#it's over. for me and for everyone i've manipulated into caring about me

[deezee112]

The worst ending 11 : The Last Shrimp

The worst ending 10 | The worst ending 12

Yandere!Floyd Leech x GN!Reader

A/N : Thank you for following this series to the eleventh episode! I would like to thank everyone who has been following along. Even though I've finished writing Dakar quite a few times, there are still people who like me...Thank you very much everyone!!

I would like to say that this is the first time I have come this far. Thank you to everyone who has followed me. Even though my writing is bad, you still like it. Thank you very much! ( I confess that I'm starting to run out of ideas for a title and ending. Some of the content may be similar to previous episodes. )

Warning : This story contains themes of obsessive love , manipulation , and violence. It explores the darker side of relationships , including emotional manipulation and physical harm.

Tags:

@iris-arcadia

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

The day you brought him home, he was silent. Completely and utterly quiet. Not a word, not a sound, just an intense, unreadable stare. You wasn’t sure what to make of it.

His pale hair shimmered in the dim light of your apartment, and his long, lanky limbs folded awkwardly as he sat on your couch. There was a wildness about him, even in his stillness, like an unpredictable wave waiting to crash.

" Well. " you muttered, breaking the silence, " I can’t just keep calling you ‘hey, you.’ You need a name. "

He tilted his head slightly at that, his mismatched eyes narrowing, but still, he said nothing.

" Let’s see… You’re unpredictable. Definitely a handful, I can tell that already. " you said, pacing the room. " But there’s something kind of playful about you, too. Mischievous, even. "

You paused, staring at him for a long moment before snapping you fingers. " I’ve got it! Floyd. That’s what I’ll call you. "

For the first time, his lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. It wasn’t warm or comforting—it was sharp, almost predatory.

" Yeah " you said, nodding. " Floyd. "

He didn't do much, but the way his smile lingered sent a chill down you spine.

Raising Floyd was…an experience. He was unpredictable, just as your suspected, but there was also an odd charm to him. He had a habit of calling you strange nicknames, most of which you tried ( and failed ) to correct.

One afternoon, as you was sorting through groceries in the kitchen, Floyd came up behind you, draping his lanky frame over your shoulders. ( It doesn't matter if you are taller or shorter than him. )

" Shrimp~ " he drawled, his voice low and sing-songy.

You groaned, shrugging him off. " I’ve told you a thousand times stop calling me that! I’m not a shrimp! "

" Okay. " he said, stepping back with a smirk. " I won’t call you shrimp anymore. "

" Good. " you said, returning to you task.

" I’ll call you big shrimp instead! "

You froze, turning slowly to face him.

" Big shrimp? " you repeated, deadpan.

" Yup! " he said cheerfully, his grin stretching wide.

You stared at him for a long moment before sighing. " You’re impossible. "

He just laughed, clearly pleased with himself

Despite his teasing nature, Floyd had his moments of sweetness—moments that almost made you forget how unnerving he could be.

One night, after you had an exhausting day at work, you came home to find Floyd sprawled on the couch, flipping lazily through a book. He looked up as you entered, his expression lighting up.

" Big shrimp’s back! " he declared, throwing the book aside and bounding over to you.

" Floyd, I swear— "

Before you could finish, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you to the couch, forcing you to sit down.

" You look tired. " he said, his tone uncharacteristically soft. " You shouldn’t work so hard. It’s bad for you. "

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden concern. " I’m fine, really. Just a long day. "

" Hmph. " he muttered, crossing his arms. " If anyone at work is giving you trouble, tell me. I’ll take care of it. "

You laughed nervously. " Uh, thanks, but I think I’ll manage. "

Floyd didn’t respond, but the glint in his eyes sent a shiver down you spine.

As Floyd grew older, his playful nature took on a darker edge. His teasing became more intense, his moods more erratic. He would oscillate between clinging to you like a lost puppy and withdrawing into himself, his gaze turning cold and unreadable.

One evening, as you were eating dinner, Floyd stared at you intently, his fork hovering mid-air.

“ Why do you always look at me like that? ” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“ Like what? ” he replied, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

“ Like you’re…studying me. ”

Floyd’s lips curled into a smile. “ Maybe I am. ”

You laughed nervously, brushing off his comment as one of his usual jokes. But the way he continued to watch you sent a shiver down your spine.

The day started like any other. you had planned a quiet evening at home, but Floyd had other ideas.

“ Let’s go for a walk. ” he suggested, practically dragging you out the door before you could protest.

They wandered through the streets aimlessly, Floyd’s energy as erratic as ever. He would dart ahead, then circle back to walk beside you, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

“ Floyd, slow down. ” you said, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

“ But I’m excited! ” he replied, grinning.

Eventually, you found themselves near a park. Floyd led you to a secluded spot by the water, his usual cheerfulness replaced by a quiet intensity.

“ Shrimp. ” he said suddenly, his voice unusually soft. “ Do you ever think about what it would be like to…stay like this forever? ”

You frowned, confused by the shift in his tone. “ What do you mean? ”

“ Just us. ” he said, stepping closer. “ No one else. No interruptions. ”

“ Floyd, you’re being weird. ” you said with a nervous laugh, taking a step back.

His grin returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “ Am I? Or maybe I’m just finally being honest. ”

As the conversation continued, Floyd’s demeanor grew more erratic. His playful teasing gave way to something darker, more desperate.

“ Why do you always try to run away from me? ” he asked, his voice rising.

“ I’m not running away. ” you replied, your heart pounding. “ You’re just…you’re scaring me. ”

“ Scaring you? ” Floyd echoed, his grin twisting into something almost feral. “ I would never hurt you, Shrimp. You know that, right? ”

Before you could respond, Floyd lunged, grabbing you arm with a strength that took you breath away.

“ Floyd, let go! ” you screamed, struggling against his grip.

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled your closer, his mismatched eyes locking onto hers.

“ You don’t get it, do you? ” he whispered. “ You’re mine, Shrimp. You’ve always been mine. ”

In a burst of panic, you shoved him away and tried to run, but Floyd was faster. He grabbed you again, his grip like iron. They were near the edge of the water now, the dark surface reflecting the chaos in his eyes.

“ Floyd, please.... ” you begged, tears streaming down your face. “ You don’t have to do this. ”

But Floyd didn’t seem to hear you. In his desperation to keep you close, his movements grew more erratic. Before either of them realized what was happening, theystumbled, and you foot slipped on the muddy bank.

You fell into the water, you body vanishing beneath the surface with a splash.

For a moment, Floyd stood frozen, staring at the ripples where you had disappeared. Then, with a strangled cry, he dove in after you.

When he pulled you lifeless body from the water, he cradled you in his arms, his usually vibrant energy replaced by a hollow silence.

“ I didn’t mean to... ” he whispered, over and over, his voice breaking. “ I just wanted you to stay... ”

Floyd stayed there for hours, holding your cold body as the sun set and the world grew dark around him.

In the days that followed, Floyd’s usual exuberance was gone. He spent his time in the spot where you had fallen, talking to the water as if you could hear him.

“ Shrimp. ” he murmured one evening, a sad smile playing on his lips. “ You always said you hated that name. But now, it’s all I have left of you. ”

Despite his sorrow, Floyd’s obsession with you never waned. In his mind, you was still with him, you presence woven into every aspect of his life.

And though the world moved on, Floyd remained trapped in his own twisted version of love a love that had consumed you both

[widevibratobitch]

uh ohhhhhh getting all in my head again aha

[gloriousmonsters]

screw the current 'let's rehab the Gerudo by uhhhh making them really want to suck up to the Hylians and they super hate Ganondorf and disown him now'. give me back the enthusiastic Ganondorf fans who don't gaf about Hylians unless they win a gym membership from OoT

[amtrak12]

*runs back to Tumblr dash and slips it over my mouth like an oxygen mask*

*gasping*

You don't even know what they're doing out there, you guys. Those fans… okay, those fans, eeeeee :S ….. They want to punish Eve for kind-of-definitely instigating a demon mutiny after her boyfriend broke up with her -- WHEN WE ALL KNOW SHE'S VALID FOR THAT! Even if it wasn't her very first break up in the history of humanity, she's a woman with really pretty brown eyes! That's an automatic get-out-of-jail free card in TV land, we all know that. Don't we all know that!??

(Breathe, breathe)

*slips mask back on*

*rips it back off*

Oh, but then -- BUT THEN YOU SEE! -- these same people also want to woobify Michael and make him a misunderstood twin instead of the shittiest angel to ever shit. HE FUCKING KILLED CHLOE!!! Stabbed her right in the gut with a super blunt object so it probably hurt like a bitch on top of the dying! So how is him being played by the same actor as Lucifer make him redeemable? Huh? HUH?? RIDDLE ME THIS BATMAN!! Why is it oh so fucking sad that MICHAEL, the evil scum, was treated appropriately as scum in the show, but MY FUCKING BEAUTIFUL EVE WHO NEVER DID ANYTHING WRONG IN HER LIFE is the true criminal who should have obviously been punished after S4 if the writers knew anything?

THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THE OUTSIDE WORLD?! 😱😫😭

[keefechambers]

I wanna be blunt about this ongoing James somerton suicide threat issue but I don't want to connect it to my IRL Twitter to comment on the dogshit takes I'm seeing there or the good and well meaning but maybe too kind takes I'm seeing here.

Obviously, I hope that this is a false alarm cry for help fake threat. Yes, it would reinforce that Somerton is a self-centered egomaniac who can't handle consequences but that's preferable to dead.

But I work in local news and let me tell you something. I've covered half a dozen family annihilating murder suicides and heard hundreds of men making suicide threats over police scanners and a huge swath of these don't happen because they're depressed or because people are mean to them on the Internet. They're punishment. A person with an enormous amount of entitlement towards people around them gets backed into a corner and they punish the people closest to them by killing themselves or threatening to kill themselves.

No one wants to talk about this feature of suicide because...you want to help people who are struggling and guide them away from this path and being blunt about the fact that sometimes people die of suicide as a consequence of their own shittiness towards the world does not really help actively suicidal people. But suicide rates are higher in men not just because they have higher rates of untreated mental illness (a societal issue we must address for the sake of all) but because some people, often men, use suicide (but more often the threat of suicide) as a tool of abuse and control.

I'm not saying somerton is like, an icky abuser bad guy, he's just a run of the mill grifter scumbag, but his actions in the past show a clear pattern of escalating behavior that aligns with this.

Somerton gets called out -> somerton alleges physical threats of violence against himself and his fans rally around him supportively -> Harry calls somerton out in a bigger way -> Somerton says he's hospitalized but there are inconsistencies with the story but no one wants to talk about that because you wanna be nice-ish about a guy who just tried to kill himself and now he's trying to be framed as tragic but it doesn't really stick -> somerton apologizes again but his apology is rightly called out for lies and manipulative framing as well as his continuing attempts to profit off the community he betrayed -> James posts a suicide note publicly putting the onus of his own suicide on the loss of his friend Nick who he repeatedly threw under the bus and now everyone is rallying to say nice-ish shit and wring their hands in concern over poor james -> indefinitely repeat this vicious cycle forever until he actually does die or finally gives up and gets real, intensive therapy and a day job.

Thats not to say anyone's concern is misplaced, it's 100% better for him to be a living scumbag than a dead one. He deserves the chance to grow and learn and have a life outside of youtube.

But you don't have to portray this as the action of a sad depressed man who got bullied off the Internet. It's manipulation, whether he intended to go through with it or not and whether someone intervened or not. Not denying that internet bullying is a thing, I'm sure there were some people who were shitty directly to James but he made the choice to not unplug from this and to try and keep being a public figure rather than taking care of himself. He could have deleted Twitter, blocked anyone who was an asshole, gone to therapy and tried to move on with his life but if he'd deleted his channel he'd have lost monetization... Can't have that, right? So he posts some apology videos so his channel stays active and then complains about how ruinous this is while never trying to take real accountability.

But the reality is that people would have forgotten about him so quickly and maybe his job prospects would've been impacted but...that's on him, and that's for him to figure out but it's not actually life ruining. He chose to continue to engage knowing he'd get backlash and hate and he'd feel worse and worse and things would never get better without the time and space for people to forget.

He made the choice to make a public spectacle of his own alleged suicide. That is the action of someone who wants to put the weight of their suicide on someone else's shoulders and is morally wrong. He can be held to account for that, alive or dead.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Not me back on my BS 👀

Imagine being Alastor's wife in life and thinking you had the perfect husband even if he was a little distant most of the time. Then he goes missing, and you spend your entire life searching for him despite everyone around you wanting you to move on

When you die and become an angel you just assume that you'll see beloved Alastor again only to be confused that you can't find him. So you spend your afterlife roaming heaven in search of your husband.

It never crossed your mind that Alastor wasn't in heaven.

Until you find out about Adam and his exorcist army going to hell every year, and then you're stuck with the uncomfortable idea that your husband might be a demon. So you find a way to sneak down into hell during the extermination.

You almost regret the decision once you see the carnage and horror happening around you but you're determined to find Alastor. You don't even care that you're stranded in hell once the extermination is over, you had to know if he was down here.

You're easy prey for demons, so you have to do your best to be discreet about your true nature while you try to get information about Alastor. Only to find yourself surprised and confused when people talk about The Radio Demon instead.

"That couldn't be my husband..."

Your husband was kind, gentle, and warm with you while this Radio Demon sounded cruel, manipulative, and cold-hearted. The idea of these two Alastors being one and the same was baffling to you.

But despite your denial, all the facts lead to back to this overlord, a princess and a hotel... so for the sake of your sanity, you decide to find this hotel and put your fears to rest. You hide your angelic features as best you can and head out with your heart in your throat.

The hotel is beautiful and grand yet a bit creepy feeling, it's also rather empty despite it's large size. You feel swallowed up by it as you step inside, looking around for any sign of your Alastor but finding none.

You're just about to turn around and leave, satisfied that this lead was a dead end when suddenly a tall blonde demon woman in a red suit stops you, all smiles and giddiness. Somewhere in between excited squeals and being dragged around by your arm you manage to catch her name.

"You're Charlie..? As in-"

"OH! Don't let that silly title intimidate you! I'm here to help!"

She starts showing you around the hotel and introducing you to the staff and other guests, obviously assuming you're there to stay.

"Ah, I'm sorry, but I'm not here to be a guest... I'm looking for my husband and heard he might be here."

"You're husband? Well, I'm sorry but you've already met everybody here except for Alastor-"

"What about me~?"

You immediately recognize the voice behind the static, turning to see your husband-The Radio Demon-your Alastor-

He takes you in slowly, his smile faltering every so slightly-more of a twitch really- and his eyes widening in surprise once he realizes you're standing in front of him

"Y/N? What are you doing here?"

You're already walking towards him quickly, drawn to him like a magnet and forgetting all about pretending to be a sinner, wrapping your arms around him as you try not to cry with happiness.

"I've missed you so much, Alastor....I never stopped looking for you-this has to be a mistake why weren't you in heaven? I thought I'd see you again after I died but then you weren't there either and-I had to find you!"

He's stiff and awkward at first, hyper aware of your audience and baffled by your angelic appearance. How did you even get down here?? You didn't belong here-why did you try to find him?

Alastor grabs your arms and makes to push you away but one look at your watery eyes and he melts just like when you two were alive. He suddenly pulls you in tighter instead and refuses to look anybody in the eyes, instead focusing on you.

His wife, his innocent wife who had forced her way into his heart back when he was alive was here in his arms. She left heaven to come find a man who had only married her for the sake of keeping up appearances and stayed with her because she made him feel...something close to love...(it was love) (was not) (was too)

You had no business being in hell, not when there were so many ways you could get hurt down here. So many different ways he could hurt you... So Alastor nuzzled his head into your hair, breathed in your scent and pulled away from you.

Sharp claws scraped against your chin as he forced you to look into eyes that were once so familiar to you, his grip loosened slightly as you cupped his cheek. Even now that his true nature was revealed to you, you were unafraid and enamored with him.

"You should've stayed in heaven, my dear. As much as I have missed you as well... you don't belong down here-"

"I belong with you, I'm not leaving when I only just found you again!"

Your stubbornness when it came to him was always something he had liked about you, he was glad to see you still had it. At a loss for how to send you home and some part of him missing your company, Alastor decided to make a selfish decision.

"Alright my dear, you can stay down here and rot with the rest of us if you wish~ But I must warn you~"

Your relief is cut short when he suddenly pulls you in close by your waist, sharp teeth snarling at you in a twisted evil smile as you stare up at him with wide eyes.

"Warn me about what..?"

Alastor pulls you in a bit closer, lips nearly touching yours when suddenly he drops you and you barely manage to catch yourself. He's chuckling and walking away from you, a mean side to him that you've never seen before.

"You're going to have to deal with the real me now, I do so hope you can handle it~"

Spoiler alert: Wifey can match his freak just fine once she gets the hang of how things work 😏 but he's gotta try not to fall for her~

Ugh had this idea in my head for awhile where wifey is an angel who sneaks into hell to find Alastor but has to come to terms with the fact that he's MEAN 😡 and Alastor has to keep up the mean persona because all he wants is to spoil and coddle wifey but HES NOT IN LOVE HE SWEARS HE WAS ONLY USING HER AND ALL THESE FEELING AND URGES ARE JUST SECOND NATURE FROM MANIPULATING HER FEELINGS

Then maybe a part 2 where wifey realizes that a lot of their relationship is one-sided and she left eternal paradise to be with this jerk but oops- Alastor realizes how whipped he is for her and that he actually loves her

☺️

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Hi! I love your interpretation of the yan batfam so much bdnfbfkjfnd I was wonderong how you think Dick and/or Jason would react to a rather compassionate batsis?

She's definitely not on board with their obsession but she can understand where their coming from and gives them like ACTUAL compassion.

Ik you said Dick enjoys having a positive image in front of others most of all his younger sister, so how would he react to her seeing his flaws but still, being kind? Jason strives to be "normal", so much so he spirals sometimes, but like what would knowing/experiencing genuine closeness (not pity or false pretenses) change?

Idk if either of them would redeem their bad habits, but am curious to know what being truly seen and accepted would do to them, especially by someone they care about so much. The bats can have their walls pretty high up after all

A/N: sorry about the late responses. I've been out of it the past few days.

context dick context jay

Okay so when you are dealing with yanderes... you are dealing with extremely unstable people. There are so many ways thus could go but here's just one

Dick

Maybe your compassion makes Dick chill out a bit with his unhealthy tendencies. I think initially he'd still be uncomfortable and bothered that you can see right through him. You can see all his flaws and you don't revere him like the others which is bad. It will still anger him and he'll try manipulating you into loving him like everyone does at first.

A heart to heart with him could work. You acknowledge you know he's crumbling and has really horrible coping mechanisms but that doesn't mean that you don't love him. That you respect him even more because you see just how much passion he puts into everything that he does. It isn't his fault he craves so much validation when he had the upbringing he had but he doesn't have to pretend to be someone he's not to please you. That even if he doesn't smile as much or be selfish sometimes that you won't love him any less. You give him a space to be authentic with you with no judgment.

"erm,,,okay. I'll keep that in mind."

He's a bit taken back by it and doesn't know how to exactly process what you just said. I've mentioned before that he doesn't exactly know how to just be himself because for most of his life he was always being someone that others needed.

He's still on guard for a while. He will dip his toes in the waters by maybe not smiling as much with you or rescheduling your hang out session to go out on a date just to see your reaction. Did you truly mean it when you said he was allowed to be selfish? He was fully expecting you to hate him but seeing just how unbothered you were made him go...oh!

I think this shifts his obsession with you. He's still very much yandere but i think he's much more child-like ? I mean Dick still is obsessed with you and all that jazz but before, he wanted to be the best older brother/father figure. His happiness was dependent on how much you needed and revered him. But now you're becoming his safety blanket for when he's stressed, tired or upset. WIth you he can just lay on your shoulders without speaking and you won't even mind. He can be kind of assholey or dark and you will understand he's just in a mood and what he says never leaves the two of you. You won't take away your compassion or love based on how he acts...the first non-transactional relationship he's ever truly and it's pretty great. He finally feels like a brother and not like he's playing house anymore.

Don't get me wrong, he's still your older brother who gets on your nerves but there's just this mutual appreciation there that lacks with the others.It's clear to the others that he loves you just a bit more than the rest. When it's movie/game nights, he will allow you to sit it out or not tag along to restaurants. He's very protective and defensive over you. He doesn't feel as much of a need to do all that stupid crap with you because if he wanted your time, he could have a peaceful moment on the rooftops with you instead.

Jason

Hmm..i think Jason will just always feel a bit outcasted. There are plenty of people who do care about Jason in the comics but it's hard to relate to someone who's been through what he's been. It's just so unique to him. He knows you don't truly understand what it's like to have spirits of the Lazarus haunting you in your sleep. He knows that you cannot feel the pain of being replaced by someone you're now forced to see as a brother.

When i wrote my last piece a few people took it as me saying the reader found Jason to be odd. Really what it was is that Jason put those thoughts into his own head because he internalized the joke because of his own insecurities. The reader was perfectly fine with Jason being a little off...it made sense as he would've just come back from being dead and is trying to find a bit of normalcy.

It's funny though because while he's trying to be "independent" it's painfully clear he's still very much attached to you and is still unknowingly mimicking you.

I think though if reader sat down with Jason and explained he doesn't need to change or be "normal" because you love him the way he is, maybe he will relax a bit. But i think there would always be voices in Jason's ears telling him he needs to be perfect. My version of jason is around 20-ish year old who is a bit emotionally stunted and disoriented because he's just coming out of the pit. After a few years of being integrated back into the family he'll understand that you actually do love him as a brother and he serves a great purpose even if that purpose doesn't look the same as Dick's.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Shadowing Nightwing: Sneak Peek 🌗

⚣🌗 A/N → y'all...find me a church—QUICKLY! also, how a sneak peek is the length of most other people's regular fics is beyond me. I've truly lost the plot. this part was originally like 7k words, and now I'm close to hitting 40k again...god help me. WARNINGS: Omegaverse Dynamics | Yandere/Obsessive Behavior |Non-Consensual/Dubious Consent | Sexual Coercion/Manipulation | Physical Aggression | Emotional Manipulation/Abuse | Objectification/Dehumanization | Breeding Kink | M-Preg | Rough Handling/Manhandling | Degrading Language | Explicit/Smut |

⚣🌗 Summary → Dick's not happy after he and Y/N's first night out as Nightwing and Shadow. And for once, Y/N's not even mad at the Alpha's invasive hands and crude language—cause everything is going according to plan.

⚣🌗 Words → 3.4K

⚣ ENJOY 🌗

As they made their way back to the Batmobile, Dick’s possessiveness was palpable. His arm was a heavy, unyielding weight around Y/N’s shoulders, not just guiding but commanding the Omega’s every step. Each stride radiated a sense of dominance that was laced with desperation—a bitter mixture of relief that Y/N had made it through the night safely and simmering frustration over yet another failed attempt to secure a lasting bond. The earlier taunts from the thugs still lingered in the back of his mind, each crude comment stoking a fire of inadequacy he couldn't extinguish.

When they reached the car, Dick yanked the door open with more force than necessary, his gaze never leaving Y/N. “In,” he commanded, voice low and strained. The word carried the weight of the night’s tension and the unfulfilled bond. It wasn’t merely about getting inside—it was about re-establishing dominance, a dominance that had slipped further out of his grasp tonight.

Once Y/N was inside, Dick followed quickly on the other, his body angrily sliding into the driver's seat. Before Y/N could even fasten his seatbelt, Dick’s hands were on him, tugging him forcefully onto his lap. Y/N landed with a startled gasp, the familiar hard planes of Dick’s chest pressing against his back as the Alpha's arms coiled around his waist. “What are you doing?” Y/N managed, his voice tinged with feigned irritation.

“You know damn well what I’m doing,” Dick growled, his voice a guttural rumble against Y/N’s ear. His scent was overwhelming—an intoxicating blend of aroused Alpha musk mixed with possessive desperation. “I don’t care what front you put on tonight; you’re still mine, and you need to be reminded.”

Y/N tried to resist the instinctual submission that the Alpha’s touch elicited, but Dick’s hand was already sliding up to his throat, fingers wrapping firmly around the column of his neck. It wasn’t a choke, but it was possessive enough to draw a shudder from Y/N. “You let them touch you,” Dick hissed, voice rough with frustrated desire. "You let them look at you like that.” His fingers moved lower, sliding down Y/N’s thigh and pressing into the soft flesh, his grip both a punishment and a twisted reassurance. “No one else should be able to leave marks on you.”

The touch was rough and deliberate, meant to stake a claim that had failed to fully take root before. Y/N’s instincts screamed submission, and his body betrayed him with a shiver, a small but undeniable response that only seemed to spur Dick’s possessiveness further. Dick’s lips brushed the shell of Y/N’s ear, his breath hot and heavy. “I should’ve fucked you right there in front of everyone. Made sure they knew exactly who you belong to.”

The words were both an expression of dominance and a confession of insecurity. Beneath the aggression, there was a raw need for reassurance that only intensified the twisted nature of their relationship. Y/N’s mind recoiled from the crude promise, but his body reacted instinctively, his hips twitching against Dick’s lap in an unconscious display of submission.

“Drive,” Dick barked at the autopilot, his voice rough with unfulfilled need. The Batmobile roared to life, speeding through the dark streets of Gotham as Dick’s hands resumed their possessive exploration. The ride back to the manor was suffocatingly silent, save for the heavy breaths that filled the cabin. Dick’s touch was frantic, driven by a desperation that bordered on madness. His grip tightened with every bump and turn, fingers digging into Y/N’s skin as if trying to force the claim deeper.

“You’re too calm,” Dick growled suddenly, his voice rough and raw, as if the words were being dragged out of him against his will. His hands tightened on Y/N’s hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a bruising force. “You shouldn’t be so calm after what just happened.”

Y/N tried to maintain his composure, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “What do you expect me to do, Dick?” he asked, his tone low but edged with defiance. “Break down? Beg for your forgiveness?”

Dick’s jaw clenched, a muscle in his neck twitching with barely restrained anger. “No,” he snapped, his voice thick with a mix of possessiveness and desperation. “I want you to react—to feel something other than lust when I touch you.”

And that’s when Y/N saw it, the insecurity that had been eating away at Dick’s confidence for months, perhaps even years. It was the kind of vulnerability that would have made Y/N pity him in another life, but here, in the suffocating grip of Dick’s obsession, it was just another tool of manipulation—a reminder of how twisted their dynamic had become.

The vulnerability stung Y/N with a twisted kind of satisfaction. “You know, if you'd just gotten pregnant like you were supposed to, we’d be celebrating our baby’s birth right now,” Dick continued bitterly, his words both an accusation and a confession of failure. “But you… you keep fighting it. You keep making this harder than it has to be.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the cruel irony. It wasn’t that his body couldn’t accept Dick’s bond; it was that it wouldn’t. Every fiber of his being rejected the Alpha’s claim, repulsed by the suffocating nature of Dick’s obsession. And yet, here he was, being blamed for something that was beyond his control.

“Maybe if you were more cooperative, we’d already have a child by now,” Dick pressed, his voice laced with condescending anger. “But no… you keep resisting.”

“Or maybe,” Y/N retorted quietly, “it’s because you’re trying to force it. My body knows better than to accept a bond that isn’t real.”

Dick’s reaction was immediate. He yanked Y/N closer, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of the Omega’s inner thighs, right where the sexual glands lay. “Is that so?” he growled. “Then why does your body react to me like this?”

The vulnerability in his voice was unnerving, a stark contrast to the dominant persona he usually projected. Y/N could sense the desperation bleeding through the cracks, the fear that perhaps he really wasn’t enough—wasn’t strong enough, Alpha enough, to claim the one thing he wanted most. The failed attempts to impregnate Y/N weren’t just a personal failure; they were a direct blow to Dick’s sense of identity as an Alpha, a constant reminder of his inadequacy.

“Do you even realize what it’s like?” Dick muttered, his voice rough with suppressed emotion as he pressed his forehead against the back of Y/N’s neck. “To know that any Alpha—especially Leo—could probably do what I can’t? They could knock you up, make you smell like theirs, and have you submitting in no time.”

The mention of Leo sent a jolt through Y/N. He knew Leo was one of the few people Dick saw as a serious threat, both in terms of Y/N’s escape plans and as a rival Alpha. Leo’s interest in Y/N was no secret, and Dick’s paranoia about the possibility of another Alpha succeeding where he had failed had only grown worse over time. It was a twisted cocktail of jealousy, insecurity, and possessiveness that fueled Dick’s increasingly erratic behavior.

Y/N didn’t respond, knowing any attempt to explain would only fuel Dick’s rage further. The Alpha’s possessiveness was suffocating, and the fact that he was aware of it—aware of how his insecurities were slowly driving him mad—only made it worse.

“It’s like you want them to think they have a chance,” Dick growled, his voice thick with frustration. “Like you’re inviting it. Do you enjoy taunting me, baby? Do you get off on knowing that I can’t hold onto you the way I’m supposed to?”

The accusation stung, not because it was entirely false, but because it touched on a deeper truth that Y/N wasn’t ready to confront. The twisted satisfaction of knowing he could still provoke Dick, still maintain some semblance of control, was a dangerous game—a game that risked his sanity as much as it did his safety.

His fingers pressed hard into the glands, triggering a rush of slick and a faint release of scent that mixed with Dick’s own. The sexual bond was temporary, but it was a small victory that Dick was desperate to secure. “You know what’s driving me mad?” Dick’s voice was low, filled with a bitter desperation that was almost painful to hear. “It’s that no one can smell my claim on you.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the raw truth in Dick’s words. For the Alpha, this wasn’t just about marking territory—it was about reclaiming a sense of identity that had been shattered by repeated failures. “You don’t smell like me,” Dick continued, his fingers pressing harder against Y/N’s thighs, as if trying to force the bond to sink deeper. “No matter how many times I mark you, no matter how many times I knot you, shoot every last drop of my cum inside you, it doesn't fucking work. Why the fuck doesn't it work? It’s like your body rejects me.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in his chest, the mixture of humiliation and twisted satisfaction warring within him. He knew he should be disgusted by the words, by the crude reminder of Dick’s failed attempts to make him submit completely. But there was also a small, defiant part of him that reveled in the fact that he had managed to resist—managed to hold on to a small piece of himself, even in the face of such overwhelming pressure.

His hands slid higher, fingers pressing into the sensitive sexual glands on Y/N’s inner thighs—glands that were meant to carry the Alpha’s scent, to reinforce the temporary bond they shared. “These should be dripping with my scent,” Dick murmured, his voice rough and desperate. “You should be drenched in it, so no one can question who you belong to. But instead, all they can smell is your own fucking scent, like you're not even claimed at all. Like I haven't soiled you, haven't made you cry on my knot at least a hundred times, so every Alpha out there knows not to even look at you.”

Y/N bit his lip, the sensation of Dick’s fingers pressing into the glands both painful and arousing. The sexual bond was the easiest to establish but also the easiest to break, a temporary connection that had to be reinforced constantly. It was a cruel reminder of the limits of Dick’s control—a bond that could be formed in moments but would fade within days if not maintained.

“You know what that makes me feel like?” Dick muttered darkly. “It makes me feel like a weak Alpha, like someone who can’t even claim his own Omega.”

The confession was a stark display of vulnerability, a glimpse into the crumbling facade of Dick’s dominance. His voice trembled with both anger and self-loathing as he continued to grind his hips against Y/N’s ass.

Y/N’s eyes flickered with defiance, but he kept his voice level. “So, you think forcing a temporary bond will fix that?”

Dick’s response was a low, desperate growl, his grip tightening further. “I’ll reinforce it every damn day if I have to,” he promised. “You’ll never be able to wash my scent off you again. I'll make sure everyone knows you're mine, whether you like it or not. If it takes me filling you up until you can't take anymore, until you're dripping with my cum and screaming my name, I'll do it."

The words were a twisted blend of threat and promise, a dark reminder of the power Dick held over Y/N. His hands moved higher, sliding under the tight fabric of the suit and cupping the Omega's breasts. "No one else can have you. Not as long as I've got something to say about it. I'll make you come so hard, you'll forget anyone else ever touched you," he hissed, his voice a low, possessive growl.

The words were crude, filled with a brutal kind of determination that made Y/N’s body shudder involuntarily. The Batmobile’s engine continued to hum beneath them, the vibrations only adding to the suffocating tension in the air.

“You can try,” Y/N whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the Batmobile’s engine. “But you’ll never truly have me.”

Dick’s response was a low, frustrated growl, his grip tightening once more as he buried his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck, inhaling deeply. The scent was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to temporarily soothe the twisted sense of inadequacy that had been gnawing at him for months.

“I’ll find a way,” he muttered, his voice filled with a dark, unrelenting determination. “I don’t care how long it takes or how many times I have to do this. I will make you mine, Y/N. One way or another.”

The threat hung in the air, heavy and ominous, as the Batmobile continued its journey through the dark streets of Gotham. And as the Batmobile's interior was suffused with a heavy, oppressive heat, the tension between the two heightened by the confined space. Dick’s hands continued their invasive exploration, his fingers teasing the slickened creases beneath Y/N’s suit. Each touch was a precise mix of stimulation and dominance, crafted to reinforce his claim. Y/N’s scent subtly shifted in response, becoming softer and more yielding—a reaction his body betrayed despite the rebellion in his mind.

Y/N’s hips began to move unconsciously, instinctively grinding back against Dick’s unmistakble bulge. It wasn’t a deliberate action—more a desperate attempt to alleviate the unbearable friction building inside him. As he pressed against Dick, he could feel the Alpha’s body beneath him in even greater detail. The solid muscles were unmistakable, the strength beneath the suit palpable and unyielding.

Dick's uniform always did a great job emphasizing every contour of his athletic form. His broad shoulders were squared and thick, muscles bulging beneath the tightly fitted armor. The emblem of the blue Nightwing stretched across his chest, accentuating the pectoral muscles that stood firm like sculpted stone. Beneath the material, Y/N could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of Dick’s chest, the heat radiating from his body overwhelming, both physically and mentally. His own throbbing phallus member twitched against the tight material of his suit, each jolt of friction sending him closer to the edge of surrender.

Dick felt it, his possessive growl vibrating against Y/N’s neck. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice dark and filled with a twisted sense of satisfaction. “I can feel how much you want this, how much your body needs it.”

The words were humiliating, yet undeniably true. Y/N’s scent began to shift subtly, the undertones becoming softer, more yielding—a physiological response to the Omega's instinctual need for protection, for the Alpha’s claim, even as his mind rebelled against the situation. It was a betrayal of the worst kind, a stark reminder of how deeply ingrained the dynamics of their relationship were, no matter how much he fought against it.

Dick’s muscles were hard and unyielding, his physique built for agility, speed, and raw power. His biceps strained against the suit’s sleeves as he adjusted Y/N’s position, the movement causing his traps and deltoids to flex noticeably. His arms were thick, defined with corded muscle that spoke to both the brutality of his training and the relentlessness of his desire to dominate.

“I can feel how much you want this,” Dick whispered into Y/N’s ear, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. His hands continued to explore, one settling possessively on Y/N’s hip, the grip firm and claiming. The action pressed Y/N’s ass harder against Dick’s prominent bulge, emphasizing the unmistakable hardness pressing into the Omega’s lower back. Y/N’s small Omega cock twitched helplessly, trapped and pressed painfully against the roughness of the suit’s fabric.

Dick’s torso was as solid as granite, the defined abs beneath the suit shifting slightly with every thrust and movement. His lat muscles flared out in a V-shape from his waist, a physical symbol of his dominance, enhanced by the snug fit of his armor. Each movement was powerful and deliberate, emphasizing the sheer physicality of the Alpha that Y/N was helplessly pinned against.

“Say it,” Dick demanded, his voice edged with desperation and authority. “Say you’re mine.”

Y/N’s body ached, every nerve on fire from the mix of scent-marking, sexual dominance, and psychological warfare that defined their twisted relationship. Despite everything—despite the way his body trembled and his Omega instincts screamed for submission—his mind held on, clinging to the small spark of defiance that remained. “You wish,” he finally managed, his voice a ragged whisper, laced with both defiance and the slightest hint of resignation.

Dick’s response was immediate. He let out a low, frustrated growl, his hand tightening on Y/N’s thigh as he adjusted the Omega’s position. He pulled Y/N closer, forcing him to straddle the Alpha more securely, the new angle causing Y/N’s ass to grind harder against Dick’s bulging erection. The motion was both humiliating and electrifying, the friction against Y/N’s slickened slits adding a layer of unbearable pleasure that blurred the lines between defiance and desire.

“If you won’t say it,” Dick muttered darkly, his breath hot against Y/N’s ear, “then I’ll just have to make you.”

The ride back was a dizzying blur of aggressive touches and scent-marking, Dick’s fingers relentless as they sought to reinforce a bond that had yet to fully form. By the time the Batmobile pulled into the Batcave, Y/N’s body was trembling with both exhaustion and arousal, his inner walls clenching around the phantom presence of Dick’s touch.

As they came to a stop, Dick wasted no time. With a single, powerful motion, he lifted Y/N off his lap and swung him over his broad shoulder. The Omega’s body landed with a helpless flop, his face pressed against the curve of Dick’s back. Y/N’s senses were filled with the scent of the Alpha’s sweat and pheromones, the overwhelming aroma intensifying his body’s instinctual response.

Dick’s broad back was like a wall, firm and unyielding beneath Y/N’s chest as he struggled to regain some semblance of control. The prominent ridges of his spine were visible even through the suit, each bump accentuated by the strain of carrying the Omega. The muscles of his back rippled with every step, showcasing the powerful definition of his lats and traps. His narrow waist contrasted sharply with the bulk of his shoulders, highlighting the impressive strength that kept Y/N slung helplessly over him.

The Batcave loomed ahead as Dick strode inside, Y/N slung over his broad shoulder like a victorious trophy. The Omega’s body was limp, his breathing uneven from the rough handling and overwhelming mix of arousal and resentment. Every muscle in Dick’s frame was taut with dominance, his biceps bulging and flexing as he kept a secure grip around Y/N’s thighs. The stark lighting of the cave highlighted the rigid contours of Dick’s back and shoulders, the layers of his suit stretching over the powerful muscles beneath. His defined traps flared with each purposeful step, accentuating the sense of strength that surrounded Y/N.

Without pausing or glancing back, Dick’s voice rumbled low, the words dripping with raw possession. “Tonight, you’ll reek of me inside and out. And soon, everyone will know who you belong to.”

The words were a promise and a threat, echoing through the dim expanse of the cave like a verdict sealed in darkness. Dick’s gaze remained focused straight ahead, his face set with grim determination. The intensity of his forward march was matched only by the single-minded need etched into every line of his body—a need that spoke of a relentless desire to claim Y/N again and again, until there was no question of his ownership.

Despite the oppressive heat and the heavy dominance radiating from Dick, Y/N allowed himself a small, defiant smile. The road ahead was bound to be darker and more dangerous, but tonight marked a crucial victory. He had managed to pass the first test, and as the cavernous space of the Batcave swallowed them, Y/N knew that the game was far from over—it was only just beginning.

GET ME TO A CHURCH!

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers | part 2

summary: nearly a month has passed since you agreed to go to california with joel, and you think you might love him. you trust him, and he makes you feel cared for and safe, but he hasn't been telling you the whole truth. eventually, you make a shocking discovery that makes him feel like a stranger to you all over again.

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, DDDNE (graphic descriptions of blood, murder, and of captive/dead girls, non-con p-in-v sex (i'll say rape just in case but reader does not explicitly express non-consent), being held captive, degrading language toward victims/victim blaming, joel is implied to fantasize that you're dead while fucking you, kind of stockholm syndrome), non-con breathplay/choking, mommy & daddy issues, lying, gaslighting, coercion, manipulation, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart, babydoll, etc), no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 8.1k

a/n: this is the second part. if the tags deter you from reading that's okay, just pretend joel and reader made it to california and they lived happily ever after. i understand i've written something dark and heavy and it isn't for everyone, you are welcome on my blog whether it's for you or not as long as everyone is respectful of each other <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 3 (coming soon)

As the breeze begins to carry a chill that bites without the protection of a jacket or one of Joel’s flannels, the two of you have been spending the last month or so trying to outrun Autumn altogether as you make your way to California. You’ve crossed more state lines now than you ever could’ve imagined you would, and you and Joel have even made a game out of trying to spot the license plate of the farthest state away from wherever you are. He was impressed when you had recently managed to spot an Alaska plate in fucking Kansas, of all places. 

You spend your days visiting cheesy tourist traps and collecting cheap souvenirs from their gift shops, and your nights in motels or in his truck or in goddamn gas station bathrooms tangled up in each other’s bodies, unable to keep your hands off each other. The seal had finally broken just a few days after you had agreed to go to California with him, when he had laid his hand on your knee while he was driving, and you didn’t stop him from sliding it higher and higher, his fingers eventually making their way between your thighs and gently rubbing your clit through your shorts. Joel would’ve been content to play with your pussy just like that, pinching at your little nub and dipping his fingers into your drooling hole as he drove, but the noises you were making were driving him fucking insane. He had pulled off into a wooded area and instructed you to climb into the backseat, where he had shoved himself inside of you for the first time and fucked you until you saw stars. You never made it to wherever it was you were headed to that afternoon, deciding instead to just call it a day and spend the rest of it covered in each other’s sweat and come and breathing heavily into each other’s necks. 

You’ve seen new parts of Joel in other ways, too, in the time that you’ve been traveling with him. He’s been opening up to you, slowly but surely, as the weeks go on. You did eventually remember to ask him about that song you couldn’t quite make out at Moody’s, humming the bit of the chorus you could remember for him in hopes that he’d recognize it.

“I think I know the one, darlin’. Should have it on cassette somewhere here, ‘s called Alone and Forsaken, think it’s by Hank Williams. Hadn’t heard that one in a while, ‘s a winner, though,” he’d said.

You’d rifled through the contents of the glove box and pulled it out, excitedly swapping the tape with the one in the player and pressing the button on the dash to start the song. Joel’s fingers had begun to tap against the wheel immediately, and he seemed to relax at the sound of the guitar’s steady strumming. You had just watched him as the song played, admiring the subtle movements of the muscles in his face as he’d hummed along.

But he’d noticed your staring, after a while, and teased, “Y’know, really shouldn’t look at a man like that, babydoll. Might give ‘im some ideas.”

Babydoll. That was new, too. It had become his new favorite pet name for you, bestowed upon you when he had offered you another dress to wear from the stash of clothing belonging to Tommy’s daughter that he keeps under his backseat. Joel had told you eventually that he’d fibbed about his relationship with Tommy, just a little bit, and that he hasn’t actually seen him or his kid in quite some time. “Just kinda grew apart after a while, stopped keepin’ up with each other,” Joel had explained. “Jus’ never quite got around to gettin’ rid of all that stuff, I guess.”

You certainly didn’t mind having something new to wear, especially something as pretty as the little pink dress that got you your new name. Joel had looked at you hungrily when you’d first tried it on, raking his eyes up and down your form as you twirled for him.

“So pretty, sweetheart. Look just like a lil’ babydoll in that, don’t you?” Joel had complimented.

You’d giggled at the nickname, becoming shy as he’d stalked towards you and used a hooked finger to lift up your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his own. “Like that one, do ya? Like bein’ my babydoll, all mine?”

You’d sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, your brows peaked with need as your eyes had begun to glaze over from his gentle dominance. It had never taken much from him to make you start feeling a little floaty, even early on, ready to fall into his arms so he could make you gush onto his fingers or his cock or his tongue.

You’d nodded your head all syrupy and slow, making a little whimpering sound in affirmation.

“Say it,” he’d whispered, the hand propping up your chin slowly finding its way down to your neck, where it always seemed to land in your moments of intimacy. Joel had never really asked you if you liked it there or not, if you liked it when he squeezed your throat just right until your vision became spotty and your breath came out pinched and raspy, but you had learned to like it, to crave that guidance and control from him. He’d never taken it too far, just brought you teetering over the edge of unconsciousness, then allowed you to fill your lungs with air again. 

“I like it, Joel, like being yours…”

“Yeah… ‘n you’re gonna be mine forever, huh? Never gonna leave my side, always gonna belong to me, ain’t that right?” His grip on your windpipe had begun to tighten as he questioned you.

“Forever… ‘m yours, Joel…” you’d promised through a hoarse whisper.

A growl had rumbled from deep in Joel’s chest at your choked words, and he’d quickly let go of your throat to spin you around and shove you face-first into the creaking motel mattress, flipping up the skirt of your little babydoll dress and showing you just how pretty he thought you looked in it. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’d chanted as he caged you in with his heavy form, slamming inside of your aching cunt until you cried out, shuddering around him as he spilled inside of you. 

He calls you babydoll almost exclusively now, like it’s your actual name. Your everyday clothing consists almost entirely of frilly dresses and tiny tops and tight shorts from the supply in Joel’s truck, with maybe a few items he picks out for you at the occasional Goodwill mixed in. He’s made it so that you never have to think for yourself ever again, taking care of everything for you from picking out your outfits to ordering for you at the diners. All you have to worry about is being good, being his, his perfect little doll, and he says that you deserve a life as easy as this, that it’s the least he can do for you in exchange for your company, for being so good for him.

Joel does allow you to use your brain for some things, still, like bombarding him with the questions you’d begun stashing away in your mind all those weeks ago. Some of them he still answers vaguely, like where the scar on his nose came from, or if he’d been married before, or what his life was like before he met you. But sometimes you can get a story out of him, and it always feels like you’ve won the lottery when you’re able to get him talking. After the Hank Williams cassette had finished playing that day, you’d decided to ask him what he’d wanted to be when he grew up. 

He’d thought about it for a second, and then laughed at himself. “‘F I tell you, I don’t wanna hear any gigglin’ outta you over there, ‘s that clear?”

“I can’t promise you that if I don’t know what you’re gonna tell me. If you say, like, a rodeo clown or something, I’m gonna laugh.”

Joel had just glared at you, and you’d rolled your eyes.

“Fine, I won’t laugh, I promise. Just tell me.”

“Alright…” Joel had sighed. “I wanted to be a singer, actually. Believe it or not.”

You had almost started crying right then, the visual of a little Joel all those years ago wanting to grow up and become a singer being almost too much to bear. 

“Awe, Joel… You can sing? Can you—”

“No, I ain’t gonna sing for you. Don’t even ask, babydoll.”

Joel had seemed adamant about that at the time, but just a few days later when a violent thunderstorm was blowing through the town you’d stopped in for the night, you’d woken him up when you couldn’t fall asleep, and asked him in a trembling voice if he would sing for you. He’d just grunted and rolled back over at first, but you’d kept quietly begging him, and he eventually gave in to your little frightened sounding pleas. You’d rested your head against his chest as he stroked your hair and sang Alone and Forsaken for you a few times over, until the soothing sound of his voice and the quiet thumping of his heartbeat had lulled you back to sleep. The thunder had eventually retreated when it realized you weren’t scared of it anymore, now feeling safe and protected in Joel’s arms. 

He could only take so much more questioning from you after a while, though, until he decided it was about time for you to reveal more of yourself to him, and you’d thought that was fair. You’d spent a whole afternoon in the truck one day telling him about how your dad had passed away when you were still in high school, and how you’d always wished he could’ve seen you walk across the stage at graduation and go off to college. How he was the one who’d even encouraged you to go in the first place, when you hadn’t felt smart enough or good enough at anything to ever find the pursuit worthwhile. But he’d always been supportive of your artistic endeavors, the ones your mom had always called ‘useless’ and ‘a waste of time’ and ‘nothing that could ever amount to a real job’. Your dad had tried his best to make you believe otherwise, always proudly displaying your work around the house when your mother would allow it, and even framing some of it for his office. It was devastating when he had passed, but at least you felt you could make him proud in some way, by deciding to pursue a degree in art at the nearby state school. But then your mother had ruined your chances of ever finishing the program, and, well… here you are now. 

After you’d finished your story, Joel had comforted you just like he always did, promising to find you a sketchbook and some pencils at the next town you came across so you could keep nurturing your talents. He’d made good on his word, and now your time on the road is often spent sketching Joel, his cassettes, the mountains, anything you see that sparks inspiration and demands to be committed to paper.

Today, the two of you are on your way to see the world’s largest something or other in New Mexico, and you’ve become determined to etch a drawing onto every page of your book by the time you reach California. You’ve sketched just about everything in the truck at this point, and different tries at capturing Joel’s handsome side profile already take up more than half of the pages that you’ve filled out so far. You begin scouring the cabin of the truck, searching for something new you can draw. You eventually try bending forward to look under the bench seat, just in case you can find a crumpled up candy wrapper or something, but an even more interesting object catches your eye, tucked just behind Joel’s legs. It looks like an old shoebox, maybe containing some more tapes or things belonging to Tommy’s kid. You try to reach over to Joel’s side of the bench seat to grab it, and he almost swerves the truck off the road when he notices what you’re doing.

“What’re you…? Don’t touch that, babydoll, jus’ leave it alone,” he scolds.

You sit up straight again, taken aback by his tone. “Why? I was just looking for something new to draw, thought there might be something in there.”

“It’s just junk in there, baby, nothin’ you’d much be interested in,” Joel says, his grip on the steering wheel becoming more white-knuckled.

“So? I can’t draw some old junk?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Joel sighs in frustration. “‘Cause I said so, babydoll, Christ. Just leave it be, I’ll throw it out next time we stop. Find somethin’ else to draw.”

“Okay… ‘M sorry,” you respond timidly.

“‘S alright, sweet girl. ‘M sorry too, shouldn’ta yelled at you like that. Just… tryin’ to drive here, don’t want you reachin’ behind my legs and shit, ain’t safe.”

You just nod, popping open the glove compartment for the hundredth time in hopes that there could be something in there that you’d missed before. There isn’t, so you decide to pluck out that Hank Williams tape and sketch it again, humming the song to yourself in an attempt at self-soothing as you begin to outline the shape of it. It seems like a bad time to ask Joel to sing it for you again, but if you’re good for the rest of the day and make up for your earlier mistake, maybe you could hear it again tonight.

—

You’re just finishing up your sketch a half hour or so later, when Joel decides it’s time to stop for gas. You glance over at the fuel gauge on the dash, and it looks like the truck still has half a tank left, but you decide not to say anything about it. Just like he’d said when you had first reached for the shoebox, Joel swipes it from underneath the seat as he exits the truck, tossing it haphazardly into the trash can by the gas pump. 

“Dammit,” you hear him curse to himself, and you look out the window to see him staring angrily at the empty pocket inside of his wallet where cash should be. Joel opens up the passenger side door to explain, “Forgot I used up the last o’ my cash on dinner last night. Just… stay here, babydoll, gotta head inside ‘n use the ATM quick, alright?”

You nod obediently, and watch him take long strides toward the convenience store before disappearing inside. 

He’ll only be gone for a few minutes at the most, so you know that you have to make your move now. You’ve never had Joel bark at you before like he’d done when you had reached for that beat up cardboard box, and you still feel a little rattled by it. What could possibly have been in there that he didn’t want you to see? For the first time, you feel like you might not be able to trust him, and it makes you feel a little sick. You’ve started to feel like you might love Joel, and you think he probably feels the same way, even if you haven’t said those exact three words to each other yet. Someone who loves you wouldn’t hide things from you, would they? Especially not after you’ve already bared so much of your souls to each other, after you’ve decided that you belong to each other.

There’s only one way to find out, you decide.

You exit the truck quietly, swiftly closing the short distance between you and the trash can and peering into the black plastic bag that lines it. You fish out the shoebox from where it lays on top of other garbage, and crouch down in front of the gas pump to hide yourself from view. Taking a steadying breath, you carefully remove the weathered lid from the box and begin to examine its contents. At first glance, it seems to just be full of washed-out polaroids and a few random objects—a tarnished charm bracelet, a fraying ribbon, and a cracked pair of glasses among them. What is all this stuff? You think to yourself, Keepsakes from his former life, more of Tommy’s daughter’s things that he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of yet?

You pick up a photo laying face down on top of the pile and turn it over, almost immediately dropping it back into the box in favor of clapping your hand over your open mouth. You shut your eyes tightly as they begin to water, hoping that when you open them again, you’ll find that you were wrong about what you had just seen. That it was just a trick of the light, that it wasn’t what it seemed, that you had just imagined it.

But you aren’t so fortunate.

Your heart plummets into your stomach as you peer inside the box again, a sickly feeling of dread beginning to claw its way up the back of your neck. You examine the photo more closely, and it appears to be of a girl who looks about your age, bound at the hands, gagged, and naked. She’s kneeling on the damp forest floor, staring up at the photographer with a defeated, glazed-over expression. She’s bruised, bleeding from her nose, and filthy, with her hair tangled in knots and mascara-stained tears running down her cheeks. The photo looks to have captured her last moments alive. 

One by one, you quickly examine a dozen or so more photos as your pulse hammers hard in your throat. Each of them are nearly identical, all depicting a pretty early twenty-something, either restrained and begging for her life or already dead. They all have dates scribbled on the front that are spaced out a mere couple of weeks from each other, with the names of the girls written on the backs of them. To your horror, you notice that some of the polaroids even have bloody fingerprints staining their white frames. It seems impossible that Joel could be the one who took these photos, that he could be the one to reduce these young girls to nothing more than weak puddles of tears and blood. You begin desperately trying to convince yourself that this is all part of a fucked-up nightmare you’re moments away from waking up from, until a photo containing a bright flash of white catches your eye. You can’t help how your face contorts into a grimace when you examine the photo closer, your stomach lurching at the sight of the amount of blood spilling from the back of the girl’s head as she lays lifeless on a wooden floor. All that she’s wearing are her underwear and a white tank top, the ditsy floral pattern of which you could swear you’ve seen before.

You don’t understand why it looks so familiar to you until you spread around more of the polaroids in the box, and spot one capturing a girl tied up and gagged on a motel bed, wearing a baby pink dress that grotesquely juxtaposes the depravity of her situation. She has wide, pleading doe eyes and ribbons finishing the ends of each of her braids that kind of make her look like… a doll.

The realization hits you all at once, that nearly all of the clothes Joel has given you since the day you met him had never belonged to Tommy’s daughter at all, if he even has one, if Tommy even really exists. You’d been wearing Anna’s white tank top with the delicate floral print. Elizabeth’s pink babydoll dress. Even the clothes you have on now probably belonged to some of Joel’s victims, but you don’t think you can stand to find out which ones. 

Your thoughts begin to spiral out of control, an irrational part of your brain working overtime to come up with a million reasons why this can’t be true, that there has to be some other explanation for what you’re seeing, until you pick up a final photo, where the sleeve of Joel’s drab olive flannel is clearly visible in the corner. The shirt is tattered at the cuffs in the exact way that Joel’s is, and it has the same terracotta striping woven through the plaid pattern. Emerging from the bottom of the sleeve is a tanned, thick hand, wrapped tightly around a pale, fragile neck, with some of the girl’s blonde ringlet curls poking through the gaps between his fingers. When you flip over the photo, your blood runs cold when you read the name inscribed on the back—Ruby.

Your tears begin to fall then. How strange, how cruel, that fate has led you here, lured you straight to him. Someone that you thought you knew, trusted, loved, who’s suddenly a stranger to you all over again. You’ve just been doomed from the start, haven’t you? All along, it was Joel who had been responsible for building the trap you’ve found yourself ensnared in now. Ruby hadn’t run away at all that summer, hadn’t found a place she belonged, a place to start a real life for herself, a place to see her unlimited potential finally fulfilled. She’d met Joel, and he’d restricted her existence to nothing more than a polaroid that he keeps in a fucking shoebox under the seat of his truck. All along, this is where she’d been. 

You feel like throwing up. You’re reeling, completely horrified and sick to your stomach, your life as you had just come to know it having come crashing down around you in an instant. You quickly replace the lid on the box and throw it back into the trash can, hopefully never to be seen again. You scramble back inside the truck just in time for the convenience store door to swing open again, the little bell accompanying the movement sounding sharp and sinister as it announces Joel’s imminent arrival. Your pulse pounds erratically against your ribcage as you try to act as naturally as possible, forcing your shaking hands to look like they’re busy adding the finishing touches to your latest sketch. 

You don’t look at Joel as he approaches the truck, and he doesn’t seem to pay you much attention, either. He leans against the hood casually once he feeds the bills into the pump, letting the tank fill the rest of the way up with gas. You have to come up with an escape plan now, before your poorly disguised agitation gives you away and he figures out what you’ve seen. 

When his task is finished, Joel climbs back into the driver’s seat exhales a deep breath, like he feels relieved to have finally discarded the evidence so you’d never find out the truth about him. You’re determined to keep him clueless for as long as you can.

“Ready to keep goin’, babydoll? Should only be another hour or so ‘fore we get to the next stop,” he asks, reaching over to you to gently tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. You flinch away from his touch instinctually, then silently curse yourself for already doing such a shitty job at keeping up your facade.

“A-actually, um…” You swallow hard. “I’m kinda g-getting a headache, it really hurts. And I feel really s-sick. Is it okay if we just… go straight to a motel? I just wanna… lay down,” you lie, screwing up your face into a pained wince and wrapping your arms around your stomach in an effort to make it all more convincing.

“Oh, you poor thing…” Joel coos, placing the back of his hand against your forehead. “Y’ do feel kinda hot… Sure, darlin’. Think there’s a place not too much further down the road here, jus’ hang tight.”

“T-thank you,” you reply weakly. Your voice is coming out a little uneven, but you hope it just adds to the believability of your act instead of raising suspicion. You try to cover it up with a cough and a little pained groan, just for good measure.

Joel doesn’t waste any more time getting back on the road, and you stay quiet for the short ride to the nearest motel, doing your best to hold back your tears and even out your breathing. You’ll need to be calm and clear-headed in order to have any chance at escape, lest you want to meet the same fate as the dozens of other girls who were probably also blinded by Joel’s southern charm and good looks, who were manipulated by his lies and tricked into believing that he could give them a happy ending. Was he ever going to let you see California? Or had he been leading you to your death all along?

You’re going to be the one who lives. For Ruby, you have to be. For all of them.

—

Just like the first night you’d spent with him, Joel has you wait in the truck while he checks in at the counter and retrieves the keys to your room before coming back to get you. You fake a stumble when you step down from the truck, and Joel mumbles a ‘Jesus, babydoll’ before hoisting you into his arms and carrying you across the room’s threshold, setting you down softly onto the bed.

“Whaddya need, sweet girl? Water? Some crackers, or somethin’? Bet I could ask the front desk if they got some medicine or anythin’ like that,” Joel asks, sitting on the edge of the bed while you curl up and turn away from him. You do your best not to flinch this time when he decides to comfortingly massage the back of your neck.

“Can you ask, please? It hurts so bad,” you whine, unable to tamp down your shuddering sobs any longer.

“Sure I will, my poor lil’ girl… I’ll be right back, alright?”

Joel pets your hair for a moment, and the gesture would normally flood your belly with lovesick butterflies, but it only feels predatorial now, like a lion trying to convince its prey that it only wants to play, that it won’t be torn to pieces and eaten alive. 

Your body finally relaxes when Joel leaves the room, and you count out thirty seconds to hopefully allow him to reach the front office before you make your break. When you whisper the final ‘thirty’ to yourself, you spring out of bed and sprint out the door, almost tripping over your own feet in your race to reach the payphone you’d spotted earlier in the parking lot. You figured that trying to call for help would be a smarter move than running, and you’d never make it far on foot, anyway, not in the flimsy little dress and cheap canvas sneakers you’re wearing. You’d stolen a few quarters out of the truck’s center console while Joel was letting the gas pump, and you shakily deposit them into the slot, nearly dropping them. You punch the numbers 9-1-1 into the keypad, nearly ripping the phone clean off the hook as you bring it up to your ear.

“Come on, come on, come on…” You mutter to yourself, drumming your bitten fingernails against the hard plastic handset as the mocking dial tone trills in your ear.

“911, what is your emergency?” comes a voice on the other line, female. 

“Please, I need hel–” but before you can even finish the word, he’s on you, one large hand clapped over your mouth while the other rips the phone out of your hand and slams it back into the receiver. You kick and bite and thrash, but your pitiful attempts at escape do nothing to deter him. After all, his pickup is the only car in the lot, and your room is the only one with a light on. The clerk who checked him in could have never existed at all, for all you know. There’s not a soul around to hear you cry or beg or scream, except for him. You should have known that he would see straight through you, that he would’ve anticipated you getting curious and made sure he was always one step ahead of you. Joel drags you back to the room with a two-handed grasp on your upper arm, gripped onto you hard enough you’re sure his fingertips will leave bruises.

“No, no, no, please! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Joel!” You plead, using his first name in a pathetic effort to try to appeal to whatever morality he might have left.

“You stupid fuckin’ bitch…” he spits.

Joel kicks open the door to your room and flings it shut behind him so hard you’re surprised the wood doesn’t shatter, splintering into a million sharp little pieces. He throws you down onto the stained double bed you’ll be sharing tonight, if he doesn’t decide to use the yellowed comforter to wrap your lifeless corpse in later instead. You push yourself up into a sitting position and brace yourself for whatever he’ll do to you for disobeying him, for trying to escape. You’ve never seen this side of him before, never even come close to upsetting him like this in the time that you’ve known him. 

“Don’t know who the fuck you were tryin’ to call, but you better get it through that dumb fuckin’ brain of yours that nobody gives a fuck about you anymore except for me, you got that? Cops ain’t gonna do nothin’ about some fuckin’ runaway slut, ‘specially not one who’s got nobody to miss her in the first place. ‘S why you ran away, ‘s why I picked you up… ‘Cause we both know ain’t nobody gonna come lookin’ for you. Wouldn’t be able to find your body even if they did,” he barks at you, a huge paw wrapped in the hair at the base of your skull to keep your gaze trained on him.

“Please, please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t ever do it again, I promise–”

“Y’ know… I saved you from that hell hole, I gave you everything, and this is the fuckin’ thanks I get?!” The low gravel of his voice seems to be coming from somewhere deep and cavernous inside of him. It fills the entire room with a black smoke that penetrates your eardrums and fills your mouth with something bitter.

“I know, I know, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you–”

“Yeah, I know you weren’t fuckin thinkin’. Dumb fuckin’ cunt.” Joel releases your hair and you collapse in on yourself, beginning to sob all over again. You know it probably makes you look weak in front of him, but you can’t help it as the dread washes over you. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating, wondering if this will be the one mistake that seals your fate, if he’ll let you live long enough to see those aching little imprints on your arm from where he grabbed you bloom into purple-red blotches in the morning. With your eyes shut tight and hot tears streaming down your cheeks, you’re heaving, trying to catch your breath as you release broken little noises that sound like sorry, sorry, sorry. The repeated apology almost resembles some kind of prayer, as if that could save you now.

He lets you run the gamut of your terror for a minute before pinching the bridge of his nose, the calloused pads of his fingers squeezing that angry red scar that adorns it. He expels a heavy sigh and sits beside you on the bed, the springs of the old mattress screeching as they dip with his weight.

“C’mere, babydoll,” he says, quietly now, and you feel too weak to fight him as he pulls you into his lap and helps you to straddle your legs across his thick waist. You can feel his hardening bulge against your core through the thin material of your panties, exposed now by the skirt of your dress riding up and pooling at the creases of your thighs. 

“‘S okay, darlin’ I forgive you.” He lets you cry into his shoulder as he shushes you, rocking you side to side and petting the top of your head as if he were soothing a spooked little dog. When you’re able to take deep breaths again, your senses are flooded with his familiar comforting scent. The combination of his natural cologne and the softness of his voice reaches inside some deep corner of your brain that isn’t completely terrorized and disgusted by him, and it’s enough for you to lift your head up to face him again.

“Y-you do?” You squeak out as you sniffle, and Joel wipes away the last of your salty tears with one of his rough thumbs, sucking it into his mouth afterwards. He lets out a soft groan before gripping your jaw so that the fat of your cheeks makes your lips pucker.

“Yeah, babydoll… But why would you try to go off runnin’ like that, hm? Thought you were mine, my girl, thought we understood each other.”

His tone, the furrow in his brows and the slight pout of his lips make you feel guilty, somehow, upset with yourself for making him feel this way, for trying to run from his care and affection. “I-I thought so, too. But then… then I…” you stutter, finding it impossible to speak coherently anymore.

“Then what, babydoll?” Joel prompts calmly, stroking his thumb along your cheek as he squeezes it.

“T-the box… I saw—”

“Yeah… You saw my girls, didn’t you, baby? That’s why you tried to run, ain’t it? Look at me, babydoll.”

Joel jostles your face in his grip, and you obey his command, nodding slowly. When you look into his eyes, you finally notice how dark they’ve become, their usual warm amber color now appearing more red.

“You… you killed her. I-it was you.”

“Which one’re you talkin’ about, baby? Collected a lotta girls over the years, lose track of ‘em after a while.”

Your stomach churns at his callousness. “R-Ruby… I saw h-her. Y-you… you were…” You can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence, your words interrupted by your hiccuping breaths.

“Oh, Ruby…” Joel shifts his hips into yours, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest as he closes his eyes for a moment, turning over her name on his tongue. “Yeah… She was a pretty thing, wasn’t she? Feisty one, though. ‘Bout broke my goddamn nose. Wasn’t gonna be so rough with her, but… she practically asked for it.” He brushes his finger across the scar on his face, and your eyes well up again when you make the connection. “What else did you see, hm? Talk t’ me about it, babydoll.” Even through his jeans, you can feel that he’s fully hard now, turned on at the prospect of reliving those gruesome scenes.

Nauseating visions of the polaroids flash across your memory—the girl bleeding from the back of her head, the one with the cut throat, the one with her neck bent at an unnatural angle. “No, please don’t make me…” you shake your head at him, your bottom lip trembling as you fight back more stinging tears. 

Joel releases his hold on your face in favor of giving your cheek a harsh smack. “Wasn’t a fuckin’ question, girl.”

You use his loosened grip as an opportunity to try to scramble out of his lap, hitting your hands against his chest as you try to push off the bed and get back onto your feet.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t think so. Quit fuckin’ strugglin’.” 

He’s got you flipped onto your back in a second, with your legs dangling off the edge of the bed. He stands between your parted thighs, and you look up at him through blurred vision, one of his strong hands now attempting to cut off the blood supply to your brain as he uses the other to free his thick cock from his jeans. His teeth are bared, and the look in his eyes is faraway, as if the Joel you thought you knew is somewhere else entirely, miles away from this dingy motel room off the side of the freeway. He’s long gone now, replaced by this monstrous version of him that you don’t recognize.

“Keep fightin’, see what fuckin’ happens… I’d take the prettiest photos of you, y’ know that? Add you to my lil’ collection, have no choice but to be mine forever… You’d fit right in, babydoll, this perfect fuckin’ body.”

He slides a hand up and down his leaking shaft as he rambles, and it’s impossible to deny how much it excites him, talking about his killing, his ritual. 

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, promised myself I’d be done after the last one but—fuck—just can’t fuckin’ stop myself. ‘S just so goddamn easy,” Joel hisses through his teeth. His hand never leaves your neck as he flips up the skirt of your dress and yanks your ashamedly damp panties down your trembling legs. He flings them haphazardly onto a discolored patch of carpet in the corner of the room, and it makes you wince, imagining how he must’ve disposed of so many other girls before you in the same careless manner.  

As hopeless as it seems now, you won’t be one of them. You don’t have any other choice, you have to make it out of this alive, you have to do something.

“W-what… what is?” You manage to choke out.

Joel looks down at you, almost startled, as if you’re an inanimate object speaking to him, like he didn’t expect you to have a voice.

“Huh?”

“Y-you said… it’s so easy. What’s easy?”

He licks his lips as he thinks on his response, a sickly smile tugging at the corners. “Pickin’ up a pretty slut nobody’s gonna miss, takin’ her home with me and turnin’ her fuckin’ lights out. They practically do it to themselves with all their strugglin’ and bitin’ and scratchin’, just want ‘em to fuckin’—unh—behave.”

You whine as he pushes his tip inside your little hole, but try to maintain your composure. You think you understand now, why he’s acting this way. He wants you to want to be with him, and it triggers some kind of deepset anger inside of him when you fight, when you run, when you throw his affection back in his face. Killing the girls might not even be his end goal, at least not when he first takes them, more like an inevitable side effect of what happens when they try to escape his captivity and he feels rejected, hurt, tossed aside. And then he lashes out. And then they die. And then the cycle repeats. You’d lasted this long because you’d been the first to not reject his advances, because he’d seen himself in you.

If you don’t fight, if you can keep him talking, if you can convince him that this is what you want, you might have a chance at survival. It’s not much of a strategy, but it’s something, and it’s better than giving up.

“How… how do you d-do it?” you ask, a little less rasp in your voice as his grip on your throat begins to loosen, but his hand never leaves it entirely. He slides the rest of his cock inside you as you stutter out your question, and he laughs.

“You sure you wanna hear it, babydoll? Might be a bit much for you.” He’s fully seated inside you now, and the stretch of him burns. Even though the two of you have been fucking like bunnies practically every day since you’ve met, you can only fight against your body so much, and the fear you’re trying desperately not to clue him into is making every one of your muscles tighten around him.

“No! No, I-I wanna know. Tell me, please…” You bat your eyelashes up at him for good measure, and his canine grin widens some more.

“God, y’ really are just as fucked up as I am, huh? ‘S why I kept you around, ‘cause you’re like me…” He begins to piston his thick length in and out of you, affectionately tucking a lock of hair behind your ear with his free hand as he does. The other one constricts your airflow once again, and you stifle a whimper, suppressing the urge to argue and spit back that you’re not like him. “Usually strangle ‘em, little throats always fit so perfectly in my hands, jus’ like this…”

His voice trails off as he shoves into you harder, picking up his pace. Your breathing becomes broken and frantic as you claw through the black cloud closing in on your vision in your effort to keep him talking. “And then what?” you squeak out.

“Squeeze ‘em, real hard and slow,” Joel growls. “Try not to come in my jeans just from the pathetic lil’ sounds they make when they’re prayin’ to God to save ‘em. Ain’t so gentle with ‘em if they put up too much of a fight, though. Jus’ gotta cut the shit sometimes, slice ‘em open or split their fuckin’ skulls just to make ‘em stop. God, you’d never believe the amount of blood a lil’ girl like you’s got in ‘em.” He’s slamming his hips into your sore cunt now, both hands wrapped tightly around your neck as he uses it for leverage. You feel your muscles begin to slacken, either from the lack of oxygen or from his just-right strokes against that little spot deep inside, you can’t be sure. It was just a survival instinct, you’ll tell yourself in the morning.

“Yeah? It’s… it’s a lot?” you prompt, skin feeling tingly and voice coming out hoarse, sounding like it had come from somewhere else other than your own body. It could’ve just been the wind, a tractor-trailer whistling by outside.

“Yeah, ‘s a lot. Bleed so fuckin’ much, y’ think it might never stop. Just keeps—fuck—comin’...”

Joel’s voice breaks on the telltale word, his thrusts becoming frenzied and disjointed as he nears his release. A few high-pitched moans manage to squeeze past your compressed vocal chords, and they’re half-genuine, half-forced as a means to spur him on and speed up the process. The stretches of skin between his thumbs and forefingers are pressing down, down, down against your windpipe, and you plead with him as coherently as possible in your race against that darkness threatening to swallow you whole. 

“C-come, Joel, p-please, want you to—”

“Shut up, babydoll. Fuck… Eyes on me, c’mon,” he orders, shaking you by the neck to wake you up a bit, prevent your eyes from closing all the way. “Look at me. Just… lay fuckin’ still, don’t make a sound. Hold your goddamn breath, okay? Don’t even fuckin’ blink.”

He’s never demanded something like this before, but you aren’t exactly in a position to disobey. You do as he asks, and some of it comes involuntarily, anyway. With your hands laid at your sides, eyes looking into Joel’s own but somehow past them, unblinking, your mouth slack and lungs paralyzed, you almost feel like…

Like one of them. 

“Tha’s it, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants to himself, rutting into your limp body with abandon as he chases his high. You can’t help but let another tear slip past your lashes, and he doesn’t wipe it away this time. 

A few more bruising pulses of his cock later, and all the blood rushes back into your head at once as Joel lets go of his vice grip around your neck, collapsing on top of your still form and breathing heavily into the damp skin of your neck where your wet tears have collected. He stays like that for a while, still slotted inside you, and you let him come back into himself for as long as he needs, not daring to move a muscle until he permits you to do so. 

Joel slides himself out of your leaking hole when he’s finally caught his breath, grunting as he pushes himself up off the bed and runs a hand through his sweat-damp hair. He studies your abused form, then tuts when he notices the marks he left around your throat.

“Better make sure you wear your hair down tomorrow, I reckon. Got a decent record of keepin’ the law off my ass, I’d rather keep it that way.” 

Tomorrow. He plans on letting you live. Until then, anyway. 

“Okay,” you agree quietly.

Joel doesn’t let you out of his sight again for the rest of the evening. He’d helped you up off the bed and into the shower, where he’d cleaned both of your bodies and scrubbed the dried tears and sweat from your skin. He’d sunk his claws into your scalp as he washed your hair under the scalding water, and you wondered if the suds could carry even the intangible filth down the drain with it—the guilt, the fear, the defeat, the violation. You almost wish you hadn’t looked in the box at all. What difference would it have made, if you’d stayed with him in ignorance? Those girls are still dead. It’s not like you can save them now. You couldn’t even save yourself.

Joel changes you into one of his large t-shirts for you to sleep in tonight, instead of a frilly nightgown or something else short and revealing that he’d usually pick out for you. You suppose that the choice of clothing acts as a more visible representation of his ownership over you. He’s marking his territory, scenting you like a dog. Like you’re his bitch.

Joel holds you suffocatingly close to him in bed that night, his arms wrapped around you so tightly that it’s difficult for your ribs to expand. He keeps one hand possessively wrapped around the column of your neck, not squeezing, just to remind you what he’s capable of. As if you could ever forget. 

“Y’know what, babydoll? I think we could be partners, you and I,” Joel says in a slow, gravelly voice, right next to your ear.

“W-what do you mean?” You whisper back into the darkness.

“I just… I tried to quit, y’ know, but I don’t think I can. I don’t want to. Too damn old and slow to keep chasin’ after ‘em anymore, but… ‘f I keep you around, you’d just make the perfect bait, wouldn’t you? That pretty face, sweet lil’ smile, you could lure ‘em straight to me, they’d never see it comin’.”

“See… what coming?”

“My hands. The knife. A fuckin’ rock. Whatever, ‘s up to them.”

His words linger in the air, and you know you should say something, but how could you possibly respond to what he’s asking of you?

“You want me to… to kill—”

“No, no, ‘course not, babydoll. Wouldn’t even have to be in the room while it’s happenin’, would never ask my sweet girl to get her hands dirty like that. Jus’ gotta bring ‘em to me, tha’s all. Maybe go after ‘em if they try to run. I mean… you���d rather it be them than you, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Joel’s hand closes in around your throat, and you understand now what he’s offering you—a deal. Your life in exchange for helping him grow his collection of victims, helping him satisfy his urges. He’s made you feel indebted to him, like you owe him something in exchange for letting you live tonight. He thinks he’s found something special in you, a victim who finally can’t run away from him, who won’t, now. There’s enough of a connection still here, although held together by fear, that he knows you won’t try escaping again. Because he saved you, the first time from starving on the side of the road, the second time from himself. And you owe him your life, now, in some form or another. 

You only nod against the pillow, but it seems to be enough for him.

Joel kisses the back of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. “I love you, babydoll.”

His fingers press harder against your arteries, making it clear that you have no choice but to respond with what he wants to hear.

“I love you too, Joel.”

The words are still true, you think, somehow. But it just feels like you’re saying them to a stranger now.

You wish you would’ve listened to the one useful thing your mother had ever told you—not to talk to strangers, or you might fall in love.

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[klaus-littlestwolf]

YanAlpha!Klaus M. Mates the Last Omega

Klaus meets an Omega while searching for wolves to make Hybrids. She’s the first Omega he has seen in Hundreds of years and he knows he has to have her…even if it takes some intense patience on his part

Warning:This is a Yandere Headcanon and it is labeled that way for a reason, the behavior exhibited by Klaus is dark, demented, and extremely manipulative. Proceed with Caution. DD:DNE

It started out as a Headcanon but it didn’t end that way so I’m not sure what to call it at this point

~Klaus met you after finding out he needed Elena's blood to change his Hybrids

•The Hybrid had gone off by himself, leaving his sister behind, to find a new pack of werewolves and since he already knew where to look it didn't take long

•Klaus had walked right into the camp, startling the wolves who saw him before looking to their Alpha as the Hybrid knew they would.

•'I am Dane, Alpha of this pack and I'm sorry to say we don't allow outsiders in this camp, you may find the Shadow Moon pack to be more welcoming, they're about 12 miles southeast.  Leave this pack, now.'  The Alpha demanded and though he really wanted to laugh, he contained it, noting how so many of the wolves were shifting to a certain area as if protecting one specific tent. The tent being away from all of the others and clearly the largest one in the camp making Klaus extra curious though he would deal with the insolent Alpha first.

'That's good to know for later, thank you.  What is this pack called if I might ask?' He inquired, wondering if he should come up with a name for his own pack now, though that thought quickly fled his mind. Naming his pack would be inconsequential, he would just call it his Army.

'This is the Lycan Blood pack, and it is time for you to go, I am the Alpha of this pack.  You have no business here.'

'Oh, but that's where you're wrong.  I do have business here.  My name is Klaus, perhaps you've heard of me?' Everyone became noticeably stiff, once again shifting between him and the far tent.

'You're the hybrid.'

'Oh, you have heard of me.  Wonderful!' He grinned and suddenly the girl who had named him turned to the Alpha.

'Take care of her quickly.' He was officially intrigued when the Alpha took off to the tent and 4 of the wolves lunged at him at once.  It was far too easy to dispatch them, feeding them his blood and knocking the rest of the pack and the humans unconscious before following the Alpha to the tent.

'Please no?!  I haven't done anything wrong Alpha!'

'I know but I can't let him have you, you need to understand!  I have to do this!' Klaus peeked his head into the tent, seeing the Alpha with a dagger in hand, pinning another wolf to the ground, knees on her arms to keep her still as she still tried to kick him, tears streaming down her face.  The hybrid grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him off of her, quickly shoving a bloody wrist into the Alpha-soon to be Betas-mouth and snapped his neck.

•He had changed your Alpha that was trying to kill you before realizing what you were and the smell that filled his senses was like nothing he had ever experienced, made even stronger by the fact that he is in your tent that holds your nest (something he had only ever heard of before), he was obsessed with it immediately.  He knew as an Omega it would be hard for you to resist obeying an Alpha now that yours was gone and he knew he could take advantage of that as he watched you crawl away from him and up into the colorful, very well padded nest

•'Don't be afraid sweet girl, I won't harm you.' You looked up at him, tears in your eyes that Klaus wanted to wipe away but he wouldn't push you so far as to enter your nest this quickly, before looking down at your old Alphas dead body.  'I've given him a gift, he's a Hybrid now, never again bound to the moon.  You're a smart girl, you know that stronger Alphas will take over other packs, that's all this is, he's not your Alpha anymore sweet girl, I am, and I intend to protect you.' As he moved forward you suddenly hissed, swinging your claws out at him making him jump back to see he had nearly entered your nest and while the Original Hybrid felt he should be welcomed into the sweet smelling snuggly bed he also had heard how protective Omegas were of their nests and knew that if he bided his time you would be dragging him in before long, therefore he controlled himself...for now.

~He knew it would take time to get you to trust him and view him as your Alpha but he was willing to wait for you

•He eventually got you to relax enough to sleep, snuggled up in your nest and drifting off, allowing him to take care of the rest of the wolves, turning them and feeding them the Doppelgänger blood before getting rid of the humans and packing up everything his new pack would need to keep.  He woke you a few hours later and helped you begrudgingly pack up your nest and load it into his car to transport you to the next pack he had been told about

•He kept you safe in his house upon returning to Mystic Falls a few days later, having given you the master bedroom to set your nest in and that's where you stayed.  He would sit with you for hours, the first 2 days just consisted of him staring at you before he finally got you to talk to him which he counted as a win, quiet as you were.  He knew you eventually would, an Omega needs other wolves more than any Beta or Alpha does, they don't function well alone and he was going to make you completely dependent on him as your Alpha…no matter what he had to do

•'Eat my sweet girl, your Alpha made it especially for you.' He always referred to himself like this, knowing it would make you associate him with the head of your pack, as he hadn't changed you into a Hybrid yet, wanting you to be dependent on him first.

'Thank you...it's good.' You mumbled, reaching for your drink and touching his hand, the skin contact sending a feeling of warmth shooting up your body and making you needy.  Omegas are naturally needy and cuddly with their Alphas and your wolf has been quickly searching for a new Alpha to follow and you knew Klaus knew that.  It's why he isolated you and never left you alone but it was finally too much as you felt your wolf in the back of your head purring, your Alpha finally touching her after leaving her needy for days. 

Klaus watched your eyes glaze over and he knew your wolf was at the forefront of your mind, exactly what he was waiting for.  Klaus had only ever heard rumors about Omegas and since meeting you he did all the research he could, even compelling your old Alpha to tell him everything about you and how you behaved so he was prepared for whatever you needed.  'Alpha...'. you whined and he smiled, taking your hand and caressing the back of it with his thumb.

'Alphas here, Omega.  It's okay.  You're safe here, Alpha will protect you.' You whined again, dropping the plate of food and crawling forward, out of your nest and into his lap, nuzzling under his chin.  'Well, aren't you a snuggly thing.  My sweet girl, Alphas here.' Klaus was delighted by your attitude, wrapping his arms around you before picking up your plate.  'Eat Omega, your Alpha needs to make sure you're taken care of, don't I?' He fed her a bite of her pasta, digging his face into her neck as he heard her moan before the purr erupted from her throat.  The sound ran a chill down his spine straight to his cock, which was instantly hard pressed against her ass on his lap.

'Alpha?' She wondered and he nipped at her flesh.

'It's alright.  Alpha will take care of you, sweet girl.  Taste just as sweet as you smell, fuck!' His head began to feel foggy now and while Klaus didn't appreciate not feeling in control of himself, the overall feeling was quite...amazing.  He tossed the plate away knowing someone would clean it later, turning her to straddle his lap and pressing his lips to hers for the first time, his lips feeling like he had eaten pop rocks, a feeling that spread the more his skin touched hers.  He fell in love with her whines and whimpers as she pulled him closer, tugging at his shirt which he tried to keep her from removing before she ripped it straight down the front to get her hands on her Alphas strong chest.  'Such a needy little thing, aren't you?' His hand wrapped around her throat and pulled her up from where she tried to kiss his neck to look him in the eyes which were now golden and possessive.  'Did your last Alpha let you rip his clothes like this, or did he put you in your place.'

'Never touched me.' She choked and he tilted his head, confused.  'Said 'Mega's get in your head and make it cloudy...he only-only needed me to build the pack-Alpha please?' She pulled at his hand and while he knew he wasn't hurting her or even really cutting off her airway he eased his grip until his hand just touched her skin.

Klaus knew that Betas were more inclined to join a pack with an Omega, Omegas providing a feeling of safety which is what all wolves searching for a pack are in need of, of course he used her to help build his pack but not mating her?  Klaus had been curious about that but now he understood.  Many Alphas hundreds of years ago believed Omegas had the ability to control their Alphas because, as she had just demonstrated, their scent and touch can make their Alpha feel foggy but they feel it too, it enhances the experience of mating.  However, he knew that many Alphas some 5-600 years ago killed Omegas to keep them from "controlling their minds and stealing their packs".  While Klaus knew it to be a crazy superstition, it had seemingly worked out for him since the idiot "Alpha" hadn't touched his Omega.

'Alpha won't do that to you sweet girl, I will always give you what you need.' Klaus rocked his hips upwards against hers and his Omega practically wailed in need, his hard length pressing up against her through his jeans, though her pajama shorts that covered very little of her didn't do much to offer her protection with whatever kind of panties she had on.  His hands settled on her waist and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, face digging into his neck as she panted needily as he continued rocking up into her.  'There you go Omega, just feel me, such a good girl.' Another whimper followed that and he smirked as she nibbled on a spot at his neck.  Klaus only needed to rock his hips up against hers a few more times before she all but howled out her release, his arms tightening around her and holding her close as she settled down, knowing the more she touched him and breathed in his scent at a moment like this the needier she would be for him.  He wanted her needy, wanted her riled up and desperate as it would push her body to her heat faster because he knew the moment that happened it would be the nail in the coffin, she would give herself to him and there would be no going back.

'Nest Alpha, snuggle.' She all but demanded and he smiled, finding her adorable.  Klaus lifted her up and moved her to her nest, settling her down inside of it and handing her one of the stuffed creatures inside of it.  'Alpha, come.  Need you-'

'Not now Omega, Alpha has things to do.  I'll come and check on you in a bit, okay?' She shook her head quickly.

'No, want you in my nest!  Come!' Now she was demanding and he growled low in his chest making her squirm.

'Watch your tone Omega.  I will be back.' As he went to leave she caught his torn shirt and tugged at it, not meeting his eyes letting him know exactly what she wants which caused a smile to grow on his face and he pulled the tattered shirt off so that she could keep his scent in her nest before grabbing a clean shirt and leaving her to her inevitable nap.

•It's not like Klaus didn't want to be in her nest, he wanted it more than Anything!  But he knew that the second he crawled in he wouldn't be crawling out.  He needed to control himself and being surrounded by his Omegas nest, encased in her scent, wouldn't allow him to think of anything but mounting her and before that happened he needed her to be well and truly desperate for him.  He needed her to choose him when she goes into her heat.

~He kept on like that for a while, holding her and giving her bits and pieces of pleasure, but never more than that

•Klaus did feel a bit bad for it, he was truly falling in love with this sweet creature and she just wanted him to love on her the way her instincts insisted on but he wouldn't.  When he had come back later that night her nest was completely different, she had disassembled it and remade it in a different way, clearly thinking that her Alpha hadn't been satisfied with it and that's why he wouldn't enter it.  It looked incredibly comfortable and Klaus wanted more than anything to crawl in and never come out again, out of the nest or out of his Omega, but he couldn't. Not yet.

•He tried his best to keep her from thinking that he didn't like it but over the next few days as he could smell her getting closer to her heat she changed the nest 5 more times in hopes that he would like it. 3 days after he got her off for the first time, she finally hit her heat and he could smell it instantly

•The entire pack could smell it honestly, and all of them were quite stiff and unsure that day, watching Klaus as if waiting for him to snap. He didn't let her sit alone for long, not willing to leave her in pain when he could relieve it, but there was one more thing that needed done

•Klaus had planned to allow one of his Betas up the stairs to scare his mate a bit and make her all the more dependent on him but it seems the Beta he intended to use had beaten him to it when he thought his Alpha was distracted. He heard the Beta creeping to the door to his Omegas room slowly and quietly before Klaus turned to Mindy, one of his strongest Betas, and had her clear everyone out of the house for the night. He moved up the stairs behind his stupid Hybrid and he could see how desperate this wolf was for his Omega. He allowed the boy to enter his Omegas room without any complaint from him and he could see that the idiot boy was clearly excited. All of his Hybrids had been whispering since he brought his Omega back here, about what he's really going to do with her since any normal Alpha would have marked her by now. Some of them say he's just using her to his own ends like their old Alpha, some are saying he's going to kill her to keep her from having a hold on him, and some seem to believe that he just needs to keep her but that he's going to let one of his pack members have her since he doesn't want her...to Klaus, that was the stupidest conclusion they had come up with. But here this idiot Beta was, walking into his Omegas room as if he belonged there without a second thought. He cannot allow his pack to be full of men who would try and touch his Omega...he also can't have Betas in his pack that are this fucking stupid! Yes, it's true that he was going to have this Beta scare his Omega a bit like this anyway, but Klaus actually had hope that the Beta would be smart enough not to fall for it...apparently not. Klaus had known exactly which one of his Hybrids would be dumb enough to try something and there was nothing that could save him now…

•Klaus stood by the door, listening carefully as he heard his girl groan before smelling the air and whimpering as she realized the person who walked in was not her Alpha.

'Get out.' Y/n mumbled, writhing against the blankets uncomfortably. Klaus knew she was uncomfortable and scared now that this idiot was in her room and he desperately wanted to comfort her, however he knew that “saving her” would benefit him in the end. He was however quite happy with the fact that she only wanted him, rejecting this other wolf. Even after Klaus hadn’t given her what she wanted all this time, she still would only accept her Alpha. Klaus was fully confident that she was as in love with him as he was with her.

'It's okay Omega...I won't hurt you.' Klaus heard her let out a loud, angry hiss and he was actually impressed by his girl. As overwhelmed by her heat as she is, she is pushing through the brain fog to continue rejecting this idiot Beta. 'Alpha isn't here, he's not coming...but I'm here. I'll take care of you, Angel. I'll make you feel so good you won't even think about him again.' Klaus actually finds himself shocked at how stupid this Beta is, he knew he was an idiot and he had been meaning to get rid of him for a while, but if he's really this stupid he wants him away from his Omega now-Plans be damned!

'Alpha is gonna kill you for this.' She warned, and though it only came out a quiet mumble Klaus found himself smiling at how strongly he'd made his Omega believe in him.

'He doesn't care about you. All this time he could have mated you but he didn't, he doesn't want to Omega.' Klaus noted the Betas footsteps, not willing to let him actually get close enough to touch his Omega or to enter her nest. 'We've all been talking about it since he locked you up here...what's so wrong with that Omega that an Alpha doesn't want to mate her?' She whimpered sadly, the noise yanking on Klaus' heartstrings. 'Dane always said you were too needy, too desperate for this nest and for his attention. Personally I think he had the right idea, minus the not fucking you bit.'

'If you touch my nest I'll claw your eyes out!' She threatened but he snorted.

'You think you're stronger than me? Especially now? No Omega, now you're gonna put the claws away and do as you're told or I'm gonna do what Dane did when you misbehaved and I'm gonna take this nest away from you.' Klaus found himself shocked by that, Y/n hadn't told him of her old Alpha taking away her nest…maybe she hadn’t wanted to risk giving him the idea? That is one of the worst things that can be done, something the Hybrid would never even consider doing to his Omega and this idiot was threatening to do it during her heat! If Klaus hadn't already killed Dane several days ago (having been overly possessive after touching his Omega the first time), he would be killing him now…though now he wishes he’d made the idiot suffer a bit more.

'Get away from me!' As Klaus now heard the fear in his Omegas voice, he finally stepped into the room, rumbling a loud growl from his chest and startling the Beta who jumped back from the nest. 'Alpha! Please make him stop?! Please?!' His girl pleaded and Klaus felt his wolf howling in the back of his mind as he was overcome by the smell of his Omegas heat.

'What do you think you're doing in here?' Klaus asked, as calmly as he could which startled the Beta more.

'You aren't mating her, and if you're not going to, someone should.' The boy explained, trying to keep up his cocky attitude but being unable to keep the waver out of his voice as he grew more nervous.

'So you thought you would sneak in here while I was out, like a rat, and assault my Omega while she's in heat...if you truly think any Omega anywhere deserves that kind of treatment...then the world is damn lucky that you're not an Alpha.'

'I'd make a better Alpha than you! You leave her here alone every day to suffer-'

'Suffer?! She has everything she could ever need, she has her own room that no one else can enter and force her to smell other wolves, she has a nest full of everything she could want and I continue adding to it every day! I bring her meals and snacks, entertainment and I stay by her side everyday! Just because I don't force myself on her and make her take me as her Alpha doesn't mean she is suffering!' Klaus wrapped his hand around the Betas throat, pinning him to the wall and baring his fangs in his face, him whimpering like a scared little boy. 'You tried to hurt my Omega-'

'I didn't-'

'You threatened to take her nest from her for not giving you what you want. You threatened her...and I cannot let that go unpunished. No one hurts my Omega.' Just as he shoved his hand into the Hybrids chest his wolf began howling in the back of his brain once again, the loud purr that was coming from behind him was setting all of Klaus' nerve endings on fire. He felt the goosebumps rise on his flesh, every inch of his skin feeling tingly as he was overwhelmed by the scent of his Omega in heat and the sound of her purring just for him.

'Alpha...?' He turned his head to see her sat in her nest, her perfect soft skin now on display as she had stripped herself of her clothes, looking at him with a hopeful, pleading look. The sheen of sweat over her pale flesh seemed to remind him of how uncomfortable she must be and he jerked his hand back, tearing the mans heart from his chest and dropping it to the ground after using his shirt to wipe his hand off.  'Please don't leave me again...fixed the nest for you so you'll like it now...please stay?'

'You don't need to beg Omega, your Alpha is here.'  Klaus moved quickly, dragging the Betas body out the door before shutting it and moving back towards her, her scent overwhelming his senses as his mind became foggy once again.  He could see that her eyes were glazed over again, her heat taking its toll on her.  Klaus pulled his shirt over his head quickly, stripping his pants off as well as his boxer briefs to leave him completely bare as he crawls into her nest finally, being an instant relief to the both of them. Klaus grabs ahold of her ankle, pulling her towards himself roughly so that she’s laid out on her back now for him to touch as he pleases. ‘So perfect Omega, look at you…’ he hums, crawling over her and pressing his forehead to hers. ‘All mine now, aren’t you?’ She nodded quickly, moving her head to kiss him but he pulled back. ‘Say it Babygirl.’

‘Alphas! All Alphas now, no one else, never again! My Alpha…love my Alpha!’ She grabbed the back of his neck and pressed her lips to his now.

‘1000 years I’ve been waiting, you are never getting away from me now. And I will slaughter anyone who dares touch my Omega.’ He swore, lips still pressed to hers as he did. As he touched her Klaus found himself briefly wondering if this is what being on drugs felt like-every touch, every small brush of skin felt electrified and almost explosive. If this is what sex with his Omega feels like every time, he could never imagine wanting another women ever again, no other sex could top this feeling and he wasn’t even inside of her yet-though his Omega aimed to change that quickly.

‘Please?’ She whined, lifting her hips and rubbing her slick against his hard cock.

‘Please what, Omega? What do you need from your Alpha?’ He grabbed the backs of her knees and pulled her legs to wrap around his waist, her dripping cunt now pinned against him.

‘Knot! Please-Please Alpha?! Need your knot!’ His Omega was begging, she was a desperate little slut in need of his knot inside of her and the wolf in his mind was banging on its cage in his brain trying to get out.

‘You’ll have it precious, it’s all yours-‘

‘Mine! My Alpha! My Knot! All Mine!’ Her possessive behavior shocked him a bit, never having had a women under him before that would even think to claim him as her own. He was the Hybrid, he belonged to no one-but just as he thought this he was overcome with a heavy weight in his mind, his fangs pushing out of his gums as his eyes shifted to that familiar gold, dark veins forming below them. He felt no control in himself anymore as his wolf was now in the forefront of his mind.

‘That’s right pup, Alpha is all yours. No one else’s, not ever again. My pretty Omega, look at you, such a needy Little Wolf for me, need your Alpha to make it all better, hmm?’ She nodded, tears leaking from her eyes as she was completely overwhelmed. ‘It’s alright Omega, your Alpha is gonna take care of you so good. All mine.’ The growl that his voice had taken on clearly made his girl happy as she began purring quite loudly. ‘Scream for your Alpha, baby. Let all of them hear you in your pleasure, let them know who’s cunt this is!’ He shifted his hips back before pushing himself forward and filling his Omega with his cock for the first time. She squeaked a bit at the feeling of the stretch before moaning, claws digging into Klaus’ flesh on his back which only served to send a new shot of pleasure down his spine.

He began thrusting up into her at a borderline painful pace but her little whines and whimpers were driving him on. His wolf was content for the first time since smelling his Omega, driving his hips forward, fangs bared as he shoved his face into her neck and continued fucking his Omega. ‘Oh God! Alpha! Please?! Please Alpha?!’

‘Shh, hush now Little Wolf, I’ve got you.’ Klaus could feel how close she was, desperate to cum just as he was and as he felt his knot beginning to swell he pulled out of her slick hole and flipped her over. He ignored her whining as he lifted her ass up, presenting her to himself and shoving his cock back into her cunt. ‘Such a pretty Omega, aren’t you? Perfect little holes for your Alpha, I can have them all, can’t I? You wouldn’t deny me these lovely holes, would you?’ She shook her head, whining desperately and Klaus could feel her squeeze his cock, knowing she is going to cum.

‘Knot…Knot Alpha-Need-‘

‘I know Omega, Alphas gonna knot you up so good. Gonna be so full of me you’ll be carrying around my pups tomorrow-‘

‘Oh God! Yes-Yes! Please Alpha?!’

‘Does my Little Wolf want her mate to fill her with his babies? Fuck, you’ll look so gorgeous with your belly swollen with my pups,gonna be so sexy-I’ll never be able to stop fucking you Omega!’ Klaus felt his knot swelling as he knew he was close, needing to feel his Omegas pussy squeeze him the way he had always wanted. He trailed his hand down her spine, squeezing her ass and pressing his thumb against her tight little hole, receiving a loud squeal. ‘Cum for your Alpha, Little Wolf, squeeze my cock nice and tight and I’ll give you what you want.’

‘Yes! Yes Alpha! Oh Fuck!’ In that moment Klaus knew he had never felt anything more perfect than her sweet little cunt as she squeezed the life out of his cock, his knot expanding fully inside of her just as he buried his fangs into her neck roughly, finally marking her as his. His cock filled her almost violently with more cum than he would ever think he could, his orgasm lasting more than double what it usually did before they both collapsed.

His wolf had receded from his mind for the moment and he was slightly more aware of his surroundings, hearing his mate whine and realizing the uncomfortable position they were in as they had both collapsed awkwardly. He moved carefully onto his side and helped her move with him, his knot still trapped inside of her as it would be for at least the next 15 minutes, making him hold her hips to his gently so he didn’t hurt them both before holding her back to his chest and nuzzling her neck with a hand cupping her breast. ‘You did so good for me, Omega. Gave yourself to me so perfect, my good girl.’ He praised, kissing her neck over the mating mark he had gifted her and enjoying the soft purr he was rewarded with.

‘Don’t leave…’ she mumbled as her eyes drifted shut against her will, knowing she needed to sleep as her body was driven to rest as his seed attempted to take hold inside of her. They would be mating like this at the very least every few hours for the next 5-7 days during her heat, and even if he knew it would never happen, the Alpha inside of him was desperate to fill her with his pups as many times as he could during her heat.

‘You think I would leave you like this? What kind of terrible Alpha do you take me for Omega? I am not leaving your side once until your heat is over and you’re so full of my cum that you look knocked up already…I’m sorry that I can’t give you that…but we can have fun trying for the rest of eternity.’ He teased, nipping her ear and enjoying her soft whine.

‘Just want you Alpha…don’t need anything else if I have you.’

‘You will always have me Babygirl, I will never let you go. Never.’ He growled, thrusting up into her and enjoying her loud whimper as she felt his knot move. ‘Sleep Omega, Alpha will wake you soon when I will fuck you again before I feed my little mate and I fuck you in the kitchen. Just sleep little mate, you’re safe now. Alpha has you.’

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[yanderes-galore]

Sure! Here's a threatening Homelander who's desperate for his obsession's attention.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Homelander Prompts 49, 85, 90

“You haven’t been paying enough attention to me lately, so I had to do something about it.”

“I love seeing you so submissive. Give in to me.”

“If you beg enough I might consider loosening these chains.”

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Threats, Kidnapping, Restraints, Degradation, Dark themes, Forced cuddling/kissing, Creepy behavior, Some spicy moments, Forced relationship.

The worst part about Homelander is the fact you can't fight a man like him off. He's an entitled supe who's used to getting what he wants as Vought pampers him. He's a supe strong enough to take what he wants if it isn't given to him.

It baffles Homelander that you refuse him. He acts like he's never been refused in his life. Which, knowing him, was probably true due to how scared Vought was of him.

Homelander wants your attention. He wants you. So in his mind, you should be happy giving yourself to him in order to make him happy.

He originally had you able to free roam the home Vought gave him. With a little bit of convincing he managed to have Vought give him a home for the both you. After all, they'd give anything to prevent a scandal.

However, Homelander grew increasingly more irritated when you ignored him. You kept treating him like a monster, looking away when he came home and feeling tense when he held you. Your defiance drove Homelander mad.

It was hard to tell if he was oblivious, delusional, or just didn't care about his actions. Ironically his response to you thinking he's a monster... was to show he was. You just hoped he'd be nice... let you go... then you can never associate yourself with Vought ever again.

Yet instead he clips some chains to you, restraining your ability to move. Why should you have such a privilege in this house if you ignore him? Now he has to force you to look his way....

You were blankly staring down at your chains as Homelander walks in the room, eyes cold for a moment before he sits in front of you. You reluctantly return his gaze, hissing at the cold metal on your skin. Was there ever a day he didn't wear that ridiculous costume?

"We need to talk." His voice cuts through the tension like a laser, your heart dropping to your stomach at the idea. Talk... talks with Homelander always manage to unnerve you. No matter how hard he tries, they always sound threatening.

"Can we talk without the chains?" You try to bargain even now, only to hear Homelander snort in amusement.

"Without them? Do you even know why I put them on, dear?" Homelander grins, hiding his irritation. He leans closer, cupping your cheek as he strokes the skin. “You haven’t been paying enough attention to me lately, so I had to do something about it.”

You want to pull away but you know you aren't in the position to do that. The chains, now that their purpose has been confirmed, are a reminder of your "transgressions". If you want them off... you have to give him what he wants...

Just like everyone else in this world.

You force yourself to lean into his touch. The supe in front of you grins at the submission, standing up. You go to ask where he's going... only for him to settle himself behind you.

"You owe me, you know..." Homelander mutters, "I've been craving your touch for days now... It's about time you give me that."

You're harshly pulled against the supe, his strength a silent threat that if he applied too much pressure you'd break. You feel him breathe in your scent, lightly pressing his lips to your neck. You squirm uncomfortably against him yet his grip never relents.

"I'd kill for your attention..." Homelander murmurs against your skin, eyes darting over to look at your face as he presses your back against his chest. You know damn well he isn't bluffing. "Come on... talk to me... I want you to pay attention to me...."

At your lack of response, you feel his grip tighten around your waist. You flinch, feeling bruises form. Homelander kisses the shell of your ear, doing his best to get you to respond to him.

“If you beg enough I might consider loosening these chains.” Homelander purrs. "Give me what I want and I'll give you what you want... stop being so stubborn...."

The idea of the cold chains not being on your skin is tempting. Tempting enough to make you consider listening. Swallowing the little pride you have left, you lean into his touch.

"Please... I want the chains off..." You plead, trying to appeal to the monstrous man with puppy eyes. "I'll pay more attention, I promise..."

Homelander doesn't bother hiding the groan that escapes him as he grins. He then turns you around, the chains clinking against the floor at the movement. You're forced onto his lap... the supe pulling your face close.

"There's what I want..." Homelander praises, a hand snaking around to the back of your head. "Oh how I've been wanting this... now kiss me."

His last few words come out as a hissing command, his lips crashing onto yours. You can sense a hunger behind the force of his kiss. You hesitate for just a moment before kissing back.

The freedom he promised, even if it was only a little bit, was enough to make you choke down his taste. You feel him lick your lip before exploring your mouth. The hunger he has for you is overwhelming... the moment he pulls away making relief wash over you.

“I love seeing you so submissive. Give in to me.” Homelander praises again, hands roaming over you. You hate to admit it... but you're not entirely opposed to his touch. Most likely due to craving any sort of contact ever since your abduction.

"Now..." Homelander growls, holding your face up to look at him. "Are you going to pay attention when I want you to... or..."

His grip on you tightens again, an obvious threat to listen to him unless you want your hip to shatter.

"Will I have to threaten you with something in order to make you listen?"

"I'll listen...!" You answer quickly, Homelander's grip swapping to the chains around you. "I promise I'll listen..."

"Good..." Homelander praises, a devilish grin on his face. "That's what I like to hear...."

As expected...

Homelander always gets what he wants, one way or another.

[santacoppelia]

Putting the Meta in "Metatron"

(couldn't resist the pun, sorry)

Ok, this has been tickling my brain for a while. I've been thinking about how The Metatron designed his role and discourse specifically to manipulate Aziraphale into the end result we saw in the last minutes of S2. I become obsessed with it because… well, I'm a bit obsessive, but also because there were many really smart writing decisions that I loved (even when I despise The Metatron exactly for the same reasons. Hate the character, love the writer). If you haven't watched Good Omens Season 2, this is the moment to stop reading. Come back later!

We already know that in Book Omens, the role of Gabriel in the ending was occupied by The Metatron. Of course, the series introduced us to Gabriel and we won a lot by that, but I feel that the origins of The Metatron should be considered for any of this. He is not a "sweet old man": he was the one in charge of seeing over the operation of Armageddon; not just a stickler of rules, but the main promoter for it.

However, when he appears in the series finale, we first are primed to almost pass him by. He is in the line for buying coffee, using clothes that are:

obviously not tailored (almost ill fitted)

in dark tones

looking worn and wrinkled

This seems so important to me! All the angels we have seen are so proud of their aspect, wear clear (white or off white) clothes, pressed, impeccable (even Muriel), even when they visit the Earth (which we have already seen on S1 with all the visits to the bookshop). The Metatron chose a worn, comfortable attire, instead. This is a humanized look, something that fools all the angels but which would warm up someone very specific, can you guess?

After making quite a complicated coffee order (with sort of an affable and nervous energy), he makes a question that Crowley had already primed for us when asking Nina about the name of the coffee: having a "predictable" alternative and an unpredictable one.

This creates an interesting parallel with the next scene: Michael is discussing the possibility of erasing Aziraphale from The Book of Life (a punishment even worse than Holy Water on demons, because not having existed at all, EVER is definitely worse than having existed and ceased to exist at some point) when The Metatron arrives, interrupts the moment and signals having brought coffee. Yup, an amicable gesture, but also a "not death" offering that he shows clearly to everyone (even when Michael or Uriel do not understand or care for it. It wasn't meant for them). He even dismisses what Michael was saying as "utter balderdash" and a "complete piffle", which are the kind of outdated terms we have heard Aziraphale use commonly. So, The Metatron has put up this show for a specific audience of one.

The next moment on the script has Metatron asking Crowley for the clarification of his identity. Up to this moment, every angel has been ignoring the sprawled demon in the corner while discussing how to punish Aziraphale… But The Metatron defers to the most unlikely person in the room, and the only one who will push any buttons on Aziraphale: Crowley. After that, Aziraphale can recognize him, and Metatron dismisses the "bad angels" (using Aziraphale's S1 epithet) with another "catchy old phrase", "spit spot", while keeping Muriel at the back and implying that there is a possibility to "check after" if those "bad angels" have done anything wrong.

Up to this moment, he has played it perfectly. The only moment when he loses it is when he calls Muriel "the dim one", which she ignores… probably because that's the usual way they get talked to in Heaven. I'm not sure if Aziraphale or Crowley cared for that small interaction, but it is there for us (the audience) to notice it: the sympathy the character might elicit is built and sought, but he is not that nice.

After that, comes "the chinwag" and the offer of the coffee: the unnecessarily complicated order. It is not Aziraphale's cup of tea (literally), but it is so specific that it creates some semblance of being thought with care, and has a "hefty jigger" of syrup (again with the funny old words). And, as Aziraphale recognizes, it is "very nice!" (as The Metatron "jolly hoped so"), and The Metatron approves of him drinking it by admitting he has "ingested things in my time, you know?". This interaction is absolutely designed to build a bridge of understanding. The Metatron probably knew that the first response he would get was a "no", so he tailored his connection specifically to "mirror" Aziraphale: love of tasty human treats he has also consumed, funny old words like the ones he loves, a very human, worn, well-loved look. That was the bait for "the stroll": the moment when Aziraphale and Crowley get separated, because The Metatron knew that being close to Crowley, Aziraphale would have an hypervigilant soundboard to check the sense of what he was going to get offered. That's what the nasty look The Metatron gives to Crowley while leaving the bookshop builds (and it gets pinpointed by the music, if you were about to miss it).

The next thing we listen from The Metatron is "You don't have to answer immediately, take all the time you need" in such a friendly manner… we can see Aziraphale doubting a little, and then comes the suggestion: "go and tell your friend the good news!". This sounds like encouragement, but is "the reel". He already knows how Crowley would react, and is expecting it (we can infer it by his final reaction after going back for Aziraphale after the break up, but let's not get ahead of ourselves shall we?). He even can work up Muriel to take care of the bookshop while waiting for the catch.

What did he planted in Aziraphale's mind? Well, let's listen to the story he has to tell:

"I don't think he's as bad a fellow… I might have misjudged him!" — not strange in Aziraphale to have such a generous spirit while judging people. He's in a… partnership? relationship? somethingship? with a demon! So maybe first impressions aren't that reliable anyway. The Metatron made an excellent job with this, too.

"Michael was not the obvious candidate, it was me!" — This idea is interesting. Michael has been the stickler, the rule follower, even the snitch. They have been rewarded and recognized by that. Putting Aziraphale before Michael in the line of succession is a way of recognizing not only him, but his system of values, which has always been at odds with the main archangels (even when it was never an open fight).

"Leader, honest, don't tell people what they want to hear" — All these are generic compliments. The Metatron hasn't been that aware of Aziraphale, but are in line with what would have been said of any "rebel leader". They come into context with the next phrase.

"That's why Gabriel came to you, I imagine…" — I'm pretty sure The Metatron didn't imagine this, ha. He is probably imagining that the "institutional problem" is coalescing behind his back, and trying to keep friends close, but enemies closer… while dividing and conquering. If Gabriel rebelled, and then went searching for Aziraphale (and Crowley, they are and item and he knows it), that might mean a true risk for his status quo and future plans.

Heaven has great plans and important projects for you — this is to sweeten the pot: the hefty jigger of almond syrup. You will be able to make changes! You can make a difference from the inside! Working for an old man who feels strangely familiar! And who recognizes your point of view! That sounds like the best job offer of the world, really.

Those, however, are not the main messages (they are still building good will with Aziraphale); they are thought out to build the last, and more important one:

Heaven is well aware of your "de facto partnership" with Crowley…

It would be considered irregular if you wanted to work with him again…

You, and you alone, can bring him to Heaven and restore his full angelic status, so you could keep working together (in very important projects).

Here is the catch. He brought the coffee so he could "offer him coffee", but the implications are quite clear: if you want to continue having a partnership with Crowley, you two must come to Heaven. Anything else would be considered irregular, put them in a worst risk, and maybe, just maybe, make them "institutional enemies". Heaven is more efficient chasing enemies, and they have The Book of Life as a menace.

We already know how scared Aziraphale has always been about upsetting Heaven, but he has learned to "disconnect" from it through the usual "they don't notice". The Metatron came to tell him "I did notice, and it has come back to bite you". The implied counterpart to the offer is "you can always get death". Or even worse, nonexistence (we have already imagined the angst of having one of them condemned to that fate, haven't we?)

When The Metatron arrives, just after seeing Crowley leave the bookshop, distraught, he casually asks "How did he take it?", but he already knows. That was his plan all along: making them break up with an offer Aziraphale could not refuse, but Crowley could not accept. That's why he even takes the license to slightly badmouth Crowley: "Always did want to go his own way, always asking damn fool questions, too". He also arrive with the solution to the only objection Aziraphale would have: Muriel, the happy innocent angel that he received with so much warmth and kindness, is given the opportunity to stay on Earth, taking care of the bookshop. The only thing he would have liked to take with him is not a thing, and has become impossible.

If God is playing poker in a dark room and always smiling, The Metatron is playing chess, and he is quite good at it (that's why he loves everything to be predictable). He is menacing our pieces, and broke our hearts in the process… But I'm pretty sure he is underestimating his opponents. His awful remark of Muriel being "dim"; saying that Crowley "asks damn fool questions", and even believing that Aziraphale is just a softie that can be played like a pipe… That's why telling him the project is "The Second Coming" was an absolute gift for us as an audience, and it prefigures the downfall that is coming — the one Aziraphale, now with nothing to lose, started cooking in his head during that elevator ride (those couple of minutes that Michael Sheen gifted to all of us: the shock, the pain, the fury, and that grin in the end, with the eyes in a completely different emotion). Remember that Aziraphale is intelligent, but also fierce. Guildernstern commited a similar mistake in Hamlet, and it didn't go well:

"Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass, and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me."

I'm so excited to learn how this is going to unfold!! Because our heroes have always been very enthusiastic at creating plans together, failed miserably at executing them, and even then succeeding… But now they are apart, more frustrated and the stakes are even higher. Excellent scenario for a third act!

*exits, pursued by a bear*

[thefandomthings]

Okay HEAR ME OUT BUTTTT what about zuko betrayal part 2 with the prompt “you own my heart” 👀

Betrayal

Fluff Prompt #30: "You own my heart."

Pairing: Zuko x F/Gn!reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Terrible writing, happy ending? ¡¡SPOILERS!!, Takes place in Book 3. Ep. 11. It doesn't follow the script in the episode.

Notes: I'm so sorry I haven't been writing, I work in agriculture and summer and fall are my busiest times of the year and I lost motivation in the process 😭. But, hopefully I'm back. Thank you for your patience.

Part 1 Part 2 Prompt Event

Who knew betrayal could hurt so much. Chest heavy, heart heavier. Why did he do it? Does he think everything will be okay once he got back? Maybe Azula manipulated him? No. He did it willingly.

It's been weeks since the incident, a few months actually. You dont know what to do with yourself. Everything has been so emotionally hard. The long term depression grasping you in a chokehold.

The gaang has been there for you. Aang suffering from his own mid childhood crisis, the weight of the world literally on his shoulders. Katara tires to help as much as she could, but she is also dealing with things of her own. Sokka....was just Sokka.

After the invasion, you retreated to the western air temple. It was definitely a sight for sore eyes. The architecture was incredible. The Air Nation really outdid themselves.

"Y/n? Why don't you come eat dinner with us?" Katara leaned against the door frame of the room you are currently residing in. You look over at her gave her a small smile, one that didn't quite reach your eyes.

Katara didn't exactly like Zuko, having felt being betrayed as well. She has a lot of not nice things to say about the young prince, but for the sake of your ears she kept them to herself.

She grabs your arm pulling you up from your bed. You reluctantly follow her, head resting on her shoulder.

Today was a rough day. It Started out with a dream of you and him dancing in the temple. Oh so in love. Hands intertwined with each others. Whispering small nothings, butterflies occupying your chest and tummy. You woke up as if it was a nightmare, your brain toying with you like a yoyo.

Katara holds you gently, her hand laying on your head as if you were a child. At this moment you felt as if you were. Needing someone to comfort your aching heart.

"What are you doing here?!"

"Please just hear me out..." You immediately recognize that voice. It was him.

Zuko.

"Why should we? Huh?!" Sokka crosses his arms defensively. Katara flicks the lid on the water pouch on her hip, bending the water out.

You heart is hammering against your chest. His eyes immediately are drawn towards you. Zuko feels himself choke up. The sight of you made his chest hurt. The dullness you held in your eyes was unbearable to look at.

"Y/n...."

"She doesn't want to talk to you." Katara says, she moved to stand in front of you. Her body is blocking his sight of you. Zuko wants to reach for you, to grovel at your feet, to beg for forgiveness. Even if it hurts his pride, or his reputation. Which wasn't much good anyway. He had to make it right with you.

You are his everything.

"It's okay Katara." You give her a reassuring smile, it wasn't very convincing to anyone who knew you.

"What're you doing here?" You inquire and step next to Katara. Your eyes boring into his, he looked...Sad. Regret swimming in his honey irises.

"I've changed-" You feel yourself moving on its own. You hold your hand up, and he stopped talking.

"That's what you said under Ba Sing Se, then you left. Betraying everyone who cared about you. Especially Uncle Iroh."

That struck a nerve, his face hardens and he looks away slightly, eyebrows furrowed. His tongue darts out and wets his dry and cracked lips, his golden eyes looking back up at you. He steps closer, his hands clenching and unclenching by his side.

Zuko wants to hold you...Needs to feel you against him. To kiss you, to be with you. He needs you like he needs air, without you he's nothing, just a shell of the man he was before he lost you.

"Y/n, please...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Zukos voice cracks slightly.

You purse your lips together tightly.

It's so very tempting to close the gap between the two of you, forgiving him just felt right. Maybe it was just the your heart talking over logic. Your headspace is messed up severely, the wound is still fresh in your brain and heart.

"Zuko-"

Katara stops you, stepping in front of you.

"Leave. You've done enough, you are not welcome here."

"Y/n...please." It was strange seeing him so weak for once, pleading you. Practically on his knees for forgiveness.

"You own my heart."

It hurt you to watch him get treated so badly. He deserved it, mostly. Everyone has the right to be angry with him. Chasing Aang across the globe, trying to kill you then after everything at Ba sing se. It was almost unforgivable. Almost.

•°•°•°•

Taglist: @etherjen @xlatinaaxx @youngladysakura @m4rlvky @kitt38 @monysakura @kenqki @rdpiano @mikemakesartt @thigh-o-saur @chi-ara @kookiegirl444 @snixx2088 @zacatecanaaaa

[just-some-random-blogger]

You'll Remember You Belong To Me

Loving and leaving Daemon were the two best things you ever did in your life. He disagrees with the latter, however, and is convinced you'll come back.

Mafia!Daemon Targaryen x Estranged!Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, modern au, toxic!Daemon, mom!reader, exes trope, manipulation, typos, etc.

A/N: HI everyone. it's been so long since I've written anything ): I JUST CANT WRITE HUHUH but inspiration struck me so im running with it!! this is inspired by You'll Be Back from Hamilton so I suggest you give it a listen! Also it's kinda fucked up so read dis with care!!!!

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @thebullship @sa3losa

"Papa!" a hushed but excited voice calls.

Daemon grins and gets down on one knee. The little boy with burning white hair runs towards his papa's open arms and jumps into them.

Daemon embraces and kisses his son. He then throws him over his shoulder as he stands, making him giggle. The man asks as he head over to the open door, "where's mummy?"

"Cooking with Vivi."

"Oh," Daemon walks inside and takes his shoes off, "do you and Visenya help mummy cook?"

The boy cheers, way too loudly to his father's taste, "YES!"

Daemon immediately hushes the boy and sets him down. The boy is red in the face and giggling. Daemon gives him a lopsided smile and brushes his bangs out of his face, "remember what I told you, lovie? About keepin' a low profile."

The boy nods, "it's our secret mission," he raises a finger to his lips, "a surprise for mummy!"

Daemon chuckles, "very good, Baelon."

Baelon grins from ear to ear.

"Now, before we surprise mummy, tell me where you put the phone I gave you."

"I hid it underneath my toy box! Mummy never looks there."

Daemon pinches his son's cheeks, "good boy."

Baelon giggles under his breath.

"Remember not to let your mother catch you when I call again, okay?"

He nods.

"Right," Daemon stands, "you can go tell mummy daddy's home now."

With that, Baelon runs off and practically busts a lung screaming, "PAPA'S HERE!"

Daemon follows the child, and hears a high pitched squeal from the kitchen. Soon enough, his beloved Visenya is running towards him, "PAAAPPPAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"

Daemon scoops up the little girl in his arms and covers her face with kisses, "ah, my baby girl."

He twirls the girl around and after a 360, he is met with a deathly glare. Daemon smirks, "hello, baby girl."

"I am not your baby girl," you snap as you march towards him. You mutter under a groan, "and you're not supposed to be here."

Visenya tightens her arms around her father's neck. At a point, her blonde hair looks like it was Daemon's. He blows a raspberry onto her neck, his eyes on you the entire time, "my place is where my family is."

It takes everything in you not to explode, but you don't; you'd never do that in front of your kids.

Daemon knew that well.

That didn't stop you speaking your mind though, "this is from the man that uprooted our life in King's Landing because of a business plan gone wrong."

That makes Daemon tick. He puts down Visenya, much to her displeasure. The girl claws at Daemon's jeans, wanting to be in the arms of her father again but is ultimately ignored. "You knew what you were getting into when you married me."

"That's why I know better than to let the man I once loved conceal, lie, and cheat on me."

Your words really sink into him when you pick up Visenya when she burst into tears. Of course, she wanted nothing to do with you and so desperately clawed out to him, but the image was really sobering.

At least for a moment.

"Give her to me," Daemon says.

You glare at him and mouth threats laced with curse words.

Baelon runs up to him with a toy bus, "papa, can we play?"

Daemon looks down at his son and smiles. He crouches down, "of course, darling," he looks up at you, "we'll play with Vivi."

Visenya immediately wrangles out of your arms and you have no choice but to set her down.

As much as you wanted to grind his guts, you knew your children loved their dad. They so obviously missed him dearly.

Daemon sprawls belly-down on the floor without hesitation. Visenya and Baelon fall into their usual play mode and you take a deep breath before heading back to the kitchen to finish cooking.

By the time you were finished and calling for them and their joke-of-a-father to come to the table for lunch, you find yourself alone by the dining table waiting for seemingly nothing.

You were about to go get your kids, that is until Daemon walked over.

Your face immediately morphs into distaste. It makes Daemon chuckle, "that bad?"

"Where are my babies?"

"Our babies are napping," he says, pulling a chair back. He sits down and tilts his head, "I'm here though."

You make a disgusted face.

Daemon laughs. He missed your face very much.

You cross your arms, "what did you do to them?"

"You're accusing me of doing something to my children?" he chuckles in disbelief as places a hand on his chest.

"They never need to take naps."

Daemon shrugs, "you don't play with them hard enough."

He realizes his mistake when your face contorts.

"I didn't hurt them," he waves his hands, "I just made them chase each other around until they burned out."

"Good then," you point to the door, "leave."

He narrows his eyes in offence, "I promised I'd be here when they woke up."

You throw your head back in laughter, though you found no amusement in his words, "that wouldn't be the first time you lied."

"I've never lied to Baelon or Visenya."

"You think you deserve a consolation for that?" you snap, turning around to lean on the sink. You wash your hands even though you've just washed them, "I told you I would leave. I told you I would leave you if you kept up your bullshit."

Daemon stands and walks towards you.

You don't look back but you knew he was closing in. You didn't need to look; you could feel him. You knew exactly what he would do because you knew him like the back of your hand.

This was why before he could do anything, you turned away and flicked water into his face.

Daemon stills in his spot, taken off-guard.

You decide to finish cleaning up before you eat.

He wipes his face, "and I told you you'll be back."

You scoff as you tidy the counter, "am I the one crawling back?"

"Is that what you want?" Daemon raises a brow as he walks over.

You still in your spot when he drops to his knees.

"I'll crawl and beg," he whispers as if it was something solemn.

You watch him inch closer and before you have the brain to move, you let out a gasp when he grabs your thigh.

It didn't help that his palms were warm and your skin was cool from wearing shorts and damp from washing dishes. It didn't help that you hadn't been touched for so long and that your skin grew goosebumps.

It didn't help that he had it all figured out.

He kissed your thigh once and the next moment, he had you pressed against the counter, nose to nose, forehead to forehead, nearly lips to lips.

Daemon traps you between his arms, hands gripping the counter on both your sides.

You could smell him so clearly now. It did something to your stomach. Your hands wanted to instinctively reach out to him, but you thanked the gods you knew better than that.

"I'll atone for my sins whichever way you want," he murmurs, "just let me see my kids."

You press your hands on his chest, ready to pull him away, "I know better than to believe you."

Daemon waits for you to push him back. When you don't, he doesn't hide his smile. He grins and takes your hands, kissing them.

Your breath is pulled out of your lungs.

He shakes his head, "you don't have to believe me. You just have to watch me."

It wasn't right, but the feeling of his lips on your skin was too familiar to resist. Daemon kisses your hands, up to your wrists, up to your shoulders, then your lips were trapped between his teeth and you were pulling him in.

The only reason you stopped was because Visenya walked in on you, scratching her eye, asking if she could have help getting a plate of food.

You watch as Daemon smiles at her. You watch as your daughter giggles as her papa gives her a plate and kisses her cheek before telling her he's going to go wake her brother up.

You watch as he carries Baleon and sits him down next to him. You watch him dote on them and it nearly makes you forgive and forget all he's done.

Daemon knows better than to think you'd do anything of the sort.

And even though you sit across from him holding a look of spite, he gives smirks back and prepares you a plate.

[utilitycaster]

started to go on a tangent in the previous post but something I wish we could have seen in Campaign 3 in much more detail is the stories of parental abandonment and the way people mythologize those absences, because it's a throughline for Imogen, Fearne, and Ashton and to an extent Chetney. I think Fearne's is the most realized by far; she realizes that her parents were manipulated, but also that her ideas of them were nostalgia, and she develops a closer relationship over the series but it's still very marked by distance that would not have been there, had she been raised by them. Ashton's is rather frustrating, in that their response immediately post Shardgate was incredible: they realized they had been hoping, despite all everyone had said and every sign to the contrary, that their parents were visionaries and something just went wrong, but no, their parents did a cult ritual with a child present because they thought they were destined for greatness, and it went to shit, and had it not and had he stayed there he would have become a cruel person. It's frustrating because that realization seemed to utterly vanish a few days later in-game but the initial exploration was excellent.

And then there's Imogen and Liliana, and I think what gets me is that sure, Relvin lying was not a great choice on his behalf despite there being no ill intent behind it, and indeed had he told the truth, that Liliana left when Imogen was a baby and never sent a single litter for over a quarter century, I think the story would be very different (and, in my mind, better). But Liliana was unambiguously unhelpful and antagonistic, consistently, until Imogen managed to sway her on Ruidus based on a lie (that she didn't know about the assassination attempt) (I do not blame Imogen for lying about this, incidentally, this is about Liliana ONLY becoming helpful when her daughter withheld the truth from her for her (Imogen's) own safety). And it's just...I think a lot of fantasy narratives go too far in the other direction, of "fuck them, found family only, no contact immediately" but Liliana didn't do jack fucking shit for Imogen for years and months, and at what point do you give up on the myth? Again, why does Imogen care so much about this woman? Zathuda is a fucking horrible asshole, and I like the Gentleman but he's certainly not a good person, and somehow both of them managed to realize that given that they'd been absent for their children's entire lives they are parents in a biological sense and little more.

That doesn't even mean it's bad for Imogen to make the choices she does; it's just, I'd like to have an understanding of what is making her say "ok, absolute jack shit in 28 years plus untold harm to the world at large is fine because of two or three things in the past few days", and I've never felt like we've gotten anything but "but she's her mother." And two other characters in this campaign (and many in past campaigns) have at least for a while explored why that's not enough.

[kiwicopia]

🔞 MDNI | Yan!Gojo x GN!Reader (drabble) 🔞

It's been a hot minute since I've written something yandere. And I just know this man would be the most dangerous yandere.

TW: yandere tendencies, obsession, delusional Gojo, kidnapping, some violence & gore, stalking, manipulation & blackmail, reader gets put into a dangerous situation.

"I love you means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me."

Satoru was a simple man. He often saw something he liked and just had to have it, no matter what. It was always items, though, yet this time it just so happened to be a person. You. He didn't even have to use his six eyes to know you were special. All he did was see you in a café, sipping on your beverage and nibbling on a muffin, and he was hooked. With swift steps he entered the establishment and played it off as being just another customer, all so he could see you close up. You were too caught up with reading something on your phone to even notice his glances every now and then. Oh, he could just snatch you up right here and now if he wanted to, but he decided to wait.

He followed you to your apartment that night. Just a bit of reconnaissance for a little plan he was cooking up. He knew where you lived now and would oftentimes "visit" when you were either asleep or not at home. Satoru got a feel for your dingy, little apartment. The corners of his lips curled upwards as he sat on your couch. There honestly wasn't a piece of furniture in your apartment that this man hadn't touched, and your bedroom was definitely no exception. His hand smoothed out the little wrinkles in your duvet, and his mind wandered to many thoughts. This is where they sleep. This is where they do things.

His smile only broadened when his mind grew a bit more perverse with his thoughts. He thought about what it would be like when he finally had you beneath him. The faces you'd make. The sounds falling from your lips. Oh god, it was enough to make him cum right in his pants. You wouldn't mind, though, would you? If he relieved himself in your bathroom? With your underwear wrapped around his eager cock? His only thoughts being of you. You were none the wiser of the little stains he left.

As eager as he was, Satoru was a patient man. A patient and delusional man whose only thoughts revolved around you and only you. He couldn't even do his job and take care of some measly low grade curses. He'd slip up and get a small injury, but that wasn't what would anger him. It's the fact that they had the audacity to pull him away from his thoughts about you. Any sorcerers watching could tell that their senior had gone a bit overboard with eliminating the curses, but they kept their mouths shut. In fact, they kept quiet about everything.

They knew how delusional that man was. He talked about you non-stop. Gushed over you as if he was married to you. No one wanted to tell him he was crazy. That none of it was real. "No" wasn't really a word in his dictionary. Everyone knew what would happen when he got his hands on you, but no one said or did anything. How could they? He was THE Gojo Satoru. Anyone with half a brain would know not to get in his way when he had his eyes set on something, or someone in this case.

As much patience as he had, it would wear thin some day, and that day was today. Doing another one of his little rounds of stalking following you, he was able to pinpoint the exact days and times you'd frequent that little coffee shop, amongst other places. What he didn't expect, however, was to see some man, some complete stranger, talking you up at a table. Then you laughed at one of the man's jokes. You laughed. Oh, it made Satoru's blood boil so badly that he had to fight himself from waltzing inside and killing that man where he stood. He didn't want to scare you, so he hid in plain sight and waited until the two of you went your separate ways, leaving each other with the promise of a date.

That man would never make it to the date. Satoru knew what he did was wrong, but it felt too good at the moment for him to even care. That and he just couldn't sit idly by and let you spend even a second with someone that wasn't him. Crimson stained his face, hair, and his clothes as he stared down at the torn corpse on the ground. He held no remorse for what he did. In fact, it felt liberating to have ripped someone's spine out. It was as though he was doing you a service. This man wasn't worth your time, darling, trust him. He had your best interests in mind. But he can't deny the pain he felt when showing up to what would've been the date and seeing your saddened expression. Oh dear, you poor little thing. He wanted to swoop in and hold you, comfort you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear to make you feel better, but he knew better.

The interaction part of his plan wasn't ready yet. Satoru still had some things to take care of and a home to get ready for your arrival. He was a calculated man and knew how to sever your relationships with friends and family. He wanted to leave you with no one to rely on so that when he stepped in, well, you'd just have to rely on him then. Right? His plan was flawless. Until you began suspecting things. Satoru didn't like how smart you were, but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't attractive. He started treating it like a game now. Could he cover his tracks up, or would you figure him out?

In the end, you never did get the chance to piece everything together. After all, you didn't know him, but he knew you. After two weeks of slowly manipulating your life into how he wanted it to be, ultimately leaving you with no one, he decided to wrap up his little plan. You could see curses for some reason, which he found out on one of his little jobs. This got him thinking shortly after and resulted in him throwing you into a dangerous situation that would leave him being your savior. Or so he thought.

The confident smile fell from his face when you started yelling at him. Why were you doing that? He saved you. Shouldn't you be showering him with your love and affection now? Why were you being so ungrateful? Then you turned to walk away and he snapped. It didn't take much to knock you out, but with his immense strength he had to be careful. Too much and he could've killed you. He wouldn't let this little hiccup ruin his plan. Satoru simply believed you were too high on the adrenaline rush that came from almost dying at the hands of some low grade curses, so he didn't take it personally, and he knew you'd come to your senses once it wore off.

He had a special room at his home that was prepared just for you. His sweet darling. Satoru grinned when you finally woke up, practically giddy with excitement at finally having you here. Though that excitement was short lived when you started yelling at him again. He just couldn't understand why you were being like this. Honestly, he didn't want to use force on you. He didn't want to hurt his precious darling. Instead, he resorted to blackmail. "I wonder what your parents would think if I paid them a visit," he teased, though it definitely came across as a passive threat. Or rather, a promise if you didn't comply. It warmed his heart with how quickly you changed your attitude.

Satoru finally had you. You were his now.