#Woman gang-raped | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clauscielo · 4 months ago

Text

⊰⊹ pure, uncorrupted

pairing: arthur morgan & virgin!reader.

summary: you are too pure, too naive. and he hates to see other men fantasizing about tainting you. so, before someone else does - he decides to do it himself.

warnings: mentions of rape/sexual abuse, past physical/psychological abuse, corruption kink, arthur takes reader's virginity, arthur is protective, but lonely and hates himself. legal age gap, oral sex (fem receiving), p-in-v sex, loving sex, creampie - english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes!

he would never forget that day. trelawny had told them a few weeks earlier that, southwest of valentine, just a mile from the village, there was a farm: two houses and a barn. trelawny claimed there was a large amount of money hidden there, illegitimately earned by the family.

that's why they went. micah, bill and arthur set out into the night, riding toward that farm. thieves robbing thieves.

the family consisted of a father and two sons. they had no choice but to wipe them all out. arthur had never liked to take the lives of innocent people, but these people... they didn't feel right.

the house was very untidy inside, grimy, and there was a padlocked door on the upper floor. while micah and bill ransacked the downstairs, he took a look at the bedrooms, and of course, kicked in the locked room door.

you were in there. cowering on the bed, pressed against the wall, shivering and sobbing. you had heard gunshots and banging, you had tried your best not to make any noise, but they had found you. arthur was perplexed. he studied you for a few seconds, processing the situation: this family had you locked in this room. you were wearing torn and dirty rags, and your room was even more neglected. there were flies, food from days ago, and only one bed in the room.

“it's okay, it's okay. i ain't gonna hurt you,” he finally said, slowly approaching you.

micah arrived shortly after, and a crooked smile came across his face.

“well look at this, morgan! i say we have some fun. bill, get up here!” his cruel words irritated arthur deeply.

“get out of here, you foul thing! wait downstairs!” he raised his voice, and micah only let out a challenging laugh. still, he obeyed, after arthur shot him a menacing glare.

you, still shaking and weeping on the bed, watched him. the thought that the man in front of you had protected you from the others, soothed you a little.

arthur couldn't kill you. how could he kill you? it wasn't an option.

“what are you doing here, girl?” he moved a little closer and noticed that one of your legs was covered in bruises.

“i-i was... grounded,” you mumbled, between sobs. arthur frowned and clicked his tongue.

“were those your father and brothers?” he asked, his hand hesitantly stroking your forearm, seeking to calm you.

you nodded, hot, copious tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. he sighed.

“they're dead. i'm sorry,” he began, and his heart shrank at your obvious expression of relief. “you can come with us, we won't hurt you. we'll take you to valentine,” he added.

you nodded, raising your arms toward him. arthur accepted the gesture, and with his strong hands on your armpits, he lifted you and carried you in his arms, heading for his horse.

you refused to stay in valentine that night. you begged again and again to be taken with them. and this snarling, distrustful outlaw, softened at the image of you, a forlorn young woman alone in this world that had so embittered him over the years.

“we're taking her,” arthur said to the other men.

“morgan! we can't afford another mouth to feed!” bill protested.

“we're taking her,” he insisted, his tone firm and intimidating, and the others snorted.

it had been months since that night. you were accepted into the gang of outlaws arthur lived with, but you had a hard time adjusting. you developed an unhealthy attachment to the man who had rescued you, who you considered your hero. whenever arthur was in camp, you followed him, trying to talk to him. being close made you feel better. but he was very cold most of the time.

“girl, really, you need to leave me alone. what d'ya want now?” he said, his tone showing irritation, when you approached to talk to him for the tenth time today.

your smile vanished, your expression transforming into one of pain and embarrassment. you blushed and lowered your gaze, and before you could say anything, he snorted heavily.

“i'm sorry. i'm sorry, i just like to be alone, you know that,” he replied, exasperated.

you fiddled anxiously with the edge of your blouse, pursing your lips sheepishly.

“i just wanted to be with you for a little while,” your voice came out shaky and low. arthur's heart almost melted.

“come,” he said, curtly, sitting down on his bed.

“no, n-no need. i'm sorry to disturb you.”

“come,” he repeated, louder now, as a demand.

you shrank back but obeyed and sat down next to him. he looked at you, his blue eyes scrutinizing your sad, anxious expression, his frown easing.

“i can't be with you all the time,” he explained. your lip quivered, and you nodded.

“i know. i know. i'm sorry.”

“it's not because i don’t want to. it's because this... this thing you got with me, it can't go on,” he said, his hand stroking your hair, tucking a lock behind your ear, his actions contradicting his words. “you're gonna have to leave here someday. and if we don't stop this in time...” his words trailed off.

“i don't want to leave.”

“you're absolutely gonna leave. don't be silly. you don't belong in this kind of life. when you get your strength back, i want you out of here.”

you looked at him, wide-eyed, silent.

“don't look at me like that,” he spat, annoyed. but a second later, he sighed. “we're not doing you any good. not me, not anyone here. you understand that, don't you?”

“i don't have anyone else. i'll be alone,” you said, your heart racing with fear.

arthur stroked your cheek, thoughtfully. he had grown so fond of you these past few months, that he could hardly imagine his life without you anymore. but the rational part of him knew you had no future here, not with someone like him.

that's why he pushed you away. that's why he tried to ignore you. he couldn't stand seeing the way you looked at him, like he was a hero, a savior. because arthur was nothing like that. arthur was a criminal, a murderer, a ruthless, bitter, outlaw with no future, someone who only brought tragedy into people's lives.

“i don't like it when you're this mean to me,” you muttered, pouting, still hurt by how he had greeted you when you came.

“i know. forgive me,” he whispered, looking at your hand. he wanted to take it, to feel it, but didn't dare to.

weeks passed. arthur hated the way the men looked at you. micah, especially. that sick, deranged bastard. he mocked your innocence, your naivety.

“well, i've been dying to deflower that little lassie, the new one. ever since we saw her at the farm i been saying we have fun with her, but morgan won't let us,” protested micah, sipping from his bottle of whiskey, one night by the fire.

“do you think she's a virgin?” javier replied with curiosity.

“please!” interjected bill, laughing. “that girl doesn't even know what screwing is.”

“of course she doesn't. i told her to blow me the other day and she just looked at me with those dopey eyes of hers,” micah cackled.

arthur overheard the conversation and felt his insides boil. listening to those nasty old men, talking so crudely about a young, proper lady like you, made him sick.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” arthur snarled. he snatched the whiskey bottle from micah's hand and faced him, with an annihilating glare. “if you ever talk about her like that again, you better make sure i don't hear. or i'll cut that throat of yours so you never say a fucking word again,” he said, his voice low and intense, getting micah to turn away, letting out a nervous laugh.

he retreated to his tent, furious, and was startled to find you there. he put his hand to his chest and shook his head. “what are you doing here, you want to scare me to death?” he wheezed, anger still boiling inside him.

you looked at him with a smile and showed him a flower crown in your hands. “look what i did,” you declared, proudly, your eyes on his, perhaps seeking approval in his expression. he eased back and couldn't hide a soft smile, gentle and loving. he took the floral diadem and placed it on your head.

“beautiful,” he whispered. you blushed heavily and pressed your lips together, excited.

“i was reading and in the book, it explained how to make it and what flowers were ideal for it. i think it turned out really pretty,” you explained.

“yes. it looks very pretty. but you should be sleeping,” he scolded you.

“i'm sorry. i was excited and wanted to wait for you to come back,” you defended yourself. he smiled.

he couldn't help but bring his hands to your face. you were so precious, so candid and credulous. and those abhorrent men were talking about deflowering you just a few minutes ago... it made him feel like throwing up.

the affectionate gesture surprised you. your cheeks grew warmer. “what's wrong?” you asked, uneasy, and he dropped his hands to either side of his body.

“nothing. nothing,” he huffed, rubbing his face with his hand, frustrated, confused.

he knew he didn't do you any good. but how could he let you go? the world was full of disgusting men like micah. men who wouldn't hesitate to hurt this girl he had come to love.

he pushed past you and sat down on his bed.

“i want you to keep away from micah no matter what, do you understand? whatever he says to you. you stay away. and if he bothers you, you come and tell me immediately,” he said, without looking at you, his tone stern.

you didn't answer, you just nodded. you would do anything this man asked of you.

“are you sad?” you asked, moving closer to him. arthur was slow to answer, still not looking you in the eye.

“yeah. i am,” he admitted, sighing. you sat down next to him, and hugged him, trying to comfort him and also, seeking solace.

arthur wanted to push you away, to scold you for invading his space, to urge you to leave him alone. but he couldn't do that anymore. he didn't want you to leave, and each and every time he had asked you to stay away, he had betrayed himself. he let himself enjoy your touch, your scent, and your warmth for the first time. he closed his eyes and leaned in slightly, sliding his arms around you.

“forgive me for being a sorry son of a bitch to you,” he whispered, very remorseful.

“it's okay. forgive me for always being annoying.”

“you're not annoying. don't ever say that again,” he replied, his chest vibrating against yours every time his husky voice made itself heard. “i've been a real jerk.”

you fell silent. you didn't understand what this was about. and arthur was grateful for your ignorance. he wouldn't know how to comfort you, how to make you forget those nauseating words if you had heard how you were spoken of before.

“i need to lie down, sweetheart. i'm very tired,” he mumbled, pulling away a little. the affectionate nickname made your heart skip a beat. you nodded, watching him lie down, his expression one of displeasure.

“can i stay with you?” you whispered, fearful that he would say no. but he nodded without hesitation, and you settled in next to him. his heart was about to burst out of his chest. he let you snuggle up to him, and his arm slipped loosely around your waist.

“gonna stop by saint denis tomorrow to run some errands. wanna come with me?” he asked, and you looked up at him, your eyes widening with excitement.

“really?” arthur let out a chuckle and confirmed. “yes, please. i'd like that very much.”

your excitement stirred something inside him. he felt a warmth in his chest that he had never felt before. such a sweet being like you...and your father and brothers had you locked in a filthy room, only to be discovered by men who just wanted to fuck you and leave you stranded. what would have become of you if he hadn't gone and robbed that farm with the others that night?

“okay, sweetheart.” he used the nickname again, which made you grin like a fool. “i'm gonna sleep now, okay?” he said, and stretched his arm over you, reaching over to the bedside table to put a glass over the candle to put it out.

you pouted, and rested your head on his chest. “okay,” you whispered back, closing your eyes.

arthur was trying to hide it, but he was so nervous. it had been ages since he'd been this close to a woman, let alone a woman such as yourself. his pants had started to tighten since you first curled up with him, though he tried to act normal, his heart pounding in his chest.

innocently, you ran a leg over his thigh, sighing. his arm tightened around your waist. he was restless, tense, and kept shifting his posture every few minutes.

inevitably, his eyes opened in the darkness. he couldn't sleep.

“i like being like this with you,” you whispered when you noticed he was still awake. “it gives me... this nice, funny feeling in my tummy,” you added, and arthur let out a shaky sigh.

“oh, yeah...?” he replied, absently, your words replaying in his mind.

“yes... it always happens to me when i'm around you,” you confessed, your candid statement making his cock grow harder in his pants.

“don't get used to it,” he growled. you looked up, saddened.

“don't you like being like this, together?” you asked, your voice low and apologetic. arthur exhaled hoarsely.

“too much, darlin'. too much,” he admitted, without looking at you. he was getting carried away.

you slid slowly onto his lap, and his breath hitched.

“what in the world are you doing?” he whispered. he panicked, feeling your pelvis right on top of his erection, which he had been trying to hide all this time.

“i want to be real close to you,” you whispered. “do you mind?”

he looked at you with pleading eyes and shook his head, he was speechless. he tried to push you away, but his hands wouldn't move.

“the book talked about this too... about men, women...” you began, your voice shy as you explained.

“no. we're not doing this, girl,” he protested. but he didn't really mean it. the least he wanted right now was for you to get off of him.

“please...” you begged. “i just want to know how it feels.”

his face was burning, his cock throbbing desperately in his pants, needing urgent relief. so you were indeed a virgin.

this wasn't right. he wouldn't take advantage of you.

“why?” you wanted to know.

“you're a virgin,” he declared, in a low gasp. you didn't respond, just shrank back a tiny bit, with shame. “my god, you're a virgin... no, i... i can't. i can't.” he covered his face.

arthur had never been with a virgin before. let alone a virgin with a life like yours. were you even aware of the importance of what you were asking?

“oh, don't do this to me, please,” he whimpered, his hands sliding over your thighs, down to your buttocks. you blushed and let out a sigh of pleasure, rolling your hips against his, trying to ease the burning between your legs. arthur let out a low moan, his eyes half closed, his cheeks red.

“baby... we can't... not with me,” he whispered, desperate.

“i want it to be with you,” you murmured. and he had no more strength to resist.

“do... do you want me to put it inside you?” he asked, pressing his pelvis against yours, making you feel his whole erection, warm and big against you.

“yes, please...” you begged.

“oh, sweetheart...” he swallowed, flustered. it had been so long since he'd last had sex, and now he had a beautiful, untouched woman in his lap, begging to be fucked. it felt like a goddamn dream. and he felt disgusting about it, but he was so turned on by the idea of taking your virginity. he felt like a hypocrite.

his hand slid down your ass cheek and under your nightgown. his fingers reached for your panties, his arm around your leg to touch you.

“you're so wet,” he murmured. he closed his eyes for a moment, the heat feeling a little overwhelming. “take off your nightgown, baby.”

obedient, you removed the garment slowly, remaining in his lap, your body covered only by your bra and panties. arthur exhaled, salivating, his gaze gliding over every inch of your exposed skin.

“you are exquisite,” he said to himself, almost as a reproach. he shouldn't have to be doing this. but he couldn't stop. he just couldn't. he began to unbutton his shirt. “can i see your tits?” he asked, rhetorically, since he knew that without complaint you would take off your bra. and so you did.

his lips and tongue immediately landed on the soft skin of your breasts, after having devoured you with his gaze for a few seconds. his lips left kisses, his tongue caressing and frolicking around your nipples. you moaned and stirred on his lap, immersed in pleasure and desperate for more.

he removed his shirt, and eagerly, unbuckled his belt.

“gonna get on top, it may hurt a little this way,” he whispered between kisses. you nodded, and let him grab you by the thighs, your arms around his neck as arthur changed position.

he laid you down gently, and his hands crawled up your thighs, spreading your legs. his eyes lowered to your crotch, the fabric of your underwear was visibly wet.

“darlin'... i'm not gonna last. haven't done this in a long time,” he said, his hands shaking a little, he was so horny he could barely think coherently.

“i-it's okay,” you murmured sheepishly.

he knelt between your legs, and placed soft, warm kisses on the sensitive skin of your thighs, moving closer and closer to your center. he kissed your pussy over your underwear, and pressed his face to it, inhaling your scent.

“delicious,” he purred, closing his eyes, sucking and kissing over the fabric. his hands, big and strong, squeezed your flesh, eager to feel you. his right hand traveled down to your crotch, pushing aside the annoying material of your panties. “what a pretty little pussy,” he growled, and glued his mouth to it, licking between your warm wet lips, sucking on your clit, devouring you like a hungry man.

you moaned, your legs trembling. his hands pressed against your thighs, spreading them wider, and when his fingers left your panties, they again came between you and his touches.

“fuck,” he hissed in frustration, and roughly, he yanked them off you, sinking his face back between your legs, parting you wide and devouring you with both intensity and desperation.

“i'm going to put my fingers in, okay?” he warned, looking down at you, his beard wet with your juices, his cheeks red. you nodded, your gaze clouded with pleasure. his ring and middle finger teased your sensitive, dilated entrance. slowly he slid them inside, feeling the rough texture of your insides tightening around his thick digits. he moved them slowly inside you, curving and massaging your insides lovingly, while his tongue and lips fed on your juices and moans, sucking on your sensitive, sweet spot.

“you're so tight,” he gasped. he pulled away briefly, to pull down his pants. his cock sprung, flushed and swollen, eager for the delicious relief only you could bring him. “look how you got me, baby...” he whispered, wrapping his member in his left hand, squeezing it slowly. “how you get me, always.”

your pussy clenched around nothing, feeling emptier than ever. “please... arthur,” you whimpered. he looked at you, unsure, was he really doing this? you deserved better than this. something so much better than this.

but the urges in his body were too strong, they absolutely ruled him. he placed his cock against your center, gripping it firmly, and rubbing its tip between your lips, pressing lightly as it met your entrance, tiny but eager.

“darlin’... what the hell are we doing?” he said, sliding in just the tip, which was thick enough to make you whimper. “ow... baby.”

you felt so full. you looked down, and you could see his thick member, disappearing inside you. your pussy throbbed and squeezed him, unable to adjust to his size. he was huge.

before he got it all in, arthur had to pull it out a little. “you're too tight,” he let out a pitiful whimper. “i'm gonna cum.” he added with embarrassment.

he pulled out, taking a deep breath. he leaned down to kiss you. he kissed your lips lovingly. god, he'd been so rude, not kissing you all this time. he relished your lips, and you could feel the wetness of his beard against your chin and cheeks. he penetrated you again, and this time he entered you somewhat more easily.

“enjoy, sweetheart... just enjoy,” he whispered, watching your face contort in pleasure. he had to close his eyes, imagine the horses, the flowers, the bees, the smell of the barns, or he would cum right there, inside you. he pushed it all the way in, his tip pressing against your cervix. “does it hurt, honey?”

“no, no... i... it feels so good...” you moaned. you felt so full, his cock was so thick you felt like there wasn't an inch of you he wasn't touching right now. every little movement of his hips, pressing against yours as he nestled his face into your neck, made you shudder.

“fuck... yes, squeeze me like that,” he begged, closing his eyes tighter, starting to move his hips, his hands squeezing your thighs and pressing them against the bed, spreading you wide to penetrate you deeply. “thank you, thank you...” he gasped hoarsely.

your small hands clung to him, your nails sinking into the flesh of his back, his big, strong back, as his whole body enveloped and filled you.

one of his hands slipped between your bodies, and he began rubbing your clit, each thrust making his member bury itself deep and hard inside you, your tight body giving him no respite.

“please tell me you're close. i can't hold on much longer,” his voice sounded strained, cracked. the bed creaked beneath you, his hips slapping against your ass every time he bottomed out inside you.

“yes, yes, please don't stop,” you whimpered. his hot, sweaty skin clung to yours, the heat under the sheets thick. his smell, salty and masculine flooded your nostrils, and his cock filled you, again and again, your snug cunt squeezing, sucking him deeper and deeper inside.

your orgasm was intense. you trembled beneath him, your cries and mewls getting louder, and you writhed, your pussy milking him dry. arthur frowned in concentration, letting out soft grunts and whimpers as he moved within you. he came too, couldn't help it, his legs quivering as well. his thrusts became ragged and desperate, his eyes rolled back slightly as his cum filled you, hot and thick. "oh, god," he whined quietly. his strong arms hugged you closer, pressing you tighter to him as he left you completely full of him.

“d-darling,” he gasped, shuddering on top of you, his strokes slowing, until he stopped. his hands, scratchy from work and guns, slid over your sweaty skin and squeezed your breasts and hips, before holding you tight. “don't leave me, please.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

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flowerandblood · 7 months ago

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The Lost Haven (1/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest but they were unaware children, kissing, the angst, stalking, woman on the rape pill, drug trade ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When he needed to calm down before a meeting with clients or a brutal explanation of certain matters, he would lock himself in some room or his car, close his eyes and return with his thoughts to that summer holiday.

First he would always hear the sound of the sea, and then he would see the beach and the setting sun all around him, somewhere in the distance hearing her laughter.

It was their first and last trip together, which had obviously been his father's idea. He thought it would be a good way to cool a bit of tension in the family and invited his daughter from his first marriage to join them at their summer residence along with her partner, Harwin Strong, her former bodyguard, and their children.

The locals called their house ‘King's Landing’, because in fact the building looked like some kind of modern palace, with a huge garden, a private beach access and a small harbour with their sailboats and scooters.

He had never wondered where his father got money to buy such a great mansion: he thought that he had earned it all and the others had not and that was why they were poor.

Neither he nor his brother were thrilled with the idea: they did not want to share their toys or rooms with the Strongs, which, although they usually stood empty, were sometimes used for playing. Despite their verbal expressions of displeasure, Rhaenyra arrived with her partner and children in a large black Mercedes, disturbing, in his mind, their peace and order.

For the first few days, he simply tried to pretend he hadn't seen them: he would go for solitary hikes along the beach, looking for treasures in the sand, thinking he envied Helaena, who instead of joining them decided to spend her holiday with her friend and could do whatever she wanted.

Their mother allowed them to swim in the sea as long as they didn't swim too far away from the shore, and the smallest children, namely Luke and his sister, wore plastic shoulder pads filled with air to make them float.

Every little thing that made him better than his brother or nephews made him feel superior, so when he noticed that he swam the best out of all five of them, he showed it off by diving underwater once in a while only to emerge somewhere much further away. Their sister was most impressed by this, asking him to teach her how to do it, but he paid no attention to her.

The little squealing girls did not interest him, but Jace's face full of displeasure did.

He grinned in a way that made the eldest Strong's lips pressed together into a thin line and saw him swimming towards him.

He was sure that Jace would just want to hit him or sub him, so he prepared to put up aggressive resistance if necessary, he surprised him completely, however, by pulling his shorts off his legs.

He laughed out loud as he threw himself after him, trying to snatch it from him, fruitlessly, Aegon seeing this, shouted:

"– c'mon, hand it to me! –" He called out and indeed, Jace did so, making his opportunity to retrieve his stolen clothes move away from him towards the shore with them and Luke who also laughed thinking, apparently, that it was a very funny joke.

"– stop it! –" Their sister squealed, being the only one to stay in the water with him.

It was the first time he had felt so humiliated, frightened and lonely – although Aegon often teased him, this time it was something completely different.

His older brother came ashore, waving his shorts.

"Come and get them!" He laughed, throwing them somewhere far out on the sand so that he would have to run naked many metres before he could even reach them. His niece looked up at him, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

"– wait – wait, I'll get them for you in a minute –" She called out, moving towards the shore, getting out of the water at last and running across the sand – Aegon, Jace and Luke watched her efforts from afar, laughing loudly.

As much as he didn't want to, as much as he tried to stop himself, he burst out into a loud sob, ashamed, sad and bitter, standing in water up to his waist and not moving from his place, wanting to just drown and die.

He finally heard a splash – his niece was swimming towards him with his clothes in her hand, reaching out to him. He snatched his shorts from her in an aggressive, furious motion, whooping with his tears.

"– if you tell anyone about this –" He hissed.

"– no – no, please don't cry –"

"– fuck off –" He growled, pushing her away for some reason, furious that she had seen his outburst of despair, the fact that he was crying like a little girl.

He put his shorts back on and stepped out of the water, heading immediately towards home, paying no attention to Aegon's screams for him to come back, for them to go riding their bikes together, that it was just a joke.

He spent the rest of the day in his room reading history books. He liked to imagine that he was someone else: a great scientist, explorer, king, prince or knight. As he read stories about the great, terrifying dragon Vhagar, he thought he would like to have such a creature for himself, so that he could burn his brother and his nephews.

He answered his mother's questions about what had happened in a perfunctory manner – he knew his brother would take revenge on him if he said too much and he didn't feel like causing any more trouble.

He shuddered at night, roused from a deep sleep when he heard someone's steps in the corridor.

He feared it was them, that they were once again trying to make a mockery of him.

He rose up on his arms, terrified, when the door to his room opened with a loud creak.

"– Aemond? –" He heard her quiet mumble, even barely able to see her silhouette in the darkness he could tell she was crying.

"– can I sleep with you? –"

"– you must be crazy –" He hissed.

His reply made her draw in air loudly, whooping apparently with her own tears.

"– they took away my little lamp – Jace said I'm already big and I can't sleep with the light on – but I'm so scared –" She babbled in despair, as if this was the worst day of her life and there were big monsters lurking in the shadows of the room she slept in ready to devour her.

For some reason, what she said made him feel a sting in his heart and sympathy, through which he shifted to the side, sighing heavily, making room beside him.

"– okay, just be quiet already – come here –" He muttered, and she breathed a loud sigh of relief, closing the door behind her.

She surprised him by climbing onto his bed and immediately covering herself with his duvet, breathing loudly as if she was really scared.

"– thank you –"

"– sleep –" He commanded, turning his back to her. "– you are to disappear tomorrow morning – if anyone sees you, I will kill you with my own hands – do you understand? –"

"– yes –" She mumbled out with difficulty.

He heard her turn on her other side, but he could still feel the warmth of her body – his bed designed for one person for two proved a tad too cramped and there was no way their shoulders wouldn't touch.

Although he felt ashamed that he had slept with a girl, on the other hand her presence had a calming effect on him – the conviction that someone was beside him, her warmth and her scent, reminding him of vanilla pudding or cake, made him fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.

When he woke up, to his relief, she was gone, nor had she told anyone that she had come to him.

What surprised him was that she came to him the next night and jumped into his bed as if it was hers.

"– what are you doing? –" He muttered, looking at her in shock, his favourite book about dragons in his hands.

"– I'm going to bed –"

"– you've got to be joking – go to your place –"

"– I don't have a lamp –"

"– I'll give you mine –"

"– no – this one is too big – for me to sleep it has to be small or someone has to sleep next to me – I swear I'll disappear tomorrow morning –" She mumbled, seeing him tilt his head back, closing his eyes in impatience.

"– I don't want you in my room –" He said finally. "– neither you nor your brothers – I'd rather you never came here –"

It was only when he heard how the words sounded that he thought he had exaggerated, however, he could no longer take it back – he heard her draw in a breath, her cheeks red with sadness, her eyes glazed with tears. She burst out crying, pulled herself up from her seat and ran out of his room.

He thought, returning to his reading, trying to drown out the discomfort in his stomach and the tightness in his throat with the thought that at least she and everyone else would give him a break.

He tried to focus on what he was reading, but then his thoughts returned again to her, alone, in the darkness that had so frightened her.

He remembered Aegon scaring him that there was a great one-eyed monster living in his wardrobe that would come out of there and eat him if he closed his eyes even for a moment.

He cried from exhaustion and didn't sleep for several nights until his mother, when she found out he had fallen asleep in class at school, explained to him that it had been a simple lie.

He thought with shame that she was just a child who was being bullied by them as much as he was, and although he was angry, he decided he would go and see if she had fallen asleep.

Perhaps she was being too dramatic?

He got up quietly from his bed and went out into the corridor, walking slowly to her room, which was next to his. He opened the door and looked inside, noticing to his surprise that her bed was empty; he could, however, hear her raspy, heavy breath.

He stepped inside, looking around the moonlit room, approaching her bed hearing her breathing more and more clearly. He knelt down, bending over and only then did he see, horrified, her silhouette lying on the floor under the wooden frame, her eyes clenched shut, her plump cheeks red from tears.

"– please, don't eat me –" She squealed out.

"– it's me – hey –" He whispered, touching her hand, and she screamed and slammed her head on the bed above her. She cried out loudly in pain, clutching at the spot, and he hushed her by stroking her back.

"– come here – I'm afraid of monsters too –" He whispered, and she, at his words, crawled to him and cuddled into him as if he were a teddy bear, clenching her hands into fists on his back, crying miserably.

He took her into his arms, letting her throw her arms around his neck – when he stood up with her he thought she was unusually light. He laid her down on the bed and slipped under the duvet right beside her, letting her small hands embrace his waist, her face snuggled against his chest.

Only then did he feel her whole body shake.

His hand stroked her hair until she calmed down and they both finally fell asleep in a tender, close embrace.

For the next few days when she came to him, he let her lay her head on his shoulder and read a book with him, which he kept resting on his stomach. They didn't talk then, focused on reading, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

"– can I turn the page? –" He asked, wanting to know if she had managed to read everything.

"– yes –"

She really liked the character of one of the princesses. It was another volume of the story of The Mighty Vhagar and she was the beloved of the Prince who had managed to tame this terrible dragoness. Rhaenys, for that was the heroine's name, also had her own dragon, but a much smaller one, and together with the Prince she flew in the skies.

"I wish I had a dragon like Rhaenys." She confessed to him at last, and he grunted, agreeing with her deep down, not wanting to admit it, however.

The more he got to know her, the more her presence ceased to irritate him: what he liked about her was that she respected his barrier rules. She knew that he liked silence and also that he hated it when someone rearranged or took his things. They sometimes discussed books while sitting on the terrace or walking on the beach pretending to be treasure hunters.

"Kiss your girlfriend!" Laughed Aegon, looking at them from afar, making them both turn scarlet with shame.

His words, however, made him experience a daze.

She was, in fact, a girl, on top of which, in his eyes, she was extremely pretty – her large, bright eyes were framed by beautiful dark eyelashes and eyebrows, her wide smile sweet and comforting. Her voice and touch were also pleasant, tender, her body warm as she snuggled into him at night, seeking refuge in his arms.

He thought he'd never met a girl he liked and fancied, and envied Aegon that he'd already kissed a few of his female friends at school.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" He asked her one day, walking along the beach with her, kicking various stones along the way. His niece lifted her surprised gaze to him, distracted from browsing through the white seashells she had found and wanted to take home with her.

"No. And you?" She asked curiously.

It was easier for him to tell the truth knowing that she had never had anyone either.

"No." He muttered.

They were silent for a long time, walking side by side, thoughtful.

He wondered where he was actually going with this question, his heart pounding like mad.

"And would you like to have one? A boyfriend, I mean." He asked quickly, feeling himself turn red with embarrassment – he was unable to look at her, afraid of her reaction, so he just looked around pretending to be intrigued by something.

"Well. It depends if I would like him." She replied softly.

He swallowed hard at her words.

"Do you like me?" He asked. He heard her quiet giggle beside him.

"Yes."

"So?" He continued, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, meeting her curious, bright gaze.

"What are you asking?" She asked, cocking her head, a wide smile on her face.

He was unable to get the words out.

"I can be your girlfriend, but that will mean I get to hold your hand sometimes or give you a kiss." She said finally making his heart stop in his throat.

"…but only when we're alone." He said.

"Alright." She replied lightly, undaunted, returning to looking through her shells.

He struggled to hold back a smile, feeling hot in his stomach, thinking with relief that it was simple enough and he felt satisfied.

He had a girlfriend.

For the rest of the day they pretended nothing had happened, talking to each other in passing.

What he was looking forward to was the night and the warmth of her body against his.

Indeed, she came to his room as usual as soon as she made sure everyone was already asleep and jumped into his bed making his heart beat harder. He turned off the lamp even though they were usually still both reading together, laying his head next to her on the pillow, startling her.

"– are we going to sleep already? –" She asked quietly and he nodded.

She blinked when his hand rose slowly and tentatively touched her cheek. He swallowed hard, feeling how pleasant, soft and warm her skin felt under his fingers, even in the darkness he knew she was blushing.

He pressed his forehead against hers feeling their breaths quicken, not knowing how to express what he wanted so as not to frighten her at the same time. He leaned in slightly, stroking her face with his thumb, his fingers running over her neck making her breathless.

"– may I? –" He mumbled and she nodded quickly, her fingers running over his jaw making him feel the heat rippling through his stomach, his heart pounding like crazy in his chest.

He enclosed her cheek in his palm when his lips finally pressed against hers – he was surprised by how soft, fleshy and moist they were. He pulled away from her immediately with a quiet click and grunted, twisting in his place, closing his eyes, feeling like he was about to have a heart attack from excitement.

"– sleep –" He commanded, feeling that it was too much emotions for one time. His niece answered nothing, snuggling up to him as she did every night, and he put his arms around her.

It was his first kiss with his first girlfriend.

He felt grown up, fulfilled and happy.

They spent the next few days on various expeditions, pretending that they were great explorers of scary temples looking for treasures or great tombs of old kings. They did nothing out of the ordinary apart from the occasional quick, embarrassing kiss on the lips or cheek, however, to his surprise his affection towards her grew each day.

He realised that he genuinely liked her.

She shared his passion, she was excited with him about their finds, which were most often old coins, she helped him come up with their new missions and, above all, she didn't laugh at him, but with him.

Her words, though child-like, were full of understanding and empathy, her commitment and fearless nature made her his indispensable companion, and part of him thought with relief that it would stay that way forever.

That he found his haven.

However, their closeness began to frustrate Aegon, who finally pushed him to the wall.

"Why do you keep running after her? Are you kissing her or something?" His brother asked mockingly, and he felt satisfaction at the thought of how he could answer him.

"Maybe." He replied.

Aegon looked at him in disbelief and furrowed his brows in consternation.

"WHAT? Have you gone mad? It's your niece! That's disgusting and on top of that, illegal! You can't kiss your own family!" He said making his heart stop, cold sweat running down his back.

"– after all, she is not my sister –"

"– but you are her uncle! – do you know what our mother would do to you if she found out? – you're a complete moron –"

"– I was only joking – I wanted to annoy you –" He lied quickly, feeling a wave of shame, sadness and horror run down his spine.

That day he turned on his computer quickly and, although the internet was still running very slowly at the time, he managed to read in the Online Encyclopedia that what he had done was called incest and was considered a socially unacceptable perversion, although some countries allowed marriage between an uncle and a niece or cousin.

It didn't change the fact that he burst into loud sobs, feeling like a fool, regretting everything he had done to her, that he had ever met her, that he had ridiculed himself again because of her.

"– I'm breaking up with you –" He told her the same day, making her eyes widen in disbelief and fear.

"– but –"

"– you're my niece – you can't be my girlfriend – sleep with your brother or your mum tonight –"

It seemed to him that what he said had completely broken her, because instead of saying anything, tear after tear began to run down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her hands, trying to calm herself, but they continued to flow.

He felt some natural urge to embrace her, his heart squeezed at the sight of her suffering, but there was nothing he could do about it.

They were not meant for each other.

Wanting to somehow soften his words and what he had done to her, he wrote her his phone number on a piece of paper and slipped it under her door that very evening, so that she could contact him if something bad happened, but she could call only in a life-threatening emergency.

He didn't want anyone to catch him talking to her, much less Aegon.

He thought their brief relationship and break-up would be the worst and most heartbreaking thing to happen to him on this holiday, but it wasn't.

Fueled by rage and aggression that he had no way to deal with, he threw himself at Jace as he started laughing at him, pounding him with his fists, and Luke, wanting to defend his older brother, hit his head with a glass bottle lying on the sand, which smashed into his face.

It turned out that one of the shards damaged his eye, while the other cut the left part of his face.

They all started screaming, which their parents heard – Alicent, panicked, called an ambulance, while Rhaenyra packed up, took her children and left.

The doctors, to his mother's despair, said that an operation had to be performed immediately and that the eye would have to be removed: he remembered very little of this period, not speaking or looking at anyone at the time, as if something in his mind had switched off and he had lost touch with reality.

He thought only about her.

About his Rheanys.

He opened his eyes, returning with his mind to his car – he glanced at the blue-lit display and saw that it was approaching two o'clock in the morning.

They'll be here soon, he thought.

He stepped outside, closing the car door behind him, pulling a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from the pocket of his leather jacket. He took one out and slipped it into his mouth, leaning over the bright, warm flame, the tip of it turning red. He took a drag, closing his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the smoke out through his nose.

Indeed, it wasn't even a few minutes before he heard the screech of tyres – several black cars drove into the square, blinding him with their long lights.

Turn it the fuck off, he thought, covering his face with his hand, taking another drag.

He heard men start to come out of the cars – most of them were tipsy dudes just doing security, however Jason Lannister, who was supposed to hand him part of the money for the contract, was their opposite.

He looked like a hipster in his jumper, with his blonde hair pulled back and beard, a suitcase in his hand.

"As much as I agreed with your grandfather. Next part in two weeks." He said.

"Open it." He ordered, blowing out smoke through his mouth, looking at him with a grin, from which Jason swallowed loudly.

Lannister pulled a key from his trouser pocket and opened the suitcase, presenting him with elegantly stacked, sorted thick files of money.

He nodded and hummed under his breath, satisfied, going around his car, opening his boot. He pulled out a fake bottom made especially for the police, underneath which was a bag containing several kilos of white powder that Jason sold through his club.

They exchanged bags and shook hands, parting without a word, not wanting to tempt fate.

He smoked his cigarette to the end and trampled the butt with his shoe, climbed into his car and started the engine, eager to get back to his flat and sleep for at least a few hours. He set off ahead with a squeal of tyres, driving out of the harbour onto one of the main streets, a complete blank in his mind.

He felt nothing.

Or at least he thought he did, until her name showed up on his dashboard display remotely connected to his phone, the sound around him indicating that she was calling him made him freeze.

Over the years she had texted him, describing her days, asking how he was doing, wishing him a happy birthday, but he had never written her back, thinking it was pointless.

He only associated her with what he could not have and what happened next.

However, the fact that she called was exceptional.

Call only in a life-threatening emergency.

FUCK.

He wanted to pretend he hadn't seen it, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with what he'd done if it turned out the next day that her dead body had been found somewhere in the woods.

His trembling hand rose to the button on the screen with the handset symbol on it – he swallowed hard when his finger touched it and there was silence.

"– Aemond? –" He heard her trembling, breaking voice, his heart pounding like mad – he thought in disbelief that she sounded familiar and foreign at the same time.

"– what is it? –" He asked dryly, feeling the cold sweat run down his back as he tried to focus on the road.

She was probably just drunk and desperate, he consoled himself.

"– G-God – they must have – they must have put something into my drink –" She mumbled with difficulty between sobs, her breath heavy and ragged – he felt his heart stop, his hands involuntarily tightening on his steering wheel.

"– what? – fuck – where are you? –"

All he heard for a moment was her shallow breathing and crying, saw with his eyes her face then when he told her they couldn't be together.

"– Rhaenys – focus – fucking speak to me –"

"– I – mmm – I don't know – I think... – ...I think I'm in the toilet –" She muttered, apparently losing touch with reality.

"– in what toilet? – in the club? –" He asked desperately, running his hand over his mouth and jaw, thinking with horror that someone might be about to rape her.

"– yes – in the... – ...club – like... – ...one... – ...with palm trees –" She mumbled, and he drew in the air loudly, knowing what she was talking about.

"– Heavenly Beach? –" He asked, turning on his indicator, making a U-turn even though he should have done it at the next crossroads, several cars started honking at him, braking with a screech to avoid hitting him.

"– Rhaenys? – FUCK! –" He shouted, no longer hearing her voice, slapping his hands on the steering wheel, feeling tears burning under his eyelids for the first time in years.

He felt like he was in a panic, only realising after a moment that he was breathing loudly through his mouth.

He had broken many traffic regulations to get to this place as quickly as possible.

The security guards knew him and let him in outside the huge queue, to the fury of the others waiting – he ran quickly down the stairs, hitting several guests on the way who shouted after him to be careful, the loud electric music completely deafening him.

He wondered, what was she doing here?

Walking through the flickering lights and darkness, he headed straight for the toilets, going inside with a loud slam of the door. Several of the girls inside squealed, horrified by the presence of a man in the women's washroom.

"Get the fuck out!" Shouted one of them, stepping in his way, but he pushed her away. The girl fell over and whimpered, her friend, as drunk as she was, began calling him names, threatening to call security.

"RHAENYS!" He called out, opening one cubicle after another until he came across a closed door from behind which no sound came. When hit it with his foot it opened with a loud clatter and then he saw her: she was lying on the tiles sunken in deep sleep, unconscious, her phone by her face.

Looking at her, he remembered with shame that he knew perfectly well what she looked like, because he stalked her Instagram and Facebook accounts almost every evening: at first he just wanted to mock her and her life, then, however, it helped him control which boys she was seeing.

He destroyed his first phone by throwing it against a wall when he saw a picture of her in the arms of some guy when she was in high school, his rage caused by the fact that she was able to move on and he was stuck, still with his mind in that summer.

He knew she had studied archaeology because she sometimes posted photos from excavations, showing unusual finds. He couldn't bear it when he saw a picture of her sitting next to a boy who was putting his arm around her waist, surely going to university with her.

Robb, because it turned out that was his name when he traced his profile through her friends, liked to have a good time: he'd gone a few times to clubs he'd visited, wanting to look at him from afar.

He watched him chat up strange women and, although nothing happened between them, he came to a certain conclusion.

He didn't trust him.

He didn't like him.

That's why he took a picture of him with a woman, who he put his arm around exactly as it was then, in their picture, and then asked the owner of the club, who was buying drugs from them, to post the picture on their official Facebook.

They often uploaded photos from parties, so this was nothing unusual, and the feeling of satisfaction he experienced when he saw that after a few days she had deleted all their photos together was indescribable.

He consoled himself with the thought that it wasn't because he was jealous, but because he wanted to protect her, like the good, caring uncle he had never been.

And now she, the girl he saw every day on his phone screen lay unconscious in the stinky toilet where others came to fuck and snort cocaine, vulnerable and helpless.

"– hey – hey, wake up, kid –" He muttered, trying to lift her up, tapping his palm against her cheek to revive her, with no effect.

She didn't even flinch.

He grabbed her under her hips and lifted her up, rising from his knees with her, walking out of the toilet, the two drunk girls led them away with eyes full of disbelief.

As he walked with her through the club he noticed two men standing at the bar watching him closely – they turned away, pretending to talk to each other when they met his gaze.

Were they the ones lurking for her?

Were they the ones hoping to have fun with her that night?

He felt disgust and rage at the thought, for although he didn't get into any deeper relationships, he only took from women as much as they were willing to give him.

Sex allowed him to vent and not go crazy, but no relationship was an option.

He didn't want any new girlfriends.

With one hand holding her under her buttocks, he slipped the other into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out the keys to his car, opening it remotely. He opened the passenger side door and settled her into the seat, fastening her seatbelt. She mumbled something that sounded like no, clearly thinking he was the one who had done this to her.

"– easy – I'll take you home –"

He hated Rhaenyra's new husband wholeheartedly, as he was their biggest rival when it came to drug deals, however, he had no choice: after Harwin was shot, his older sister quickly found comfort in the arms of another man who was far more dangerous.

Perhaps that was what attracted him to her.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his niece's silhouette plunged into sleep, tense, her body completely numb, her bowed head leaning against the window.

He placed his hand on her palm, clamping his fingers on her skin, his throat squeezed at the thought that he felt exactly like then, when he had found her curled up under the bed.

"– you were right to be afraid of sleeping in the dark – you don't even know how many real monsters lurk in its shadows –" He whispered – her body shuddered, but she didn't wake, her fingers tightening on his.

"– uncle –" She mumbled.

He pressed his lips together feeling a single, heavy, warm tear of sorrow run down his cheek at the thought that she was able to recognise his voice after so many years.

He parked in front of Daemon's house and lowered his window, pressing the button to wake up whichever bodyguard was there. He heard a moment later that someone had in fact appeared under the other side.

"– do you know what fucking time it is, man? –"

"– someone gave Daemon's daughter, and my niece, a rape pill – I brought her –" He said dispassionately, his free hand still clenched on hers.

"– oh fuck –" The man mumbled, and the gate in front of him immediately opened.

He pulled into the driveway and parked at the very entrance, Rhaenyra in only a bathrobe, apparently awakened from a deep sleep, walked out of the house with Daemon running up to his car. He turned off the engine and stepped outside, closing the door.

"– what happened? – how did you find her? –" She asked terrified and pale, looking at him in disbelief.

"– Heavenly Beach – she called me – she barely spoke –" He replied coldly, opening the passenger side door. Her mother immediately leaned over her, gently patting her cheeks.

"– my love? – good God –" She mumbled, stroking her hair and shoulders as if she were a small child.

"– what was she doing there? –" He asked Daemon. Rhaenyra's husband threw him a long, frustrated look.

"– she said she would be staying the night with a friend – I am as surprised as you are –" He replied impatiently, taking his niece in his arms exactly as he had before, heading home with her, her face sunken into a deep sleep lying on his shoulder.

He shuddered when Rhaenyra touched his arm, looking at him uncertainly.

"– would you like a cup of tea? – you can stay the night with us –"

After you ran away without a word of apology when your son ruined my life, you stupid whore?

"– no –" He said immediately, turning around and heading for the driver's side door, getting inside his car without bestowing another glance on her. He started the engine and began to back up, turning around, driving out through the gate back onto the dirt road.

By the time he returned to his flat it was morning, but he did not feel tired or sleepy. He was attacked immediately by the paws of a large brown dog – Vhagar, his gift of comfort after losing his eye, looked at him with big eyes and barked with rage that he had left her alone for so long.

"I know. I know. I've had a rough night." He hummed, stroking her head. His dog grumbled for another moment, whining and howling, until she gave up, returning to her sleeping place.

He pulled off his jacket and boots, lay down on his bed and unlocked his phone, going into his messages, clicking on the icon that said Rhaenys.

He scrolled through her messages, imagining as he did so that she was lying right next to him, that everything he had read she had just whispered in his ear, embracing him tenderly as she had then, that summer.

He didn't write her back because he didn't know what he should say.

He was ashamed to admit that if it hadn't been for Aegon, this would probably have gone on for a while until their parents found out and they would be completely humiliated.

He was ashamed to admit that his most beautiful childhood memory was both something disgusting and shameful, something that some part of him wanted to forget.

He was ashamed to admit that his grandfather had told him that he could forget about the University, because once you enter this world, you stay there forever.

He was ashamed to admit that he felt that it had always been too late for him, that there was no moment in his life when he could change something.

He fell asleep in the end and didn't wake up for several hours, tired and shaken; he shuddered when he heard his phone ring and reached for it quickly, thinking it might have been her again.

He swallowed hard, disappointed when he saw it was his grandfather and answered reluctantly, closing his eyes.

"Did everything go according to plan?" He asked.

"Yes."

"What were you doing in Heavenly Beach?"

He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad.

Lie or tell the truth?

"Rhaenyra's daughter called me. Someone put a rape pill into her drink."

Silence answered him for a moment, from which he felt a discomfort in his stomach.

"Aemond –" His grandfather began. "– this is the last time you interfere in their affairs. Do you understand?"

He looked ahead, biting his lower lip so hard that he felt the taste of his own blood on his tongue, his throat squeezed so tightly that he felt like he had stopped breathing.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes."

630 notes · View notes

camomileapplesyrup · 7 months ago

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today i got into a heated argument with two TRAs over the twoXchromosomes subreddit. i made a post about the woman-centric subreddit now being overrun with men & MRAs who harass women that share their traumatic experiences with men. from SA, to spousal abuse, women found a space where they felt safe discussing their experiences in life.

posts expressing feminist thought, traumatic experiences & general fear of men were met with downvote bombings & harassment.

men pretend to be underage girls pretending not to understand masturbation and acting they don't know how to wash "down there", asking for advice for sexual gratification of course.

men CONSTANTLY adding their two cents to posts that absolutely do not need it.

the subreddit is now uncomfortable & stifling, mods do absolutely nothing about it. so i made a lengthy post and so many women responded. over 500 comments of women responding positively, and thanking me for calling out an ongoing issue.

well, apparently i am transphobic and i am acting "sussy" with saying; “every time i come here and a woman makes a post with the most MINUSCULE feminist intent, or sharing her trauma, or difficulties in her personal experiences, it doesn't just get downvoted to oblivion, but filled up with comments of dudes adding their two cents, tone policing, making sexual & or fetish comments or "not all men"ing her. this is a woman centric community. two X chromosomes. we aren't going to make our tones softer, be gentler and tip-toe around our individual experiences to make YOU, a dude, comfortable.”

all it took was this for two TRAs to gang up on me & call me transphobic. saying this is why they don't trust cis feminists, and patronising me with expressions like "you must be so brave for calling yourself a radfem". they claimed that i cannot call myself a radical feminist because it's just bigoted towards trans women, despite me living in a 3rd world country where we don't even have working woman's shelters and proper laws against spousal abuse. "im sorry your life is hard as a woman living in a misogynistic country, but that is here nor there with regard to the terminology we're discussing" i'm sorry, what?

most of us aren't privileged enough to be libfems. i wish pink fucking girlboss they/she queen xenogender discourse was what my country could be doing, but life is not fair for everyone. if a woman here gets abused, stalked, or raped, she has nowhere to go. no phone number to call. no police to call. no prosecutor to trust in. and i went through this, personally.

by the end i had to block them, because they were derailing the conversation. but fuck, even when i literally do my best and try to be inclusive to everyone, i get spat in the fucking face.

#radblr #radical feminism #radical feminists do interact #womyn #camorant #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do touch

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darknight3904 · 19 days ago

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All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The appearance of a stranger in Jackson has your world turning upside down as Joel tries to keep you grounded.

Warnings: Violence, torture with a knife, guns, SA, mentions of gang rape (Neither are depicted in detail) Language, death.

Word Count: 2.9k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Alright, strap in folks, here we go.

May 2024

It happens in the blink of an eye, Ellie's voice yells his name, and all of a sudden you're no longer standing. Instead, you've straddled the newcomer and well for lack of a better word, attacked him.

"Woah, wait!"

Joel hands his gun off to someone he can't quite remember the name of before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you off the man you've dubbed Adam.

You're kicking and screaming, cursing out both him and the stranger and Joel looks back at the man. Angry red streaks from your nails run down his face, close to his eyes, and in the dim light, Joel can see the finest streaks of blood.

"I'll fucking kill you!"

Your loud voice bounces off the surrounding buildings as he holds you back. Joel tells you to calm down but it doesn't do much good as you thrash. His eyes fall to Adam again and Joel can't help but wonder, who was this man?

"Take 'em to the stables." Joel nods to Louis who forces the man to his feet and motions for another man to carry the woman, "In an empty stall, tie 'em up."

As soon as Adam fades from view, Joel releases you. You deliver a hard shove to his chest and he stumbles back a step.

"You mind tellin' me what the hell is going on?" Joel huffs, his arms burning from holding you back.

"No." You seethe, your eyes remain fixed on the stable doors.

The next day, early morning...

Ellie watches the slow rise and fall of your chest. Joel had put you to bed last night on their couch. Ellie wasn't sure what was wrong with you. Just a day ago you'd been composed, laughing with her about Gladiator and now you were pulling apart at the seams.

She could tell you knew that man, Adam. Whoever he was, you clearly hated him. Ellie hadn't been able to get a good look but she was pretty sure you'd done a good number on his face.

"She up?" Joel asks quietly as he descends the stairs.

"No," Ellie sighs, "She looks exhausted though."

Joel nods as he peers over the back of the couch to get a better look.

"Why don't you get a move on. School's starting in," He glances at the clock, "Twenty minutes."

"It's a five-minute walk." Ellie points out, not eager to leave so soon.

"Just get going. Maybe that Dina girl will be early like you. Y'can talk to her while you wait." Joel says

Ellie groans but stands up anyway, hoping Joel can't see the way her face has gotten a bit red at the mention of Dina. How embarrassing he was!

The door slams shut five minutes later and Joel glances at the couch again.

"You can stop fakin'. She's gone."

You shift a bit under the blankets, you remind Joel of a big burrito. Last night, he'd tucked you under what had to have been at least 7 blankets. Your eyes had been glassy with fear and he'd sat by your side until you dozed off.

Joel sits down on the couch cushion your feet are closest to, he pats your calf through the blankets, "Gonna tell me what's wrong now?"

Another shift of the blankets and Joel hears a small sniffle before you sit up. Your hair is a mess as you push it from your eyes and look over at him. Your usually bright eyes are dull, stained red with tears while your nose is irritated from wiping it too many times as you sniffle again.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Joel softly asks again

He hadn't expected to see tears. You were worrying him, first your erratic behavior last night and now you were crying the world's biggest stain into his couch.

It's quiet for a moment, so quiet Joel can hear the birds singing outside. Another moment passes before you look over at him, anger brimming in your eyes.

"We have to kill him."

Approximately 9 hours ago...

Joel watches as Ellie and Brett take you back to his house. He sighs and runs a hand down your weary face. You're in good hands, Brett, even if he's an idiot, won't hurt you. As for Ellie, well, at this point Joel would probably let her shave his whole head if it was necessary. He trusted her to take care of you until he could get back.

The stables reek. Even though they had just been mucked out before dinner, they still stunk. Shimmer lets out a snort as Joel passes.

Louis and another man, his name might be Matt stand at the doors to the last stall, their guns pointed at the strangers.

"Alright, let's try this again," Joel says looking down at the man, "Names."

"Adam." The redhead spits out, refusing to look up at Joel

So you were right. Just who was this Adam and what had he done.

"And her?" Joel nods to the woman, still unconscious.

"Lana."

"Why is Lana unconscious, Adam? One of the scouts said she was already out when they'd picked you up down by the dam." Joel says, remembering what Brett had said before walking off with you tucked into his side

"I don't fucking know. Can we please just get some food and water?" Adam scoffs

Joel shakes his head, what an ego this one had.

"You're not calling the shots here. I want answers. Then we'll think about getting you food."

The man lets out a small whimper. How pathetic.

"She passed out maybe an hour before your crew found us. I don't know what's wrong with her." Adam says looking down at the woman

Joel looks at Lana. She's deathly pale and looks more bone than flesh even in Louis' dim flashlight.

"Matt, I want you to take her to the clinic. Have the doc take a look at her but keep her tied to the bed."

Matt nods and gathers her up in his arms with ease before slowly walking off.

"Matt!" Joel calls to the younger man, "Keep her away from Maria."

"Will do, Joel."

Joel turns back to Adam whose hands are still bound to a post behind him.

"Now, where are you comin' from, Adam?"

June 2017, two weeks before the escape...

A warm washcloth roams your back. Weeks of dirt, blood, and grime stain the once-clean water. You focus on your fingernails, they're cracked and the cuticles are dry.

"Need to keep these clean."

A big hand traces the edge of a fresh wound and you shiver at the pain it causes.

"I know."

Your voice is barely a whisper as you try not to cry. This happened often, swallowing your tears. He hated it so much, the tears and the snot that came with them.

Adam liked smiles and pleases and thank you's, so that's what you did. You nodded and smiled when he asked you things, you asked him questions and tried to memorize things about him. Adam liked the color red, he didn't like flannels or the winter. He preferred deer over rabbit, he hated the taste of dog but didn't mind duck.

The house they'd holed up in wasn't big. A small ranch but it was good enough to wait out the horrible storm that had lasted through the night. Tomorrow they'd drag you back out on the road and leave you tied to a tree for the night. This home was a luxury you hadn't felt in a long time.

Adam had boiled water for you to bathe. In any other circumstance, it would've been considered thoughtful, romantic even. But it just made your skin crawl, the way his eyes roamed your body as you sat there, knees tucked to your chest while he cleaned you.

"Louder. I don't like mumbling." Adam says

"Sorry." You say, louder this time.

He nods and pushes your knees into the water. The rag runs across your chest as he gropes you a smirk lining his features when you shiver.

"You fucking slut."

Your head snaps to look at him. What had you done wrong now? You thought he liked it when you were responsive to his touches, grant it you'd been shivering in fear but he didn't need to know that.

"Three of us fucked you an hour ago and you're still lusting for more." He laughs

"N-No I-"

"No?" He scoffs, his face dropping the smile that'd been on his face just a second ago

You raise your hands up, bracing them against his forearms, "I didn't mean it like that I-"

His arms, which are so much stronger than yours after weeks of being tied, slam into you. Your feet kick in the water as he slams you down, your head hitting the floor of the tub. Dirty water fills your lungs as you grapple against the hand that has wrapped itself around your neck.

A muffled voice reaches your ears as your broken nails dig into rough flesh. Your gasp fills the air as he heaves you back up, your hair dripping water into your eyes.

"You don't get to say no to me."

Back to the Present...

Joel feels hot rage burn through him. He doesn't know if he's ever been this angry. You're scurrying after him, yelling his name as you pull a normal shirt on, Ellie had changed you into pajamas last night.

The door to the stables slams open, and horses snort and whinny in protest to his sudden entrance. Joel stalks toward the last stall where the guard, Kent has fallen asleep, his gun discarded on the floor.

Adam is in a daze of sleep when Joel cuts him from the post and hauls him to his feet.

"Wha-"

He doesn't get a word out before Joel's fist slams into his jaw. Adam howls in pain and falls to the ground. Joel feels his hand throb in protest as he gets another hit. Joel wants him to really feel it, he wants him to feel every ounce of pain he ever caused you and then some more. One more punch to his face lands when Adam tries to stand back up, this time it's for your cat and what this smug fucker helped to do to it.

"Wait! Stop!"

Adam is sputtering on the ground, his tied-up hands lifted to cradle his jaw.

Joel looms over the man, "Bet that's what she said to you when you hurt her, you fucking bastard."

"Who are you talking about, man? Lana? I never hurt her!"

Blood as red as his hair is streaming from Adam's nose as Joel sneers at him, "I think you know who I'm talking about."

Your name forms on Adam's lips, Joel can see the way his mouth quivers a bit as he gets the first letter out. Joel cuts him off with a kick to the face, he's not fit to say your name ever again.

Joel looks at Kent who is still out cold. A knife is tucked into his boot and Joel scoops it up.

He's going to make this hurt.

"Joel!"

You rip the stable doors open to see what looks like a horror scene. Joel stands over Adam while blood pours from the latters face like a faucet.

You rush over to Joel, keeping your eyes on Adam who just stares at you though a rapidly forming black eye. Joel looks down at you as you approach him. His free hand gently cups your cheek and his thumb runs across the skin.

"Go home, sweetheart, I'll take care of him."

You shake your head, you want to be here for it, for his ending.

"I want to watch."

A pained whimper leaves Adam's lips, "You fucking bitch."

A thump sounds and Adam's form crumples to the floor. Joel has kicked him unconscious. He glances behind himself at the sleeping guard you're pretty sure is Kent.

"Can't do it here. He'll scream too much."

Sneaking out of Jackson is easy. You and Joel ride right out of the gates, Adam's body wrapped in a large tarp, slung across Joel's horse. The guards on the wall are barely awake, not interested in you and Joel as you leave.

Joel leads you what must be at least five miles out from Jackson. The trees are denser here and when you reach a small clearing, Joel stops.

You tie your horses off as Joel pushes Adam's tarp-covered body to the ground and drags him a few hundred feet to your right. Your shaky hands run through Turnip's mane. She snorts at you as you offer her an apple. Pepper nudges you from the left, she wants a snack as well.

You watch as Joel unveils the man who has tormented you for years. You shiver as you think of your time with him. It had only been a few weeks but it felt like ages. Even in your dreams, you had been haunted by him.

"He's not dead right?" You breathe, Adam looks so still and Joel had kicked him so hard

"He's not," Joel says, reaching for his canteen.

Cold water trickles out of the spout and onto Adam's bruised face. He gasps and puts a hand up, commanding Joel to stop. Joel puts the lid back on his canteen, muttering something about not wanting to waste water.

Adam's eyes fall on Joel before they look at you. His eyes roam your figure for the first time in years and you want to jump behind Joel.

"How the fuck are you alive?" Adam asks, standing up, his hands tied in front of him. Clearly, he doesn't like the idea of you being taller than him.

You scoff, of course, that's his first question.

"I'm not as helpless as you think I am." You say

He scoffs in a way that makes you think he doesn't believe you.

Adam shakes his head, "If you're not helpless then you'll do it. I heard what you said at the stables. You want to watch. You want to watch him kill me. If you're so fucking independent then you'll do it yourself."

He's baiting you. Even now in his starved state he still had a good fifteen pounds on you. All he'd need to do is knock you down and wrap those hands around your throat.

"No." You look at him, "I don't ever want to touch you again."

Adam snorts out a laugh, fresh blood oozes from his nose as he does. Joel shoots you a look, he's ready when you are.

"You coward. You always were afraid of me." Adam takes a step towards you and Joel pushes him back,

"Don't fucking move." Joel's deep voice fills the clearing.

"I'm a part of you. I always will be." Adam looks back at you, his feet still, his eyes meet yours as a coy smile remains on his face.

"No, you're not." You clench your jaw, and Joel stares at you, waiting for the sign to start.

"We're one now, you and I..." Adam nods to Joel, "You can run off, spread your legs like a whore for this one here-"

Whatever was going to come out next never does, Joel moves faster than you've ever seen him move and slams the knife he was holding into Adam's leg.

A howl of pain leaves Adam's mouth as he tumbles to the ground, surrounded by pine needles and patches of clovers.

"Not another fucking word." Joel's gruff voice says

You stumble backward and sit down on a rock where Joel's saddle bag sits. Joel twists the knife free and blood pours out. Adams's screams begin to blend together as Joel runs the knife along his sensitive flesh. Long cuts begin to appear on his once smooth skin, they bear a remarkable resemblance to the ones that hide under your clothes.

How poetic this all is.

Joel reminds you of an artist as he works. Blood stains the once-perfect forest floor as Adam begins to beg.

"Please, Please, let me go! I'll never come back! Please!"

Joel grunts and shakes his head, "I'm not calling the shots here. Have to ask her."

You look over at Joel who holds the knife still.

"Go on, ask her." Joel's voice is strong yet quiet at the same time, "Ask her if you can live."

Adam turns to you and for a second you think he might be too proud to do it, that his ego will prevent him from pleading. A moment later, you're proven wrong,

"Please...." He gasps as his hand puts pressure on his leg, "Let me live, you'll never see me again!"

Your jaw tightens as your hands begin to shake.

"I-I'm sorry. F-For everything."

Joel lets out a scoff, "For everything? Actin' like you came into her home and broke a lamp."

Another shallow cut appears on Adam's skin, this time on his cheek.

Adam begins to sob and the stench of urine hits your nose, a wet patch has begun to form on his pants.

"I'm sorry!" He cries wet tears mixing with the blood on his face, "I raped you, and I-I'm sorry! Please, let me go!"

You swallow your spit, has your mouth always been this dry. You're a bit dizzy as you stand up.

"Say the word, sweetheart," Joel says, the knife at Adam's throat.

Your gun, the one you never leave Jackson without is tucked into the back of your pants. It's a simple thing really, a Colt Python that you had found two years ago stashed under the floorboards of an abandoned home.

Now, the gun is in your hands as you try to get them to stop shaking. Joel has stepped off to the side, his knife still in his hands.

"Please..." Adam begs again looking up at you from the ground in a puddle of his own urine and blood.

You shake your head, he's not leaving this clearing ever again. You cock your gun and Adam begins to sob in earnest.

"No!"

A crow caws loudly into the air. Somehow its eerie song gives you strength as your hands finally go still. You stare at him from the other end of the gun, and your lips move as a memory of a bathtub somewhere comes to mind.

"You don't get to say no to me."

The shot that rings out is deafening.

Next Part

Now, *cracks knuckles* we can focus in on the romance.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you from me. My gift? Adam's death. Let's throw a party and dance on his grave.

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly @orcasoul @snowlycanroc @freythecrazyfae

@person-005 @greenwitchfromthewoods

@elli3williams @yawnzzzzzzzz @am-3-thyst @concrete-jungleeee

@cherrypieyourface @kanyewestest @bambisweethearts

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #sarah miller #ellie williams #tommy miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #pedro pascal

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you-oughta-see-the-odyssey · 4 months ago

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Yeah. There’s also that snippet in Not Sorry For Loving you where Odysseus says “I love you…but not in the way you want me to.” It doesn’t sound like it’s manipulation or a lie (at that point I don’t see a reason why he’d feel the need to), it sounds sincere. I think in the 7 years he spent with Calypso he did come to love her—platonically. At least unless the full Not Sorry For Loving You comes out and disproves that.

i am sooo setting myself up for hate with this but like...damn! y'all really hate epic calypso and i...really don't? i don't know if it's lack of background knowledge on one (or both) of our parts or just knowledge of different versions of the myth/character or different interpretations of love in paradise/not sorry for loving you but like...

calypso hurts odysseus. but not maliciously? he's a victim, and so is she.

i think possibly the lyric "under my spell we're stuck" is making people think she's the one keeping them on the island? she's not. she's a prisoner, too. hopefully the next saga makes that clearer? i think from the clips we've got of not sorry it might.

i don't think she's using the words of his dead friends to mock or trigger or harm him or even to try to manipulate him. it's possible she doesn't even realize what she's saying - how would she know the origins of those phrases? If she's hearing them as he talks in his sleep, even odds they sound like affirmations. they sound positive - i'll stay in your heart! greet the world with open arms! in the best possibility, she's trying to comfort him.

that is of course an optimistic view. call me polites, i guess. but even as she is hurting odysseus - and she is, i don't deny that! - i can't see it as because she's another example of an evil god. i think for better or worse - she doesn't know any better. it doesn't excuse her violations of boundaries, but she has a childlike, self-centered perspective because for so long she HAS just been herself. the world DOES revolve around her. it doesn't make it right. but it doesn't make her a villain.

i've already seen people complaining about how she refuses to apologize in not sorry for loving you. but she does. she apologizes for everything (say too little too late, fine, but she does) EXCEPT loving him. and her love has never been the thing causing harm. her actions have. she shouldn't apologize for loving him.

also also - within epic canon, as of what we know now, i don't think those aforementioned actions include sexual assault. there are differences between epic and the odyssey. that has been made abundantly clear. and other incidents of violence and sexual assault within epic are clearly articulated. if these aren't, i don't think we can assume they're there.

epic calypso isn't odyssey calypso. or pjo calypso. or any other calypso except: epic calypso.

#epic: the musical #epic: the wisdom saga #calypso #odysseus #epic canon is different from the homeric canon #and so far there hasn’t been an indication that she’s raped him like in the odyssey #yes she’s wrong for the things she’s said and done. he’s odysseus is right to be upset by this #none of it is okay #but at the same time i feel like applying human morality to gods and goddesses is a tricky thing #especially her as an isolated goddess with very little interaction with and understanding of humans #it’s different from antinous singing to woman’s son that he wants to gang-rape her is what i’m saying #i’m not saying calypso is right or erase the trauma odysseus has gone through or anything #i’m just saying that i really don’t believe she’s intentionally malicious and is just as morally gray as most of the rest of the cast #though i do understand why the things she says and does can make one uncomfortable i’m not trying to say it shouldn’t #my full opinion on calypso isn’t formed yet until not sorry for loving you comes out #because i’m not judging her based on other myths when it doesn’t seem like those will be indicative of her character here #like i know classically it is calypso keeping ody on ogygia #here though i’m not sure. it could be taken either way that she’s keeping him here or that they’re both stuck

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rightnewshindi · 3 months ago

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ज्वालामुखी में तंत्र विद्या से इलाज के नाम महिला के साथ गैंगरेप, पति और उसके दोस्त ने वारदात को दिया अंजाम

Kangra News: हिमाचल प्रदेश के कांगड़ा जिले के ज्वालामुखी क्षेत्र के तहत पड़ते तहसील खुंडियां में तांत्रिक विद्या से इलाज के नाम एक महिला के साथ उसके पति और पति के दोस्त ने रेप किया। बता दे कि महिला का पति और आरोपी बिरोजा निकालने का काम करता है। दोनों थिल में किराए के कमरे रहते हैं। पांच अक्तूबर को महिला अपने पति के पास थिल गई थी। बताया जा रहा है कि महिला कुछ समय से बीमार चल रही थी। खाना खाने के…

#friend #gang-raped #Husband #Jwalamukhi News #Tantra Vidya treatment #woman

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rimqueen · 1 month ago

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LIMERENCE !

ft. jimmy x fem!reader

tags. implied/reference rape, failed rape recovery, talk of incest and underage but not in regards to reader, public humiliation, obsession on readers part, sort of stalking, one mention of suicide, slight boot kink, just humiliation tbh..

note. waow.. don’t know what this is.. unedited and kind of sucks.. rbs n feedback always appreciated. ignore any typos!

What do you do when your rapist is the most handsome man you’ve ever had the pleasure of fucking?

He wasn’t ugly or fat and he wasn’t the tallest, but everyone has their shortcomings.

You feel like a total fraud, picking at the lint on your sweater as you listen to a girl bawl her eyes out while recounting the time her father raped her in the back of his pick-up after school.

The woman before her was gang-raped by her delinquent boyfriend’s lackeys, the man to her left is the victim of his middle-school teacher, another lady pushed out two rape babies from her deadbeat husband before she managed to get away from him.

They’re all ghosts; beaten down, so broken, and you are you.

The same as before, if not a little bit better.

In fact, you’ve stopped getting those night terrors where all your teeth fall out.

You got raped and everything just felt right.

Like he knocked something into place, dug so deep into your cunt he rewired your brain.

Your therapist said this would be a chance at community, some place to bring you comfort, like-minded individuals who have gone through all the same things you have. Circle time for victims of brutal, life-ruining—life-changing rape, you should fit right in.

But you have never felt more out of place.

Pick-up girl can’t continue, she’s choking on her words, they come out her throat like the creak in an old floorboard. The box of Kleenex is significantly lighter.

“We can move on,” says a lady with kind eyes, shifting on her chair to face your way.

They all look at you with their haunted, dark eyes, gaping black chasms that lead right to fucking hell. God. You’re going straight to hell.

“Erm..” You squeeze your hands into fists. You unstick your thighs from the plastic chair. You count to ten and try not to think about how nice he looked on top of you.

“It’s okay, honey, take your time.” She places her hand on your knee. You think of him. His hand on your thigh, squeezing your tender flesh until it came right off the bone, the way it inched up your skirt.

You go stiff and she notices, gasping softly like she has done something wrong. And she has. She’s turned you the fuck on, the warmth of her encouragement going straight to your cunt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about—“

“No, it’s okay,” you strain to get it out, avoiding her eyes like sympathy is a highly contagious disease of some kind.

They’re all feeling bad for you when you have finally started to feel good about yourself.

Man, you suck.

“He was my boyfriend.” Your voice cracks for dramatic effect, hold the applause. You wish he was your boyfriend. “He did it almost everyday.” You wish he did it everyday. “It would be after I came back from work…” It would be great stress relief after your Friday shift, it’s nearing Christmas and everybody is crushed into the stores like cattle in free stall barns.

You open and close your mouth, unsure of where to go from here, so you stand up and the chair screeches against the ground. “Sorry… I’m so sorry—I need to go.”

You leave and it looks real.

Like you are a real victim with a real story and very real feelings. The type you see on TV, dressed in white, trembling like lambs, abhorred by the notion of anything sexual. Squeaky clean like you should be.

For just a moment you feel normal. Your therapist is not eyeballing you like a mildly fascinating organism in her Petri dish. Your friends don’t give you a funny look when you say you’re fine—great actually. Your mom is not hanging her head in secondhand shame when you refuse to file a police report, disturbed when she unearths your bloodied underwear beside the prayer book you keep tucked beneath your pillow, rosary nowhere to be found.

They mutter quietly amongst themselves.

Poor thing she can’t even speak about it, it must’ve been awful, I can’t even imagine what she went through, so young.

You can’t speak about it, you really can’t, you might start reciting wedding vows if you think about him longer than a second.

Your loneliness is like the crack in a China cup, fine and glossy on the outside but delicate from years stowed away in show cabinets, passed from bidder to bidder. He pressed golden lacquer into the seams of your fracture, put you back together like you were something worth holding, something to be used.

Stored away in your bag, a sacred place your mother has not yet invaded, is his work ID. You say his ordinary name like you’re uttering a prayer, you drag the jagged tip of your nail over his tiny photograph. His hair and beard are longer than you remember, he’s handsome underneath the scruff, a strong nose and a broad chest. The collar of his company-issued jumpsuit is half popped, and he’s scowling at the camera like it’s an inconvenience.

There’s no phone number on it and part of you is glad you won’t have to call into the company, requesting Jimmy like The Pony Express is a sex hotline and he’s their newest, youngest, bustiest doll.

You wait outside the warehouse instead. It’s a big old thing, the last of its kind, muted in colour, blending into the silver skies. You look at the horse who sits on top like a weathervane on a cathedral, oversized features and the stomach of a pudgy toddler.

Every day from two to eight you circle the block a few times, take a window seat in the cafe opposite until the staff begin to stack tables and chairs, sit at the bus stop beside the same lot of people who wonder why you never get on.

The horse watches from above, wide eyes glowing in the dark beside the moon, unsettlingly reverent, sparkling with diamond-sharp logic, like it knows something you do not, a silent witness to your dog-like devotion.

One day, you leave work early and find a truck parked in front of the hulking, metal mass. Two men are unloading it, one is old and the other is blond, but they don’t matter to you. A third steps out of the cab, your breath gets caught in your throat, scared your exhale might blow him away.

You don’t look when you cross the street.

“Excuse me?” You call out, you’re sure he hears you, but he’s choosing to ignore it. “Are you Jimmy?” You ask once you're close enough to go unnoticed.

“Depends,” he says in that voice you have heard so many times in your dreams, rough like the serrated edge of a knife. “Who’s asking?” He hasn’t looked up once, disinterested and completely unaffected while you burn just being near him.

There is a woman near those other two men, leant down amidst some crates, a clipboard pressed to her chest. Her face is white and her nose is long like the snout on a hound dog, her charcoal eyes are sad and droopy.

You wonder if he has touched her like he has touched you. Either she just has one of those faces or she can take your slot at circle time. She would fit right in with the rest of them. Herbivores hiding in long grass.

“I’m asking.” You clear your throat, he looks up at you with his lidded eyes and you don’t look away, openly admiring the colour of them, how they look in the sunlight. There are a million things you want to ask him.

Was it just me? Was I your first and only? Have you been thinking about me? Do you want a summer wedding or a winter one? Vanilla or chocolate cake? We could do floral arrangements in your favourite colour.

He seems to grow slightly antsy when you continue to stare, Adam’s apple bulging out of his throat when he swallows. He looks like he’s started to feel sick, like he’s waiting outside the principal’s office after breaking a window.

It’s different, he’s different in the day. Long gone is his barbed tongue and wolf-like smile. “What do you want?”

You.

Your fingers toy with the rounded edges of his employee card, if you hand it to him now it’ll all be over.

“Listen,” Jimmy starts, lowering his voice, “if it’s something I did, I’m sorry.” Apprehension twists his mouth into a frown, and he doesn’t sound all that sorry. “But you can’t show up—“

“Here.” You fish his ID from your purse, reluctant to hand it over. His fingers don’t brush yours like you hoped and he seems all too eager to get rid of you.

“Thanks, cool,” he says with all the enthusiasm of a funeral celebrant, tucking it into his breast pocket for safekeeping, his disengagement is a knife in your chest. You’re a stain on a shirt he has no intention of cleaning.

“Yeah…” Does he not remember you? Is there nothing about you that is worth remembering? Were you not good? “Cool.” The longer you stand there the more likely it seems he’s going to grab a broom to chase you away. “Well, bye, Jimmy.” You blink at him sadly, expectantly, longingly. This is it.

You walk away and that was it. That was it. You’ll never see him again, you have no reason to be caught lurking outside the warehouse.

You start to think long and hard on your way home about the fuck is wrong with you.

Everyone is shaped by the sum of their exposures. A product of the people you meet, the enemies and friends you make, who you go home to. Every smile, every scowl, every bad habit is the reflection of another. But to be completely fucking honest, you think you’re just like this. The root of the problem is you, it stems from deep inside your very core, a fundamentally fucked up instinct that makes life a fucking inconvenience. It turns everything into a complication and that is why you’re like this.

God, you wonder what it would be like to wake up and think about normal things like normal people who do not have this constant flurry of wrongness whirling around inside of them. You want to go through life like you’re meant to be on earth, not like an alien species that crash-landed here and never managed to get out, unable to acclimatise to the human way, not like you’re a manufacturing defect.

You want to laugh at the right moment, you want to know what everyone else is thinking, you want to be raped so badly. Again and again and again. You can’t be normal if you can’t stop thinking about the most abnormal thing about you, that just defeats the fucking point.

Your friends think it is their fault for bringing you home that night, for letting you go home all on your own, for getting drunk and leaving you sober. They feel responsible for the best night of your life and you hate it. You hate that they don’t get it. You had a good time in your own right, they don’t need to feel guilty—Or maybe you need to start thinking how they do. Like normal people. They’re horrified when they’re supposed to be horrified. Their minds are tailored to the tastes of this world, yours is somewhere else, some rotten, tumultuous, toxic planet.

Therapy is supposed to be helping you learn how to be even slightly human, little by little, step by step. But you can’t take it in small doses, you need all of this wrongness gone at once like a decidual cast. It doesn’t make you lighter, it doesn’t put a pep in your step, it doesn’t do shit.

So you keep going to wait outside the Pony Express warehouse. You camp out in that cafe all day on days off from work. The staff know you by name, six holes punched in your reward card, special access to the staff bathrooms. You’re set for stalker life.

He never comes again, but you do everyday.

The nights are getting darker, stars bleed into the sky as the sun dims, the moon is larger than usual tonight and if you weren’t so taken by the brightness you would be quicker to notice the dark figure in your peripheral.

When you finally do, you think it’s the devil, cloaked in darkness like the devil probably should be. “Oh, it’s you.” You try to hide the smile in your voice as you watch him put a cigarette between his crooked lips.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He’s unbothered in tone, indifferent in manner. It would be flattering that he remembered you if he hadn’t said it like that.

“Do you remember me?”

“Yeah, from last week.” Jimmy’s eyes glow radioactive in the dark like tiger eyes when he lights his cigarette, the flame flickers and casts him uneven light, softening the right side of his face with a golden haze and plunging the left into shifting darkness. “You stalking me?”

“No!” You say all too quickly. “No, no… I study at the cafe opposite you.”

“Okay.” He was joking you think, making fun of you maybe, you wouldn’t be able to tell either way. “Studying the menu or what?”

That was a joke, that has to be a joke. It’s your cue to laugh so you force one out, it crackles unnaturally. “I wish, but I meant before that, do you remember me from before that?”

You look different under the street lamps, they do nothing for your skin, light pools unfavourably in every pore, the jewel-toned dress you picked out today must look washed out.

Jimmy’s lazy eyes rake up your body, and then he shakes his head slowly. “No.” Even to someone like you, it’s clear he has no interest in taking this conversation anywhere.

“It was in November, the beginning, I was on my way home, and it was late...” You should’ve done this at circle time. “You grabbed me and I let you take me, and then after you told me to walk down the block and call a cab, and I did.”

“Hm,” Jimmy shrugs, though you notice his hand trembling as he raises his cigarette to his lip, “nope, don’t remember that.”

Frustrated, you clench your fists, wondering what could jog his memory—Did he do it often? Nab a girl off the street corner so regularly that he didn’t remember a single one, faces all blurring together, the same hole with a different set of tits.

“Remind me again.”

“How?”

“Take off your jacket.” Jimmy’s cigarette gets crushed beneath his boot, he’s looking at you now. Really looking at you, and this is where it all goes pear-shaped. Your whole life is pear-shaped of course, but this is just fucking sad. You beg yourself to think it over, to think of the dozens of security cameras on this street alone. None of it seems too important when he’s here.

And then, you shrug your coat off your shoulders.

“Okay.” You’ve always been obedient because you have no reason to say no, you don’t care if he’s going to mug you, at least he’s talking to you now. At least he is looking at you.

“Think I’m gonna need to see more to know who you are,” he says, detached like there are a million better things he could be doing with his time, but he’s spending it with you. “Take off your dress.”

“What…” You’re shaking slightly in the cold, wind stings your cheeks and the tip of your fingers have started to ache.

“Take off your dress, I might know you.” Fair enough. He’d seen your ass more than your tits and your tits more than your face. It was forced into a flat pillow for three quarters of the night, between his thighs for the last quarter.

You take off your dress, edging it off your ankles. He drapes it over his arm - he’s got enough humanity to not leave your pretty clothes on the pavement.

It’s cold. The type of cold that makes your brain freeze, the type of cold that only Siberian Huskies and yetis enjoy.

And yet here you are in nothing but your cotton panties, t-shirt bra and boutique winter booties looking like the most expensive kerb crawler in all the world.

“Turn around,” Jimmy hums, his hand is cold but not as cold as you, tracing along your spine when you listen like a good girl.

From here, the horse is watching you. Seeing it all, cartoonish eyes forced in your direction. It’s late so the cars that whiz past have no intention of stopping, some houses have their lights on.

Humiliation prickles your skin, it could be the cold, but you don’t think the cold gets inside of you like this. What are you doing? What are you doing? What is mom going to think? What is dad going to do? What are they going to tell your family when you’re sectioned for Christmas?

”That’s good,” his voice comes out in a whisper, “take ‘em off and get on the ground.” Lukewarm hands slide over your hips, checking you over like a piece of meat.

“Okay,” you whisper back to him, and you’ve gone so far there’s nothing to lose, stepping out of your underwear and doing just as he says.

There’s no praise from Jimmy’s end and you don’t expect any. His stern face, his flat tone, it’s all unforgiving like this cold, hard sidewalk is on your hands and knees.

“Jesus, there something wrong with you?” He sounds surprised and you don’t know what you’ve done wrong. (You do know. You do know.) Isn’t this what he wanted? “Sorry,” Jimmy says, not sounding sorry at all, “I shouldn’t say that, you’re not all there.”

Your head isn’t entirely intact, and there is this worm hole that eats away at your insides, but you’re here. You’re here and you’re on the ground, on your knees with your cunt bared to him. Does he not see you?

The horse sees you, perpetually wide-eyed and forever watching.

Something cold, like the nose of a dog, presses against your pussy. It takes you a moment to figure out that it’s the toe of his boot, the leathery texture is wet almost, smooth and still textured, grainy. The cold is making it too hard to focus on the feeling of it nudging your swollen clit. You close your eyes and focus on anything but your hands burning on the ground, how the wind is going straight to your bones.

You’re going to make this worth it. You will. You’ve been wet for months and you won’t let it dry up so quickly, not when the cause of the leak is here to plug it up.

Just as you’re about to push back into him, grind your clit into the leather, show off how much you want him—He kicks you down, your body skids forward, elbows scraping on the cement. It’s painful, but you’re so cold, so shocked, so confused.

Quietly, you hear him under his breath. “What the fuck… Fuckin’ freak.” You don’t know if it’s in awe or disgust. He drops your coat and dress over the flat of your back, you scramble to put them on. “Why did you do that?” Jimmy asks, and he is looking at you like you’re crazy, like he’s disgusted.

You can’t tell if it’s a trick question. “Because you told me to.” It’s a simple answer, the only answer. Your chest heaves, teeth chattering as you stand on aching legs. God. It feels like your bones are fragmenting.

“Are you a dog?”

“No.” You check your pockets to find some loose change is missing.

“Then you didn’t have to do that, it’s not fuckin’ normal.”

Rape is not normal. And neither is asking seemingly nice, well-meaning girls to undress in sub-zero temperatures. But you don’t want to talk back, you don’t like to talk back, you don’t want to scare him off.

“Okay… Then, I’m sorry.”

“What…” His tone lilts in what might be confused laughter, everything you say is a twist or turn in a tangled thread he can’t quite follow. “Don’t say sorry, no, I don’t—I don’t know, just go home.”

“You’re not going to take me?” You gaze at him sadly. Wanting, yearning. “I think I’m going to kill myself tonight,” you proclaim softly, not because you want to make him feel bad, but because you don’t know what to do with yourself and he is distant enough to confide in.

“Alright,” Jimmy shrugs, he lights another cigarette, the smoke billows out of his thin lips, lined with the slightest smile. “Tell me how that goes.” Well, now you feel stupid and wish to take it back. Then, before he goes, he asks a little too casually, “Your dad touched you or something?”

“No…” You answer slowly, wondering if you should’ve said yes, if that was what he wanted to hear, gauging his reaction like you’ll be able to read it at all.

“Right.” He laughs, and his shoulders are still shaking in disbelief as he wanders into the dark like something out of a nightmare.

You look over to the horse, it tells you he’ll be back.

Considering he works there and all you thought the same, so you’ll be back alive and well.

#dark fic #dead dove do not eat #mouthwashing jimmy x reader #mouthwashing jimmy smut #jimmy mouthwashing smut #jimmy smut #mouthwashing smut #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing x you

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