doing other stuff, (Y/N)! Oh my God! Get your lazy ass up. I swear, your father’s coddling has turned you into a complete bum!" Your mother threw her hands up in frustration before softening her tone, just slightly. "I’m going to prepare your breakfast, honey, but you better be down to help with some things. You need to start learning this stuff someday. In fact, I’m telling your father to start looking for suitors soon-"

"HEY! HEY!" You leaped out of bed, cutting her off. "Woman, calm down! I swear, a hundred witches must’ve died for you to end up as my mother."

Undeterred, you leaned in, pinching her cheeks with a mischievous grin. "Like, c’mon, you’re so lucky to have birthed me and you are going to just send me away like that? No, not happening."

She swatted your hands away, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Are you done?"

"Not yet, " you teased, smirking. "Firstly, that day is far away--no--it's nonexistent. And secondly, even if it happens, tell Papa either he sends a servant with me as a marriage gift, or he makes sure there’s a line of them wherever he fixes the marriage which I think he sure will anyway. Otherwise, I’m perfectly fine staying here."

Your teasing tone only made her groan in frustration. "Tsk, get out of my way. You’ve already wasted my precious time. And make yourself presentable before coming down to wolf your food!"

You stretched your limbs with a lazy chuckle, savoring every second as you took your sweet time getting downstairs.

After finishing your breakfast, you placed the empty plate on the kitchen table and took a long sip of your coffee. "Mama, just tell me what I have to help with so I can get it done and go play."

Your mother turned to you with an incredulous look, hands already on her hips. "Excuse me? For God's sake, (S/N) and Leo are coming for the first time after the marriage. Can’t you skip your silly games just this once? I swear, (Y/N), grow up! You’re not five anymore. You and those girlfriends of yours!"

This was a familiar battleground between the two of you, and honestly, you enjoyed riling her up about it. What’s wrong with living your life and having some fun with your pals?

"Mama, don’t be pouty just because you didn’t get to enjoy your youth, alright?" you teased with a grin. "Besides, we play right out on the lawn! Maybe they can even help us with dinner-"

"NO!" she cut you off sharply. "The last time you brought them into the kitchen just to get water, my whole crockery set was broken! Keep them far away from my kitchen!"

You rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath, "Jeez… you’re a totally different person when guests are about to come."

"What did you say?" she snapped, making you jump slightly.

"Nothing! Nothing....." Please don't start again. With a sigh, you began assisting, grumbling internally about how overly dramatic and anxious she always got before any visitors showed up.

❀˖°

You were setting the table, having just come back from the lawn after instructing Mateo, the gardener, to move some pots around.

"My lovely daughter looks as lovely as always," your father said warmly, patting your head before joining you to help with the table.

You grinned and leaned closer, whispering with a giggle, "Your wife really knackered me today, Mr. (L/N)."

That earned a wheezy laugh from him. "Now you know what it’s like to deal with her every day, kid."

"Papa," you whined, playfully dragging out the word. "I hate when she brings up those stupid marriage talks! I swear, she’s going to ambush you about it next. So when she does, just dodge it. Okay?"

Your father paused, turning to you with a softer, more thoughtful look. "For how long, though, (Y/N)? Isn't it gonna happen someda-"

"Shush!" you cut him off, placing your hand firmly over his face.

He chuckled at your antics as you grinned mischievously. "No, no, no. You’re supposed to be on my side and say, ‘Of course, dear.’"

"Alright, alright, as you wish. Of course, dear. I’ll ignore her."

"Ignore who? Hm?"

Both of you jumped, startled, as your mother appeared in the doorway, balancing a tray of glasses, her focus seemingly on the task but her tone suspicious.

"Nothing," you both said in perfect unison, struggling to keep straight faces.

Your mother rolled her eyes, clearly unconvinced, and glanced pointedly at the grandfather clock ticking away in the corner. "Where is (S/N) anyway? They’re running late, aren’t they?"

"Relax darling, they might be here by 7. Let's all relax for a while." Just as you all three sat down on the living room couch, loud hooves could be heard. But it didn't sound like just a single horse carrying your brother-in-law and sister, it sounded more than that. "They came in a carriage or something?" You asked giddily and your father got up.

"I'll go check."

Outside, the night seemed unnaturally quiet, save for the restless shifting of hooves on gravel. The stillness in the air was unsettling, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Then came the sound, the sharp reports of gunshots cutting through the silence.

BANG!

Then the sixth...

“(Y/N) (L/N)!”

Your name was like a chilling punctuation that seemed to freeze time.

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a call. It sounded like a declaration, a command that seemed to cut through the very air around you. You had no idea what was happening or what the hell even was that. But for your parents, it was a blow to their very core.

“Wh-at-what was that? Who-” Your words caught in your throat as you turned to your parents.

Your mother’s face drained of color, her hands trembling as she reached for you. “Upstairs. Now.”

“Mama, what’s happening?”

“(M/N), get her out of here,” your father said, his tone low but brimming with an intensity that made your stomach twist. He hadn’t even turned to look at you; his eyes were locked on the door, his jaw tight.

“Will someone tell me-”

“I said GO!” His voice boomed now, reverberating through the walls.

Your mother didn’t hesitate. Her fingers dug into your arm as she dragged you toward the staircase, her steps hurried and uneven. The panic in her movements was more terrifying than the voice outside.

You stumbled up the stairs, half-dragged, half-running. At the top, your mother shoved you into your bedroom and spun around, shutting the door behind you with a force that rattled the walls.

“Mama! What’s going on?!”

Her hand hovered over the handle, shaking, but she didn’t turn back. “Stay here,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

The door clicked shut, the lock turning with a dull finality.

Downstairs, the scene was entirely different as your father swung open the door,. The guard stationed at the gate was on the ground. Dead? Stabbed? Knocked out? (F/N) couldn't tell because his attention was on the four men standing rigidly by their horses. The one in the center, who had fired the shots moments ago, stood with his hands clasped in front of him, the barrel of his gun still gripped tightly in one hand. His smile, wide and disturbingly sweet, suggested he thought he’d done something worthy of praise, though the horror in your father’s chest told a different story entirely.

Sick--sick--sick bastard.

"What the hell you guys want?! Get off my property before I report the authorities!"

"Mr. (L/N), same as before...." John stalked closer, his gait confident and casual.

"I think I made it very clear what I came here for didn't I? Right boys?" Your father's jaw ticked as he heard agreeing grunts and snorts, even a whistle. “I said the word and you know the rules.”

"You sick--don't you fucking know what you are doing is a crime!? Now get off my property-" John didn't even have to say anything as your father halted his words when he heard the three other rifles click on him.

The cold, metallic clicks of the rifles were louder than they should have been, echoing in the oppressive silence of the night. Your father froze, his fists clenching at his sides, but his eyes remained defiant, locked on the man in front of him.

John tilted his head slightly, the smile on his face never faltering. “Crime?” he echoed, almost lazily, like he found the very word amusing. “Well now, that’s rich, coming from a man like you. Don’t act like you’re any holier than me, Mr. (L/N).”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me!"

“Oh, but I do,” John said smoothly, taking another step forward. The moonlight glinted off his gun, still hanging casually in his hand, though the threat it carried was anything but casual. “I know plenty. Enough to know you’re not in any position to lecture me about morals. Besides…” His eyes flicked up toward the mansion, lingering somewhere around the second floor. “I didn’t come for you.”

Your father’s breath hitched, and for a moment, his composure cracked, just slightly. “You’re not taking her.”

John’s grin widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were sharp, cold, and calculating. “Is that so?” he drawled, almost teasing. “Well, you see, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve said the fucking word. Everyone here heard me, and you know what that means.”

“You think anyone cares about your outdated, backwoods tradition!?”

John’s smile disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, hard glare. “Tradition or not, I’m here to collect. And I don’t like repeating myself, old man. Now, you go bring her down, or...I'll do it myself."

One of the other men chuckled darkly, breaking the tension just enough to make your father’s stomach churn. “Might wanna think carefully about this, Mr. (L/N),” Sean said, his rifle trained steady.

Your father’s mind raced. He could see the resolve in John’s stance, the ruthlessness in his eyes. Negotiation wasn’t an option. His hands twitched at his sides, itching for the revolver in the drawer near the door, but the odds weren’t in his favor. Four men, three rifles aimed at him, and you upstairs, unaware of the danger that had come knocking.

John’s expression softened into something almost mocking, a twisted version of pity. “You should’ve thought about that before, Mr. (L/N). Actions have consequences. You taught me that yourself, didn’t you?”

"You...tha---don't tell me...you-"

"Yes, the boy you threw like garbage to the lawmen. Here, have a good look. All grown up now, and what did you say that day? Yeah, turned out worse than you thought, didn’t I? Guess being in jail doesn’t always change a person."

(F/N) staggered back, his entire body flooding with dread. Cold sweat ran down his back, but he had to remain composed. He had to stay strong, for you.

"Look, kid," your father finally said, voice trembling but laced with fury. "You got a problem with me... take me, kill me if you want, but don’t drag an innocent into this. She has nothing to do with it!"

John’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "Ooooh, you don’t get it, do you? It’s not about her. It’s about you, and your suffering, ol' man. Damn, I’ve been waiting for this day. I ain’t going empty-handed. Call the whole damn battalion if you want." His voice darkened, a promise of violence lingering in his words. "But don’t worry... I’ll take care of the sweet thing."

"You son of a bitch!" (F/N) shouted, his anger surging. But before he could land a punch on John, he was thrown him aside with a swift, brutal smack, sending him crashing to the ground, just crossing the threshold.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” your father hissed, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage. “You’re destroying her life. For what? Some petty revenge? SOME SICK GAME!?” The complaints went ignored, however.

John, followed by Javier and Sean, strode into the house as if it were his own, moving with lethal purpose. Bill stood at the door, guarding the entrance, his rifle trained on (F/N). The threat in his eyes was unmistakable, any movement, any protest, and there would be hell to pay.

As soon as John stepped inside, he waved off Javier and Sean with a flick of his wrist, a signal that they were free to do what they came for. Javier grinned darkly and immediately went to work, tearing through the house with an almost practiced ease. Drawers were flung open, cupboards ransacked, and anything of value that could be carried away was seized. Sean, equally quick and eager, followed suit, stuffing pockets with anything that caught his eye, silverware, jewelry, anything shiny or expensive.

Down the hallway, John’s attention was solely on the task at hand. He had no need for material things, what he was after was far more precious to him. He knew where you would be, locked away in your room, hiding from the chaos, just as your parents had hoped. The door was already locked, but that didn’t slow him down. With a single harsh kick, the door splintered open, the wood buckling under the force of the impact.

Inside, you and your mother froze at the sudden intrusion. Your heart slammed in your chest as your eyes met John’s, and your mother quickly moved to shield you. But she wasn’t fast enough.

"Shhh, don’t make this harder than it has to be," John said with a twisted smile, his voice dark, almost too calm.

"DON'T TOUCH HER! PLEASE!"

He moved towards you with purpose, and before you could react, he grabbed your arm, yanking you toward him with an iron grip. Your mother reached out, but John shoved her aside with a cold sneer, not even sparing her a glance.

"MAMA! HEY-"

His hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you. His grip was too strong, too unrelenting. With a swift motion, he spun you around and threw you to the floor, your limbs twisting beneath you in a desperate attempt to break free.

"LEAVE MY DAUGHTER ALONE!"

“Stop squirming,” he hissed as he quickly bound your wrists and ankles together. The rope was tight, biting into your skin as he hogtied you with practiced precision. You could feel the coldness of his touch as he tightened the knot, making sure it was secure.

"LET ME GO YOU INSANE BASTARD! YOU LUNATIC-" Your screams got muffled as he tied the rope around your face too. Your mother hits on his body doing nothing to help.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but there was nothing you could do. You were helpless. Your mother’s cries echoed through the room, but John only chuckled darkly as he hoisted you up, dragging you toward the door.

“You’re coming with me, sweetheart,” John murmured into your ear, his breath hot and threatening against your skin. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Your mother lunged forward again, but her efforts were futile as John simply shoved her away, his strength overwhelming. He pulled you out of the room, your body flailing helplessly as he dragged you down the hallway.

You could see your father still struggling with Bill, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t stop what was already set in motion.

John paused just outside the door, glancing back at the mess his men had made of the house. The walls were littered with broken vases and frames, drawers pulled open and their contents spilled across the floor. But none of it mattered to him now. He had what he wanted.

The sound of hooves thundered outside, and moments later, (S/N) and her husband Leo appeared on the porch, rushing toward the house. Their expressions shifted from confusion to horror as John stepped through the door, carrying you in his arms, your wrists bound tightly, your face streaked with tears.

“Stop! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!? Let her go!” (S/N) screamed, her voice cracking as she surged forward. But Bill stepped in her way, his broad form blocking the door as her fists pounded uselessly against him.

John stood back, watching the chaos unfold with a cruel sense of satisfaction. "Nice to meet y'all, I am your younger brother-in-law as of today," he said, a wicked smile on his lips. "I wish I could join the lovely dinner. But got business to take care of..."

Leo moved to intervene, but Javier’s rifle cracked across his head, and he crumpled to the ground. (S/N)’s cries turned frantic as she struggled against Bill, who merely smirked at her attempts.

John’s voice cut through the chaos, smooth and mocking. “Ah, family reunions are so sweet, aren’t they?” He didn’t stop walking, his grip on you firm as he crossed the yard to his horse. He glanced over his shoulder at (S/N), his grin sharp and cruel. “Don’t worry. Your sister will be well cared for! Better than she ever was here.”

“LET HER GO!” (S/N)'s scream was shrill, desperate. “You can’t do this! Please!”

John chuckled darkly, tossing you up onto his horse like you weighed nothing. “Oh, I can. And I will. Your father should’ve thought twice before crossing me."

As they mounted their horses, victorious gunshots and howling filled the air, echoing into the night.

Your father’s voice boomed as he followed with his gun, his words filled with desperation. “You sons of a bitches! I’ll kill you! Let her go, she has nothing to do with this!

John chuckled and took off with a speed, remaining at the front while the others covered his back. You could hear shots being fired by your father and shouts of the lawmen too but nothing could stop what was happening. Your own panic was palpable by your muffled noises and panicked breath amidst the ongoing chaos.

This has got to be a fucking nightmare.

The group of four rode off into the night, leaving the house and the shattered remains of your family behind. John smirked at your muffled noises and looked over his shoulder speeding up. "Ain't you a loudmouth. But don’t ya' worry, sweetheart. I’m taking care of everything. I’ll show you a life you’ll never forget.”

❀˖°

The air was thick with tension as he rode through the night, his mare's hooves striking the ground with rhythmic, almost predatory steps. Behind him, you, his new wife, slumped over the back of his horse, bound and silent. You had no choice. No voice. So different...it felt so fucking different from the bounties he hunted.

Which made the familiar guilt bloom again in his chest but he pushed it aside like a fly out of milk.

John couldn’t bring himself to care about your struggles. No, in his mind, this was necessary. This was what he deserved. What they both deserved.

As they neared the camp, the flickering fires grew larger, their warm glow contrasting against the coldness that had settled in John’s chest. This wasn’t just about you, or this stupid tradition, this was about proving something to the others. Proving that he could do it, that he had control.

John’s boots crunched against the dry earth, his grip firm on his captive as he dragged her toward the large tent. The men watched him, their curiosity piqued, but no one dared to speak. They all knew what this meant.

John didn’t waste time. He entered the tent without hesitation and laid you, if you call throwing: laying, in front of Dutch. Your hands were still bound and your throat was in pain from all the screaming. You had lost the strength at this point.

“Well, well. Looks like we have a new addition to the family,”

Dutch sat up in his chair, his eyes flicking from John to your form on the ground. His lips curled into a slow smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Javier, Sean, and Bill, carrying the spoils of their work, approached, and John gave a small nod, acknowledging their effort.

“Well, well, look at that… Damn, John. Good job, son.”

Dutch handed over a heavy bag of gold to John, who accepted it with a slow, deliberate motion, his fingers tightening around the weight of it.

"Thanks...Dutch."

“This gold’s yours. Wouldn't want your newlywed bride to be empty-handed now, would we?” Dutch’s smile was sharp, a predator's grin, as he pressed the bag into John’s hands.

John didn’t smile back, his eyes darting to you, the girl who had been claimed, bound, and dragged here. His grip tightened on the bag, his expression unreadable...

'What did you gain John....? You destroyed a girl's life to feed your own ego?'

His eyes met with Hosea's whose expression seemed to concur with his own thoughts.

'This is how you gonna treat her? You already failed as a man.'

You heard it all, the words, the taunting, the lecherous laughs. Each syllable felt like another crack in your heart, another layer of your dignity stripped away. These men, every one of them, were complicit in this. In what John had done. In what they all were willing to let happen.

Dutch’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts again, though it wasn’t directed at John this time. Instead, he crouched down in front of you, his voice low, almost mocking in its softness. “Now, you listen here, Missy,” he began, his words dripping with false kindness. “We’re good people here, alright? And in time, you’ll understand that. I raised this boy in front of me, so rest assured.”

The bile rose in your throat as he spoke, and if it weren’t for the ropes binding you, you’d surely be sick. You held it down, the nausea gnawing at you, but you refused to show any more weakness than you already had.

“No doing anything silly here, to anyone else, or even yourself. Also, I wouldn’t suggest running back, ‘cause…” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think a woman being taken by a hoard of men and then returning home would be labeled with any honorable name.”

Is...this it? You can't escape this? Not after what had happened?...Ever? The words, these horrible words...no...

"And John?" Dutch's voice brought him back to his senses. "You gotta behave responsibly now...got it? Cuz' I assure you, marriage ain't a kid's game. Right, Hosea?" The latter ignored Dutch's joke and stormed off, fed up with this nonsense.

John’s hand found you again, roughly pulling you up, dragging you away from Dutch’s feet. The fact that he was your “husband” now sent a chill down your spine.

Dutch called after him with a final, taunting word, “Get her settled, boy. And congratulations!”

John pushed past the flaps of the tent, you felt your body being thrown down onto the ground again, a soft thud as you hit the dusty floor. The tent was dim, but you could make out the faint outline of bedding and supplies.

John stood over you for a moment, his shadow dark and looming in the light of the flickering fire outside. He was silent, staring down at you, his expression unreadable. The ropes around your wrists burned, but you didn’t try to move. What was the point?

His voice was low when it came, like a command more than a suggestion. “You stay here. Don’t make me come back and remind you why you’re here.”

And with that, he left, the flap of the tent snapping behind him as he went. You were alone now, but not really. The weight of the men’s presence lingered in the air, suffocating, even as they all carried on with their laughter and celebrations outside.

The only sound was the rustle of the tent in the wind and the faint murmurs of the men as they settled into camp. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the burden of this new life, of your new reality, pressing down on you.

Mama...Papa...(S/N)..

God...why you? Why--just why?!

You didn't know how long you stayed there, or how many times you panicked and even fainted once. Then he came again...

"Listen--I... I’m going to take the ropes off, and you better stay quiet, alright?"

For a moment, his words almost felt like a plea. What the hell was this? The same man who had torn everything apart now seemed... pathetic. The man who had taken you, who had stolen your life, now sounded like he was afraid. His shaky voice didn't make you feel sympathy, it only fueled your hatred.

As soon as your hands were free, you didn’t hesitate. You swung with all the anger you’d been holding in for what felt like an eternity. Your hand collided with his face, not once, but twice. The sharp slap echoed in the air, and John staggered back, his face flashing with surprise.

“You wanted revenge, right?! YOU GOT IT! YOU MADE MY DAD SUFFER, SO NOW KILL ME! DO IT. I DON’T WANNA LIVE WITH YOUR SORRY PATHETIC ASS! JUST LOOK AT YOURSELF! Nothing, fucking nothing screams HUMAN about you! YOU DUMBFUCK!”

He didn’t react at first, standing still, his mouth tight. His mind seemed to stall, his eyes betraying a flicker of confusion. Maybe he thought you’d just... accept it.

"You listen-" He started, his voice suddenly more commanding, trying to regain control. But you weren’t going to let him.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" You screamed, your palm crashing into his face again, hard enough to make him step back. “Either take me back or kill me!”

John recoiled, blinking hard, but he didn’t speak for a moment. You saw him swallow, like he was struggling with something.

"STOP WITH THE KILLING TALK! I DON'T KILL WOMEN!"

You sneered, your blood boiling with disgust. "OH YEAH!? BUT YOU SNATCH THEM, HOW FUCKING NOBLE!"

His eyes were still locked on yours, but now there was something else there, something resembling frustration, even confusion. He didn’t know how to deal with you, didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do now. His whole plan had been thrown off.

You saw it in the way he stood there, shifting uneasily, the cracks in his control finally starting to show.

"Take me back or kill me, you son of a bitch!" You shouted, your chest heaving with raw emotion, your hands still clenched in fists at your sides. You were done begging. "You are nothing but a coward! All of you here are nothing but cowards, not men-"

That's it.

His grip was unforgiving, forcing your head up, his fingers digging into your chin with such force that it hurt. The pressure was unbearable, and your neck strained under the weight of it, but there was no escaping him. His eyes were cold, hard, and unblinking as he stared down at you, his breath hot against your skin.

"No," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You will fucking listen, got it?" He shook you violently with every word, the anger seeping from his tone. "I ain’t always gonna deal with these temper tantrums like your daddy. I am your husband now. Yeah, get that," he spat the words, venom in every syllable. "Get that fucking imprinted in your head. You gonna come to terms with it, whether you like it or not."

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you felt the tears, those damned pathetic tears, begin to form again. You tried to speak, to shout, to do anything to make him stop, but your mouth was clamped shut under his forceful grip. You could barely breathe, could barely move. His words hit you like a punch to the gut, making everything inside you twist with dread. The world around you felt like it was crumbling, the horror of what was happening suffocating you in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

"Please..."

The single word you managed to croak out hung in the air, fragile and desperate. It caught his attention, just long enough for him to look away, his jaw tight, his eyes shifting in something close to irritation. And then, with a sudden motion, he released you. The force of his grip pulled away so quickly that you tumbled backward, crashing onto the cot with a jarring thud.

"Just fucking stop! I said NO!" he repeated as if your resistance was some kind of insult to him, a challenge to his authority that he couldn't let slide. "And take this..."

He tossed the pouch at you. It landed on the cot with a soft clink. You froze for a second, blinking at the pouch. When your trembling hands slowly reached for it, you realized what it was, your mother’s gold jewelry.

Inside, there was more than just that, the gleaming gold pieces and the precious gems were accompanied by something much more sentimental. Your grandmother's necklace, an heirloom that had been passed down for generations, was nestled carefully within the folds of the fabric. You could almost hear your mother’s voice, her warmth in every memory attached to the jewelry. As you held it in your trembling hands, you couldn’t help but feel a strange relief.

At least this wasn’t taken from you.

You tried a different approach, your voice trembling with desperation, hoping, praying, that perhaps this might reach him.

“Y-you’re… going to do all this?” Your words broke with hiccups, but you pressed on, your desperation giving you courage. “Call someone your wife, k-kidnap them?... Someone who will hate you for eternity? You’re going to live with that? How do you people...sleep at night... hm? H-how?”

“You think I care how I sleep at night?” His voice was low, rough like splintered wood, and it made you flinch. “You think I don’t know what this is? What I’ve done?”

He took a step closer, his boots heavy against the ground, and you instinctively shrank back.

“Listen to me,” he spat, pointing a finger at you, his hand trembling just enough for you to notice. “I don’t want your damn hate, but if that’s all you’ve got, fine. Hate me. Curse me. Throw whatever you want my way. But don’t think for one second I’ll let you run. That won't have good consequences...remember that. Especially for your family. Whether you run to them or elsewhere. Imma' take my anger out on them either way."

Your breath hitched, but he wasn’t finished. He crouched down to your level, his face inches from yours, his words colder now.

“You think guilt’s gonna stop me? You think your tears are gonna make me let you go? No. You’re staying here. You’ll learn, one way or another, how this is gonna work.”

“I’m not proud of this,” he muttered, more to himself than you, his tone quieter now, though no less firm. “But it’s done. And you better start figuring out how to live with it. Because I ain’t letting you go.”

You stared at him in horror, tears streaking your cheeks. There was no reasoning with him, no way to break through his own guilt and stubbornness. He stood abruptly, towering over you once more.

“You’ll learn to live with it...you’ll understand. Eventually. You will have to for your own sake."

The tent flap shifted as Susan entered, carrying a bowl of food. She said nothing, her expression unreadable as she handed the bowl to John. For a brief moment, her gaze flickered toward you, a glance heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. Pity? Disdain? You couldn’t tell.

Then she turned and left, the fabric of the tent swaying shut behind her, leaving you alone with him once more.

John sat down, the bowl in his hands. The air between you crackled with tension as he placed it firmly on the makeshift table beside him.

“Now eat,” he ordered, his voice low and sharp.

You shook your head, your body trembling as you choked on your sobs.

His jaw tightened, and his gaze darkened, the softness from earlier entirely gone. He stood, leaning over you, his presence oppressive and inescapable.

“Don’t make me say it again,” he growled. “I’m not asking. Eat.”

Still, you shook your head, tears spilling freely down your face.

John’s patience snapped. He grabbed the bowl and held it up as a threat, his tone cold and unwavering. “You think I’m playing with you? I swear to God, if you don’t eat, I’ll force it down your throat. I. Said. Eat.”

His words cut through the air like a whip, leaving no room for argument. You flinched, staring at the bowl with wide, tear-filled eyes, knowing you had no choice. Your hands trembled as you reached for the spoon, your stomach churning with dread.

“Good,” he muttered, backing away just enough to let you breathe but keeping his eyes fixed on you. “About time you started listening.”

The minutes dragged on, each one more dreadful than the last, as you mindlessly forced the stew down, barely aware of its taste. When you finally pushed the bowl away, too sick with fear and despair to continue, he grabbed it and set it aside with an air of finality.

Then, without warning, John reached for the pouch of jewelry your mother had so carefully saved. He yanked it open, spilling its contents with no regard for the sentiment or sanctity they held. Your heart clenched as you watched his calloused fingers sift through the delicate gold pieces, his touch desecrating what was meant to symbolize joy and love.

"Here," he said, holding up the bangles, his tone commanding and without patience. "Wear these."

You instinctively backed away, clutching your hands to your chest as if shielding the last remnants of your dignity. The urge to snatch the precious jewelry from his sinful hands burned hot inside you, but the fear of his reaction held you in place.

"I said, wear em'."

Before you could think to resist, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a bruising grip. You winced but didn’t dare cry out, not wanting to provoke him further.

With a brutal kind of carelessness, he forced the gold bangles onto your trembling wrists, each one slipping over your hand with a sharp jingle that felt like the sound of shackles locking into place.

"There," he muttered admiring his work as if he’d achieved something. “Now you look the part.”

John’s gaze lingered on you as you sat there, your shoulders hunched and trembling, every ounce of defiance beaten down into quiet submission. You didn’t dare look at him, your hands resting on your lap, fidgeting with the edge of your dress as if trying to distract yourself from the weight of his presence. His earlier words of gruesome threats, and fear for your family still echoing in your mind.

The golden bangles on your wrist caught the dim light, gleaming against your soft, trembling skin. His eyes drifted to your face, the softness of your features now marred by fear. There was something about the way you sat there, quiet but unyielding, that made him feel like he won something precious.

Precious indeed.

“Look at you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His voice was low, almost reverent, though it carried a jagged edge. “All quiet now, huh? Guess you’re finally startin’ to get it.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch, but he noticed the way your shoulders tensed under his gaze. It was enough to make him smirk, though the satisfaction in it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, John suddenly pushed himself to his feet. The movement was abrupt, startling you enough to glance at him before quickly looking away again. He stood there for a moment, towering over you, his arms crossed as he regarded you with an unreadable expression.

“Listen,” he began, his tone gruff, “I ain’t sleepin’ here tonight.” For a moment, relief flickered across your face, so brief he almost missed it. Almost.

“But,” he continued, “come tomorrow, you’d best start makin’ some space. ‘Cause this is my tent. Got it?”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his words settled over you like a suffocating weight. He waited, watching for a reaction, for some acknowledgment that you understood. When none came, he gave a low, humorless chuckle and shook his head.

“Silent treatment, huh? Fine. You’ll come around.” His voice softened, but the undertone was still sharp enough to cut. “You’ll see. This ain’t as bad as you’re makin’ it out to be.”

With that, he grabbed his hat from the table and left the tent, the flap snapping shut behind him.

❀˖°

The second night fell heavier than the first, the air in the tent still and suffocating. You hadn’t moved much throughout the day, just sat there, staring blankly at the tent walls, every sound outside making you flinch. Food had been brought and taken away untouched. No one had come to check on you, not that you’d wanted them to. The isolation wrapped around you, heavy and unrelenting.

When the flap of the tent rustled, your heart leapt in panic. He stepped inside like he had every right to be there, his figure casting a shadow across the space. John’s hat was off, his coat slung carelessly over his arm. He moved with an air of certainty, his boots scuffing against the ground as he set his belongings on the small table by the cot.

“You’ve been quiet. Guess that means you’re learning.”

You didn’t respond, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively. His eyes landed on you, taking in your hunched posture, the way your face turned away from him. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between you, tense and unbroken.

He walked closer, and every step made your breath hitch. When he finally stood over you, his shadow loomed large, swallowing you in its weight. “Scoot over,” he ordered, his voice calm but firm.

You froze, shaking your head before you could stop yourself. The fight was small, but it was all you could manage.

His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he crouched down to your level. “Didn’t think I’d have to remind you how things are. But I will if I need to.”

You shrank back, but there was nowhere to go. He sighed, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. “I ain’t here to fight with you, but you’re makin’ it real damn hard.”

Without another word, he sat on the cot beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight, and you shifted as far away as you could, your back pressed against the tent wall. He didn’t seem to care, leaning back and kicking his boots off as if this were just another night.

“I told you last night. You’re gonna have to get used to this. To me.” His gaze flickered to you, lingering for a moment. “The sooner you do, the better.

You wanted to shout, to tell him how much you hated this, how much you hated him, but the words were stuck in your throat. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, paralyzed by fear, by helplessness.

“No,” you whispered, your voice cracking as the tightness in your chest made it hard to breathe. You said it again, louder this time. “No.”

His lips curled into a mocking smile, barely visible in the dim light. “Mhm... funny.”

He stretched out, reclining with one arm behind his head, and the weight of his presence filled the space between you like a physical force. Your body instinctively flinched as he purposefully spread his legs into your space, a quiet challenge in his movements.

“Go to sleep,” he muttered, his eyes half-lidded as if he were already drifting off. “We’ve got a long road ahead tomorrow, and you’ll need your rest.”

You barely had time to process his words before your mind went racing. Where!? Where were they taking you? Even more far from your family...what if they never will be able to find you?!

“W-where...?” You managed to croak, confusion creeping into your voice.

"Far, far away... to mountains and caves,” he said with an exaggerated flourish, his eyes twinkling as he gestured through the air. The dramatic gesture made you freeze, eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief.

He burst into a laugh, the sound echoing through the tent, thick with derision. “I’m just kidding, Princess. But it’s still gonna be far.”

His laughter faded as he leaned back on the cot, his casual tone not fading, he wanted to see the reaction again. “Though, if you really wanna go home,” he added with a shrug, his lips curling into a mocking smile, “you’re welcome to ask. Hell, I’ll even walk you to the edge of the camp myself. Let you find your way back. You’ll be easy pickings out there, though. Lots of nasty things in these woods, not all of them human. It’s just you and the big, wide world. Wolves , bears… maybe worse as in...bandits." His voice dipped lower, soft and dark, almost a whisper.

The insinuation hit you like a punch to the stomach, your throat tightening as panic crept in. He watched your reaction closely, his smirk widening as fear flickered across your face. “But maybe you’re braver than you look and stronger,” he said, almost teasing. “So, what’s it gonna be? Want me to toss you out right now? C'mon then, get up.” He grabbed your wrist which you instantly flinched away from.

You shook your head quickly, your voice breaking as you stammered, “No... no...please.."

“Good answer,” he drawled, reclining again, satisfied. “Smart girl.”

Your chest started heaving as you fought to steady your breathing. The tears came suddenly, hot and uncontrollable, spilling down your cheeks as you sat there, trembling. Another blow of his cruelty crashed into you, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Sobs wracked your body, sharp and desperate, as your chest heaved with the weight of it all.

“Please…stop, s-top it,” you whispered between sobs, your hands shaking as they gripped your hair as if you were going insane, Hell you already had. “I-I can’t...I just wanna go ho-me...ple-ase.”

Inside, something twisted painfully in his chest. He hated it, seeing you like this, fragile and terrified because of him.

Fuck fuck fuck--Just what the fuck is wrong with me?!

"Alright, alright," he muttered, his tone softer now. "No need to get all worked up. I...was jus'...I was jus' messing around."

Was I? Or was I about to do that?

You didn’t move and kept weeping and he felt that unfamiliar pang again. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Look, don’t cry, alright?" he said gruffly, almost annoyed with himself for caring. "I’m not gonna... leave you out here or.... anywhere."

When you still didn’t move, sobbing quietly, he muttered a curse under his breath.

"Lay down," he ordered, his voice low but not unkind.

"C'mon, jus' lay down, I...am sorry," he repeated, softer this time and gently, he eased you down onto the bedroll, your sobs still trembling through your body. He tugged the blanket over you, his hands lingering awkwardly before he sat back, watching you silently for a moment.

His jaw tightened as he listened to your broken sobs. The sound tormented him, louder than any scream, worse than any wound. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he stop himself from hurting you, only to hate himself when he did?

❀˖°

The long journey had ended, and the camp settled into its usual rhythm, dust hung in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of campfires and the distant rustle of wind through the brush. You sat by the tent, legs pulled tightly to your chest, trying to steady your breath. Every bone in your body ached from the relentless days of riding, your wrists still red and raw from how he'd gripped them during the trip. The journey had been brutal, with no rest, no kindness, only his clipped orders and the suffocating silence that surrounded you. Yet, there had been moments, brief and fleeting like the time on a cold morning, when he had given you one of his warmer coats, the thick leather lined with fur, his gruff voice commanding you to put it on. You had hesitated at first, but had no choice but to obey.

“Get up and go fetch me some coffee,” he ordered without even looking in your direction.

You didn’t respond right away. Your hands gripped the edge of the crate, your heart pounding in your chest. The idea of getting up, moving, doing anything for him was unbearable. You knew the drill, he could force you to do anything, but right now, in this moment, you wanted to pretend you had control over something, anything.

“No,” you retorted sharply, your voice hoarse.

"Excuse me?"

"I am not...your maid."

The next thing you knew, you were yanked off the crate, your body jerking against his iron grip. He dragged you by the arm, unceremoniously. The camp was alive with activity, and you felt every pair of eyes land on you. His grip tightened, making it impossible to escape, his voice low and cold in your ear.

"You think you get to refuse me? I don't think you understand, sweetheart. This is your life now."

He tugged you toward the large stew pot, where a man was stirring it. He looked up as you approached, and John gave a single, dismissive wave of his hand. "She’ll be working here, Pearson. You got it?"

Your stomach churned as you were forced to stand beside the stew pot, the acrid scent of boiled meat and thin broth filling the air. Your mind drifted, traitorously pulling you back to unreachable memories of a life far removed from this. Memories of sitting at a polished table, sunlight streaming through wide-open windows, and more than one dish laid out before you for breakfast alone, fluffy eggs, fresh fruit, steaming tea, and pastries you could barely finish.

Now, the single, unappetizing pot seemed almost mocking, its contents a reminder of how far you’d fallen. You blinked hard, willing the tears away, but they pricked at your eyes nonetheless, a lump forming in your throat

Everything here is going to taste nothing but broken dreams and grief to you.

"Now," he ordered, pushing you toward the cooking wagon. "Get used to the smell. Get used to the work. You want to know where you're going to spend most of your time Princess? This...right fucking here."

But John wasn’t done. He moved again, dragging you along with him to the laundry area.

"And here, you’ll wash the clothes. See how nice it looks? This is your world now, little by little. I don't care if you're tired. I don't care if you're angry. Nobody does. You’ll do what I tell you, or it’ll be worse for you."

His words were venomous, and they stung deeper than you cared to admit. The powerlessness of it all seemed to suffocate you, leaving you with nothing but the grinding reality of your situation.

He let go of your arm then, but still hovered over you.

"You can stay here and sulk if you want, but just know this," he added, his voice cold again. "You’re part of this family and there is a limit to where I and Dutch will tolerate your moodiness. He can be pissed too when he wants to be so don't embarrass me in front of others. And I don’t take kindly to disobedience. Not from you. Daddy must have spoiled you but here none of that shit happens."

You didn’t respond, but the pit in your stomach grew heavier. The space around you, the smell of the stew, the relentless noise of the camp, it all felt suffocating. You felt like you were drowning, your heart aching with every passing second.

"John! Stop it!" Sharp with panic, a voice broke through the suffocating fog of confusion that had clouded your mind. You turned, eyes blurry with tears, just in time to see Annabelle rush to your side. Her presence was like a shield, her arms wrapping around you as she positioned herself between you and him. "As if you already hadn't disappointed me enough! Get fuckin' lost right now!."

Their argument became muffled as you stood there, breath shallow, heart pounding. Everything that had happened, everything you had lost, overwhelmed you. You thought back to that final day with your family, the day that now felt like a distant, unreachable dream.

Why had you taken everything for granted? The simple comforts, the warmth of your home, the sound of your mother’s scolding, your father’s jokes, their laughter that filled the air. How you longed to hear those things again, to feel their embrace, to be wrapped in the safety of your old life.

You closed your eyes, letting the memories flood your mind. Mama… The name escaped your lips in a breathless whimper, and you clutched at Annabelle desperately, as though she could somehow give you back everything you had lost.

Annabelle's arms tightened around you, her face hardening with a scowl as she glared at John. She didn’t need to say anything. The fury in her eyes spoke volumes. But in that moment, you felt like you were in a world of your own, lost in the painful yearning for a life that no longer existed.

"I can’t," you whispered, the words barely a sound. "I can’t… be here. I want to go home. I beg you.."

Annabelle’s grip on you softened slightly, but she didn't let go. She didn’t have the words to ease the ache in your chest, but she had the strength to offer you something, a shield, a comfort, even if it wasn’t enough to erase the crushing weight of your new life.

John stood there, a silent observer for now, but you knew the storm was far from over. Every moment with him felt like a battle, and you were too broken, too tired, to fight anymore. You thought yourself crumbling once again.

Annabelle whispered something to you, comforting words, but they were lost in the haze of your thoughts.

God, this is heart breaking to watch, why can't it be just a piece of cake? Why are you making it so hard?

But John knew it wasn't your fault, not in the slightest. He couldn't take it anymore so he turned, his boots heavy against the dirt floor of the camp and walked away with a grumble, disappearing into the shadows of the camp, leaving you behind in the dimming light, holding onto whatever remnants of dignity you had left.

Annabelle, still by your side, squeezed you tighter, her expression hardened as she watched John leave. Her voice was a whisper, a promise, as she comforted you in the only way she knew how. "I am here, alright. Don't be afraid. We’ll get through this... together."

❀˖°

John lay on his back in the dimly lit tent, the muted crackle of the campfire outside casting faint, flickering shadows across the canvas walls. He knew you were awake. His gaze shifted downward, catching on your hands where they rested near your chest. The bangles on your wrists glinted faintly in the low light, the same ones you hadn’t been allowed to remove. But it wasn’t the jewelry that held his attention. It was the raw, chapped skin of your fingers under the shadow of the blanket, evidence of the cold and the endless work you’d been made to do. Not to mention your shivering...

With a quiet sigh, John sat up, the bedroll creaking under his weight. He stood, the night air slipping into the tent as he stepped outside. A few moments later, he returned, a spare blanket draped over one arm. Without a word, he leaned over, laying it carefully across you.

He laid back down with a soft huff, his hands laced behind his head as he stared at the canvas ceiling above. Silence stretched between you, but it didn’t last.

"I know," he murmured, his voice low but steady. "It’s probably a nightmare for you. Not exactly the fairytale you might’ve dreamed of...I mean...I would be the last person you would even imagine yourself to be with..." He chuckled, the sound bitter and humorless. "But it’s real. And it’s done. There’s nothing that can be done about it now."

His head turned slightly, enough that you could feel the weight of his gaze even though you couldn't see it. "What do you want? For me to throw you out? To let you go back? You think that’s an option? Because it’s not. Believe it or not but...it ain't some tradition...it's a commitment and... I’ve taken on a responsibility, and I’m willing to see it through. But not if you keep acting like this."

The cycle was obvious to him now.

He gets gentle with you, just for a moment, and you start acting up, that defiant spark in your eyes resurfacing. Then he gets pissed, and you get scared. And that fear? Those tears? They make him more fucking pissed.

Your tense back beside him seemed to beckon, and he found himself turning toward you, his hand hovering hesitantly. His fingers twitched, itching to close the space between you, but for a fleeting second, something strange held him back. Fear? Doubt? Is he doing this then? He brushed the thought aside, refusing to examine it further.

When his hand finally settled on your waist, you immediately swatted it away, which he both expected and loathed. He placed it back, this time firmer, pulling you against him.

"Listen here,” he muttered, his voice low, close to your ear. “If you start to accept it, this, us, I might even take you to see your family...” He let the words out, unsure himself if they were a genuine promise or just another thread of control. But right now, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to feel the soft warmth of you against him, to revel in the fleeting sense of peace it gave him. He wanted to test all of this out...unravel this sweet chaos he had caused.

Damn, the warmth, the softness, the scent. Mhm. Not...bad... I could get used to this.

“Got it?” he whispered, his lips almost brushing your ear. You didn’t answer, only buried your face into the pillow with a shaky nod. A smirk tugged at his lips, satisfaction blooming in his chest and e tightened his arm around you.

"Good, that's what I thought, Princess." This time, his voice lacked its usual taunting edge, carrying a note of unexpected softness instead.

"Or should I say, Mrs. Marston.."

He buried his face into your hair and neck, sighing at the softness, and his mind, as if on its own, pictured it almost too vividly...even when he tried to stop himself.

Children with your eyes but his resolve running through the camp, the echoes of their laughter filling the space he once thought too hollow to hold anything but emptiness.

He always wanted a family, a real one. Something steady, something lasting. What he craved for himself as a kid. And maybe if he had that, people would finally start to see him as more than some reckless kid. As a man. A mature, responsible man.

Responsibility... That was what he needed, wasn’t it? Something to ground him. A driving force to keep him steady, to give all of this chaos some kind of meaning.

His legacy, carved into this broken world. Something that wouldn’t burn away with the next heist or the next score.

And when he came back from dangerous jobs, when the blood and the dirt weighed heavy on his shoulders, what then? A man’s eyes needed to see somethin’ peaceful after all that. Not just poker cards and stolen loot. No, he’d need somethin’ better. Like....you, rocking his kids to sleep in your arms. Their tiny fists clutching at your shirt, your voice humming low to calm them.

You’d resist at first, of course, you would, and damn it, that only made the thought burn brighter. He could see it so clearly, the defiance in your eyes softening with time, with understanding. And then, after a while, you wouldn’t be able to fight it anymore.

He swallowed hard, the image filling his mind. The thought of you, his woman, his wife, with his child.

He smirked in the dim light, his grip tightening and his chest rumbling with a hum, " You'd make a fine mother. Yeah...they’d be beautiful. Tough, too. With my grit and your… well, everything else.”

Your body stiffened instantly in disgust and terror. The thought sent a cold wave of dread through you, the very idea of this made you sick to your stomach. “No way in hell,” you hissed, your voice sharper than you intended.

John stilled for a moment, the smile slipping from his face. The quiet that followed was dangerous. Then, slowly, he shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to overtop you.

"Say that again." His voice was quiet, too quiet, but the simmering anger beneath it was impossible to miss.

"I said, no way in hell. No. I’m not… I won’t…you are insane to think-"

His hand slid to your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You think you get a say in this, Princess?"

You tried to turn your face away, but his hold tightened just enough to make you freeze. He leaned closer, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. "I’ll make you see it my way, one way or another. You’ll thank me for it one day when they’re calling you Mama and lookin’ up at you like you hung the fuckin' stars."

He let go of your chin harshly. Turning back onto his side, he muttered under his breath.

"Might be the only thing that keeps your mind away from your home. A family. My family."

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